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hansomeskz · 1 year

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Birthday In LA Chapter 1

Han Jisung is larger than life, Minho doesn’t know what that’s like.

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Chapter 2 HERE

CW: Alcohol, Swearing, Suggestive Themes

As he places the last book on his shelf, Minho registers the subtle loneliness that had been creeping into his skin. For the first time in his life, he was in a completely unfamiliar place, with no friends or family to look out for him. He looks out his window, the streets of Los Angeles looking back at him.

He hadn’t planned for this move, but when the American counterpart for his company had offered him the position he felt something calling to him out here. He’d exchanged teary goodbyes with his mom almost a week ago now, having promised to come to visit her as often as he can, but he knows it’ll be a long time before he finally gets to see her again.

He sits on the couch in his apartment. The relief of finally being unpacked does nothing to rival the anxiety he feels being completely and utterly alone.

After a quick check of the time to make sure it’s a reasonable hour back home, Minho calls his mom. “Ah- hello, my love. How’s the new apartment?” She sounds so happy on the other end, it makes his throat tighten. “Hi, Mama. The apartment’s good. It’s nice here, and it’s so sunny.”

“You’ve always loved the sun. I’m so excited, my son is a Hollywood Choreographer,” she coos, and he laughs a little. “That’s not exactly what I am.”

“Yah- I’m close enough. I’m just about to make some breakfast, so I have to go. I miss you, Minho.”

“I miss you too, Ma. I love you.”

“I love you too, Sweetheart. Talk soon?”

“Of course, Mom. Have a good breakfast.” Minho hangs up, his ears ringing when the silence grows too loud. He just hopes he doesn’t feel this way once he gets back to work.

The first few days of work go by quickly, not giving him much time to overthink any of it. It’s all introductions and reviewing his previous training, as well as his previous preparations.

When he’d gotten the transfer approved the head of the LA branch had sent over his first assignment so he could start working on it right away. He was to choreograph for 3Racha’s comeback.

He knew of 3Racha, of course. Everybody did. Starting in Korea, the 3 boys quickly found success in North America. They moved some years ago to focus on the market they had captured, and the rest is history.

Minho was surprised they had wanted him involved in such a high-pressure comeback, but he worked hard to make sure their choreography was cohesive with not only their new music but their past work as well.

In his second week, they finally introduce Minho to 3Racha. Chan and Changbin are excited to work with him, he feels like they mean it when they smile and shake his hand, expressing how happy they are that he’s there.

Han Jisung, though, is confusing from the start. “Hey, you can call me J.One.” He says, flashing Minho his most dazzling smile. It makes him feel a little dizzy, but he would never admit that. Changbin barks out a laugh “I didn’t realize we were using stage names with our choreographers now, Ji.”

“Shut up Changbin” Jisung snaps, which just makes Chan and Changbin snicker. Minho smiles shyly and glances between them for a few awkward seconds. “I’m a big fan of your guys’ work,” he says finally. “I’m so excited to get to work with you. Do you need a few minutes, or are we ready to get started?”

“Let’s get after it,” Chan says, so they do.

Minho is honestly surprised at the way they all pick up the dance so quickly. He is even more surprised at Han Jisung’s incessant flirting. He finds himself too flustered to reply nearly every time.

He’s looking in the mirror, watching them all run through the most recent portion of the choreography, when he sees Jisung come up behind him, slipping his hand down into the small of Minho’s back. “I’m seriously loving this dance,” the younger boy says, meeting Minho’s eyes in their reflection. “You’re an exceptional choreographer.”

“Oh, um, thank you, J.One.” Minho is stuttering, his face flushing. Jisung sends him a wink before joining his group members again for the final run-through of that part for the day. Minho is too embarrassed to correct any of their mistakes.

Chan approaches him after they’ve all changed and packed up, smiling brightly. “You’re really great, Minho. We’re all headed out for drinks, do you want to come with?” Chan asks.

Minho is torn, he would usually say no to maintain some form of professionalism but the idea of driving home to his empty apartment to sit in silence sends a chill down his spine. He matches Chan’s mega-watt smile and nods enthusiastically. “I’d have to run home for a few, maybe you can text me the address?”

Minho pulls his phone out, then hesitates for a moment. “I mean- or you can just write it in my notes. Don’t feel like you have to give me your number, we only just met, and-“

“I don’t mind, Minho.” Chan is laughing as he pulls the phone out of Minho’s hand, punching in his contact information and shooting himself a text before handing it back. “I’ll text it to you in a couple of minutes. We’ll see you there.” Chan heads back to the other two, heading out with them and leaving Minho to wonder what he’s gotten himself into.

The text with the address comes through on his way home, and after freshening up and changing into something more fitting of a club in LA, Minho grabs an Uber to the club. He texts Chan that he’s arrived, heading back to the VIP section at his request.

Changbin meets him at the entrance and lets him in, slinging an arm around Minho’s shoulders. “We’re glad you made it, dude. You clean up nice.”

“Oh, thanks.” Minho blushes, thanking the universe that it’s dark in here. Changbin slides into their booth beside Chan, leaving Minho next to Jisung. Jisung smiles brightly at the older boy, draping his arm across the bench behind Minho. “You dressed up for me, huh?” Jisung asks, leaning a little closer.

Minho rubs the back of his neck to try and will away the seemingly permanent flush. “I didn’t want to look out of place, you guys look so nice tonight.” Chan smiles at Minho across the table. “Don’t dress up just for us, Changbin’s usually dressed like a slob. It’s a miracle he’s dressed up today.”

“Not a miracle,” Jisung cuts in. “Hyunjin is working tonight.” Minho eyes them curiously, catching Changbin looking away bashfully as Chan cackles. “Hyunjin is the bottle boy that Changbin has a crush on,” Jisung explains, grinning ear to ear. Changbin mutters something under his breath and finishes the drink in front of him.

Chan seems to realize something, searching the table until he finds a drink menu to hand to Minho. “Anything you like is on us, or- it’s on Jisung.” Jisung sucks his teeth, running a hand through his hair. “I never should’ve suggested rock paper scissors” the younger boy complains, slumping back in his seat. “Whoever suggests it always loses, it’s just fated to happen that way” Changbin teases.

The bottle boy drops by with a bottle of something so expensive Minho doesn’t even recognize it. Changbin is flirting so hard that Hyunjin almost forgets to get Minho a drink, seeming relieved when Minho just orders the same as whatever Jisung is grabbing.

“So you moved from Korea, Minho?” Chan asks once they’re all a few drinks in. Chan is sipping something fruity, but from what Minho has collected the drink itself is non-alcoholic. Minho nods, stretching. “I moved here from Seoul maybe two and a half weeks ago.”

“How are you liking it?” Jisung asks, squeezing his shoulder gently. Minho wonders if they’d been sitting this close the whole time. “It’s nice here. Very warm, very sunny… I think once I get the chance to meet new people it’ll be a great place.” Minho is embarrassed to admit he’s been a bit of a shut-in, but work has been taking up most of his time these days. Changbin nods at him across the table. “Just stick with us, Minnie. You seem cool.”

“And it’s nice to have a handsome face to look at,” Jisung says from beside him. Minho isn’t sure he will ever stop blushing.

The night passes by quickly. By the time he’s ready to go, Minho’s face is completely flushed and feels a bit dizzy from trying to keep pace drinking with Jisung. He’s found himself tangled with the younger boy on the dance floor, sweating.

He checks the time on his phone and pulls away a bit. “I really should get going” he yawns, smiling fondly at Jisung. Jisung gives Minho’s arm a gentle squeeze. “Thanks for coming out with us tonight.” He presses a gentle kiss to Minho’s jaw, sending a shiver down the older boy’s spine.

Minho runs his hands through Jisung’s blond hair, taking a deep breath. “I’ll see you tomorrow?” Jisung nods at his question, nipping at Minho’s neck once before letting him go. Minho makes sure to say his goodbyes to Chan and Changbin. He truly is so grateful for the invitation.

Once he’s home, curled up in his bed with the ceiling spinning above him, Minho thinks this move may have been a good idea. He feels the least lonely he has in weeks, and drifts off to sleep excited for the next day.

Minho feels like he might die. He finds himself kneeling in front of the toilet the next morning wondering if he’s ever been this hungover. He wipes the tears from the corners of his eyes with the sleeve of his hoodie and pushes himself off the floor. He curses his past self for drinking as much as he did and gets himself ready for the day.

When he arrives at the practice room he notices that Jisung is not faring much better than he is, Changbin and Chan are gossiping in the corner beside the younger boy. Jisung is hiding as much of his face as he can, it seems, sporting a mask and a beanie with his hoodie pulled up over his head. He is almost definitely asleep.

Minho laughs lightly at the sight, dropping his duffel bag by the door. Chan is quick to greet him, shooting him a bright smile and an enthusiastic wave. “Good to see you survived the hangover.”

“Barely, I wasn’t sure I could get out of bed,” Minho says, his tone is light but he truly means it. Chan laughs at him, nudging Jisung. The younger whines and opens his eyes, looking up at Chan. “We should cancel practice, I’m going to die,” he says simply, causing Chan to fondly pat his head.

“Minho’s already here, you missed your chance. Let’s get to it, champ.” Chan helps Jisung up, and when he finally spares Minho a look it sends a shiver down his spine. He can’t seem to forget the feeling of Jisung’s lips on his neck. “At least I’m not suffering alone,” Jisung says, shuffling over to rest his head on Minho’s shoulder. “I look that bad, huh?”

“I don’t think you could look bad if you tried.” Minho wonders how Jisung always knows exactly what to say.

During practice, Minho is a bit snappier than usual. He’s quick and to the point when correcting the boys, but Jisung isn’t deterred by his cold demeanour. The flirting is still relentless, even with Jisung’s brain seemingly sludge from the hangover.

When they break for lunch, Minho feels a hand on his back. “Are you joining us?” Jisung is so unbearably close, it’s driving Minho crazy. “I can’t today. Sorry, J.One” he says, looking at the younger boy over his shoulder. “You can call me Jisung if you want to.” Minho feels intoxicated by him, nearly swooning at the suggestion. “Are you comfortable with that?”

“I’d be more comfortable if you’d call me baby, but I might be pushing my luck.” Minho’s face is on fire. He doesn’t know why these cheesy lines are working on him, but something about Jisung has him wrapped around his finger. “Well, maybe it’s on the table if you stop fucking up verse two.”

Minho is nervous this jab struck Jisung the wrong way, but his stunned expression slowly morphs into a mischievous grin. “I’ll see what I can do,” he says before he returns to the other two. Minho watches them go, his stomach twisting into knots.

Minho wonders if he’s in too deep with Jisung. The realization that he might be getting involved in something he’s not quite equipped to handle comes after one particularly complicated practice.

Minho and Jisung butt heads over almost everything, and Minho’s patience is quickly dwindling. “This dance is fucking ridiculous” Jisung yells up at Minho, arms crossed over his chest. “I actually don’t remember asking for your opinion, Jisung. I’m the choreographer, right? So suck it up and learn the dance.”

“I’m not a fucking child, I shouldn’t be doing beginner-level choreography. We should be showing off.”

“Are you telling me you want to be doing backflips while you’re rapping the fastest verse in your fucking discography? I can make that happen if that’s what you want.”

“It’s fucking ridiculous you have us doing the fu-“

“Swear at me one more fucking time, Jisung. This is the choreography.”

“You’re not-“

“Enough” Chan barks at them. Minho backs down quickly, but Jisung is still seething. “This is the choreography, Jisung. We can talk about tweaking it later, okay?” Chan puts a hand on Jisung’s arm. Jisung shakes his head but stands down. “Fine, but I’m not going to let this slide.”

Jisung stops fighting Minho, but the tension in the air is thick enough to cut. After practice, once Chan and Changbin are gone, Minho finds himself being backed against the wall. He briefly wonders if he should worry for his safety, but then Jisung’s hands find his waist. “Fuck, Min, you’re so fucking hot when you’re mad” Jisung breathes, thigh slipping between Minho’s leg.

His brain short circuits. “What?”

“I like it when you’re mad.” Jisung’s lips find Minho’s neck, and he tips his head back to offer better access. Minho briefly wonders if he should be doing this and decides that no, he definitely shouldn’t. He’s too far gone, though, and Jisung’s hands have him melting. This is a terrible idea, he thinks, but it doesn’t stop him.

He has the same thought several days later as Jisung is gently wiping down Minho’s stomach. Minho is admiring him, watching the beads of sweat roll down his forehead, over his soft cheeks. He knows that this is going to be messy. Whatever it is that they’re up to, there is no good way for it to end.

Jisung looks at him and smiles softly, pressing a gentle kiss to Minho’s forehead. His heart is in his throat and when he goes to say that he doesn’t think they can keep up this routine, what comes out is “You’re really pretty, Ji. You know that?”

Jisung's cheeks flush red and he laughs lightly. “I think I’ve been told that before, but it means a lot more when it’s not coming from pre-teens,” he says, locking eyes with Minho. His pulse skyrockets and Jisung crumples the towel he’d been using and lays back beside him.

They’re in Minho’s apartment, they have been almost every night after practice. Jisung reaches over blindly until he finds the warm half-empty beer bottle next to the bed. He polishes off the last of it before he scoots closer to Minho, eyes slipping shut.

“Are you staying here again?” Minho asks softly, curling an arm around him. Jisung nods, rolling over so he can rest his hand on the older boy’s chest. There’s no way he can’t feel Minho’s heart hammering against his ribcage.

Even now, when he’s in his rawest state Minho can’t help but admire Jisung. He’s beautiful. His skin is smooth, his pores practically invisible. His hair is cut in just the right way, causing it to fall perfectly no matter how he lies.

Minho kisses the crown of his head and turns on a movie just to play quietly in the background. Jisung lifts his head a little to squint at the TV. “You like horror movies?” He asks. Minho hums in agreement, nodding a bit. Jisung curls closer, nudging his nose into Minho’s neck. “Me too.”

They lay in silence a little longer and Minho assumes Jisung’s fallen asleep. He picks up his phone and sighs when he sees the slew of notifications he has to get back to. He’s startled by Jisung pulling the phone from his hands. “You’re really texting people when you could be looking at me?” He’s teasing, but places Minho’s on his side of the bed, bringing a hand up to cup his cheek instead.

Minho’s breath catches in his throat. Something cheesy and lovesick bubbles in his chest, but he just quirks an eyebrow. “Why would I look at you when I could text my mom instead?” Jisung scoffs at that, his gentle caress turning to him pinching the older boy’s cheek as hard as he can muster. “I regret sucking your dick” he sighs, drawing a soft laugh from Minho.

“It’s too late. Would you feel better if I returned the favour?” He doesn’t wait for Jisung to reply, instead pressing open-mouthed kisses along his chest. He ignores the gnawing feeling in his chest as Jisung tangles his fingers into his hair.

Jisung is putting his all into trying to pull Minho into something more. The older boy receives invites to red carpet events, dozens of texts every day, and even small gifts from Jisung. Minho is resisting, though.

As bad of an idea it is for him to sleep with Jisung at all, he knows bringing whatever it is that they have into the public light is a recipe for disaster. He’s not even sure why Jisung is so interested in him at all.

That question is eating at Minho, and he finally lets it spill over Chinese food one night, curled in a bean bag at Jisung’s apartment. “Ji- Why are you chasing after me like this, anyway?” Minho is staring him down, chewing on his lower lip.

Jisung knits his brows together, cheeks full as he peeks over the takeout container. “What do you mean?”

“You keep inviting me out and buying me shit. What’s up with that?” Jisung seems to consider this question for a moment before he shrugs. “I just like spending time with you. You’re fun to be around.” Jisung says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world and an unfamiliar warmth spreads through Minho’s chest.

Jisung just likes spending time with him. He’s not sure how to respond, dumbly muttering “Oh” as he goes back to eating. Jisung smiles at him and shrugs again. “It doesn’t have to mean anything if you don’t want it to, Min. We’re just hanging out. I just think you’d have fun hanging out at a big celebrity party instead of always sitting on a couch.”

Minho sighs, shoulder slumping a little. “I feel so out of place when I go out with you and the others. I like what we have here, just between us.”

“Then we keep it between us for now. We can revisit it later, okay?” Jisung gestures vaguely towards the TV. “For now we can just watch Sky Castle and eat Chinese food.” Jisung scoots over, patting the space beside him. “Come on, the cliffhanger from the last episode was too crazy for me to wait another second.”

Minho is easily swayed he thinks as he sits in the spot next to Jisung. The younger boy curls into Minho’s side, holding a spring roll up to his lips. “You have to try this, it’s so good.”

“I can feed myself, Ji.”

“It’s not nearly as fun for me if you’re doing it yourself.” Jisung grins up at him as Minho takes a bite, wondering how long they’re going to last. With every passing day, he hopes a little more that they have a long time ahead of them.

The comeback is fast approaching and Minho thought that the pressure on the three boys would deter Jisung from pursuing him any further. He couldn’t have been more wrong. Jisung miraculously becomes more insane in his pursuit of Minho. In the small portion of free time he has, he follows Minho around the company building like a lost puppy.

Minho is in the company cafeteria, nudging around a slightly sludgy salad when Jisung slides into the seat across from him. He’s holding a bouquet, it has sorts of kinds of flowers that are different shades of pink and red, and a slightly less soggy-looking salad. “Did somebody get you flowers?” Minho asks, cocking his head to the side.

Jisung shakes his head playfully and holds the bouquet out to Minho, grinning ear to ear the second Minho’s face starts to heat up. “I got them for you.”

“For me? Jisung, are you out of your mind?” Minho sputters, snatching the bouquet. The flowers are beautiful and their fresh smell floods his senses. “I’m kind of crazy into you, Min. Just let me get you something nice, okay?” Jisung sounds so small and genuine, gazing at Minho with a lovesick expression.

Minho knows that Jisung is his weak spot, but he can’t control how easily he gives in to him. “Thank you, Jisung. They’re beautiful.”

“Just like you, Min.”

The first event Minho agrees to go to with Jisung is the 3Racha mini-album release party. Jisung had made a huge fuss out of wanting to buy Minho something nice to wear and, as Minho pulls on the ratty clothes that are definitely worth more than his rent, his nerves eat away at him. He wonders why Jisung wants him to be seen with him so badly. Minho snaps a few pictures and sends them to his mom.

Minho

[Picture]

Do I look okay? I got invited to the release party tonight, I’m so nervous T.T

Mama

My handsome boy

You look great!

I’m sure everyone will be impressed.

Can you get their autographs for me?

I want to be able to brag about my son working with celebrities ~!

Minho

I’ll try!

Thank you, Mom.

Heading out now, talk to you later <3

Mama

Be safe ~~!

Minho takes a deep breath and fixes his hair one more time before he steps outside to see the limousine pull up. Pulling the door open, Minho is happy to see Jisung, Chan, and Changbin inside. He gets in, sitting next to Jisung, and takes in his surroundings. The limo is shockingly large for four people, and he feels wildly out of place now that he sees how nicely Changbin and Chan are dressed. “We’re so glad you’re coming, Minho,” Chan says, offering him a glass of champagne. He’s quick to take it, taking a sip larger than he intended in an attempt to crush his anxiety.

“You look nice,” Jisung says quietly after a minute. He curls his fingers around Minho’s arm and the older boy turns to get a proper look at him. Chan and Changbin are in button-downs and dress pants, but Jisung is in an outfit very similar to Minho’s. He feels a little less like he’s going to vomit, especially when he catches a glimpse of Jisung’s puppy dog eyes. “Are we in matching outfits?” Minho asks, and Jisung nods excitedly. “I picked them out myself, well- our stylist helped, but she let me decide the vibe… Do you like them?”

“I love them, Ji. Thank you.” Minho presses a tender kiss to Jisung’s temple and the younger curls close.

Minho sits back and listens to the three chatter excitedly about their party. He hasn’t known them especially long, only a couple of months now, but he’s proud of them. He feels lucky to have seen how hard they’ve worked to make it happen. Jisung looks up at Minho and smiles, prompting Minho to open his mouth.

“I’m incredibly proud of you, you know,” Minho says quietly, the words only meant for Jisung. The blond’s eyes sparkle and his smile grows impossibly wider. “Thanks. You know, I don’t hear that all that often.”

“Well, I mean it. You’ve worked so hard for this. I’m excited to celebrate with you.” Minho’s heart clenches when he sees the tears gather in Jisung’s eyes. They’re only there for a moment before he blinks them away, but Minho cups his cheek anyway and kisses his forehead. The last moments before they pull up to the party belong to them, and them only.

What Minho didn’t expect was the switch between Jisung and J.One. His heart sinks when he realizes what’s happening. As Jisung emerges from the limousine, he morphs into somebody else entirely. He’s all cocky smiles and practised poses and Minho realizes this is who he met when he first met 3Racha.

He leaves Minho in the dust, disappearing to have his photo taken and sign autographs. Chan notices quickly, putting a hand between Minho’s shoulder blades to guide him through the flocks of fans and reporters waiting outside the building. “We’re at the big round table, you’ll see a card with your name on it at one of the seats. We’ll be there soon, okay?” Chan looks worried, but when Minho nods he turns to join the other two.

Minho finds the table fairly easily and sits at his assigned seat, feeling very small. As the event hall fills in, Minho remains alone at the table. It’s not until almost everybody’s filed in and Minho is halfway through a glass of wildly expensive wine that anyone sits at his table.

The first to fill in the seats are members of the management team that Minho has seen in passing at the company. He doesn’t know their names, but their faces seem familiar to him.

Chan makes it next, sitting a seat away from Minho. “Sorry that took so long,” he says, and Minho can tell he means it. He offers a small shrug in response and peers into his wine glass, swirling it around a bit.

Changbin settles into the seat on Chan’s far side, leaving Jisung’s seat open next to Minho. It stays open for a very long time.

Chan tries to include Minho, he’s sure how miserable he feels is written all over his face, but he has no interest in small talk. He just nods absent-mindedly when he feels it most appropriate and scrolls through his phone when he gets tired of pretending.

Jisung doesn’t join the table until Minho is on his third glass of red wine. The younger boy is glowing, seemingly oblivious to the clouds forming over his date’s head. Minho doesn’t look up from his phone until Jisung is tilting his chin up with his index finger. “Hi, baby,” he says, smiling.

It takes everything in Minho not to snap at him, instead, he puts his phone down and pulls away from Jisung’s touch. “Hey.” He says quietly, taking another healthy sip from his wine. Jisung doesn’t seem to notice Minho’s coldness. He presses a kiss to the older boy’s cheek and turns to talk with everyone else at the table. Minho thinks about how badly he wants to leave as he finishes his glass.

An endless stream of strangers pass by their table for the next few hours, congratulating the boys and each one politely smiles at Minho. He doesn’t smile back. There is also, luckily, an endless stream of wine glasses for Minho to drink from. Each time he looks away from the glass for more than a few seconds, it’s full by the time he looks back.

Minho is seething by the time the event ends. Chan and Changbin have both noticed his, shooting him worried glances over Jisung’s shoulder, but Jisung still hasn’t looked at him since he sat down. Minho pushes himself out of his chair, swaying slightly. Chan reaches around Jisung to steady him, finally prompting Jisung to look at him.

He laughs lightly at Minho’s drunken state. Minho has never been so angry in his life, only egged on by his date’s laughter. “I’m finding my own ride home,” he says simply, and Jisung tilts his head in confusion. “We were all going to go back to my place and keep the party going, Min. Don’t you want to come with?”

“No. I want to go home.” Minho doesn’t wait for a reply. He turns on his heels and leaves the venue, angry tears pricking at his eyes. He wishes he could see Jisung’s reaction, hoping he realizes that something has gone wrong with tonight at all, but he isn’t hopeful. Jisung calls him while he’s on his way home, but he doesn’t pick up.

Minho turns on his read receipts so that Jisung understands he’s ignoring him.

Hanji

Friday 1:43 AM

min you left so suddenly :(

where did u go?

call me when u get home safe

Friday 11:57 AM

Did you get home okay?

Minho answer me.

What’s going on with you?

Friday 4:25 PM

This feels a little overkill, don’t you think?

I didn’t mean to ignore you at the party.

You should’ve just said something if it was upsetting you.

Yesterday 2:03 PM

Answer me, Minho.

Were your read receipts always on?

Minho I’m sorry, okay?

I fucked up.

Call me back.

Today 11:16 AM

I’m coming over.

Minho leaves his door unlocked, part of him hoping he’s able to end this twisted confusing thing he has going with Jisung. The other part, though, hopes that this is a misunderstanding. It’s the same part of him that has left the bouquet Jisung bought him a few weeks ago in a vase on his coffee table even though they’ve wilted beyond recognition.

Jisung doesn’t bother knocking, going straight for the door handle. He finds Minho on his couch, a blanket wrapped tightly around himself. He wants to send Jisung a nasty look, but when he locks eyes with Jisung all he can see is the panic written all over the younger boy’s face.

“I’m so fucking sorry, Min.” He rushes over to the couch, kneeling in front of him and grabbing at his hands. Minho lets him hold them, frowning. “I didn’t even realize what I was doing. I just… my stage persona took over, I guess. I was too busy people pleasing to even realize the most important person at that table was miserable.”

The words feel cheap, Minho thinks, but he feels his heart skip a beat at them anyway. “You completely abandoned me, Jisung. I was alone for the first two hours. Then when you finally joined me, you didn’t even look at me once. How is that fair?”

“I know, Min. And-”

“I only went because you begged me to. You’ve been begging me for ages to go with you to a public event, and that’s how you treat me when I finally do?” Minho presses his lips together into a tight line. He feels ridiculous for tearing up, and his chest aches at the pained look on Jisung’s face.

“I know, Minho. I’m so fucking sorry, I really am. It wasn’t fair to you at all.” Jisung moves into the spot next to the older boy, keeping a tight grip on his hands. “I don’t know how to make it better.” The sad, anxious look on Jisung’s face wears him down quickly. He looks at Minho with round, scared eyes, and Minho crumbles. “Just... just kiss me, Jisung. Then tell me you’re sorry, and hold me, and we’ll work through it together.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, really.” As Jisung leans in, pressing their lips together, Minho wonders if he’ll regret this.

Jisung stays with him through the weekend. It’s too easy for Minho to fall back into their routine. He lies with Jisung on the couch for almost the entire two days. They only separate to get the takeout the younger boy orders, some drama neither of them is watching plays to fill the silence. Minho is so fucked, he thinks, but at least Jisung is smiling and cracking jokes. That’s what’s important to him.

They get lost in each other more times than they can count. Wandering hands, curious mouths, hungry bodies. Something about this feels poisonous to Minho, but when the poison tastes as sweet as Jisung, Minho has a hard time staying away. When Jisung finally leaves late Sunday night, promising he’ll see Minho bright and early for dance practice, Minho is left with his thoughts.

He thinks about how this is going to end. The burning in his chest only grows stronger and he knows that when this all finally crumbles, it’s going to be catastrophic. The smart thing to do would be to end it now, but Minho can’t find it in him to do it. Jisung is intoxicating, when they’re together he finds himself surrounded by him. His scent, his laugh, his hands, it all envelopes Minho just right. Jisung makes him feel loved, even if Minho knows he doesn’t mean it. He can’t let it go, so he clings tighter in hopes that will make it all turn out the way he wants it to.

Chan and Changbin both seem surprised to see Minho step into the practice room on Monday. They start to whisper to each other quietly when Jisung runs to Minho, pulling him into a tight hug.

“Hi baby,” Jisung says, giving him a tight squeeze. Minho hugs back just as tight, burying his face in Jisung’s neck. The younger boy’s hands slip under Minho’s shirt to pull him closer, the touch burning into Minho’s skin.

He pulls away after a while and heads to the front of the room, stretching. “Okay, are you guys ready to start?” Minho asks, looking at the three. They fall into position, and he guides them through the practice.

Minho is a little embarrassed he’s forgiven Jisung so easily. His embarrassment only grows when Chan pulls him aside after practice, hands on his shoulders. “Are you okay, Minho? You were really upset at that party, is there anything you need?”

“I’m fine. It was just a blip, we’re doing okay now I think.” The words taste bitter, but Minho is starting to believe them. Chan pulls his lower lip between his teeth briefly before sighing. “Okay. Well, if you need anything don’t hesitate to reach out to me. I’m here for you Minho.” Minho nods, smiling shyly at him. “Thanks, Chan. I appreciate it.”

Chan leaves with Changbin, leaving Jisung and Minho behind. Jisung is sitting on the floor, texting away while he waits for Minho to pack up his things. His gut is twisting impossibly at his conversation with Chan. “Hey, Jisung?”

“What’s up, baby?”

“What are we?” The question hangs in the air for much longer than he’d like it to. Jisung finishes up his text before putting his phone down, looking up at him. “What do you mean?”

“I mean we’ve spent all this time together, we sleep together, you’re pursuing us, but what are we?” Minho watches as Jisung’s face turns to an unreadable expression. Relief washes over him when the younger boy’s face breaks out into a bright, beautiful smile.

“Do you want to be with me, Min? We can be official if you really want to.” Minho nods enthusiastically, and Jisung pushes himself off the ground. He crosses the room quickly, pressing Minho against the cool surface of the mirror. Jisung’s lips find their place on Minho’s neck, forcing a shaky breath out of him. He forgets the party. He pushes away the nagging feeling that this is bound to implode. All he knows right now is that having Jisung’s hands on his body makes him feel loved.

Minho is curled on the couch, phone pressed to his ear, his mom’s voice on the other end as he cries about missing home. “I’m sorry, Mama. I wish I could come home for my birthday.” He sniffs, wiping desperately at his eyes to try and stop the tears. His mom coos on the other end. “I know, son. It’s okay, we can call, okay? I just hate the idea of you spending your birthday alone.”

“I know.” Minho sniffs again, looking at the time. He realizes how late it must be in Korea and guilt pools in his chest. “I’m gonna let you go, Mama. I’ll text you tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay, Minho. Please call me if you need anything.”

“I will, I love you.”

“I love you too, sweetheart.” The line goes dead, and Minho buries his face in his hands. He nearly jumps out of his skin when hands rub his shoulders gently, whipping around to face the culprit. Jisung looks genuinely worried, his usually round joyful eyes staring through Minho. “Sorry, your door was open so I just… When's your birthday, baby? You really can’t go home?” He lets go of Minho only for long enough to come around the couch and pull Minho into a bone-crushing hug. He shakes his head, burying his face in Jisung’s shoulder.

“It’s in a few weeks, right before awards season. I have to be here to prepare with you guys for the performances.” Minho tries to pull it together, neck burning with both the tears and the embarrassment of being caught like this. Han hums sympathetically and rubs his back, rocking them back and forth ever so slightly. “Well, we can spend your birthday together at least. When is it?”

“The 25th.” Minho pulls away, hiding his face in the sleeves of his sweater. Jisung’s hands curl gently around his arms, forcing them out of the way. He places a tender kiss on both of Minho’s cheeks, smiling softly. “We’ll spend it together, baby. I promise.”

Minho nods weakly, sniffling. “Okay, thank you.”

“Of course,” Jisung orders them bibimbap for lunch and holds Minho while he works through his homesickness. The crushing loneliness feels less crushing with Jisung there, Minho thinks. They talk about their favourite parts of living in Seoul, though Jisung seems embarrassed he never got to experience much of the nightlife.

“I just moved so young, you know?” Minho hums thoughtfully, nodding as he shovels the last of his food into his mouth. “How old were you when you guys came to America?”

“I was seventeen. Just a kid,” Jisung says quietly, a hint of sadness in his voice. Minho squeezes his thigh gently. “That must’ve been hard. I can’t imagine what it would’ve been like uprooting my entire life before I was even an adult.”

“It wasn’t so bad… a bit lonely, but I had Chan and Changbin. Now I have more friends than I ever could’ve dreamed of having.” Jisung shrugs a bit and looks at Minho. He can see something conflicting happening behind Jisung’s eyes. “All those people you’re always with. They’re really your friends?” Minho doesn’t know what prompts him to ask, but he regrets it when Jisung frowns, looking down at his food. “They say they are… I don’t know how much of it is true. It just makes me happy to know somebody out there loves me,” Jisung says softly. “ I love you, Jisung.”

Minho couldn’t stop the words from tumbling out. Jisung stops chewing, cheeks puffing from the excess food. Minho feels lovesick and physically sick.

Far too much time passes before Jisung speaks, he’s staring ahead like he can’t bear to look at Minho. “Don’t say things you don’t mean, Minho.”

“I mean it, Ji. I love you.” Jisung puts his food down, eyes sparkling now as he turns to face Minho. The older boy feels lucky to watch the dazzling smile spread across his face. “Say it again.”

“I love you, Jisung.” Jisung laughs, sounding completely giddy, and nearly knocks Minho over with the force of the kiss that follows. Between presses of their lips, Jisung manages to breathe out “I love you too, Minho,” and it makes him feel whole.

They get lost in the sheets together shortly after.

Jisung took Minho’s homesickness to heart, it seems. He shows up to practice with dozens of paper bags full of different foods and drinks. He crouches in front of the older boy, digging through the bags. “I didn’t know what kind of snacks you liked, but I stopped at one of those import stores on the way here.” Jisung is pulling snack after snack out of the bags, then he’s pulling drink after drink out.

Minho laughs lightly, watching Jisung in awe. “This seems overkill.”

“You don’t like it?” Jisung looks up at him with the widest, saddest eyes Minho has ever seen. He slides off the bench to kneel in front of Jisung and presses a kiss to his forehead. “I love it. You’re fucking crazy, though. You have to help me eat these.”

“I think I can manage that.”

When Chan and Changbin finally show up, they’re yelling in disgust at the sight of Jisung straddling Minho, fingers tangled in his hair. Minho pulls away with a laugh, stealing one last kiss before they start their practice.

Minho can barely take his eyes off Jisung, only forcing himself to so that he can say he’s doing his job. They all know the choreography, so he feels like there’s no harm in giving the younger boy more attention.

Every few minutes Jisung will lock eyes with Minho, sending him the warmest smiles he’s ever seen. The warmth lands in Minho’s chest and spreads throughout his whole body.

When they break for lunch, Jisung excitedly reveals the bulgogi he ordered for them. “I hope this is helping you feel a little less homesick,” Jisung says quietly, sharing his words only with Minho. Minho smiles lightly and nods. “Thank you, Jisung. I honestly don’t know what I’d do without you.” Minho means it, he hopes Jisung knows that.

The younger boy hums in acknowledgement and leans back against the wall, closing his eyes. “What do you want to do for your birthday, Min?”

“I just want to spend it with you, I don’t care what we do.”

“There has to be something you want, baby.” Jisung cracks his eyes open, squinting at Minho. The older boy laughs lightly and shrugs. “No, not really. Good food, good company. That’s all I want.”

“Hm. I can make that happen” Jisung smiles at him. Minho’s heart does somersaults. “Thanks, Ji.”

“I’d do anything for you, Minho.”

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actualtext · 1 year

Text

Dec 11, 2022

Refelction 3

1. What is going on inside your head right now?

The closer February gets, the more excited I am to start a new chapter in life. I think what I'm most excited about aside from the change is the fact that I'm going to have to do things in order to succeed at this task of moving. For instance, I'll -at some point- need to set up an appointment for the DMV to register my car to Indiana. I get really excited about potentially completing tasks (if I can remember to do them).

2. What negative emotion keeps cropping up the most lately?

I've been worried I'm not working hard enough and that I wont be able to make my deadline. I will say that the only reason I don't work so hard is simply becasue I take time off to socialize as a form of self care. I still feel guilty sometimes about that. I feel like I don't deserve to take a break if I haven't reached my goal. I'm going to be honest, I don't think I'll be reaching my goal this week. I only have $100 to go, but I went to a birthday party out of town which took all of my day and today I got my car worked on, decided to journal, and have a girls night planned with some ex co workers. I know me spending time with friends is healthy, and I will admit, I do feel a whole lot better than I did a couple days ago. I just someitmes forget how healthy it is to not always work all the time. haha

3. What has made you the happiest lately?

It's gonna sound weird but the other day I was sitting with Vlad at a coffee shop in Austin, Christmas music was playing it was a vibe. We had ordered a vegan chocolate chip cookie, it was the last one in the display case. That first bit was complete bliss. They warmed it up for us, and we paired with with vegan lattes and let me tell you. It was like I bit into a little piece of heaven. I felt a shock go through my body from the sweetness that first bite held. It was like when you think of eating a pickle and yoru mouth starts to salivate. Simply amazing. That feeling, that setting, the complany, the taste. All together it made me so happy. I felt joy for the first time in a hot minute.

4. The last time you felt this way, what did you do?

The last time I felt like I wasnt working hard enough, I became a workaholic and ignored any social opportunities. It was very isolating and I've learned from that experience to not do that again. lol This time I've made the effort to hang with friends at least once a week.

5. What holds you back the most from moving on from negative emotions?

Just constantly forgetting what path I've chosen to take. Like one day I could choose to work out three times a week, but after a few days of being of track I might fall off cause its not part of my everyday life. With that being said, if it's not something I need to think about regularly, I'll probably forget it. So, working out in this example, I would only think of when when I finally remembered. It would actually be easier if I just told myself "I'm going to choose healthier options for each meal instead of what I would normally eat" since I eat on average, three times a day.

6. Which emotions are you trying to avoid right now? why?

I'm trying to avoid feeling unmotivated. I feel like I'm not doing enough while also feeling like I'm doing the most that I can. I'm just constantly trying to find a balance, while also trying not to stop moving forward. I'm trying not to think about how I can be better and trying to be satisfied with what I'm able to do. Right now theres a giant (HUGE) pile of clothes on my floor and bed that needs to be washed. I literally just ignore it because right now I'm focusing on other things. Getting my car worked on, working, trying to socialize, etc. I know I should do it, and I want to do it, but if I think about doing it right now while I have so many other things going, I'm going to feel overwhelmed. I'll do it tomorrow when work is slow, and I don't have anythiing planned. And at that, I'll only do as much as I can before I start getting frustrated with how much laundry I have to do. lmao As you can probably tell, I'm trying to control how much stress I'm exposed to. I'm honestly really good at doing this. It's like eternal compartmentalization. XD I have a feeling I'm going to get back on to-do list kick.

SIDE NOTE-sometimes I go into phases of super interest, and then just as quckly hop out of those phases. to do lists were on. I used to make to do lists for everything, and then I stopped. I used to make spreadsheets and then I stopped. Same with everything else. Sometimes I'll be really interested in something for a while and then just like nothing, that.... fixation(?) will just go away and I'm either on to the next thing or dont have anything I'm fixated on. It feels like little bursts of obsession. Its kinda of weird.

7. What is your inner critic telling you lately?

I'll probably never be able to make up my mind about anything. Even in high school, I didn't know what electives I wanted to do so I did them all. I was in choir most of my school career, but I also did mariachi, art, dance, JROTC, graphic design, theater. Everything except for band, cheer, and athletics.

Why can't I chose things? At this point is effecting my life. Like I don't know what path to follow because theres so many and it's so overwhelming so Im just kinda of stuck in limbo not going in any particular direction. haha I hate this.

0 notes

miraculouscontent · 3 years

Note

After reading that, I think it's safe to say that Miraculous Ladybug is more of a horror/psychological thriller than romance/comedy. And now I want an AU where Marinette takes the earrings off and realizes that they're messing with head

Marinette felt strange, and after getting used to the feeling of being on the Startrain, she knew it wasn't the cause. She felt lighter - less restricted - somehow, and while a part of her had expected that due to handing off the ladybug miraculous, it wasn't in the way she'd expected.

Once she was done sending Alya all the Ladybug tips, Marinette had figured they'd start talking about Adrien or what their next scheme would be once she got back, but she ended up finding the idea tiring. It was odd in the way that finding something in her room just slightly out of place would be (at least before the kwami began living there).

Everything she'd thought she might feel - anxiety over what could go wrong while she was gone, concern over how the kwami were doing in her absence, and longing for who she'd pictured as the love of her life - wasn't there. It felt completely unlike her, just as it felt unlike Alya to not reply to her messages considering how much she liked to be on her phone.

Abandoning the idea of texting Alya for now, she closed their conversation and idly started browsing her phone. Even still, the weird feeling didn't cease and her hero senses were going off.

Something was wrong, or... maybe right? It wasn't as if she was feeling anything bad, but she felt entirely different than when she was in Paris. It was hard to get a gauge on exactly how she should take it.

Marinette glanced at her parents, catching herself frowning before they could glance back. She looked at her phone, acting like nothing was wrong and idly scrolling through her various apps so as to look busy. In the process, she stumbled upon her gallery, finding her mass of Adrien images inside. It took up a majority of her pictures, and she found herself blushing in embarrassment rather than fondness.

Did she really have this many normally? How much time had she taken getting them?

She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, thrown off by just how different she felt. The reaction to seeing Adrien that she'd normally have where she'd lose all focus had virtually disappeared, and the only reason she'd missed it at all was because it gave her an absurd amount of mental clarity concerning how she'd be acting otherwise.

Clarity...

The word brought a particular face to her mind: pink lips, blue eyes, and black hair highlighted blue at the tips. Marinette ran her fingers through her own hair, ruffling it as she tried to piece out how she was feeling. All she knew was that - whatever it was - it was significant and she didn't have Tikki to vent to.

Though perhaps she wouldn’t had much to provide anyway.

A mix of trepidation and curiosity filling her. Switching away from her gallery, she went back to her conversations and pulled up her texts with Luka. Despite her confusion over whatever was happening to her at the moment, she managed a smile at Luka's contact image staring fondly at her.

After a moment of consideration, she typed out:

Hey. Sorry if you're busy. Thought we could talk?

That done, she navigated back to her gallery to look at all her Adrien pictures. She shifted in her seat again, as if it would change things or help her mind adjust to the unfamiliar sensation. It wasn't like looking at Adrien didn't make her feel anything at all, but that feeling could only be described as "normal," like the way she saw him before he'd given her that umbrella.

Before she officially became a ladybug holder who agreed to protect the people of Paris...

Her lips twitched in hesitant thought, her thumb brushing against her screen as she skimmed through the assortment of Adrien pictures. Her brain registered a feeling - or rather, lack thereof - and the foreign emotions encouraged her to act.

She tapped the garbage can icon experimentally, a notification popping up accordingly and asking her if she'd like to delete the picture. She brought the phone closer to her chest, like she felt she was doing something wrong, yet there was only a second of pause before she confirmed the decision.

She watched as Adrien disappeared, a message indicating that the picture had been trashed.

Marinette blinked at the message until it had timed out, bringing her back to the gallery. She was frozen in place, her fingers twitching against the side of the phone as she processed what she'd just done.

Then, she did it again. She tapped on another picture of Adrien, a weird mix of eagerness and interest urging her thumb along as she pressed the garbage can icon again, confirming the decision just as quickly.

Just before the image disappeared, a stray thought said aloud in her mind: black hair and blue eyes would've worked better for an outfit like that.

This time, her body finally moved, a shudder going up her spine as she took in a breath. Her eyes darted over to her parents, knowing how strange this must look to them, but they weren't watching her anyway, meaning the moment was kept firmly in her own personal bubble. It was so odd; normally, someone would've seen her acting off, or laughed and made muttering comments about it.

But nothing was happening, and she didn't know whether to question it or not.

Marinette glanced back at her phone, almost challenging herself as she started to run through the assorted Adrien pictures. She could've thrown them in the metaphorical bin all at once, but instead, she went one-by-one. She waited for something to break, either a sense of regret to settle in over the deletion or for her heart to start fawning over the face on screen, but neither happened.

She was in control, and it felt good. Really, really good.

Part of her felt like she was being ridiculous. The idea of getting some kind of emotional high out of deleting a few pictures sounded stupid, and yet she felt powerful. It was like a veil had been lifted and suddenly she had choices.

If her parents saw her visibly vibrating in her seat, she didn't hear them make mention of it.

The only thing that made her snap out of her rapid thumb movements was a text notification at the top of her screen, and only due to the flash of black, blue, and white. Her lips curved into a smile, originally being pressed together in focus, and she clicked to open her text messages with Luka.

Hey, Marinette. I'm not busy at all. What's up?

She felt warm, knowing that the guy who always made her feel comfortable and happy was on the other line. it was such a shame that they hadn't been able to work it out because of Adrien.

Marinette paused just as she went to reply, those thoughts catching up to her as she remembered that day with Luka underneath the bridge. She'd been so sure that she'd had to break up with him because of Adrien, but as she purposefully tried to recall the memory, something registered like a mental fog clearing in her mind.

Hadn't it actually been her responsibilities as Ladybug that had done it? In fact, that added up alongside all of the other memories of his akumatization; she hadn't been ditching him during their dates out of discomfort or her crush on Adrien, but because of akuma and sentimonsters.

How could she have forgotten? Or rather, how could she have remembered otherwise?

Marinette just barely managed to snap herself out of her trance, her phone having dimmed from inactivity and the sight of her furrowed brows and worried frown staring back at her from the blackened screen. She blinked rapidly, then shook her head to clear herself of the unnerving thoughts.

Lighting her phone back up, she hurriedly typed back as she realized she'd left Luka on read, trying to ignore the way her thumbs shook.

Nothing much.

She hesitated, already seeing him typing back. Guilt burrowed around in her stomach, knowing very well that it was not "nothing" but being unable to properly convey what was going on to him when she didn't even understand it herself.

She typed again, his own typing ceasing to let her add to her comment.

Actually, I've been thinking a bit lately. I'm going to be in London for a while and I'm on the train ride there right now. It's given me some time to myself and it's... weird.

I'm sorry, I know that doesn't make sense.

Even though he hadn't replied, she knew he was taking her seriously as he was typing back.

It makes sense. Background music doesn't work for everyone.

Marinette realized that her shoulders had been tense when they relaxed at his message. She pressed her lips together, feeling vaguely like she didn't deserve him and pushing down the thoughts just as quickly. He'd never approve of that kind of talk.

My head's just been a bit of a mess. Or... not a mess? Things were really foggy but I didn't realize that they were? It's like I'm thinking clearer but I don't know if I like everything that came with that.

What was the phrase? Ignorance is bliss? She had no idea where these changes were coming from, but something had indeed changed and she didn't know the significance of it. She was indeed happy that she felt so in control now over her thoughts on Adrien, but why now? What caused it, and what about her memories?

Would it go away?

Marinette shuddered at the idea, but tried to focus on her conversation with Luka. Having a crisis wasn't going to do her any good, and he was there with her, even if only through text.

I can't know what you're going through, but I think I get it.

You do?

Yeah. Do you remember my birthday, when everyone heard about my dad being Jagged Stone?

He already continued typing, so she just nodded even if he couldn't see it. She'd only been with Juleka when the reveal had happened, but she imagined it'd been just as much of a shock for her as it'd been for them. She couldn't even imagine when Luka could've learned about it.

Wait--no, she'd already known, actually, hadn't she? He'd been akumatized and had gone after Jagged, and she'd been there when he forced Jagged to tell him the truth about being his father.

Marinette winced at the filling of a gap in her memory that she hadn't realized had been there. Once again, she'd remembered something that she couldn't fathom having forgotten or misremembered, even with how spotty her memory could be under normal circumstances.

She turned towards the back of her seat and the window, trying to isolate herself so it felt like just her, her phone, and Luka. She desperately needed his texts as a distraction.

I'd wanted to know who my dad was for so long, but learning that it was my favorite musician all this time was a lot. I had to redo all the notes I’ve ever written about him, and I wasn't sure how I felt about it for a while.

He kept typing after that, and she merely stroked the side of the phone with her thumb as some form of support, even knowing that he couldn't know about it.

But I'm glad I knew in the end. He's doing his best to make up for all the lost time, and I don't have to go on never knowing what that song would've sounded like.

Their situations weren't exactly the same, but it was enough to reach her deep down. Whatever her situation was, if it really did mean something, she'd rather know it was there than go on never knowing. She hated the idea of being left in the dark, just as she hated being lied to.

As she took a calming breath, she found it in herself to type back.

I'm glad you know too. You deserve people who make you happy, Luka.

Thank you, Marinette. You do too, and I hope that whatever you're going through goes at least as well as it did for me.

Thanks.

She bit her lower lip at her reply, which felt clipped in tone even though she hadn't meant it that way. She just had too much on her mind and it was hard to think about what emotion was coming across when she was typing to him.

She tapped away at the on-screen keyboard, hopefully before he could think anything in particular about it.

Sorry.

Though she wanted to explain further, she wavered, her legs bending as she curled further in on herself. The conversation had already been so deep and she didn't want to make it worse.

But just as she debated on dismissing her feelings and insisting that he not worry about her, the memories that had been cleared up from before came back to her, reminding her of a warm hug on top of a bridge.

"When you're ready, I'll be here, Marinette."

She inhaled shakily, but steadied herself immediately afterwards, letting the warmth of the words calm her. Luka was there for her and she trusted him.

She was ready.

...I'm scared, Luka. I thought I had my clarity, but I don't. Something's wrong.

Then, almost on cue, the train screeched to a halt, jostling her out of her seat as the lights went off. The simultaneous sound of phones ringing followed soon after.

—————

Marinette held her breath, crouched down in the restroom while she listened closely for the sound of her parents' footsteps. Her throat let out a whine, but she managed to keep it silent enough to where she was sure that no one on the other side of the door would hear it. She'd have to leave eventually or risk being cornered, courtesy of the power being off and the restroom's lock being electronic, but she felt safe enough to pull out her phone.

She also set it on vibrate just in case.

There was a reasonable concern at first that Luka's texts would indicate that he'd fallen victim to the akuma, but what she found when she checked their conversation reassured her.

Marinette!

Is everything okay?

Did the akuma's power reach you? Did they call you too?

Marinette?

The panic in simple letters on a screen made her feel noticed and loved. Keeping enough of her focus on potential footsteps approaching outside the door, she typed out a reply:

Sorry. I had to run from my parents.

I'm okay. What about you?

You're alright. I'm so glad.

I'm okay too. I hid somewhere and I doubt anyone can find me.

That's good. Be careful.

You too.

She took another breath, certain she'd be captured soon if the akuma wasn't taken care of. The train was limited and there weren't many places to go, so unless she could find a blunt object to smash her parents' phones, she was at a loss.

Regardless, Luka was there, her phone vibrating as he added onto his previous text:

I know this isn't the time, and I hate that the akuma cut into the song we were writing, but I'm here for you, Marinette. Whatever's going on, I'll help you figure it out as long as you want me with you.

Her heart fluttered pleasantly, a pink blush even tinting her cheeks. She welcomed it, unlike the fear that'd come with the changed memories. Feeling the way she did for Luka was too natural to be afraid in any way.

Thank you, so much. You're the only one I could trust with something like this.

She meant it. She'd trusted Alya with her identity in a moment of weakness, and even passed the ladybug earrings to her, yet that somehow paled in comparison to the emotions she was choosing to share. Luka would take her seriously, she was sure, even if she came up with the craziest theory in the world for why her feelings and memories were the way they were. He wouldn't doubt her, or laugh, or dismiss her as "Marinette being Marinette."

And as she sat there, completely without a miraculous or any way to get back to Paris without help, she reached up with her free hand and tugged at her earlobe, processing what she could with the information she had as one such theory started to form in her head. The fear from before never quite went away, but the idea of figuring things out with Luka brought her a sense of comfort.

Though perhaps, when she got back to Paris, she would take back her miraculous with a sense of hesitance that she hadn't had before, and there would be some testing that followed after the fact, because there were two things she refused to give up from her experience on the train.

Her sense of freedom and choice, and the feelings for Luka that she can't believe she ever questioned.

Or, if her working theory was correct, that her miraculous had her question.

#MC's Writing #writing: story #Pro LukaMari #Lukanette #category: salt #episode: Hack San #other: ask and answer #((tbh depending on how much Marinette explains it to him))#((poor boi's gonna have one hell of a revelation in ''Wishmaker''))#((suddenly the Adrien crush influence she explained is gonna make sense))#((and he feels bad for ever supporting it even if he had no way of knowing.))

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rebeccccccaaa · 3 years

Text

ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴍᴇ ʀɪɢʜᴛ _____________________

ʙʀᴏᴛʜᴇʀ’s!ʙᴇsᴛ!ғʀɪᴇɴᴅ!ʙᴜᴄᴋʏ ʙᴀʀɴᴇs ᴀᴜ

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: You and Buck have always been close growing up but you two soon learn that the line that separates friendly and flirting is a lot thinner than you think.

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: fluff, slight angst bc u got a shit bf, big bro vibes from bucky, smut duh [18+ minors dni (slight praise but also slight degradation, marking, belly bulge, squirting, fem!rec oral, unprotected sex, plz be safe irl, slight choking, pet names: darling&princess, i think that’s it lmk plz)]

ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ’s ɴᴏᴛᴇs: hey assholes i'm back for the time being lol. I have a few ideas and fics I'm currently writing right now so do not fret.

______________________________________

You knew this was a horrible idea.

It’s Saturday night and you and your boyfriend were back in another night club after being kicked out from one just hours before. Daniel had gotten too drunk, as he always does, causing you to kindly ask the bartender to cut him off. Daniel didn’t take that too lightly resulting in a gnarly swing at the poor guy just doing his job.

Security threw you out and Daniel called an Uber to go where you thought was going to be your apartment but twenty minutes later you pulled up to another club practically on the other side of town. You yelled at Daniel but he pushed aside stumbling inside for yet even more drinks and mistakes waiting for him inside.

You sat at the bar simply drinking some water and snacking on some peanuts keeping your eye on your garbage boyfriend. You're constantly checking the time on your phone, annoyed with every passing minute. It was 2 am and you just wanted to go home and sleep. You were even debating texting your brother Steve hoping you could just crash at his place not too far from where you were but it would be incredibly irresponsible to just leave Daniel in the state he’s in.

So you waited and waited and waited. Your eyelids felt heavy and your energy was just completely drained. You were basically a zombie. It wasn’t until a guy approached your half asleep body that you felt a sense of alert. Daniel was shit-faced so you were practically defenseless.

“Hey,” the guy shouted over the music.

“Sorry, I’m not interested. My boyfriend’s-” you quickly said, only to be cut off.

“Don’t worry. I’m not gonna hit on you. I’ve got a boyfriend of my own,” he chuckled, making you breathe out in relief.

“Sorry,” you cringed at yourself.

“It’s alright; but uh, I hate to be the one to tell you this. You might want to check with your boyfriend,” he said sympathetically.

You pushed your way through the crowd scanning every face in search of Daniel. What did he do? Is he hurt? Did he get in trouble again? Is he getting arrested? Where is he-

“Daniel?” you said eyes tearing up a bit.

His arms were wrapped around another girl’s waist as he kissed her the way he kissed you. She practically moaned as their tongues slobbered disgustingly with each other. Their hips grinding against each other proactively as if you weren’t even there. Sadness turned to anger, and anger turned to rage, gripping Daniel’s short hairs and pulling his head away from whoever this girl was.

“What the fuck?” the girl complained, her eyes completely bloodshot.

“Did he tell you that he was here with his girlfriend tonight?” you're sad with gritted teeth. Daniel stumbled around still unable to register what the hell was happening.

“Oh my god, you forreal?” she said.

“Who fucking cares? She’s a prude anyway. I got more action with you than I did her in the past, what, six months?” Daniel slurred.

“You know what, you’re a fucking prick, dude. She deserves so much better than you; I bet your dick is small anyway,” the girl said.

“Fuck you too bitch,” Daniel spit.

“I can’t believe you,” you said.

“Oh, whoop-dee-doo, big fucking surprise. Babe, you’re a prude. Can’t you see it? I don’t know why I’m wasting my time with you anymore,” he practically puked out the words without any second thought.

“Fine, then I hope you enjoy the rest of your night, you fucking asshole,” you stormed away holding in the tears; he wasn’t worth it.

Almost three am and you just dumped your cheating lowlife boyfriend on the other side of town. Steve wasn’t answering his phone and you even wanna be near the club anymore. Walking speedily staring at your screen desperate to call an Uber home, you bumped harshly into a hard chest falling to the ground on your bum.

“Fucking hell, I’m so sorry, darling,” the man said helping you up by your elbows.

“It’s ok. I wasn’t looking- Bucky?”

“Oh, hey kid. What are you doing? It’s like three in the morning and you don’t live anywhere near here,” Bucky said, crossing his arms.

“Daniel got himself kicked from the one by our apartment and Ubered here instead.”

“So where’s Daniel?” Bucky scowled; he’s always hated that guy, so did Steve.

“Probably fucking some other chick in the bathroom,” your voice cracked.

“What?”

“It’s nothing; I just want to go home,” you cried.

“Hey, it’s ok; it’s ok. Do you wanna crash at me and Steve’s? He’s gone for the weekend with Peggy; you can stay in his room at least for the night,” Bucky offered; so that’s why Steve’s not answering his phone.

“I don’t wanna intrude on your night. I can just call an Uber, it’s fine.”

“No, it’s not. Steve’ll kill me if he found out I left his baby sis alone in the streets of New York at three in the morning. It’s not a problem, we were just bar hopping and I stopped drinking ages ago.”

“Are you sure, Buck?”

“Of course,” he smiled warmly at you.

“Hey, Nat!”

“What’s up?” a beautiful redhead approached you both.

“Gonna head home ; don’t do anything stupid,” he chuckled.

“You too,” she wiggled her eyebrows suggestively, “Catch you Monday?”

“You’re stupid. I’ll see ya,” Bucky laughed before grabbing your hand and headed towards his apartment.

“Thanks again, Buck. For letting me stay here tonight,” you said once you entered his apartment.

It had been a while since you hung out at your brother’s apartment but nothing’s changed. Typical men and their inability to change even a throw pillow. You set your small bag on the couch before Bucky led you to Steve’s room. There were pictures of you and him posing at Steve’s graduation; and later your own. Pictures of Steve and Bucky at a theme park, during a bar-be-que for Steve’s birthday. So many memories that Steve held onto in his room.

“Time really flies doesn’t it?” Bucky said, slightly startling you.

“Sorry,” he chuckled.

“No, you’re fine. But you’re right. Feels all these pictures were taken yesterday,” you reminisced.

“I got you some clothes if you need to change; I’ll give you privacy,” Bucky said, slipping from the room briskly.

You sat on the bed frustrated with everything. Your body was so drained from being up so early in the night, to the fight with Daniel. The past couple months with him were so awful. He was just so mean to you all the time and you didn’t know what you did wrong. Where did it go wrong? When did things shift?

"Is everything ok, darling?" Bucky asked quietly, knocking on the door when you hadn't come out after a while.

"What did I do wrong? I thought he loved me," you choked out.

Bucky sighed as he walked over to the bed sitting beside you before engulfing you in a warm hug. You cried into his shoulder and Bucky couldn't help the anger that bubbled inside him for your excuse of a boyfriend Daniel. He never got along with the guy and now he finally has a reason to knock his teeth in.

"You didn't do anything, I know it. That prick wouldn't know love if it hit him in the face. It's his loss. You deserve so much better than that asshole. Look at me, you're so beautiful and funny and fucking adorable; any guy who can't see how perfect you are, is a dense piece of shit."

"James," you whispered.

His words made your heart skip and your stomach flutter. But Bucky’s always had that effect on you. Even growing up. You weren’t going to sit there and pretend that hearing his words hadn't had a deeper effect than they would’ve coming from Daniel. Sometimes you wondered what being with Bucky would be like. You’re not the first to admit how handsome Bucky was and growing up you did have quite the crush on your brother’s best friend.

You don't know what it was, whether it was the alcohol still swimming through your veins, or just feeling so vulnerable being in Bucky's arms but you wanted him badly. You needed him, needed to feel something again. And you knew he could give it to you. You pressed your lips to his and in an instant his hands dropped to your hips pulling you impossibly close against his body. Your hands went to the back of his head as you kissed him messily. Your noses bumped and teeth clashed but it was the best kiss you’ve ever had.

“Fuck, your brother’s gonna kill me,” Bucky mumbled, almost to himself, as he slowly laid you down on your back.

Bucky’s hands trailed up your thighs, squeezing the soft flesh every now and then as he continued kissing you passionately. Your own hands couldn’t help but tug at his shirt desperately. When he did so, your breath was completely taken away. It had been years since you’d seen Bucky without a shirt.

Not only had he been quite skinny just like your brother back then, but not long after leaving for college with Steve he was in a bike accident that left him with ghastly scars and burns along his left arm and shoulder. Since then, it’s fair to say Bucky never really ever took his shirt off. It had taken years just for him to remove the glove he’d always wear to cover the scars on his hand.

“You’ve gotten so strong, James,” you grinned, reaching out to brush the flexed muscles running down his front.

He simply stared at you with an anticipating and anxious expression on his face, waiting for you to state the obvious. When you didn’t, when you pulled his head down to kiss him once again, he almost cried. Bucky hadn’t been with a woman in so long, afraid of this very moment. He knew at that moment, there was no one quite like you.

Bucky fell in love.

“Let me take care of you, darling. You’ve been so good to me,” Bucky whispered huskily in your ear as he trailed his hand under your own shirt brushing his fingertips along the underside of your breast.

His lips pressed softly against your hot skin along your neck before standing up between your legs at the end of the bed. He pulled your shirt off then played cheekily with the straps of your bra that you still had on. You smiled back at him with the same playful stare, reaching behind you to unclasp the material.

You could see the way Bucky’s eyes darken and his pupils widened as he stared in awe at your naked chest. Your skin bursted into chills under his hungry gaze even though you felt like you were burning up. Bucky leaned forward kissing down the valley of your breasts, nipping once in a while playfully before laying you back down. He shimmied you out of your bottoms easily, kneeling on the ground leaving you completely bare before him.

“You are absolutely stunning, princess,” Bucky whispered, running his hands up your thighs slowly.

“Bucky, please. I need you,” you whimpered.

“Don’t worry, darling. I promise I’m gonna take good care of you,” he smirked devilishly.

He pushed your knees open, eyeing the arousal that glistened between your thighs. He brought his fingers up to you slowly rubbing your slick around before finally pushing a thick and long finger past your folds. Your body shuddered solely at the foreign but pleasurable feeling, already moaning softly.

Bucky’s cock strained through pants upon hearing your beautiful moans; they were like music to his ears. He couldn’t help the way his hips would buck into the mattress in a desperate attempt to relieve some pain from his erection. Soon after he pulled his fingers from you slowly only to thrust them further in you, curling his fingers just right.

He brought his mouth down to you, wrapping his lips around your clit sucking harshly. You gasped and your back arched, overwhelmed with pleasure Bucky was giving you with just his mouth and fingers. All the times that you’d given yourself to your ex, he had never made you feel this good before, feel this full; let alone with his fingers. Bucky was taking his time with you solely for your own pleasure and it made your heart swoon.

Your legs trapped Bucky’s head between your thighs, squeezing as he continued to eat you out like a starved man. Your hands went to his hair pulling on his dark locks causing Bucky to moan deeply against you. You were so close to a release; your legs shaking violently and your stomach tightening.

“Come on, princess. Want you to come all over my face. Can you do that for me, darling?”

“Fuck!”

“Be a good girl and make a mess,” Bucky teased.

His fingers moved faster as he swirled his tongue around and over your clit just as quickly. You were becoming overwhelmed and that coil bursted in the pit of your stomach. You pushed Bucky’s face from you, shrieking with pure pleasure; Bucky’s kept the rapid pace with fingers as you fell over the edge.

“Fucking hell, that was so hot, princess,” Bucky said standing up; his fingers, arm, his chest was covered in your arousal.

“Did I do that?” your voice trembled.

“Because of me,” Bucky winked playfully.

“I didn’t know I could do that,” you let your head fall back on the bed as you briefly caught your breath.

Bucky grabbed his shirt that he discarded not long ago and quickly wiped his chest and arm before discarding his pants and boxers. He nearly moaned at the feeling when he finally freed his dick from the restraining garments. His hand instantly wrapped around the base before pumping himself a few times.

You brought yourself onto your elbows momentarily ogling at the sight of Bucky completely bare before you. Your mouth practically watered at the sight. Bucky crawled over you kissing you deeply and messily; but perfectly. He pulled away and you both had goofy smiles on your faces before bursting into a fit of giggles, Bucky’s head burying into the crook of your neck.

“You’re so goddamn adorable, princess,” Bucky’s voice was muffled.

“Bucky,” you whined.

You couldn’t resist squirming underneath the burly man. Although, you’ve just had what was probably the best orgasm you’ve ever had, you wanted more. You needed more; you needed Bucky.

“I got you, darling. I got you.”

Bucky wanted to tease you more, make you beg, but he was just as desperate to feel you as you were. He propped himself up on his elbows kissing you one last time before reaching between your bodies and lining his dick with your entrance. Both you and Bucky moaned simultaneously as he stretched you out; curses spilling from his lips as incoherent moans fell from yours.

“So fucking tight, princess. Squeezing my cock just right, aren’t ya?” he whispered.

“Fuck, I feel so full,” you whimpered.

Bucky began to slowly move his hips in and out of you deliciously. He quickly picked up the pace, jetting his hips rapidly making your moans louder. Bucky sat up on his knees and gripped your waist surely to leave bruises in your wake. This new angle surprised you and you couldn’t help the squeals and moans that left your mouth. You chanted Bucky's name like a prayer; as if it was the only word you knew.

Bucky watched you carefully, your face contorting with pure euphoric pleasure. He couldn’t help notice the small bump in your lower belly and without a second thought, he grabbed your hands pressing them firmly over your tummy.

“You feel how deep I am, darling? Fucking poking through,” Bucky grunted.

“Shit! Oh, it feels so good,” you moaned.

“That’s right, no one’s ever gonna fuck you this good again. This pussy’s mine now,” Bucky growled.

He took one of his hands and wrapped it around your throat squeezing the sides gently but firm at the same time. Your eyes rolled back and you moaned even louder, confident that the neighbors were sure to complain in the morning. Feeling Bucky’s hand around your neck was so exhilarating; you and Daniel had never ever experimented with anything beyond a pair of handcuffs, and that particular night went horribly.

You like being choked by Bucky.

“Fucking slut; you like this, don’t ya?” he came down to whisper huskily against your lips.

“Mh-hm,” you moaned with a devilish grin, your bottom lip resting between your teeth before your eyes rolled back again.

“Such a fucking beauty you are.”

Bucky hips snapped in and out and he knew it wouldn’t be long until he needed to release.

“God, I’m close, princess,” he growled.

His hand moved to rest on the back of your neck to pull you up so you straddled his thighs and your chest was flushed against his. Your sensitive and hardened nipples brushed against his slightly sweaty skin causing you to shudder in pleasure. Bucky’s lips attached themselves to your skin along your collar bones sucking harshly leaving purple marks all along.

Your legs shook once again as they did before and soon enough with an arched back and shout of Bucky’s name you came all over his cock. Overwhelmed with your sex, Bucky bit harshly on your shoulder in a poor attempt to muffled the loud groans and moans he elicited. Feeling your velvety walls squeeze tightly around him pushed him over the edge, coating your walls with hot ribbons on cum.

He fell forward almost crushing you but you were too tired to complain. Bucky continued to pepper soft kisses all over your skin whispering how good you were to him, how beautiful you looked. Just absolutely showering with compliments. You felt him slowly getting off you, probably afraid he was crushing you, but you didn’t want him to leave just yet.

“Don’t,” you whispered, wrapping your arms tightly around his body.

“I don’t want to crush you, darling.”

“You’re not.”

Bucky chuckled before settling completely above you, careful not to make you uncomfortable. Hardly any time went by when he felt the even and soft puffs of air hitting his skin, sure that you had fallen asleep. He picked himself up and with major guilt for his best friend, picked you up from the bed and walked you to his own room.

After he was sure you stayed sound asleep, Bucky grabbed a clean pair of boxers and hurried himself to Steve’s room again. He collected all the discarded clothes and the dirty sheets and tossed them in the washing machine to clean right away.

He hadn’t meant to fuck his best friend’s little sister, let alone in his own room, on his own bed, but it all happened so fast.

He went back to his room letting the clothes do it’s thing, and quickly grabbed his phone. He messaged Steve, telling him that when he got back for his weekend with Peggy, he really needed to talk to him.

Tonight made Bucky realize how much he loved you. Growing up, you two had always been close. But he doesn’t know when he stopped being friendly and instead began flirting. Bucky wanted to be with you; he knew it now more than ever.

Bucky watched your gorgeous sleeping form on his bed. He smiled to himself before opening the window; the sun already rising and those beautiful golden rays seeped through the glass window, making you look angelic. He crawled into bed cuddling flushed against your naked body. He chuckled softly when you realized he’d returned, wiggling even further into his arms.

“I love you, Bucky,” you mumbled.

“I love you, too, darling.”

And he really, and truly did love you. As did you love him.

=======================

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gucciwins · 3 years

Text

The First Kiss

Harry and Y/N go on their first date...will they finally become something more?

Word count: 4814

A/N: I know how much you all love breakout room and the follow up it's your birthday. I love writing them and it's been a while but do know they are doing well. this is nothing but sweet fluff. I do mention the vaccine and wearing masks which I hope you all are doing. it's important to stay safe and truly wish nothing but the best for you all. I love you xxx

please reblog and let me know your thoughts

_____

“Are you feeling good? I sent over a goodie basket.”

Harry giggled, loving how concerned you were. “I’m doing good, baby.” He sees you tuck your head into your sweater smiling, when he notices it’s the one he sent you in a goodie basket after you got your second shot of the vaccine.

It’s spring break, and Harry can finally say he is officially vaccinated after letting the mandated two weeks pass. It’s perfect timing, honestly, as he has been itching to finally see you in person again.

Your university let you know that they would begin to have vaccine dates open to students through an email that you quickly forwarded to Harry. You had to register to get a date for your first vaccine, and slots were filling up fast. You shot Harry multiple texts telling him what day you got and time, but you went without an answer for an hour which is weird, seeing as Harry never liked to leave you waiting more than five minutes.

By the time he got back to you, he had to wait two weeks, unlike you, who would be getting in only three days. You asked why he didn’t answer, and he said he was in class. You frowned because even then, he always answered. He then confessed he lost his phone in his apartment and didn’t have time to search for it.

You laughed about it, but he was disappointed because he wanted to see you. To give you a hug. To hold your hand.

After spending his birthday together, you both decided against meeting in person for safety even though you both wanted to, more than anything. You postponed your date to the future. Instead, you completed the group assignment through zoom meetings that led to facetime calls. After submitting the project and learning that you aced the assignment, well, you both caved in.

Harry gushed on how he always got B’s on the professor’s assignments, and to celebrate, he sent you a dozen cupcakes from the bakery that you never stop raving about located only three blocks from where you live. Then proceeded to call him over to celebrate and who was he to say no. Harry was shocked at how rich and full of flavor they were because he wasn’t aware it was vegan. Yet, it tasted better than anything he ever had. Harry realized why it was your favorite, promising to take you there in person to have your pick of favorites and not only red velvet and carrot cake because they were safe choices.

You couldn’t say you’ve been on a proper date with Harry, but you’d like to count all the zoom calls and facetime calls as dates not that you let Harry know it would only inflate his ego. You’d start a call to ask a question on assignments, and it would lead to sharing stories back and forth of what their favorite book was to where they would visit if they could go that very second. You loved how insightful he was, also liked how he used pastel highlighters to mark his annotations. Harry was a fan of how you always had a pencil in your hair or behind your ear. How you always had a snack on hand because you didn’t want to listen to professors without something to eat or you’d lose focus.

You were glad you’d be able to get together safely but also taking all the needed precautions. Safety is hot, as Harry liked to say all the time when you sent him photos of you wearing your masks.

“Yeah, like the basket?”

Harry grins, but it’s not as bright due to the lacking pixels of your laptop. He holds it up, having placed it in his lap. “I did love the bath bombs.”

You smile back at him, “Going to change your life. Self-care is important, bub. Even in the smallest ways as a bath.”

Harry nods, “I know, baby. The reason I remember to take deep breaths each morning, no longer eager to reach for my phone.”

“Proud of you.”

“And I of you, baby.”

Harry shines his dimples at you when you turn your head away at the sweet name he started calling you a few weeks ago. You adored it, honestly, but it always left you feeling flustered.

“H, please.”

“Baby, I like seeing you flustered.”

“You’re a menace.”

He shrugs, still giggling.

“How are Mitch and Sarah?”

“Wonderful, sickly in love as always. Spend their time at Sarah’s like composing together.”

“That’s sweet.” You lean in, smiling at him, “you know we should all hang out together. I get to meet Mitch properly and see Sarah again, and you’ll get to meet Amy.” You grow excited at the thought.

“Not before I get to see you.”

“H, we got to coordinate a day that works for all of us. No need to get jealous.”

“Not jealous.”

“Sure,” you reply sarcastically.

“Got to learn to share me with Amy. I cook her lunch and dinner; otherwise, she’d be nothing but a walking cadaver.”

“I want you to make me lunch and dinner,” he pouts.

“I can now that you’ve vaxxed.”

“That I am, so you are.”

“Yes,” you’re waiting for him to go on.

“Will you go on a date with me? Think we waited long enough, and if my feelings weren’t obvious enough, I like you and really want to take you out.” he rambles on.

You interrupt him knowing fully well he could go on for days, “I’d love to, Harry.”

“Yeah, baby?”

“Yes, Harry.”

“Great. Friday then.”

“I’m free.”

“I know, know your schedule by heart.”

“Creep,” you gasp at the news.

“Shush, like you don’t have my classes added to your planner.” Your turn to pout.

“I like knowing your schedule, and they overlap.”

“I do too. Look forward to your messages every day between classes.”

“So Friday? What are you planning?”

“A picnic.”

You jump up in excitement, causing your laptop to fall back on your bed before you dive to save it. Harry yelling dramatically in the background as if you just dropped him.

“H, be quiet. You’re fine.”

“Dropped me, darling.”

“Dork.”

He mutters something in return, but you can’t hear him.

“So I’ll prepare lunch because you’ve told me once or twice that you’re hopeless in the kitchen.” Harry doesn’t even try to fight you because it’s true. “You’ll take care of drinks and desserts.”

“Seems like you’re planning the date,” he teases.

“I like picnics.”

“Well, I like you, so I’ll let you take over.”

Your smile turns soft, reaching your hand out as if you could reach in and caress him. “I like you, too. I can’t wait to give you a hug.”

“Counting down the hours.”

“Alright, you have class in ten, and you always struggle to log in.”

“Making me hang up. Not fair.” Harry frowns, debating skipping class for you.

“Don’t think about it, Styles.”

“Fine. Take care, baby.”

“Bye, H.”

A date.

You have a date with Harry.

Finally, it happened.

_____

You were nervous.

Why were you nervous? It was just Harry.

Harry, who wanted to date you from your first meeting, who emailed you asking you out, and who has not stopped talking to you since February. Constantly reminding you of his feelings for you. You hope he knew you felt the same, in texts and sending him little gifts even as small as writing him a letter.

You got up early today to prepare lunch. You decided on sandwiches, a non-messy meal, and Harry always said he wanted to try the bakery bread you use and not the basic store-bought. It was a bit pricey but not as much anymore because you had become a regular, meaning the sweet owner began giving you a discount, especially when finding out you're a student. Still, you always remember to leave a good tip. The turkey sandwiches were finished with cheese, lettuce, and tomatoes. Looked so good that Amy had one as you were making them. You made three and packed them up in your glass reusable containers.

Staring at the sandwiches, it felt like too little food when Harry had told you many times how much he enjoys eating, so you cleaned up and got to make a second meal. You decided on vegetable rice paper rolls. A favorite and easy meal to make that you enjoyed eating. It was packed with lettuce, avocado, cabbage, bell peppers, cucumbers, noodles, and fresh herbs. This was a meal your dad made you all the time as a child with the special slightly spicy peanut sauce that you could drizzle on top.

Harry was going to enjoy this, so you hoped. He promised to make strawberry lemonade. Assured you that it would not be store-bought, and you believed him. During one of your late conversations, he shared how his sister would make him some when she returned from uni. Reminds him of home, he would say.

After packing everything away in the fridge to keep it cool it was time to get ready. You stood in front of your closet for a good five minutes before you began to swipe through the hangers. You knew you wanted to wear a dress; it was warm weather and would only get hotter as the day went on.

You searched your entire closet, there were three options once you had decided on, but you called Amy in to make the final decison for you. She decided on the one sitting in the middle of your bed, which was exactly what you were thinking.

The dress was a white button-front high slit that fit you nicely. You hadn't used it in quite some time, seeing as when you left your apartment, it would be in leggings, sweats, and the first sweater you could slip on.

You couldn't stop looking in the mirror, loving how it flowed around you when you twirled. For accessories, you slipped on a gold ring that had a little heart on it and another that was a gift shaped like a small snake as it was going to scale down your finger. A simple heart locket gifted to you by your grandparents hung right above your cleavage. You decided to leave your hair natural, liking how it air-dried after the shower you had that morning.

There was no makeup on your face, just your favorite rosebud salve lip balm that left your lips soft. Amy insisted you put some on, but you stood firm in your decision, knowing you'd be wearing a mask and didn't want anything smudging.

You looked down at the time on your phone and knew it was time to head down, Harry said twelve, and you didn't want to make him come up to your apartment only to walk down the three levels again. You grabbed the picnic basket that was sitting in the back of yours and Amy's shared doorway closet and made sure to place everything neatly, leaving room for Harry's drink and stashing a bunch of napkins in for any accidents. Basket prepared, you slipped your sunglasses in your hair, placing your lavender tote bag with tiny embroidered daisies on your shoulder that contained sunscreen, your wallet, extra face masks, and a book Harry had told he had wanted to read.

Before opening your door, you put on the white mask that you embroidered sunflowers on. It was one of your favorites, and glad it complimented your look well. You walked down the stairs slowly, not wanting to drop the basket.

You walk out the front door and find Harry getting out of the yellow mask on his face. As you get closer, you can see it's the one you made him. It has bees on it, and embroidered on the left side is 'my honey.' Harry had turned quite pink when he opened the gift he got in the mail over facetime with her. You happily screenshot his reaction, happy to have it to look back on.

As soon as you reach him, it's as if all the nerves you had disappeared. Calm washes over you as he comes to stand in front of you. You can't see the smile he has, but the crinkles by his eyes prove he's just as happy to see you.

"Hi, Harry," you say, your eyes taking him all in.

Harry doesn't hide, he's checking you out, and you're thankful for the mask at the moment, able to hide how bashful you're feeling. "Hello, baby. You look gorgeous. I'm a lucky man."

"Yeah," you swayed side to side, "gave me a reason to dress up."

"Always beautiful, but I'm so glad to see more than just your shoulders." He laughs, and you join him.

"Look pretty, H. I had not seen this cardigan." You reach out, running a finger down over the pastel yellow cardigan that looks to be well-loved. He paired it with a plain white shirt that fits him loosely with Gucci denim trousers that he told you he found a few years ago when he was thrift shopping in London with his mother.

"No, brought it out just for you. Wanted it to match my favorite mask." Although he couldn't see it, you hoped your eyes were doing their job expressing your joy. "Let's put this basket in the trunk. Got a blanket and a few pillows as well as the lemonade."

"And the dessert?"

He chuckles, "and the dessert."

You place everything in the trunk, taking a step back for Harry to close it. He walks you over to your door, opening it for you, you offer a soft thank you, but before you get in, you turn to look at him.

"What is it, baby?"

You stare down at your ribbon-tied wedges before looking up into his piercing green eyes. "Can I have a hug? I just--I'm really happy to see you."

Harry falters for a second before answering, "of course, come here." He's quick to bring you in for a hug, and it feels like home. It's comfortable, and you can't believe you haven't hugged him since February, a good two months ago, when it has honestly felt like a lifetime. "I would have earlier, but when you came out, you truly shocked me with how amazing you looked."

You just hug him tighter, enjoying feeling his strong arms around you. He looks at you smiling. "That was nice." You nod because it was, and if he'd let you, you'd stay in his arms all day.

"Well, shall we go?"

"We shall."

And with that, you were off to your first date with Harry, which would hopefully lead to more.

_____

The drive to the park was short; you unloaded everything from the car once you got there. Harry offers to carry the basket, letting you lead to picking the spot. You walked ahead, glad he brought you to a park you recognized; it's one you liked to walk around during finals week when you were drowning in essays and exams. This was a nice break. On the other side of the park is a lake where you can rent pedal boats, but you were sure they hadn't opened up for business just yet, wanting more of the population to be vaccinated.

You led him to a secluded area laughing when he joked if you were leading him to his murder. Once you reached the clearing, one large tree with lots of shade and a few rose bushes surrounded it.

"It's beautiful here." Harry awed in amazement.

"Yeah, I found it my first year when I was trying to destress; I don't think many people know about it because it's not on the maps."

"Lucky us."

Harry grabs one end of the blanket, helping you spread it on the grass. You set your tote bag on one corner as well as setting down the pillows. As you make your way to sit down, Harry gently grabs your elbow, causing you to turn and look at him; he's holding a bouquet of tulips.

You felt your eyes well up with tears, not used to such a kind gesture; it's been a long time since you've been on a date with someone you really care about, "You got me tulips, H."

You reach forward and cradle them in your arms. "Course I did; I think you deserve all the beautiful things life has to offer."

You set the flowers on top of the basket before straightening up and pulling Harry into a hug. Your arms around his neck, his resting tightly around your waist, "including you," you whisper in his ear, causing him to squeeze you a bit tighter. Harry pulls back, leaving a gentle kiss on your forehead.

"Let's eat, baby. Know you made something delicious for us to enjoy."

Harry set the food out, and you are sure to hand him the wet wipes to clean your hand before you could begin wanting to be clean and not wanting to venture out to find a restroom. He eyed the sandwiches first, then the veggie rice paper rolls.

"Couldn't decide?"

"Wasn't sure what you'd like. So I gave you two options."

"Too sweet angel." Harry leans in to kiss her cheek.

"Think we ought to take off the mask now." You giggle, sad you didn't get to feel his lips on your cheek.

"Yeah, so comfortable it doesn't really bother me wearing them. I am hungry."

You place your mask in your bag, and Harry puts his mask in his pocket. He opens up both containers and digs into the veggie rolls first. He hums after the first bite, chewing happily. "Delicious," he mutters between chews.

"Can add this peanut sauce to give it more flavor, just a tad bit spicy." He watches you as you pick up and spoon drizzle a bit on top, taking a bite. Harry follows your steps taking another bite, and his eyes go wide at the added flavor.

"Shocked, I've lived all my life without this food."

You laugh, "well, now you don't have to."

He chews happily at your response.

_____

Lunch is filled with little conversation, both praising each other for a well-planned meal. The strawberry lemonade complimenting the food perfectly. He brought a raspberry lemon loaf cake for dessert, and you happily admit you ate two pieces. It tasted so heavily, making Harry promise you to buy more in the future for you. He agreed, stating he'd do anything to make you happy.

"It's nice going out with someone, enjoying the sweet fresh air." Harry comments.

You hum in agreement, "I adore my alone time, but with the right company, it can feel just as perfect."

Harry's cheek turns rosy pink quickly, not at all trying to hide from you. You love that he loves to show how much you affect him.

"It feels normal like we've done this hundred of times already.”

You chuckle, nudging his shoulder. "It's cause we have. Just never called any of them dates."

"So you agree, we've been dating since February," he teases.

"Yeah, I think we can say that."

"When was our first zoom call?"

"Hmm...after class a week after your birthday. Think we worked for an hour and talked about nothing for another."

You look over at Harry loving how the sun reflects off his skin; it makes him look like a gift from the Gods. Harry feels your gaze on him, flashing you a big grin, his dimples on display just for you, because of you.

"We will call February eighth our anniversary," he declares.

You laugh, not a silent one but a full-out belly gripping laugh; you can feel the tears welling up in your eyes. Harry sits there confused, not sure where the joke was.

"You alright, baby?" He asks, just a bit concerned.

"That is what you were thinking so hard about; you couldn't figure out a week from your birthday quickly. Took you a good few minutes." You shake your head, trying to catch your breath, tiny giggles still escaping you.

"Oi, no need to be rude."

"Sorry, honey."

"Never claimed to be smart."

"The pretty ones never are," you tease.

"Alright, that's it. I've had enough."

Before you can stop him, he's on top of you, his fingers tickling you from your sides to your thighs. He knows your body getting all your secret spots that make you squirm away from. You almost succeeded in getting one of his hands over your head, but he surprises you by straddling you. You've stopped laughing, but Harry keeps going.

His curls are falling over his head, his eyes shining bright, a new lightness to them. At that moment, you realize how lucky you are, and before you know it, you reach your free hand up and place it on the back of his neck, bringing him down to your lips catching him by surprise.

Harry stays frozen for a second before sinking into the kiss, responding softly, wanting to explore you as he'd been thinking about this moment for months. You love the feel of his lips against yours; you'd happily give up breathing, never wanting to part. Harry tries to pull away, but you chase his mouth, not ready to stop kissing. He smiles against your lips, humming when he places a hand on your cheek, adding more pressure; you're not sure who lets out a moan letting it out into the universe wishing for more, hoping for forever.

You don't get butterflies or fireworks. Instead, you feel the ease of calmness wash over you like when you arrive home after a long day. That's what kissing Harry is like coming home.

You pull back, laying your head on the pillow Harry was wise to bring; you don't try to contain your smile as Harry stares down at you in a look of awe. You run your thumb over his bottom lip-loving how swollen they look thanks to you. His eyes never leave yours; you gasp as he places a kiss on your thumb before taking it in his mouth, sucking it gently; a moan escapes you, surprised at how hot the teasing is getting you.

"You're filthy, honey."

Harry smirks, "just for you, baby."

"Only our first date, H. We aren't going to move fast."

"A makeout isn't too fast for you," he teases.

"Felt just right." You smile, loving the feeling of his weight on top of you as he has not moved from his position, still straddling you.

"I agree."

"Sorry, I didn't ask if I could kiss you. Consent is sexy."

Harry's smile is soft, his eyes flicker to your lips, then back to your eyes, "You hereby have permission to kiss me whenever you please, my love."

"You know all the right things to say to make me puny for you."

"Good to know. Got to keep a mental list."

"What's on there so far?"

Harry smirks, leaning down his mouth right over your mouth; you remember the taste of lemon you felt when you kissed him, and well, you don't try to stop yourself when you attach your lips against his. There's no sweeter feeling, you've decided.

He pulls back, keeping the kiss short, "Know you can't be close to me without giving me a kiss. Know your heart is racing like it might beat out of your chest, and I know you're dying to ask me to be your boyfriend."

"Guess you are smart," you whisper.

He chuckles, nudging his nose against yours, humming as he places a kiss on the top of your nose.

"You know, I was right."

"Yeah, about what, H?" You reach your hand up to run your hand through his curls, brushing them back, giggling as they fall forward again.

"That your laugh sounds better in person. Know it's cheesy but truly music to my ears."

"You nutter!"

"Oi, picking up my slang, are you?"

"Got to, especially when you called that Evan kid a wanker for dismissing my response." You snicker, remembering the moment a few classes ago when you spoke up to give your opinion only for Evan trying to mansplain how women in politics were growing already especially having a female-run as a candidate a few years back. You would have cussed him out, but Harry did it for you. He packed up all your points with his own references. Safe to say, Evan has not spoken up since then.

"Cause he is one. You're the smartest person in the class, and that tosser should not even be in this class. Clearly, hasn't learned one bit since January."

"Settle down, honey. All in the past." You pat his chest a few times, getting his focus back on you. "Got that book you've wanted to read, want to give it a read now?"

"Course, baby. Happy you had it in your collection." He's gotten back into reading now that he seemed to have more time on his hands, and they had been bouncing recommendations off of each other. You had told him to stay off Book Tok because it was the same ten books being promoted by every page. His sister told him to read The Silent Patient, but he couldn't rationalize spending fifteen dollars, and he couldn't find the free pdf. He asked you and told him Amy bought it for you as a gift for feeding her.

"Let me get it out of my bag; you can lay in my lap easier to listen to."

Harry's eyes go wide; you're going to read him. He did not expect that, but he had to make sure. "Going to read to me, darling?"

"If you don't mind." you tuck your hand into your tote bag again, "brought my kindle in case you didn't want to. Won't be sad if you don't want to."

"No, I want you to. Yeah, more than anything. Got the prettiest voice." Harry pecks your lips, pulling back giddy because that's the first time he's kissed you, and well, he has to do it again. Your lips move in sync, the kisses feeling smoother but just as passionate. You break the kiss, playfully push him away, hands-off, letting you adjust yourself before he sets one of the smaller pillows in your lap and lays his head. Your hand is quick to find a place in his hair, thankful you've mastered the one hand reading and page-flipping due to always having a book in your hand growing up.

_____

After reading for a bit, Harry lifts his head from your lap, taking the time to admire you. You kept reading, letting him take you in from this new angle. You stopped brushing his hair instead, allowing yourself to get immersed in the book once again. You giggled, thinking back at Harry's reaction to the opening line of chapter one.

You had just flipped to a new page, ready to start chapter seven, when you saw how fidgety Harry had gotten. He clearly had something on his mind, so you wanted to give him his space; you had only read five words when he spoke, interrupting you.

"Will you be my girlfriend?" Harry blurts, shifting to sit in front of you.

You don't smile, but you know he can see the gleam in your eyes at his words, "Hmmm...will you give me a cute nickname?"

Harry doesn't know what you're doing but goes along with it. "Already do, so yes."

"Will you let me make you more masks?"

"Yes."

"Will you knit me a sweater?"

"I'll knit you hundreds."

You nod, "then yes, I'll be your girlfriend."

"Yeah, you want me to be your boyfriend," Harry teases.

"Dork," you shove his shoulder, causing him to fall back. He gasps in shock.

You laugh, and it's music to his ears; his dramatic response is swallowed as he takes you in. Harry isn't sure where he'd be without you. He takes in the happiness displayed on your face and knows if you could look in a mirror, he'd look just as happy if not more. You are a light in his life.

These last few months have changed everything about him. Harry hadn't really understood what it meant when people said that your partner should also be your best friend. He thought it was cheesy and something to give false hope to others, but with you, he knew it was true.

Starting off as friends built a strong foundation for you both to grow together, and he is forever thankful you took a chance on him.

Harry called it fate, but you well, you think it was all thanks to the zoom gods who set you up in a random break out room not once but twice.

_____

thank you for reading :) I adore you xx

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waka-chan-out · 3 years

Text

Just Once

Hanamaki Takahiro x fem!reader

non-canonical timeskip.

word count: 3.5k

content warnings: makki’s pov. honestly this is pretty much just friends to lovers fluff with some healthy smut thrown in at the end. technically unprotected sex but no attention is called to it.

based on this request

Makki was sure you didn’t even realize you were half asleep, so when he shoved your shoulder you nearly jumped across the room.

“What the hell?” you yelped. He laughed and stood.

“Not on my watch! Sit up. Come on. I got you.”

He dragged you into a seated position and grabbed a bright pink energy drink from the fridge. He flopped back down in front of you and held out his hand.

“Drink this.”

You saw what he was holding and snorted.

“Why?”

“So you can stay up with me, stupid. You asked to sleep over. I expect fully conscious best friend bonding time.”

You rolled your eyes but took the can anyway.

“I asked to sleep over, not stay up all night,” you said, popping open the can. You held it up to your lips and took an experimental sip.

“How is it?” he asked. You winced and shook your shoulders.

“It tastes like drugged up cotton candy.” You held it up to your lips, then hesitated. “Am I supposed to feel it as it goes through my veins?”

“You are, actually. It’s great.” He picked up his own drink and nearly spilled it on the carpet before taking a long sip. Using your logic, his was a deliciously metallic green apple flavor.

You moved to set your drink down but Makki caught your hands in his own.

“Oh, no you don’t. Come on. Open.” He sat up to between your knees and tipped the drink back toward your lips. “I can sip. You gotta chug.”

You made a muffled sound in protest but let the liquid fall past your lips anyway, grumpily holding his gaze as you drained a good portion of the can. He set it down beside you and shot you what was supposed to be an innocent smile.

“You’re an idiot,” you said.

“Indeed. Feeling more awake?” he asked. You shrugged.

“I’m sure I will once the heart palpitations set in.”

“I know CPR. You’ll be fine.”

He settled back onto the floor and resumed staring at the ceiling. You had bought him one of those little constellation lights for his last birthday, and since it was freezing outside they were the best possible substitute for stargazing. You laid down next to him, fingers laced on your chest. Quiet music came from your phone in the corner, virtually untouched since you arrived hours earlier. Matsukawa always joked that when you hung out together it was like you entered a void, completely impossible to locate until you were separated, and he was right. With you here, this was the only room that existed. You were floating around in space and would be sucked out into nothing as soon as you tried to leave.

You rolled over and leaned against your hand.

“What are you thinking about?” you asked. Makki didn’t look at you. He didn’t need to.

“Matsukawa,” he said. You scoffed.

“Why? Making a tier list of our friend’s eyebrows?”

“Hair, actually. His curls give him a pretty big advantage.”

“They are nice, I’ll give you that. But not nice enough to make up for his shitty personality.”

It wasn’t nearly as fun ripping into him when he wasn’t there to defend himself, but you both laughed anyway.

Makki considered your words for a moment. In all honesty, Matsukawa would place pretty high on all of those lists. A humor list too. And probably an overall looks list. He was certainly the more popular in high school, and had only come more into his own since graduating.

“You know, I always thought Matsukawa was the better looking of the two of us.” The words slipped out before he could even consider stopping them. He froze and turned to you. To his surprise you were studying his face with the interest he might have expected from a doctor and their patient. When you didn’t respond, he realized he was nervous. Why, he didn’t know, but he really, really needed you to respond.

“I’ve never told anyone that before,” he breathed.

“Issei is handsome,” you said. Well, fuck.

“Good, good. These years of insecurity were warranted. Good to know.”

You smacked his shoulder.

“Shut the fuck up while I speak to you.” He laughed but held his tongue. You continued. “Issei is handsome, but you are too. Just in different ways. Neither is better or worse.”

He stared at you stupidly. “Thanks?”

“Don’t say it like it’s a question! I’m being serious.”

“I can tell. It’s just a funny compliment to get.”

“Well, think about it. The sunrise is beautiful. The sunset is beautiful. Two things can be totally different and equally lovely at the same time.”

He gazed at you, face scrunched and unable to decide between confusion and understanding.

“Do you get it?” you asked

“Yeah, yeah. I think so.” He paused and considered what you said. “So, which am I?” You made a face.

“Isn’t that obvious?”

“It’s your metaphor!”

“You’re sunrise, dummy.” You ruffled his hair. “I thought you’d get that.”

He smiled. He could work with sunrise.

“So, which do you prefer?” he asked. “Sunrise or sunset?” You huffed a laugh and your eyes fell to the carpet, where you had started playing with a loose string.

“I try not to play favorites,” you said. He watched your face carefully. A small smile played on your lips, the same one that always appeared when you were alone with him. “But there’s a reason I don’t drag you outside as the sun is going down.”

He stared at you, and you stared right back. An unexpected but deeply familiar feeling settled in his chest. He didn’t know what to do with it, so he swallowed hard and returned to laying on his back. “Thank you.”

“You don’t need to thank me for being honest.”

“I know. But for my own sake, thanks.”

Makki could feel your eyes scanning his face, but he kept his gaze trained on the ceiling.

“You know, you’re good looking too,” he said.

“Yeah? You come up with a fancy metaphor for me?”

He snorted and turned onto his side again. Your lips were curled into the prettiest shadow of a smile and he could feel his mouth going dry.

“I’m not good at talking like that. But you’re just so familiar.” He reached out and absentmindedly traced his fingers over the back of your hand. He tried his best to not look at your face, because he could feel his heating up and the warmth was making it hard to think straight. He stilled his hand and laid it on top of yours as was finally able to piece his thoughts together. “You feel like home.”

When he finally looked at you your lips were parted in surprise. He hadn’t expected that reaction. Was what he said been that outlandish? You had been friends forever. Of course he felt like that around you.

“Thank you, Makki,” you said. His mouth twitched into a smirk.

“You don’t need to thank me for being honest.” The repeated phrase forced a laugh out of you, but he couldn’t quite place the look on your face.

“Can I ask you something?” he said.

“You just did,” you teased. He rolled his eyes and scooted closer to show he was serious.

“Okay, okay,” you said. “Shoot.”

“Why don’t you call me by my given name?”

You scoffed.

“I don’t know.”

“That’s not true! There has to be a reason.”

“It feels too special. I don’t want to use it like that.”

“You use Mattsun’s!”

“Yeah, well.”

He frowned, amused, and leaned in closer. You wrinkled your nose and tried to back away.

“Well, what?” he asked.

“I don’t know how to explain it! It’s just different. Too intimate.” You said the last part quietly, like you didn’t want him to hear it.

“So why can you use his ‘intimate’ name and not mine?”

“Because it feels different with you.”

“Why?”

You were staring at him, an apprehensive look on your face. He paused, and the new information finally clicked. Oh.

You both hesitated.

“Do you want me to say it or do you get it?” you whispered.

“I think I get it?”

You blew out a frustrated sigh and covered your face with your hands.

“Don’t say it like a question!”

“Fine, fine, fine. I genuinely think I get it but I don’t want to be presumptuous.”

“So you get it but you’re not going to do anything to show me that you get it?”

“See? You get it.”

“Makki!”

“What? You know I can’t turn it off.” He grinned. “It’s like an impulse.”

“You’re an impulsive ass?”

“I am. That’s why we fit so well together. You’re an impulsive ass tamer.”

You let out a surprised laugh.

“And what does that make Issei?”

Makki waved his hand dismissively.

“Oh, forget about him. I wanna focus on us.”

“Us?”

“Yeah, us. I’m still on this given name bullshit.”

“God,” you groaned. “Can we move on to another topic?”

“Not until I’m sure that I know what I think I know.”

“Hanamaki Takahiro, I am going to end your bloodline.”

He perked up and pointed at your face.

“Ah! You said it! Now just say it on its own.”

“Hanamaki.”

“Fuck! No. Not that one.”

You stared at him seriously.

“Just try it!” he begged. “Then I’ll stop bugging you.”

“Forever?”

“Hell no, just about this.”

You groaned and rubbed your hands over your face. You took a deep breath and set your jaw.

“Just once?” you asked.

“Just once. Unless I want to hear it again.”

“If you’re going to be weird I’m not going to say it!”

“Fine! Fine. I’m shutting up.” He motioned like he was zipping up his lips and handing you the key. You laughed and pretended to take it, closing your hand into a fist and laying it between you.

“Okay.” You took a deep breath. He pretended not to notice the way it faltered on the way out. You looked him seriously in the eye.

“Takahiro.”

Shit.

He expected it to feel silly, so much hype up for something incredibly stupid. But it wasn’t. It felt a little too good to be silly. It felt really good. It felt right.

He held out his hand. Your brows pulled together until he pointed at your hand, then his face. You let out a ridiculous laugh and held two fingers close to his mouth, pretending to unzip his lips again. He caught your hand before you could fully pull it away, cradling it against his face.

“You know, that’s the prettiest anyone has ever said it.” He didn’t register the words that were forming until they were out and he was cringing, waiting for you to tell him to fuck off. Instead, you narrowed your eyes at him.

“Don’t be embarrassing.”

“What? The more you say it the less strange it feels for both of us.” He scooted against the ground, bringing his body even closer to yours. “Do it again.”

You sighed and rolled your eyes.

“Takahiro.”

Fuck.

You sat in silence. You stared at each other, unwavering and perfectly comfortable, neither of you making any move to turn away. Makki broke the silence with a sharp breath.

“Can I try something?” he asked. You looked apprehensive but he went on. “If I totally misread the situation that’s fine, I won’t be offended. Just, can I?”

You shrugged.

“I don’t care.”

Well, shit. He was suddenly frozen.

You know what? No. You were one of his best friends. If he fucked up, you’d tell him, then you’d laugh about it, and best of all, you’d never ever tell Matsukawa. That was the kind of friend you were. You were perfect. You were his.

He pushed up on his elbow and leaned over you. He could see your eyes widen in surprise, then settle back into something nervous but not apprehensive. He was so close to you. At this distance he could feel every pull of your breath against his face. God, he could do this. If worst came to worst you could laugh about it and return to being best friends. He might die as he did this, but if he was honest, he was more likely going to die if he didn’t.

He reached up and ran a hand through your hair. Then, he cupped the side of your face, leaned in, and ever so gently pressed his lips to yours.

For a moment he panicked because you didn’t move. You were frozen against him, and he had fucked up so horribly he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to laugh it off.

Then you weren’t frozen and there was a hand buried in his hair, and he let out the most relieved sigh of his life.

He swore he could feel you smiling as he finally let himself move, lips shifting against yours like they had always been there. You fit against him so perfectly it almost surprised him, but only almost. You had always been in sync, ready to back him up with a joke or laugh or the end of a snarky comment that he couldn’t quite get out. You were his other half and it only made sense that your lips were made just for each other.

He planted a knee on the ground between your legs and propped himself up above you, shivering when your hands ran down his sides.

Makki knew he was a good kisser, but with the responsive, welcoming way your mouth moved against his, he became painfully aware that he had never experienced a truly great kiss until now. He felt your tongue nudge his lips and he parted them, letting you deepen the kiss. You tasted like the stupid cotton candy energy drink and the sweet, familiar breath of someone that he adored.

Your fingertips danced along his abdomen, then his hipbones, finally coming to rest just slightly dipped under the band of his pajama pants. There was no longer the hesitance of friendship in your hands, and when he cradled the back of your neck, he realized the feeling was affecting him too. You were trembling, and so was he, drunk on the feeling of a familiar but entirely new body. Playful touches couldn’t compare to harsh fingers grasping at whatever skin they could find, eliciting small sighs and dizzying gasps.

He dipped his head down and planted kisses along your jaw. Your hands closed into fists and you tipped your head back, letting his tongue move down to you neck. He might have been leaving hickies. He honestly didn’t know. All he cared about was absorbing as much of you as he could as quickly as possible.

You brought up your knees so he was sandwiched between your legs and he shuddered. He thought the kiss would be enough. Hell, he didn’t even think you’d receive it this enthusiastically. But he could feel that he was turned on, and you were definitely going to be able to tell if he didn’t slow down a little. He brought his lips back to yours and tried to lower the tension, ease up the pace, but then your legs were wrapped tightly around him, forcing him to grind against you.

Oh, fuck.

You grabbed his face on either side and licked into his mouth like you were trying to own him, and jesus he was starting to believe you did. His arms were braced on either side of you, desperately trying to keep him from completely melting, but it wasn’t working at all.

He was distantly aware that he was hard, but he didn’t think about it until one of your hands had left his face to paw at him through his pajamas. He gasped and felt you smile into the kiss, rubbing your palm up his length, nearly able to wrap your hand around him through the thin fabric. He pulled away from your lips and looked at you seriously, or as seriously as he could when his brain was actively trying to vacate his skull.

“Is this okay?” he asked.

You ground your hand harder against him.

“Getting shy on me, Takahiro?”

He let out a shaky breath and shook his head. You stared up at him with a smug smile and he had the urge to kiss it off your face.

“Shut up,” he grumbled. You smiled and pulled him down by the back of his neck.

“Make me.”

He cut off any further comment by connecting your lips, trying to fight off a grin. You managed to maneuver the front of his pajamas down and he gasped as the cool air hit him. He braced himself against the floor with an elbow and you used the moment of surprise to wrap your legs around him and lock his hips against you.

He ground against you once and was met with the sudden, dizzying realization that you weren’t wearing anything under your loose pajama shorts. He filed that information away for later, when he could sit down and ask himself just how many times you had laid beside him like that. One of your hands gripped his hair tighter as he pushed himself against you once more, trying to give you the opportunity to take the lead.

“Jesus,” you said suddenly, reaching down and taking hold of his length. “Just fuck me already.”

That sentence alone could have killed him, but his train of thought was derailed as you lined him up between your legs and held onto his shoulders, begging him to get closer. He readjusted his forearm on the floor above your head and pushed inside of you with one fluid motion.

“Oh, fuck,” he breathed. He tipped his forehead against your face, trying to regain some semblance of self control as he withdrew and thrust forward again. The way you groaned and dug your fingertips into his back made that nearly impossible.

He set a slow, grinding pace, letting himself swim in your quiet moans before silencing them with a kiss. Your hands moved back to his hair, holding him close as your tongue met his. The motion felt so natural that he barely registered that you had only kissed for the first time a few minutes ago. It felt like you’d been his forever.

You broke the kiss but Makki kept his face pressed against yours.

“Takahiro,” you sighed. “A little faster.”

He nearly lost control of his body as he obeyed, quick breaths leaving his lips involuntarily with every movement. Your moans were driving him crazy. He wanted to taste them, drink in every bit of you until you were shaking beneath him. He captured your lips in a kiss again and shifted a hand between your legs, circling your clit as he continued thrusting into you.

The sound that left your throat was muffled against his lips, but he swore he would never forget it. Your breath was quick against his skin and the kiss became messier with every motion. One of your hands flew around his bicep, like you were trying to anchor yourself as he continued pushing into you.

Fuck, Makki was close. The harder you panted, the tighter your grip on him was, the faster he hurtled toward the edge. You were moaning into his mouth, and his fingers were moving faster between your legs, and his arm was cramping just a little bit from holding himself above you, but then you were breaking the kiss and your back was arching and holy shit.

Makki’s hips stuttered and he let out the most embarrassing, full-bodied groan he was capable of. He had to snap his other arm up to avoid collapsing on top of you. He stopped moving and basked in the little shocked breaths that left your body, even after you had stopped shaking. He rolled off of you and closed his eyes.

“Holy shit,” he said. Laughter cut through his words, but he could tell you were having the same problem as your chest heaved. He could see you rearranging your clothes out of the corner of his eye. You paused while readjusting your shirt.

“Makki, you gave me a hickie,” you said. He shoved your arm.

“You don’t get to call me Makki after I just made you come.”

You laughed loudly and flicked his head. He continued staring at the ceiling until he felt you turn over and lay a hand on his chest. He looked down and you were studying him, an amused expression on your face.

“Think Issei will know something’s up?” you asked.

“Of course,” he said. “He notices everything. But deny till you die, right?” You smiled and he pressed a long kiss to your lips, relishing the feeling of your breath dancing over his skin.

This was the only room in existence. You were the only person in the universe, and yours were the only lips he had ever kissed. Nothing mattered besides you and him, right now, exactly where you were supposed to be.

#i have a final tomorrow but instead of preparing i finally finished this #oh to be hanamaki takahiro’s best friend that he’s secretly in love with #haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader #makki smut #makki x reader #hanamaki smut #hanamaki x reader #hanamaki takahiro smut #hanamaki takahiro x reader

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missinghan · 3 years

Text

cold sun ⤖ han jisung

❖ genre : soulmate au; fluff; angst

❖ word count : 2,6k.

❖ warning : slight swearing

❖ summary : in a world where one will lose something if their soulmate doesn’t reciprocate their words of love once they turn sixteen, jisung is willing to take the risk so you won’t have to bear the burden.

❖ note : i just realized how i always tend to write for jisung when i'm down :')) anywho this piece is a little different than what i usually come up with but i hope y'all enjoy it ♡

It’s the first day of the week.

“Hey, Y/N. I like you!”

And Han Jisung is really annoying.

Those words come out so easily. It's casual in a way that makes you bury your red nose deeper into the soft fabric of your scarf, which makes your footsteps quicken unknowingly as his voice chases after you loudly. Either way, this isn’t the first time Jisung has said so. In fact, it’s become a habit for him to remind you every other day.

There’s no particular reason why. Or at least that’s what you think.

It’s the end of the week. Jisung decides to hang himself upside down on your bed while you’re stressing over a presentation. “Hey, Y/N.” A cold winter breeze comes rushing against the perplexing glass of your window, shaking the frame violently before all motions come to silence.

Until, “Y/N, Y/N, Y/N,” he creeps up from behind you and chirps into your ear.

“What?” you let out a groan of displease when tempting warmth embraces you whole, prompting you to drop your attention and looking over your shoulder.

Jisung pouts, “You didn’t answer me.”

“It’s because you’re annoying,” you sigh.

“Answer me when I call your name,” he pulls you in a fraction tighter, careful enough not to hurt you but firm to not let you slip away at the same time, and cradles your neck warmly, “So I’d know that you’re still here with me.”

“Alright, stupid.”

The all too familiar gummy smile returns instantly. “Hey, Y/N?”

And you can’t help but roll your eyes. “Yes, Jisung?”

“I like you,” he giggles into the hug, “I like you a lot.”

Han Jisung really is annoying.

He’s annoying because he talks too much. He’s annoying because of how he always asks for your notes after a gaming night with Felix just to nap in class. He’s annoying because he’d drop you in a heartbeat for a single slice of cheesecake from Jeongin’s mom’s bakery. He’s annoying because of how well he can get along with everyone.

Chatty, down-to-earth, easy-going with a lovable smile—attractive, very attractive.

It’s the week after that. “What...happened?”

“He lost his voice,” Jeongin sighs, looking like he genuinely wants to facepalm himself against concrete while walking with an incoherent Jisung to school; expressive hands with his mouth agape and all.

You tilt your head, “...for real?”

“For real.”

After a few seconds of eyeing Jisung struggling with converting what’s in his head, you exhale deeply and quickly rummage through your backpack, “Just stop, you look ridiculous.” And he does just that, zipping his mouth metaphorically and giving you those typical puppy eyes. “Here, use this.”

His eyes light up like stars when you rip off a page from one of your notebooks and offer it to him along with a pen. Truth is, you’re expecting something as predictable as ‘I like you’ or ‘It’s alright it’s just the worst cold I’ve ever caught’. But then, what’s displayed on the piece of paper right now only baffles you.

Park is going to murder you if he sees some uglyass tear in your Ochem notes :)

A forced grin splits your lips open. “Not if I murdered you first and then the entire school and then myself.”

The first genuine smile blossoms on his lips when you give him a mini-sized notepad and pencil the day after—his sixteenth birthday.

And Jisung decides this is it.

It happens when the sun hasn’t even come out yet and the irritating blue light from his phone reads 5:32 AM.

It happens when he sees your reclined figure leaning back against his mattress, his pupils tracing your delicate features. Perplexed emotions fill his eyes to the brim, fulfillment bursting within his chest when you stare right back at him with such purity. So pure that it seems you can do no harm to him and neither can he.

“Hey stupid,” you murmur quietly, shoving a notepad and pencil against his chest, “Happy birthday.”

Jisung gives you a bright smile, opens his mouth, and snaps it close mere moments later. Sixteenth birthday. Early in the morning. Tired grins. The fondness of being so disgustingly in love.

He can’t help but lean in and caves into the taste his soul has longed for as long as he can remember.

Two weeks have passed since Jisung has lost his voice.

Nothing has differed if you’re being completely honest. Han Jisung is still annoying. His lack of ability to speak doesn’t appear to be a problem to him at all. He loves chatting with people even though he’s more of a listener now. But with the small notepad you gave him a few days ago, being socially active is the norm for him even now.

Thanks to his rather short-period experiences of observing people’s expressions and how their features contort in certain ways when they’re feeling certain emotions, Jisung catches onto your mood more quickly during bad days to help you release your inner turmoil by scribbling down something stupid on the notepad. It’s kinda nice like this, you’d think to yourself sometimes.

Other times, you’re more scared that you might have forgotten what his voice sounds like.

“No wonder you got a fucking cold. Stop taking midnight showers already.”

You wave Jisung over when he closes the wooden door to your bedroom, droplets dripping from his hair as he scratches his stomach tiredly. His hair is a mess when he lazily crawls onto your bed, the cushion beside you dips slightly.

His index finger pointing at his post-shower head and a shit-eating grin are all you need to snatch the white towel around his neck.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed,” you mumble while rubbing the cotton fabric into his hair, “But you’re awfully upbeat for someone who’s lost their voice. Can’t you at least pretend to be sad about it?”

A noise of protest escapes his throat like second nature as your eyes carefully read the quick movements of his mouth. “And can you not be so mean to someone who’s lost their voice?”

A faint smirk creeps its way up to your lips. “Still like me now?”

Jisung thinks hard for a few moments before jumping out of bed to snatch his notepad from your studying area. Of course, I like you. I like you a lot. Your heartbeat momentarily spikes at his scrawny handwriting. Just when your gaze is averted away to cool the blush on your cheeks, he tugs at your sleeve again and points at a different mess of scribbles. You’re more gentle when I’m like this. And you’d always find me if I ever got into trouble. What’s there for me to be sad about?

“Annoying little shit,” you swallow your pride and let him settle his head against your chest.

His presence melts into yours during the hardest hours of the twenty-four, heartbeats on heartbeats and warmth on warmth. Your one regret is that you’re unable to register his tears that night, only the incoherent, breathless hiccups almost as to desperately call out your name.

It’s been a month since Jisung’s lost his voice. And the night when he kisses you for the second time, his notepad is long forgotten next to your pillow.

I-can’t-talk. Give-me-a-break.

Jeongin. Cheesecake. Please? Pretty please?

I’ll fucking kick you.

Wait, there’s homework?!

...so you’re telling me LMAO isn’t how French people laugh?

“This is what you’ve been doing during breaks huh…” you mumble under your breath while lazily flipping through the papers. The occasional ‘I like you’-s do pop up every two pages or so, which is more than enough to make you smile like an idiot. But that is until a peculiar paragraph yanks your attention by its neck and tosses it against a brick wall.

Mom, promise me you’re not going to cry.

He made auntie cry?!

I lost my voice for real now but it wasn’t supposed to be like that at first. I just wanted to mess with Y/N and freak her out for a day.

I’m seriously going to punch him.

She was a lot softer toward me after that, you know. I know it’s extremely selfish of me but I just can’t help being so happy. I’m sorry, mom. I really am.

Han Jisung you fucking idiot.

I was going to surprise her on my birthday by saying ‘good morning’ out loud but nothing came out. My voice was gone.

Guilt, anger, remorse take over you. You knew nothing of this. You never once questioned for a logical reason behind the loss of his voice and kept moving onward as if it’s not that big of a deal. You didn’t suspect it as a kind of prank, either. But you still care, all this time! You have been doing everything in your power as a way for both you and Jisung to treasure himself even if he can’t speak anymore.

I went to a check-up last week. Nothing came up. I’m sorry. Please don’t cry.

However, without fail, the obnoxious part of you will keep wandering back to the concept of soulmates that has been engraved so deeply into the society you’re living in. It makes no sense to you that Jisung lost his voice for no reason right before his sixteenth birthday. This explains it all now.

It’s going to be okay, mom. Because I have Y/N. I know she would come running toward my side over and over again even if she can’t hear me anymore. I really don’t know what I’d do without her in my life.

Jisung knew the penalty for being the first to exchange any words of love yet he still did it. And you were too busy overlooking that stupid pride of yours to say those three words back.

It’s getting to the point where I’m starting to forget what I used to sound like. I’m sorry. Please don’t cry.

Jisung fixes the strap of his backpack, looking up at his mom after slipping into his sneakers. She ruffles his bed head and hands him a small white box with Jeongin’s bakery’s signature logo on it.

He tilts his head in faint confusion, peering at the box of pastry in his arms.

“Give it to Y/N on the bus, okay? Her parents aren’t home right now. You know how she would always skip breakfast when they’re out of town.”

His eyes light up instantly in realization and Jisung nods, preparing to bid her farewell. Just then, his front door comes flying open. It can’t be a mere acquaintance because there are very few people other than his parents and himself who know of the spare key hidden under the welcome mat.

As Jisung turns around, he’s keenly aware of your teary eyes already trained on him. Which in hindsight, makes no sense. As a result, panic rises within the hollowness of his chest, his lips falling agape but no coherent words come out.

“Y/N, sweetheart,” his mom flinches, slightly caught off guard, “Is everything okay?”

A scowl stretches over your contorted features as you shut the door loudly. “What the hell is this?” you question, shoving the familiar notepad into his chest. “A prank? A prank?! Do you think that this is funny?”

Jisung’s frantic eyes move to read the paper and every single color on his face drains tremendously. He easily recognizes the peculiar paragraph by how much lighter the ink is compared to the rest of the messy lines because his pen was running low and his hand couldn’t stop shaking.

Your voice.

His eyes avert back to look at you. His brows furrow timidly and shaky breaths burst from his lips almost like a desperate cry for help. There’s too much he wants to say, too many things to explain, and too many questions running through his head that he can’t process what to do next. He might just overwhelm both you and himself.

I need to hear it again.

And you might not stay by his side this time.

“Okay, don’t answer me then, I guess,” you chuckle lowly, dipping your head and turning around.

Jisung grabs at your sleeve instinctively and drops the pastry box, his gaze empty and all too knowing. Sorrow glazes over his starry eyes when it starts becoming hard to breathe properly. The outlines of his lips are moving non-stop yet nothing comes following after that.

“I don’t know what you’re saying,” you rasp out and tug at his hand. Then it hits you. He’s like this because of you. Jisung lost his voice because of you.

His mom cuts into the conversation, “Y/N, you don’t understand!”

“I’m sorry, auntie,” you smile sadly and take off running into the streets.

You, in the midst of your self-loathing and guilt, allow your feet to go wherever they want as your vision spirals into a blur. A single droplet threatens to fall when a forceful hand yanks you back to reality.

It takes Jisung a moment to regain his regular breathing pace. And when he finally gets it, all he can do is call out to you with the same inaudible sounds and the same desperation in his eyes. It seems as though he’s fully aware that the prank was the stupidest, most irrational thing he’s ever done. But there’s more to the ocean within his eyes than just remorse.

“I already told you,” you clench your jaw and slap his hand away, “I don’t fucking know what you’re saying!”

A deep sigh. “Why am I mad? Of course, I’d be mad! It’s because of me that you lost your voice! It’s because I like you, too! Yet I never said it back… You lost your voice because of me! Don't you get it? Why can't you just hate me for the sake of it?!”

You miss his voice. You miss it a lot.

You want to hear it again. You want to hear him call you by your name. You want to stay up late and talk about anything to the ends of the Earth and back with him. You want him to be the obnoxious, chatty Han Jisung you've always known.

You miss how annoyingly loud he is.

“Y-Y...Y/N…!”

Jisung collapses onto his knees, a hand on concrete while the other is on his neck. His chest rises and falls unevenly, muffled noises of discomfort echoing deep down from his throat. Despite that, what you heard just now, is his voice.

“Answer me when I call your name. So I’d know that you’re still here with me.”

“I promised you, didn’t I,” you spread your arms and smile warmly, “That I’d always answer when you call my name. As long as I can still hear you, I will come running toward you over and over again. Doesn’t matter what it takes, doesn’t matter where you are.”

Jisung lifts his head and tears come rolling down on his cheeks. His throat feels swollen when he stutters with difficulties, trying to convey what’s in his head, “Y-Y/N, don’t- don’t go! Please don’t leave me...!”

“Come here,” you close your eyes with the widest grin on your lips, “I’m not going anywhere.”

Only when Jisung grows closer and throws his arms around you, sobbing into your uniform do you convince yourself that all of this isn’t a hallucination. The hug is a lot stronger than what you’d expect. First of all, you nearly fell over from the impact and your arms are pinned so tightly to your sides that you feel like your ribs are going to snap.

Everything is so overwhelming that all you can say is, “Ow.”

“Sorry,” he mumbles into your hair and loosens his arms a bit so you can loop your hands to the nape of his neck and hair.

“You’re so annoying, Han Jisung.”

He purses his lips, sniffling, “You tried to make me snap on purpose. Meanie.”

You quirk a playful brow, “Still like me now?”

“Yeah,” Jisung smiles, “A lot.”

Because he knows that he has you. Until every last star in the galaxy explodes as a supernova, Jisung has you.

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celestialbarnes · 3 years

Text

Jealousy Is Hot Sometimes

pairing: wanda maximoff x reader

summary: basically, wanda can’t catch a break when it comes to people checking out her girlfriend

a/n: it’s been a while, but this girl owns my heart so i'll write for her anytime!! also, i still suck at titles lol

Wanda was trying to pay attention to what you were saying, she truly was. She just couldn’t concentrate on the words coming out of your mouth when everybody’s eyes were on you.

Saturday brunch was yours and Wanda’s weekly thing. Just the two of you, away from the rest of your friends and responsibilities. It was always much needed, the work week always took it’s toll on both of you.

“Baby? Are you listening?” Wanda was shaken out of her thoughts when you reached across the table and grabbed her hand. “I know my work stories aren't that interesting, but still..” You teased, your eyes carrying not one ounce of malice.

“I am, honey. I can’t believe someone stole all the cotton swabs from the nurses office.” She repeated the little story you had told a few minutes ago.

You smiled and nodded, “Right! It was crazy, everybody was so confused. Like, who steals cotton swabs?”

You flipped your hair over your shoulder as the wind was particularly wild this afternoon. Wanda looked at you with real heart eyes, her eyes softening as she noticed the necklace you were wearing. It was a little silver ‘W’ that she had gifted you for your birthday. You wore it with pride. You loved being hers and having her initial on you.

“You’re wearing the necklace.” She mused, making you reach up and touch it.

“Of course I am. I love it.”

Wanda opened her mouth to speak, but was cut short as the waiter placed a mimosa in front of you. You shook your head, “I’m sorry, I didn’t order this.”

“It was sent from that table over there,” The lady pointed to a table behind you that had five people seated at it. “The lady in the white shirt sent it.”

“Oh. Um, thank you.” Your brow furrowed in confusion as you smiled at the lady in thanks. “That’s weird.” You set the glass aside and turned your attention back to your girlfriend who’s eyes we’re now a scarlet red.

“Wanda!” You gasped, squeezing her hand to get her attention. Her gaze was on the table behind you, more so at the lady who sent you the drink. “Baby, look at me please.”

The brunette tore her eyes away and met your gaze. Her eyes went back to their normal color when she saw the worry on your face. She immediately pulled her hand back from you. “I-I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”

“I think you were jealous.” You said, a frown covering your lips. “Why?”

Wanda suddenly got shy, unable to face you any longer. “I don’t know.” She was a horrible liar, everybody knew that, even her.

Your frown only deepened. “No? It’s okay to be jealous, my love. You’re human and it happens.” You once again reached over to grab her hand in yours. “You have no reason to be though, i’m completely and forever yours.”

Wanda let out a breath she didn’t even realize she was holding in. “I’m sorry.”

You shook your head, “Nothing to be sorry about. Anyways, i’m done eating. How about you? I saw some shops I wanted to stop at.” Wanda nodded and you both stood up.

She was quick to wrap her arm around your waist and pull you into her. She glared at the woman at the other table who immediately looked away. “I love you, Wanda.”

She said the sentiment back before you two made your exit. It was only a quick walk to the store you wanted to stop at. A little boutique with a gorgeous dress in the window.

You two browsed for a bit, you definitely more than her. Wanda nodded cheerily when you picked up a piece of clothing and showed it to her. When it was time for you to try on your findings, your girlfriend sat herself right in front of the little room. She may have used her powers to keep the flimsy curtain from swaying as you moved around inside.

“What do you think?” Your voice made Wanda look up just as you stepped out in a dress that complimented your skin tone perfectly.

Wanda had literal heart eyes as she looked at you. You were breathtaking. You did a small spin and giggled which made her heart stutter. “You’re gorgeous, baby. Definitely get that one. It will go with those shoes you got last weekend.”

You gasped, “You’re right! Just one more pair of jeans then i’ll be done.” You promised before going back behind the curtain.

Wanda shook her head, you were too cute for your own good. Once you were out, you two made your way to the counter where a man was manning the register. Wanda felt a strange pit in her stomach when the man looked you over. You were too busy digging around your purse to notice, but your girlfriend sure did.

“I got it.” Wanda was quick to pull out her card and rudely shoved it towards the man whose eyes widened. He paused for a second, looking between you and the girl next to you. Wanda once again put her arm around your waist and you immediately melted into her. You couldn’t help it, you felt safe with her.

“Quickly, c’mon.” Wanda snapped at the man who did his job. He handed her back the card and she snatched the bag from his slimy hands.

It was you who had to pull her away from the counter, her glare was clearly making him uncomfortable. It wasn’t like he didn’t deserve it, you’d felt his eyes on you the moment you walked in the store. But, as entertaining as it would be, you didn’t want the Scarlet Witch to make an appearance.

“That was kinda hot,” You smirked as you two walked down the street.”

Wanda let out a laugh, “It was?”

“Definitely. I think we should go home, no?” The glint she saw in your eyes was more than enough to make her forget all about the plans she had for the day.

Jealous Wanda was hot, there was no denying that.

#wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x female reader #scarlet witch imagine #scarlet witch x reader #marvel imagine #avengers imagine #my writing

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zvnphoria · 3 years

Text

- how being koko’s best friend would be like

a/n - had too much fun with this. THIS IS VERY LONG UM. this is an apology for being inactive.

contains - fluff, teeny bit of angst, just platonic because YEAH, fem!reader, implied strong reader, reader has mommy issues (definitely not projecting), reader had a friendship with akane and looked up to her like an older sister

you and hajime go way back since you were kids. you two met in an interesting way but not necessarily in a good one.

you were walking to the nearest park to get out of your crazy house because your mom kept screaming at you over the littlest thing again. you forgot to wash the dishes (you didn’t necessarily forget that’s for sure). you stopped once you saw a boy around your age getting beaten up by some older kids. his hand gripped tightly on what looked like a school bag and protected it like his life depended on it.

it didn’t matter anymore because you had just knocked out both of the bullies in no time without a thought— almost as if it was normal to you. when you looked at the boy, he had blood going down from his forehead to his cheek, heavily panting and on the verge of passing out. he’s not the fighting type, huh. luckily you had a towel wrapped around your neck since you had just gotten out of the shower when you walked out your house, you weren’t gonna spend much time at the park anyways

you kneeled down and wiped the dripping blood off his face and noticed a bigger figure running towards you both. it was.. a girl?

“hajime-kun! what happened here?!” she panicked as she checked your surroundings

“akane-san.. it’s no big deal i promise..”

“no big deal?! i knew something was up when you rushed the other way. and my bag also happened to be missing! why didn’t you ask for help? you don’t need to be independent all the time.”

“and you,” she began, making eye contact with you

“are you okay? are you hurt?”

“no no! i’m fine don’t worry.”

“she was actually the one who knocked them out, akane-san,”

the older girl looked at the unconscious bullies, then back at you with shock and amazement in her eyes

“you did this? that’s amazing!” she says as she quickly takes your hands and wraps it around hers

“uh.. yes i promise it’s really not a big deal. i’ve dealt through worse, trust me,” you say as you gaze at the direction of your house

“worse or not this is still definitely something! even i cant beat someone up, and i’m way older than you!” she chuckled

“well it’s not like you have the heart to do something like that, akane-san,” the boy comments

“hahah you’re right, you’re right. anyways we should get going now— the sun is gonna set very soon, and you should get home as well. is your house nearby? we can walk you if you’d like,”

even ‘til this day you still don’t know why you didn’t decline her offer. was it because she was nice? it didn’t matter anymore, because if you had declined, you wouldn’t get to meet such amazing people.

it’s been a few months after meeting hajime and akane, and you had also met akane’s younger brother who was your age— seishu! you four would often hang out, whether it was at the inui home or at hajime’s house. getting to know them was pretty fun, and very interesting because a certain someone had a crush on akane.

it was definitely not seishu because they’re siblings and that’s just weird, definitely not you because akane had reminded you of your older sister who was almost never in your life, so that only left one choice— hajime.

his crush on her was so painfully obvious that you couldn’t stand seeing him try to impress her every now and then. he even ditched his glasses and bought contacts just for her to compliment him! he’s whipped huh..

one day you decided to help him out a little with his crush. it was another day of your usual hang outs except this time it was at your local mall! akane’s birthday was coming up and you three had collectively agreed to take her to the mall and see if she would see anything she’d like. turns out she was eyeing some platforms with red on the bottoms, and you took notice.

seishu dragged her to go to the food court with him because he was “hungry” so you and hajime took the chance to buy the heels. you were both now at the cash register, waiting for the register person

“i don’t understand you,” you began

“i don’t understand why you like her so much. i mean— i get that’s she’s amazing and nice and pretty and all but.. there’s another reason why you like her. something must’ve happened for you to be so attached to her so what is it?” you meant no harm with this question whatsoever. you were simply curious and that’s all.

before he answered, he smiled to himself and looked back at you

“she’s the only one that makes me feel not under pressure all the time. she’s the one who constantly reminds me that i shouldn’t be so independent and that i should always ask for help.” as you took a breath in to reply, he stopped you

“before you say anything, i know. i know she doesn’t like me. i know she’s just being nice. but there’s nothing wrong with a one-sided crush right?” he grins

even though he was beaming with a smile in front of you, you knew. you knew this wasn’t how he truly felt. you knew that deep down he was hurt but it was understandable. after all, he was just a kid wasn’t he? you saw right through him.

it was a shame after what happened the next couple of weeks after that conversation. it all happened so fast and none of you were prepared for it. you weren’t prepared for the incident that had happened to akane. a few days before it occurred, koko proudly told you that he was planning to confess and you were way against it.

“huh?! but i need to get this off my chest, y/n! i don’t care if she rejects me or not!”

“haji, i have a bad feeling about this.. i’m serious. you know how i always get bad feelings and they turn out to be true!”

he groaned and scooted far from where he was originally sitting which was right next to you. you sigh and got up to sit down next to him and laid your head on his shoulder so he wouldn’t escape

“i just don’t want you to get your hopes up, that’s all.” deep down you knew the truth. akane wasn’t interested in boys one bit despite all the confessions she had received almost every week.

“fine. you have a point. but im still going with this,”

all you could do was do nothing but let him. oh how you wished you protested more, because in return all he got was a huge burden on his shoulders.

“please ma’am, just please tell me what room akane inui and seishu inui are in,” you shouted as tears were rolling down on your cheeks. “107, right down the hall and take a left ‘hon”

you bowed and quickly made your way into the room. as you burst the door open, your eyes immediately go on seishu who looked so sad to the point where he didn’t even bother to look up at you. you hug him with a feeling of relief flowing in your body, but soon that feeling was gone when you asked where akane was.

you stood outside the door, not knowing why your feet couldn’t move. what’s wrong, y/n? her voice rang your ears. go on, don’t worry i’ll be right here next to you and if you get scared, just hold my hand! right. that was the time you were at a “haunted” house together and you were scared to go in. why are you being reminded of this right now?

you gulped and slowly opened the doorknob and found a crying boy in front of you, hands grabbing on the sheets with his head on the edge of the bed. you couldn’t do anything. all you could do was sit next to him with your head resting on his shoulder while you were crying.

a few years after that, you both acted as if nothing had happened. not because you wanted to forget akane, but because you knew akane would’ve wanted you both to continue living on without her.

despite not dating, you two would always have couple tendencies like feeding food to eachother or hugging often but you’re just THAT close to the point you can probably kiss without feeling any romantic attraction whatsoever

you couldn’t hang out with him as much anymore because of all the gang related things he’s doing. to make it up to you, he knocks on your window late at night and sleeps over most of the time. you talk to him about the usual— have you been eating? you should get more rest. and so on.

you were the one who got him to start wearing eyeliner! at first he just looked at you with a confused face when you handed him it as his present, but then you explained that if he wants to go fully dedicated to the black dragons, the wings of the eyeliner would represent the wings of the dragon. he didn’t wear it at first, all he did was ruffle your hair and said he’d think about it— and he kept his word! so now he’s the iconic money-making genius that wears eyeliner.

after all that’s happened between you two, there isn’t a single awkward moment you share. you know those friends who bring up an adult related topic out of completely nowhere? you two were those friends.

“i was walking by an alley and i heard a girl getting fucked,” he says while chewing the piece of gum you handed to him

“..and??”

“i’ve never walked away so fast in my life.”

there are days where you’re sad but, of course, you don’t tell him. in fact you don’t need to tell him because he’ll know when you’re upset.

“so are ya gonna tell me what’s wrong?” he says as he rests his head on your thighs

“ugh how do you always know..”

“because we’ve been together for the longest, duh.”

he doesn’t show it much, but he cares for you more than you think he does. overprotective and can’t help but show it at times, but don’t worry! he’s doing it because he loves you. remembers the littlest things you talk about and are interested in. he’s also constantly on the lookout so that you don’t get hurt or even worse.

when he’s the one who’s upset, you immediately know. he’s quieter than usual, zoning out a lot and just not paying attention to what you’re saying to him, almost like he’s in his own little world. before you initiate a conversation, you play with his hair so he’ll feel comfortable as a way for you to convince him to tell you what’s wrong.

even though it happened such a long time ago, he still thinks about her. you cant blame him, you do too! if you were to describe your best friend with one sentence, the first thing that would pop up in your head was weak little boy. not weak as in physically weak, but weak as in mentally weak. he can’t help but get emotional when it comes to her, which is understandable.

“it’s not your fault, hajime. she left you with no proper closure, and now you’re carrying guilt and burden on your shoulders. anyone would feel the same or even worse in your position.”

he didn’t respond but he doesn’t need to. all that matters to him is that you’re next to him, comforting him with your kind words like you always do. you both have some differences which caused a few arguments, but in the end you would still be best friends.

speaking of arguments, you argue either over the dumbest things ever or over serious topics. one time you got mad at him because he was beating you in a video game and his smug expression was not helping at all. you kicked him out of your house because you were just THAT frustrated. you felt guilty so you decided to walk to his house and apologize but stopped once you saw a certain figure trying to climb up to your window.

in the start of the serious argument, it was completely something different than what you were yelling at each other about now.

he showed up at your house with your favorite boba and snacks. you demanded him to put those down.

“hajime. food— no. MONEY cant keep me happy forever, and that also applies to you!”

“then what else am i supposed to do?!” his voice started getting weak. he was never the type to argue because he’d always get emotional.

“what am i other than a money-making genius? other than a wallet?”

“i cant do anything about my situation, y/n. nothing. because that’s all i am. just a stupid wallet for everyone to use.” he says about to walk away until you grab his sleeve to stop him.

“that’s not even true. you’re so much more than that, hajime. i’m sorry.. i’m so sorry.” you were crying into his chest and he couldn’t help but cry with you.

he spoils you 100%, no doubt. there was a point in life where you would always decline but you had just gotten so used to the offer that you got tired of fighting back. i mean, how could you? he was so willing and eager and most importantly HAPPY to do this for you.

hajime cant drive motorcycles and you constantly tease him about it, which he just responds to you by squeezing your cheeks together so you could shut up. the bad thing about this is that you guys always have to walk or go on a bus to the specific place you’re going to which is pretty tiring at times. although that doesn’t matter because what matters is that you both have each other.

back to the overprotective part.. you got called by this boy to meet him at the rooftop by the end of school and you already knew what was about to go down because of your shoujo manga reading sessions. the first thing you did was call hajime and he immediately got there to warn you about what you were gonna get yourself into.

“don’t you already have someone you like??”

“uh.. no?”

“i couldve sworn you liked that ‘tora dude..”

“keep your mouth shut!”

“…so you’re gonna reject him right?”

and you did! nicely, of course. hajime advised you should make come off as mean so he wouldn’t bother you again but you just ignored him and pretended like you didn’t hear anything.

being his best friend contains some ups and downs, but that’s the point of true friendships— it’ll never be perfect.

#tokyo revengers x reader #hajime kokonoi #kokonoi headcanons #kokonoi fluff #kokonoi x reader

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writertitan · 3 years

Text

Grandfather Clock (III)

pairing: levi x f!reader

word count: 7068 (oops)

themes: adult f!reader, arranged marriage, multi-part fic, levi is a stubborn asshole at first, no love at first sight here folks

a/n: the final part!! enjoy!!!

Read Part 1 Here

Read Part 2 Here

On the 20th day of Levi’s engagement to you, he found himself tense, frowning, and sitting across a less than pleased Erwin, right in the commander’s office.

Erwin sat at his desk, deep discontent written all over his face, with his arms folded tightly across his broad chest.

Levi knew the scolding was coming and cursed himself in his head for being so careless. He hadn’t really meant too much by it. Mike had just been asking him how things were going as they walked down the hall together and the words had just tumbled out. Levi didn’t like talking about his personal life in general, mostly because he had hardly had one prior to getting engaged, but now he was extra wary.

“Not much to tell. Just thankful she agreed not to have an actual wedding and to prolong it as long as possible.”

That was all he’d said and he’d said it with a tone of finality that Mike understood well. It was the tone that warned not to push it any farther.

It was just Levi’s luck that Erwin had rounded the corner as the words left him. The commander had bristled as he processed what Levi had said and then blurted out that he needed to see the shorter man immediately, in his office.

Levi had never seen Mike hurry off so quickly before.

And now here he was, tense and waiting for Erwin to lash out at him.

The words came moments later, but Levi didn’t get yelled at, which made him feel worse. Erwin was quiet, stern, and very open with his disappointment.

“Is it true? You really asked that of her?”

“Yes,” Levi sighed, running a hand over his tired face. “I did.”

“You didn’t even consult me about it. Levi, I hope you know I’m trying to grant you as much freedom as I can in this situation, but this was out of line. I’m sorry, but you don’t have that kind of say.”

Erwin’s words made Levi wince a little, but he tried to keep a stoic face. He could see that the commander was waiting for him to say something, but Levi didn’t quite know what to say.

He thought of you for a moment, and thought about how confused he’d been lately, and then looked at Erwin with a hint of a frown.

“You’ve hardly given us any freedom,” he blurted out, and then cursed himself yet again. He’d used the word “us” instead of “me” and he knew that Erwin would catch wind of that.

He did, and he even seemed to soften up a bit, raising a brow curiously.

And then Erwin used you as ammunition.

“You’ve stripped away any semblance of choice left for her by making her agree to your terms. She has even less freedom than you. Is that what you wanted?” Erwin asked, but the question was more rhetorical than anything.

Levi’s frown grew deeper. His mind went back to you, how broken you’d looked when he’d said he didn’t want a wedding day, and how he wanted to wait as long as possible to actually be married. And then his mind took him to that day you were feeling unwell, and how that same broken expression appeared when he’d gotten upset with you.

His chest grew heavy when he realized he had helped in breaking you.

And even worse, he hadn’t gone back to visit you after that day, when you had fainted. It had spurred too many mixed emotions in him and he had wanted the space to clear his head. And you had confirmed you were still unwell in your most recent letter to him from yesterday.

But maybe you were lying. Maybe Levi had broken you so much that you wanted to start keeping your distance from him.

That’s what he wanted, right?

Is that what you wanted?

Erwin’s unanswered question echoed in his mind.

If that was what he’d wanted, why did he feel this way, so horrible, after being called out by Erwin?

“I just don’t know what to do,” Levi finally said, unable to meet Erwin’s gaze.

Erwin hummed and sat back in his chair, arms now unfolded as he looked at Levi. The conversation had gone way beyond Levi’s little mistake. As much as he wanted to help his friend, there was a reason Erwin had been wandering the halls. He had, in fact, been searching for Levi. And he had, in fact, been wanting to discuss the topic of you. It had been mere coincidence that Erwin had caught Levi’s confession.

“Talk to her,” Erwin said, eyes on Levi, who was still looking anywhere but at him. “And I’d suggest going today. There was a reason I’ve been looking for you.”

At that, Levi flickered his eyes to Erwin, a hint of curiosity in them. And, dare Erwin say, even a little bit of worry hid behind the silver.

“Well, spit it out,” Levi said, already making to stand up. “What happened? Is something wrong?”

Erwin also stood up, slowly and deliberately, and didn’t know how to answer that.

“There’s been some...civil unrest recently. Some of the working class citizens have been getting riled up because of some recent unfortunate events with the upper class,” Erwin explained, watching carefully for Levi’s reaction. “Some of my intel has told me there’s talk of a few riots being planned.”

“What kind of ‘unfortunate events’ are you talking about?” Levi pressed, arms at his side with hands clenched into fists. This didn’t sound good.

“Seems like your fiancee’s father has been in some bad business deals that affected a lot of his workforce. And he’s got quite the workforce, if you remember,” Erwin murmured, looking a little thoughtful as he tried to gage Levi’s reaction. “I was looking for you to tell you that I’d like for you to go and check on things. I’m not sure how extreme the situation is.”

Levi was already halfway out of the office and didn’t bother to answer. He was, without a doubt, upset.

Upset that Erwin didn’t let him know about this immediately.

Upset that it would take a while to get to you.

And, curiously, he was upset that he was upset. What the hell was going on with him?

In your parlor room, you were curled up on the sofa and reading your favorite book. It took all your willpower to try not to think about how, just a few days ago, Levi had touched those very same pages.

He’d kept his distance since then, though you had certainly had some part in that by sending him a note to say you were still sick. It wasn’t true at all and you’d felt almost back to normal the next day, but you couldn’t really face Levi yet. Despite forgiving him and allowing yourself to have a little bit of hope that things would turn out okay for the two of you, it was obvious that Levi was still on the fence with you, and had a very specific opinion about who you were despite not getting to know you.

You were using this time away from him to think of ways to show him that you weren’t that way at all, and that his impression of you was, truthfully, completely off the mark.

As the grandfather clock sounded off at noon, it brought you back to reality. You set your book down, not that you’d actually been reading much of it, and sighed when your stomach grumbled. Definitely lunchtime.

You stood up and stretched, about to walk to the kitchen and bother Chef Erlo when you realized something seemed...off.

The clock struck noon for a final time and you realized that that was the only sound you could really hear from all over the house. Silence engulfed you when the grandfather clock stopped, and you peered out into the hallway, baffled when you saw absolutely nobody in sight.

Feeling like you couldn’t break the silence, you stayed quiet as a mouse as you made your way to the kitchen, hoping to hear the usual bustle of noise there for lunch. Maybe that’s where everyone was. It was lunchtime, after all. Had you forgotten it was somebody’s birthday? Sometimes you’d sneak the staff into the servant’s quarters for a bit of a break and have a little birthday celebration during lunch, but you were sure nobody’s big day was today.

But you didn’t make it to the kitchen. As you got closer to the foyer, you could hear the commotion outside, interrupting the eerie silence in your home. Instead of going to check on things, curiosity got the best of you and you ended up peering out the window to see what was going on. A little gasp left your lips when you saw what was outside.

Hoards of people were at the gates of your home, screaming and shouting profanities as they tried to make their way inside. Your heart sped up at the sight, absolutely terrified at the pure hatred they all wore on their faces. You couldn’t really make out what they were all saying, but you heard the profanities, and you heard your father’s name enough times to know that this was personal.

The guards situated outside at the gate were pushing back as much as they could, and you even see that some of the Garrison soldiers had come to help out, but the crowd seemed to be growing bigger and bigger by the second. At any moment, it would bubble over and spill past the gates of your home.

Right to you.

Once again, after a lifetime of avoiding your father and his business to try and escape it, you were being dragged right into the middle of it instead.

You had to run. The anger outside was something that was almost tangible; you could feel it weighing heavily in the air even from where you stood inside your home. No doubt that someone would try to hurt you just in the belief that it would hurt your father to know they’d gotten to you.

For a brief moment, Levi flashed through your mind, and you sincerely regretted lying to him about still feeling unwell when his face popped to the front of your head. Maybe he would have helped you. Maybe not. The anger you could feel from the crowd outside was unfortunately similar to the anger Levi had bestowed upon you just a few days ago.

As you backed away from the window, you thought of all the different places you could go to hide. So lost in your thoughts, you didn’t register the footsteps sneaking up behind you and gasped when a hand clamped against your mouth to keep you quiet.

Before you could try and scream, a familiar voice whispered in your ear, “Shh, it’s only me. Let’s go.”

You whirled around, tears of relief springing to your eyes as you hugged Greta tightly.

“Greta,” you breathed out shakily, pulling away to look at her with wide eyes. “What’s going on?”

“Let’s not talk here, come on,” she whispered, tugging you towards the servant’s quarters, where you knew the wine cellar was situated. As soon as the door was closed and locked behind the two of you, Greta practically dragged you down the stairs. It was cooler down there and you shivered involuntarily.

There was dim candlelight at the end of the steps that lit up a narrow hallway, one that led towards a heavy wooden door. Chef Erlo was there holding a candelabra with one hand, a silver key in the other.

Your tears of relief spilled over at the sight of him.

“Erlo,” you whimpered, moving to hug him as well. He was just as quick about it as Greta was, gently stepping away from you with a small and sympathetic smile.

“We’ll get you out of here safely, miss,” he promised you.

A pang of fear hit you and you looked between Erlo and Greta, hand at your chest as you thought of the worst.

“And everyone else? Is everyone okay?” you asked them.

From above, you heard glass shattering and heavy thumps. Your heart pounded so hard against your chest that you worried your ribs would crack from the force. The fear you felt in that moment was unparalleled, unmatched by any other situation in your life. You’d never been this scared in your entire life.

“Everyone is safe. Except for you,” Greta said, and she nodded for Erlo to open the door. He unlocked it and hurried you both inside, but you stopped in your tracks when you saw Erlo wasn’t following.

“I’m going to lock the door behind me and slip the key under the crack. That should buy you some time,” he said to Greta, avoiding your gaze.

“What are you talking about? You’re coming with us, it’s not safe here! Something’s happening outside, people are angry and I don’t know why,” you rambled, tearing up again. Greta reached over to squeeze your hand, but everything about it was rushed, too hurried to really be a comfort to you.

Erlo flashed you another small smile, and then gave you a wink, his crow’s feet prominent as he finally flashed his goofy smile.

“I’ll be fine, miss. Don’t worry about me. It’s not me they’re after,” he assured you, but it didn’t make you feel any better.

Chef Erlo was like the father you’d never had. It was impossible to allow him to do this, but Greta held you back as he shut the door and locked it once again, with the key slipping underneath moments later.

Greta let go of you to swipe it off the ground, and then began to push you forward, nearly in the dark save for cracks of light at the door opposite the room.

The faint smell of wine permeated the air and you found yourself wishing for a glass to calm your nerves. Greta led you to the door in just a few moments flat, using the same key to unlock it and hurry through with you in tow.

It was the bulkhead entrance to the wine cellar, where the merchants would come deliver or take some wine. Part of your father’s business. It was where a lot of things were delivered. On the few steps there beneath the wooden doors, there was a maid’s dress and some worn shoes. One look at Greta told you that the new outfit was for you, so you wasted no time in nearly tearing off your dress and kicking off your shoes to put on the much simpler garments and better blend in outside without striking too much attention to yourself. Your current outfit would have been a dead giveaway to your status.

Greta lifted one of the doors up just enough to peer out cautiously as you changed, making sure it was safe to leave. Once she was sure it was, she nodded to you and lifted the door up quietly, keeping it lifted for you to hop up the short steps and out into the spring afternoon.

It was cloudy outside, threatening to rain. As if on cue, a crack of thunder sounded and you felt it was remarkably similar to a cliche in your favorite novel; it always rained whenever your favorite character was feeling upset.

You didn’t have much time to dwell on that. Greta gripped you by the elbow and tugged you away from the house in a pace that was rushed but not too much that it looked suspicious. Now that you were wearing new clothes, you looked like everyone else outside. There was no real need to rush and risk getting caught.

Nobody paid the two of you any mind. The real focus was on your house that was currently getting ransacked.

The sight made your heart sink to your stomach, but your tears had already dried.

It was true that these people were destroying the only home you’d ever known. It was true that in that moment, you were sure you’d never go back to it. But you just couldn’t find it in you to cry about this. Your tears were reserved for your staff and worrying about their wellbeing.

Whatever your father had done, it probably deserved this level of outrage.

Although you were filled to the brim with fear and adrenaline, above all, you felt a peculiar sense of freedom as more and more people pushed their way past the gates of your home to run inside.

Greta gave you a moment to watch the scene before steering you away with promises to explain everything as soon as she got you to safety.

The only time tears actually did threaten your eyes again was when Captain Levi’s face pushed its way into your mind once more.

Maybe you would never see him again. And maybe he’d like that.

Levi was all too familiar with feeling dread settle in his stomach and harden like a rock. He’d experienced it all his life, countless times as he watched comrades die, often such a big part of his nightmares and the reason for his insomnia.

He didn’t expect to feel that rock in his stomach as he approached your home. Rather, what was left of it.

But he felt it settle in his stomach, a dread so heavy that he almost had to hunch over, and he looked on in horror as people continued to run in and out of your home. Many people were running out with valuables in their arms. Others were running inside just to destroy everything in sight.

He was far too late, by the look of things.

His eyes darted around, a futile attempt to locate you, but of course he didn’t see you anywhere.

Soldiers and guards were doing what they could, and Levi could see reinforcements marching in, but it was too late.

It was too late.

Levi hopped off his horse and pushed past people and soldiers alike as he ran into your home, taking in the sight of broken glass and ruined furniture and banged up walls.

It was disgusting.

He went to your room first and only found it ravaged and empty with no signs of life.

Levi knew he was being crazy. Of course he wasn’t going to just find you there. In fact, the thought of seeing you in the middle of all this would have actually been worse. But not knowing where you were had his stomach in knots.

As a last resort, he checked the parlor room, where you’d shared an afternoon that had left Levi questioning himself and questioning you. Mostly himself.

He got there as the grandfather clock chimed at the top of the hour. It was just as ravaged as your room, but curiously enough, he noticed your favorite novel on the ground by where the side table used to be.

He picked it up and clutched it tightly, and then made a promise.

He would find you and he would get your book back to you. It was the only possession you had left in the world, he realized, looking around.

He’d find you.

He wouldn’t rest until he’d found you.

A cup of tea warmed your hands as silence filled the room of Greta’s mother’s kitchen.

The two women stared at you with so much sympathy, and so much worry, that it made you feel loved and yet also a little small at the same time.

Greta had just finished explaining everything to you.

Your father had been atrocious, and had taken advantage of his employees. He was in protective custody because he’d anticipated this riot to happen. Nobody knew where your mother was. It was a miracle that Greta and Erlo had managed to help you and everyone else out before you’d gotten hurt. Or killed.

And now you didn’t know what would happen next.

Your spirits, already low, dimmed even more at the thought of Chef Erlo. You desperately hoped he was okay, and hopefully he was. After all, he’d been correct: nobody was trying to hurt him. Only you and your family.

“Are you sure everybody made it out safely?” you whispered to Greta, who immediately nodded.

“Everyone’s been aware of some of the...tensions around town,” she explained. “We all had an exit plan in the works, just didn’t realize we’d have to implement it so soon.”

You flashed a brief and sad smile, nodding once as you took a sip of your tea.

“Thank you for getting everyone out safely first. It means the world to me.”

In your mind, you were just as responsible for your father’s sins as he was. To think you didn’t even have a clue of what was going on. It was embarrassing.

As if reading your mind, Greta’s mother, May, reached forward to squeeze your arm reassuringly.

“It’s not your fault, darling,” she murmured. “It wasn’t your place to know.”

You sighed softly and kept your eyes on your tea, frowning to yourself. It was true that you had basically been forced to be cooped up in the house, and now you were thinking there was a clear reason behind it now. You hardly had much say in your day to day schedule, especially after getting engaged to Captain Levi. Still, it didn’t feel good to be so in the dark.

And the thought of Captain Levi sent your heart aflutter. Did he know? Had he been aware of this the whole time? Was this part of the reason for your arrangement?

Slowly, you picked up your gaze from your tea to settle on Greta, biting the inside of your cheek before asking the question you were dreading to ask.

“What happens now?”

She didn’t look too sure either as she pondered your question, finally settling for shrugging her shoulders.

“I don’t know, miss,” she answered honestly. “I hate to say it, but it depends on your father. He and your mother will start looking for you once they realize you’re missing.”

The thought made you nauseous. Despite such a horrible outcome of your day, that peculiar feeling of freedom had been what kept you going. There was some sort of thrill attached to it.

You realized it was achingly similar to the hope you felt for your arrangement for Levi. The chance of things looking up, turning around.

All this hope and nothing to show for it.

Now you were hopeless.

News had gotten to Erwin quickly. Levi saw the commander ride in with other squad leaders as he helped beat down and arrest some of the rowdier citizens at your home. He hated to be there and wanted to go off and find you more than anything, but someone there had to have seen you, or seen what happened to you.

So far, nobody seemed to remember seeing you. In fact, some people had sworn to him that the house had been empty of people the entire time. Not a soul in the home at all.

When Erwin stepped past the gates, Levi had never wanted to pummel him so badly. Instead, he shoved a badly beaten merchant towards his commander with a growl, eyes nearly feral as he found the calm blue ones that he hated more than anything at the moment.

“You said there was civil unrest. You didn’t say there was an entire fucking mob,” he snapped.

Erwin remained calm, casually stepping over the merchant to get closer to Levi.

“Seems I was deceived,” he admitted, looking around. “Her father kept me in the dark. I had no idea about any of this. But I suppose you’ll be pleased to hear that I’m calling off the deal. We can’t tarnish the Scouts’ reputation even more by doing business with this family.”

Levi’s body went cold at the news.

Just a couple of weeks ago, he would have felt nothing but pure relief. Now, he felt nothing but pure dread.

“What about…?”

Levi couldn’t even say your name. It caught at the back of his throat and he struggled to breathe. He tried his best to remain as stoic as always, but Erwin knew him so well, and could see the concern at the edges of Levi’s gaze.

“There’s not much protection we can offer her, being her father’s daughter. She’s under his control,” Erwin reminded him. “Do you know where she is? I heard she’s declared missing.”

Levi nodded once to confirm, his worry amplifying at Erwin’s words.

He couldn’t protect you. Not while you were still affiliated with your father.

“People are saying that nobody was in the house,” Levi said, giving the commander a rundown of events. “I did a quick search, didn’t find any of the staff. No one was around.”

Erwin hummed a little, hands behind his back as he took in the sight of the damaged house in front of him.

“No surprise there. Our man of the hour is already in protective custody, having predicted this well before anyone else, and his wife was visiting with a friend, and now they’re all in protective custody as well. It’s just your ex-fiancee that we’re having trouble locating. Perhaps she’s with her staff.”

How stupid of him. Levi hadn’t really thought of that possibility yet. He’d been so focused on finding you, assuming the worst, that he hadn't taken the time to really think it through enough to realize that you were missing along with the staff.

Erwin was already five steps ahead of them.

“Some of the scouts are off to find the staff members that don’t live here in-house. One of them is bound to know where she is.”

Levi couldn’t help the small sigh of relief that left him, but he still felt useless if he wasn’t doing more to help. Without another word to Erwin, he marched off to do another quick search around the entire perimeter.

Some medics had come onto the scene as well and he was surprised to see a couple of them towards the back of the house, dragging someone out of the cellar. Levi had admittedly not really looked down there, knowing all there was, was food storage and wine cellar that someone had told him was all cleared out by now.

A familiar old man was getting dragged out and treated. He was badly beaten, bruised from head to toe, and his breathing was raspy and uneven.

Levi knew him to be a staff member and his heart skipped a beat.

Before he knew what he was doing, he was kneeling beside the old man, shaking him to get his attention despite the angry protests of a medic.

The old man opened his eyes and grimaced, but his face grew soft at the sight of Levi.

“Captain Levi,” he greeted him in a hoarse voice. “You’re a little late, don’t you think?”

“Where is she?” Levi asked, voice soft. “Do you know?”

“I know,” the man confirmed, nodding slowly as his eyes closed. “Greta...Greta took her. She’s...with Greta’s mother. But don’t know where...she lives.”

Greta. Levi knew that name. It was the name of one of the maids. You looked to be friends with her.

“Thank you,” he said, very sincere, before standing back up. More determined than ever, he made a beeline for his horse, a plan of action already formulating in his mind. He could make do with the information given to him. It was all he needed.

He was going to find you.

The sun hung low in the sky as May and Greta made up Greta’s old bed for you.

You had insisted on sleeping anywhere else, even the floor, but Greta had already set her mind on sharing a bed with her mother.

“I shared a bed with one of the other maids all the time, whenever we felt like it,” she told you. “I actually like it. It’s nice having another person there with you.”

You still felt a little guilty but stayed silent, and opted instead to watch the sun lower through the window of Greta’s childhood bedroom after being shooed off.

Greta and her mother chattered amongst themselves and you didn’t have the heart to join in just yet. You felt so drained after the day’s events that you couldn’t muster up the energy they had.

What kept you so anxious was also the thought of having to stay under your father’s thumb.

It was maddening to know that after everything, he still had your life in his hands. To be a highborn lady was to be in shackles.

A plan was starting to formulate in your mind, one where you could fake your death and run away and find work as a maid or maybe even a governess. Greta could help and confirm that you’d been taken, never to be seen again. You could grab your clothes that you’d discarded, if they were still around, and maybe douse them in animal blood or something, to really sell it.

But your plan was cut short with a pounding at the front door downstairs. The knocking was so intense that all three of you froze and looked between each other, fear prickling your spines.

When the door clearly sounded like it was trying to be opened, May sprang into action and ran downstairs, which kickstarted your adrenaline. You ran after her, afraid for her possibly getting hurt, reaching out for her to try and stop her from going any farther.

“May, no!” you hissed, eyes on the front door that was now in view. Someone was slamming into it, the lock jiggling unsteadily, until it finally gave in.

You were paralyzed in fear as the door flew open, but fear gave way to shock at the sight of Captain Levi at the entrance, looking frazzled. You would have never predicted you’d ever see him as anything other than composed or angry.

As soon as your eyes locked, you ran to him.

“Captain Levi!”

He stopped you before you could throw your arms around him and, at first, you felt embarrassed by it, taking it as a rejection.

It wasn’t until he started examining you, hands lifting and twisting your arms and turning your face this way and that, that you felt your heart warm up.

“Are you hurt?” he asked. He was cupping your face, holding your jaw familiar as his eyes scanned your face for any signs of injury, and that frazzled look he held only softened when his eyes finally met yours.

You shook your head slowly, keeping his gaze, hands shyly reaching up to cover his over your jaw.

“I’m not hurt,” you whispered. “Just scared.”

Levi frowned and reluctantly let go of your face, but his hands didn’t travel far. He rested them on your shoulders while your hands gently gripped his forearms, the two of you in your own little bubble.

“You don’t have to be scared anymore,” he promised you, sounding so earnest. “Nobody can hurt you while I’m here.”

Your bottom lip quivered, emotional at the thought of him willingly protecting you, but also emotional at the more sinister situation at hand.

“My father can,” you told him, squeezing his forearms as the words left your mouth. “Greta says he’ll be looking for me soon. I can’t escape him.”

Levi’s eyes hardened at that, grip also tightening on your shoulders, before he groaned and stepped away from you to run a hand over his face.

“Erwin said the same thing to me,” he admitted, pacing back and forth. He briefly looked towards Greta and her mother, then to the now broken front door, and blankly stared at them before muttering, “I’ll fix that.”

He turned back to you, arms crossed, as he took on a look of deep concentration. It was only there for a few moments before he snapped out of it, holding your gaze as he seemed to come to a conclusion.

“You can’t be under your father’s control once you’re married,” he pointed out.

At first, you didn’t understand. You raised a brow, a little peeved he was bringing it up, and nodded once.

“I suppose so…,” you agreed, a hint of a frown on your face. “But I’m assuming we won’t be getting married after this, so I’m kind of shit out of luck.” It was the first time you’d really sworn like that in front of Levi. In front of anyone. It was nice.

Levi tensed up a little and broke his eye contact with you to look away, and you could have sworn he looked a little flustered. There was a hint of pink at the tips of his ears, which shocked you.

“What?” you pressed, also feeling a bit of heat creep into your face.

This wasn’t happening. No way this was happening.

Levi hadn’t wanted to marry you even when it was basically required of him.

Your hopeless romantic little heart was just playing tricks on you. He wasn’t possibly going to suggest…

“I gave my word and I don’t intend on going back on it,” he said, still not looking at you, ears still pink. “Got any better ideas?”

“Captain Levi…,” you began, but then trailed off, not knowing what to say, until finally you managed out, “You don’t have to do this.”

He scoffed a little, eyes finally flickering back to you. Tentatively, he stepped forward until he was right in front of you again. You stayed perfectly still as he lifted a hand to place it on top of your head, giving you a small pat before ruffling up your hair.

“I have something for you,” he said suddenly, taking his hand away to reach into the pocket of his coat.

And then your favorite novel was in your hands, a little more crumpled up than usual but basically intact.

Tears sprang to your eyes and you hugged the book to your chest gratefully, looking to Levi with nothing but adoration.

At that moment, it was all you owned in the world. You didn’t even own the clothes on your back.

“That was really nice,” you choked out, gazing down at the book again with a small smile.

Levi stepped forward again, closing the distance between you as he rested a hand on your shoulder again.

“Let me protect you,” he said, tone filled with an air of finality that you couldn’t argue with. “I know I don’t have to.”

He didn’t have to say the actual words; you understood what he meant.

I want to.

Marriage was all about compromise.

In the end, Levi didn’t get to prolong his nuptials, since marrying you had to be done quickly. However, it also had to be done in secret. So, at the very least, you figured he at least got half of his wishes respected.

The moment the ink was dry on the certificate, you felt a weight lift off your shoulders. You shed your maiden name to gain a new surname, fully protected from your father now and fully backed by the Survey Corps. It was your 30th day of knowing Levi. Your 1st day of being married.

You took in a deep breath as Erwin took the document from you to sign as a witness, and you turned to Levi with a small and timid smile, which he actually tried to return. It was brief, but it was appreciated. And when he lifted his hand to pat your head affectionately, you melted a little.

“I’m sorry you didn’t have a big wedding like you wanted,” he murmured, eyes staring at you with a hint of remorse. “I should have never made you agree to that before.”

A half-smile tugged at one corner of your mouth and you shook your head, nudging your shoulder to his playfully.

“I never really wanted to have a big wedding,” you admitted to him. “I just wanted to have a special day for myself. And for my husband, of course. Didn’t have to be a big thing. It just needed to be special.”

Levi seemed to lighten up at that, giving another brief smile before murmuring, “That’s a relief.”

“What do you mean?” you asked, but he didn’t respond, choosing instead to stand up and offer a hand to help you on your feet as well.

You smoothed down the cream dress Greta had so kindly let you borrow and followed Levi out the door, head held a little higher now that you were an official Ackerman and nothing else. Instead of going to Commander Erwin’s office to go over a few next steps like originally planned, you found yourself following Levi outside.

“Where are we going?” you asked, puzzled, but Levi scoffed a little and turned to look at you from over his shoulder.

“If you could just be a little patient, I promise you’ll find out soon enough,” he said.

It was a beautiful day, you had to admit. The spring temperature was perfect and you basked in the sunlight, feeling freer than you’d ever felt before.

You stepped onto the grass in the courtyard, eyes towards the sky, and it wasn’t until you heard several people clear their throat that you tilted your head down to take a look.

Your heart nearly stopped as you saw Erlo, Greta, May, and Charlie, and some of Levi’s friends, sitting on the grass, a spread of what looked like a marvelous lunch in front of them.

Shouts of congratulations were passed around and you lit up at the sight, heart feeling full as you stumbled over while dragging Levi along.

You turned to him, eyes bright and excited, still not quite understanding.

“What is this?” you asked, looking between your bubble of friends and your brand new spouse.

Levi looked a little uncomfortable, but in that cute way, and Greta beat him to the punch with the answer.

“It’s your wedding day, so we’re celebrating, of course!” she laughed, then nodded towards Levi with a cunning grin. “It was your husband’s idea.”

Levi’s entire face flushed at the term but he also looked murderous at being found out.

You grinned at him, feeling warmed at his gesture, and you made a mental note to pull him aside later for a real thank you.

At that moment, you made do by sneaking a kiss to his cheek, fully appreciating the way he got flustered.

Erwin had made up a new room for you at base and, after a full day’s worth of celebrating your wedding day, you were ready to fall into bed.

The room was right next to Levi’s, which you appreciated. It seemed funny, almost, since of course spouses typically shared a room, but under these circumstances, that wasn’t very likely.

You cared for Levi and you could see that he at least cared for you in some ways, but those feelings would need to be nurtured with time.

The two of you were in front of your bedroom door, with you yawning up a storm, and Levi grumbling about getting you to bed.

You burst into your room and made a beeline for your bed, not bothering to really look around at your new room or even change out of your clothes. As soon as you were on the bed, you felt your drowsiness start to overtake you.

Before you passed out, you peeked over at Levi, who was getting situated at a desk.

“Aren’t you gonna sleep?” you asked, yawning again, and Levi turned to look at you briefly.

“Not for a while,” he answered finally.

You frowned at that but didn’t argue with him, your heart bubbling over with so many questions and feelings that you just couldn’t hold in anymore.

“Do you still dislike me?” you blurted out, face heating up at your lack of filter.

Levi raised a brow, pointedly looking towards the new ring on your finger. Then, his gaze softened, and he leaned back in the chair he sat in.

“No,” he answered. “And I was wrong for judging you before. I’m sorry I didn’t give you a chance sooner.”

You stayed quiet for a moment, but kept your eyes on Levi, no matter how hard it was.

“Do you think you’ll fall in love with me one day, now that we’re married?”

You couldn't stop that question from tumbling out either, but you were too curious to feel embarrassed.

Levi’s ears flushed pink, a cute new trait you were catching onto. He looked away from you briefly, clearly trying to find the right words, and he took so long to respond that you felt your heart start to sink.

But then he stood from his seat and moved to kneel beside the bed, a hand reaching up to smooth some hair out of your face.

“Let me focus on protecting you first,” he said.

His eyes were the softest they’d ever been. They gave you another answer.

“I’m going to love you,” you promised him. You still couldn’t admit that you were actively falling in love. Not to him, not right now. But another time.

“I don’t deserve that, after how I acted,” he whispered.

“I’ll always forgive you,” you whispered back. “And I’m going to love you.”

Levi moved his hand from your head to tuck you into the sheets a little better, avoiding your gaze. Neither one of you said anything for a minute, a comfortable silence falling between you like that afternoon in the parlor room.

As you began to drift off, Levi’s soft voice filled your ears with one final promise. One that was meant more for him than for you.

“I’ll figure out how to love.”

You were too tired to notice how the sheets smelled like Levi. You were too tired to realize that the room was clearly already lived in and had typical possessions of a squad captain, from ODM gear to a desk clearly stacked up with documents.

You’d been too tired to remember that your bedroom door was the right one and not the left one. You’d been too tired to notice that you’d opened the left door.

Levi was too besotted by you to correct your mistake.

Somewhere, a grandfather clock chimed as midnight struck.

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honeytae · 3 years

Text

My heart is yours.

hi bubs! so basically this is just about the reader experiencing some jealousy, and jungkook is pretty confused lol. i’m gonna be honest i don’t know how good i feel about this bc angst just isn’t my thing but i hope you all think it’s okay! this is totally not based on real events enjoy! tags: @ahgasearmyfan, @hoseokayy genre: angst, fluff word count: 3.0k

This was not how you wanted the night to go.

Tonight had started off well; Jungkook had picked you up to arrive at Jimin’s birthday party together, and you had spent the first few hours dancing with him and his friends. You were having a really good time. Emphasis on were.

The fun had ended almost as soon as Jungkook left the table to get another round of drinks, leaving you to converse with some of Jimin’s friends you hadn’t met yet as he made his way to the bar.

In between conversations, you’d taken a brief glance over to the full bar, recognizing your boyfriend as the last one in line as he ruffled a hand through his hair. Smiling fondly at the sight, you’d turned back to one of Jimin’s friends from school, engaging in a conversation about how he knew the birthday boy.

But the next time you looked over, your whole body seemed to set aflame in a blinding rage.

Jungkook was no longer at the back of the line, in fact you had to boost yourself up taller in order to see the back of his head. But what you saw next to him was what really set you off; some pretty girl latched onto his arm as if she belonged there.

The chattering voices and pulsing music all seemed to fade into the background as you watched the woman continually push herself at your boyfriend. Clenching your fists, you caved into your seething anger, standing from your seat and stomping out of the room before you could think twice about it.

He wanted to let that shit happen? Fine. But you sure as hell weren’t going to stick around and watch.

The rational part of you knew that you were acting ridiculous, much like a child throwing a tantrum with the way you’d just stormed off. But the rational part of you was not in control right now. The rational part of you had disappeared as soon as you saw her put her hands on your boyfriend.

Your heels clicked along the floorboards as you made your way toward the door, harsh breaths escaping your flared nostrils at the vision replaying over and over again in your head.

You were so distracted that you didn’t even hear the footsteps coming toward you, nearly jumping out of your skin when you suddenly collided with a body.

“Whoa, where are you going?” Jimin asked after steadying your body with his hands on your shoulders, seemingly walking back from the bathroom before you nearly trampled him on your fast paced trip down the hallway.

A frown appeared on his face as he studied your reddened cheeks and overall shifted energy from only a few minutes ago, ducking his head as his eyebrows knit together in concern.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, your mouth gaping for a second as you considered what to say, knowing you could not possibly state the actual reason you had attempted to storm out of the party without being seen as crazy by your friend.

“Hey, are you feeling okay?” He lowered his voice, your eyes widening at the sudden excuse before you shook your head no.

You felt horrible lying to Jimin as he looked at you with a sympathetic frown, the back of his hand going to your forehead with a concerned furrow of his brows. But it was the only option you had; that or looking like the jealous maniac you were at the moment.

“I-I was just going to get some air.” You explained weakly, Jimin nodding before looking back at the flashing lights of the dance floor.

Was that what you were trying to do? Honestly, you didn’t know. The only thing going through your mind while walking out through the hallway was simply getting as far as you could from what was going on at the bar.

“You want me to come with you?” He offered, making you smile slightly before shaking your head again.

“No, Jimin, I’m fine. This is your party and I want you to go have fun. If I don’t see you again, happy birthday.” You faked a smile, the man nodding before pulling you in for a hug.

It was then that you heard the quiet thumping of footsteps down the hall, pulling away from your friend’s embrace to find none other than your boyfriend approaching behind Jimin.

“Feel better, alright?” Jimin gently squeezed at your shoulder, you nodding in response before he walked away, leaving you alone with Jungkook in the otherwise empty hallway.

“You’re not feeling well, baby?” His brows knit pulled together, having overheard the last bit of the conversation in his stroll to find you after returning to your empty spot in the booth, drinks finally in hand.

“Not really. Just need some air.” You sighed, your boyfriend stepping forward with a press of his palm to your spine to lead you outside, no hesitation in his actions as he concentrated on getting you out of the building.

Despite the goosebumps pricking your arms, the cold air that met your skin when Jungkook shoved the door open felt nice. You didn’t even realize how overheated you’d gotten in your rage, only realizing then how sickly you’d probably looked to Jimin.

Well, at least that excuse would work out for you.

“Fuck, it’s cold.” Jungkook mumbled, interrupting your thoughts as he slipped his jacket off of his shoulders to drape over your own, taking a seat beside you on the sidewalk.

You thanked him quietly at the polite gesture, sighing out as you placed your elbows on your knees, resting your forehead in your hands. Honestly, at this point, you did have a headache. But it wasn’t from alcohol or the pulsing music in the building behind you.

It was entirely induced by the way the blood had rushed to your head when you’d seen that girl push herself at your boyfriend, shamelessly giggling at him in a high pitched tone that had you clenching your fists, the crescent moon imprints from your fingernails still dug into your palm.

It really wasn’t his fault; he hadn’t done anything in return. But at the sight, you couldn’t hold back the fiery monster inside of you, the feeling that you just wanted to slap whoever tried to steal this man from you.

You hated yourself for feeling this way, knowing that Jungkook deserved someone who didn’t make a fuss out of these silly little things. The anger had now almost completely faded, manifesting itself in frustration with yourself and your own insecurities.

Now you were just projecting, taking feelings that were in no way his fault out on him.

“What are you doing?” He spoke up, interrupting your thought process as you continued blinking down at the pavement beside your feet.

Jungkook had been sitting next to you this entire time, observing you with wide eyes as you seemed to completely dissociate; something not all too uncommon for you to do when you were upset about something.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” He asked, suddenly alert when he noticed your lower lip tremble a bit, big doe eyes staring back at you as he tried to figure out what was going on with you.

“Nothing, Kook. I just want to go home, I think. I’ll get a cab so you can stay-”

“Baby, if you want to leave, I’m coming with you. C’mon, let’s go home.” Jungkook said as he pushed himself up from the ground, reaching his palm out to you, a bit of relief washing through his body when you let him hold your hand and tug you up from the ground.

Fuck, you wished he wasn’t so sweet. It made it even harder to be upset with him.

You didn’t let go of his hand once you were standing, Jungkook not taking the initiative of letting go either. The touch provided a bit of comfort to the both of you, his touch grounding your anger and your touch reassuring him that it was maybe not him that you were upset with. Maybe.

“You don’t have to-”

“I want to.” He stopped you again, studying your expression with a slight pout. With a silent nod, you let him lead you down the sidewalk, footsteps in tune with his own as you made your way down the street.

Jungkook kept sneaking glances over at you, lost as he tried his best to navigate the clues your body language was giving him.

Your head was cast downward, eyes never meeting his even as he looked over at you. Your hand held his tightly, most likely subconsciously as you seemed completely in your own head at the moment.

With a deep breath, he paused to interrupt your trudge along the sidewalk, his sudden stop causing you to pause as well, barely even registering the action as self deprivating thoughts continued to swirl around your head.

“Hey,” he softly called for your attention, your eyes meeting his at the sound, “what’s going on?”

His question had you diverting your eyes again, instead focusing on a passing car as you bit the side of your cheek in angst. He was going to get it out of you sooner or later; he was persistent, always had been.

“I’m fine.” You responded, not knowing what else to say as the wind blew your hair back from your face.

You watched as Jungkook’s face morphed from confusion to absolute sadness, his fingers gently soothing over your cheek to confirm what he’d thought he’d seen in the glow from the headlights of the car passing by seconds ago.

“Baby, you’re crying.”

With a confused hum, you lifted your hand to your face, swiping your wet cheeks and cursing under your breath. You truly hadn’t felt it happen, but you supposed it was no wonder with the growing lump in your throat.

“I think it’s the wind.” You mumbled lamely, Jungkook scoffing before pulling you into a hug, guiding your head to the crook of his neck as you easily complied.

“If you think I’m buying that for a single second,” he sighed, “can you please tell me what’s wrong?” He asked sadly, awaiting an answer as you sniffled into his neck.

“I don’t wanna say it. I already feel like an asshole.” You responded, feeling more tears prick your eyeballs at the mere thought of bringing up your doubts to him. The last thing you wanted was for Jungkook to take your own stupid insecurities and blame himself.

“What?” Jungkook asked, confusion lacing his tone as he slightly pulled away from you to glance at your face.

“That girl fucking pissed me off. And then I stormed out like a child. I ignored you because I didn’t know how to approach the conversation like an adult. I hurt you, so now I’m crying.” You explained, sniffling as Jungkook swiped at your tears with his thumbs, confusion etched into his features at your scattered thoughts.

“What girl pissed you off?” He cocked his head, making you widen your eyes in disbelief.

“At the party.” You stated obviously.

When his face still didn’t change, you sighed, biting your lip out of nerves before your boyfriend undid the action with his finger. His eyebrows were still bunched in confusion, fumbling to figure out the cause of your emotions.

“At the bar, Kook. She was all over you.” You specified, the wheels slowly turning in Jungkook’s head as his mouth gaped open.

“Are you kidding?” He asked in disbelief, making you huff before crossing your arms over your chest, turning away from him with a plastered on smile.

“Yep, I guess I’m just a dumbass.” You shrugged, beginning to walk away before Jungkook caught you with an arm around your waist, pulling you back to him.

“No, no, no, stop. That’s not what I meant. I just, I can’t really believe you’re so upset about something like that.” He explained, you remaining silent as you adjusted your gaze down to the top button on his shirt.

By now, the jealousy had almost fully faded, leaving you feeling ashamed and embarrassed of your previous actions influenced by your momentary rage.

“I can acknowledge that she wasn’t exactly being appropriate,” He spoke slowly, “but I wasn’t engaging with it, was I?”

You shrugged at that, blinking at a nearby telephone pole as you nervously fiddled with your fingers tucked into Jungkook’s coat pocket.

“What does that mean?” He asked at the action, causing you to sigh as you looked back at him.

“It means I don’t know. You weren’t exactly pushing her off of you.” You explained, causing Jungkook to raise his eyebrows at you in a deadpanned stare.

“No, I didn’t push her off of me. That’s a step too far, don’t you think?” He asked, inhaling deeply in an attempt to ground his building frustrations, grabbing your hand in his and soothing his thumb over the skin of your knuckles.

“You have to trust me, love. I would never do anything to hurt you.” He spoke softly, you nodding in reply as his eyes implored yours to believe him.

“I know that. I do trust you, Kook. I’m sorry.” You sniffled, Jungkook pulling you into his chest again and stroking his fingers through your hair at the back of your head.

“I’m not upset with you, baby. Just a little confused, is all.” He pulled back slightly to look at your face, tucking some loose strands of your hair behind your ears as his eyes studied your own puffy ones.

“Why did you get so upset?” He asked, making you scrunch your eyebrows in confusion at the obvious answer to his question.

“Because that girl was all over you an-”

“That’s not what I mean. Why did that girl bother you so much if you know I only want you?” He interrupted you, watching as you sighed knowingly, gulping the fresh lump in your throat down in an attempt to bury your emotions.

“It’s not you. I trust you.” You assured him, the man nodding at you as he patiently waited for your elaboration.

“It’s not you that’s the problem. It’s me.” You said shakily, face crumpling into tears once again making Jungkook step toward you to hug you once again.

“Okay, we don’t have to talk about it, it’s okay.” He soothed you, running his hand up and down your spine comfortingly before you pulled back slightly to look at him.

“Me crying isn’t a reason to avoid this conversation, Jungkook. I’m being ridiculous and I’m sorry.” You wiped your tears with the pads of your fingers, swiping them away in frustration that you couldn’t express your thoughts and feelings without bawling like a baby.

“I know it’s not, it is a conversation we need to have, I know that. But you’re upset, I’m upset, we’re tired, and it’s fucking cold out here.” He finished with a slight laugh, making you chuckle as well.

“Let’s just go home, change into some comfortable clothes, and then we’ll talk. Calmly. Okay?” He asked, you frowning as you looked back at the building you’d tried to leave in a huff.

“You don’t want to stay? I’m fine with staying.” You assured him, the man chuckling slightly as he leaned in to press a kiss to your forehead.

“I just want to go home with my favorite girl.” He mumbled against the skin, pulling back to raise his eyebrows at your skeptical expression.

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.” He nodded, smiling gently at you when you nodded in agreement, taking his hand in yours once again as you let him lead you to the car.

“Hop on in, m’lady.” He gestured with a nod, holding the passenger side door open as you slipped past him to sit in the car.

You expected him to close the door and round the vehicle to get into the drivers side, but you were surprised when he instead leaned over your body, placing his hand on your jaw to press his lips to yours in a searing kiss.

Taken aback at the way his lips hungrily captured yours, your hand instinctively came up to support the back of his head as you allowed his tongue to push its way past your lips.

The pads of your fingers soothed over the hair on his nape as his soft lips melded with yours, tiny puffs of air escaping from his nostrils and hitting your skin as he continued his dizzying ministrations.

Pulling back, he pressed a gentle kiss to your bottom lip, looking down at you with fluttered eyelids as he stroked his thumb across your cheek.

“My heart is yours. I‘m in love with you. And that will never change.” He reminded you, your eyes glued to his pretty features in awe as you soaked in his words.

“I know that, Kookie. I do.” You responded quietly, the man nodding in satisfaction before leaning in to peck your lips one last time, pulling back and withdrawing himself from the car.

When he shut the door, you were surrounded in silence once again, but this time your mind wasn’t making it so loud.

It was eased even just the slightest bit at the man’s reassurances, comforted by the way his hand held your own, resting upon your thigh as he started the car.

Your insecurities would not vanish overnight, that was for sure. But with the tender patience Jungkook never failed to provide you with, you had no doubt that it was an issue that could be worked through.

Leaning over to press your lips to Jungkook’s cheek, a smile quirked his lips at the action, turning to you with a shy grin as your eyes traced his features in the dark.

“What was that for?” He asked, smile widening when you shrugged your shoulders.

“I just love you. Thank you for putting up with me and all my crazy bullshit.” You said, Jungkook scoffing in response, lifting your joint hands to kiss at your knuckles.

“I love you. Along with all your crazy bullshit.”

651 notes · View notes

warmau · 3 years

Text

“that’s the worst sound i have ever heard in my life.”

you stand up too fast from behind the counter and bump your head with an ouch before looking to see what sicheng is complaining about now

outside the window of the cafe, you see a group of laughing boys and the bright, loud dirt bikes they’ve started riding around town

the sound of the engines and skidding tires managing to make their way through the windows

you wipe your hand on the front of your uniform’s apron and shrug

“i think they’re kind of cool.”

sicheng swivels around on the creaky bar stool, a script open halfway through is laying beside his iced-coffee

“extreme sports is just the polite way to say hey, this shit will get you killed”

you roll your eyes and check the clock that hangs above the display of baked goods and menu - almost eight, so almost time to close

you point it out to sicheng who packs his things up, you go over to help an elderly regular clean up their table and when the customer leaves you tell sicheng he doesn’t have to wait up for you

he throws his bag over his shoulder and looks over his shoulder at the parked dirt bikes

“hey, if one of them bothers you when you’re locking up just call me.”

“im pretty sure they’re not even going to notice me.”

sicheng still frets as he slips out of the door

you hum as you fall into your end of the day routine. you’ve been working here part-time through university, but with summer coming around, you’ve come on full-time

it’s a lot of work for one person, but the boss trusts you like their own children, and you actually enjoy having the quiet responsibility of locking up

you sweep the floor, put away all of the left over food and milk in the fridge, check the register and print-out the sales for the day

your last task is to close all of the blinds, the cafe always has them up in the summer, the tops open to let a slight breeze in when it coasts by

as you go through each them, you finally reach the last one that faces directly out of the front of the cafe. out onto sidewalk across.

it’s right in front of the intersection where the sidewalk turns into the boardwalk, and there’s a bike rack and some parking spots

the dirt bikes have all been left there, tires soiled with wear and sand

beside one of the bikes, a sleek red bodied one with various silver accents, stands a lone figure

in the summer heat, he’s still got leather gloves on that clutch the matching colored helmet in one hand, long jeans and lace up heavy boots

the only breathable part of his outfit is the white tank top that clings to the obviously toned lines of his upper body

a silver chain hangs around his neck, the links look so small on his overall broad figure, but they still shine against his sun kissed skin

he chews on the end of a toothpick and staring -

you step back slightly - he’s staring right at you

something in your stomach feels off, the crossing wires of concern and shock tell you to enter a state of heightened awareness

scurrying back to your work, you tell yourself you are just seeing things. you should listen to sicheng, finish quickly and hurry home.

the summer sun is quietly being pushed out by the summer moon by the time you lock the front door of the cafe and drop the keys into your bag

you turn around and whisper a small - shit! - when the figure from before is still there

he’s probably waiting for his friends, but sicheng was all wound up about them so now i am to- oh wait i think he’s coming over here!

and you’re right, the figure looks both ways before he crosses the street and jogs easily up to you

suddenly your hand itches to fish those keys out of your bag because what can a guy (a very handsome guy, up close) on a dirt bike have to do with you-

“hi - do you work in the cafe?”

he asks, voice deeper than you expect, his eyes are large and the color of autumn chestnuts

“um-yes?”

he sees the way your shoulders are tensed and he immediately retracts himself a step backwards

he puts his hands up, helmet still in his right, “oh right - sorry to scare you, i was just asking because ive seen you around-”

something like a flush coats under his cheeks

“wait - that sounds weird too, i just meant to say that i think you’re - that i wanted to know your name is all....”

you blink, your shoulders don’t relax completely, but you can tell there isn’t any bad intent coming from him

“well, what's your name first.”

he stands up taller and grins, white teeth almost blinding in the dusk

“wong yukhei! i came here for the summer with some of my buddies.”

he tilts his head toward the bikes and you nod, saying only your first name - sichengs cautiousness seeping into your own

yukhei repeats it, with an almost a bit of a goofyness in his smile when he does

“well - ill see you around then?”

you aren’t sure what to make of the situation, so you just shrug - “maybe?” - he seems satisified with this answer though, and crosses back to his bike

you don’t know why, but you feel embarrassed just standing there, so you shuffle your feet and start your walk home

at some point you turn to look over your shoulder, right at the corner that you have to take, but when you do - yukhei and his bike are gone

“really? see, this is why i should stay while you lock up.”

sicheng’s eyebrow twitches as you finish telling him what happened

it’s the next day, and it’s noon - right when the days get the hottest and most of the cafe’s customers are just coming in for the free air conditioning

“i don’t think he’s dangerous, i think he just wanted to say hi.”

you answer, fixing what must be the twentieth order for shaved ice-cream

the slices of strawberry fall gently onto the heap, and you place two pairs of the forks beside the dish

carrying it carefully to the pick up counter, you call out the order number and watch as a young couple - still dressed in their beach attire - comes up together, unable to break apart for even a second

you smile at them and return to sicheng, taking his empty glass and turning to fill it up with ice

“you can think he’s not dangerous, but any idiot who owns a death trap like a dirtbike-”

“sicheng, it’s like a normal bike but with an engine. it’s like a car but without the-”

“the safety, without the safety. really - i didn’t think you’d be the type to be into bad guys like that.”

you make a pfft sound with your lips, filling the glass with water and setting it down beside him

“first off, im not into anyone - i talked to him once. and just because they like bikes, doesn’t make them bad - you’ve been reading too many of those cliché scripts.”

sicheng makes his own sound of disapproval, but takes the drink you offer and brings the straw to his lips

you get busy with other customers, at some point kun and xiaojun turn up and distract sicheng

the whole time you work, something in you keeps making you stop to look out of the window

last night, the row of bikes had been there, but now they’re gone - maybe they’re not coming into town tonight?

you reprimand yourself every time you do look, because really it is just like you said to sicheng - yukhei was just saying hi.

finally it’s time for you to close the cafe again

the only reason sicheng doesn’t stay is because kun drags him somewhere else and if there’s anyone more stubborn than sicheng, it’s the elder of the pair

you take your time - calling the boss to let him know you’re leaving

“did that group of loud boys wreck havoc again?”

“group of boys?”

“the ones on those bikes, not motorcycles the other ones-”

your hand gets a little sweaty as it holds the phone

“no, they didn’t come around today.”

“good. be safe going home.”

you think about the conversation as you subconsciously start walking after you lockup

there’s a way to get home that’s faster, and much safer, but there’s a longer way too - that has you walk most of the boardwalk

really, it’s still safe - because of summer the beach is as bright as a movie screen till midnight - but you avoid it for the crowd and the noise

your feet urge you to turn at your usual corner, but you don’t, you make way to the little stairs that lead from the sidewalk and onto the old wooden boardwalk

there are lots of people still about, packing their things up from their time at the beach or coming to stroll by the waves when the sand isn’t burning under their feet

groups of friends, smiling strangers, couples with kids or without

everyone is enjoying their summer, and you almost feel out of place because your summer is going just as you thought it would. completely uneventful. long days at the cafe, lonely nights in your room

“oh?”

you hear your name suddenly and turn your head left to see yukhei leaning against one of the benches

on the bench are what look like some of his fellow friends, some have those moto jackets you’ve only seen on tv hanging off their shoulders and others are drinking out of cups and swinging the keys to their bikes around their fingers

yukhei comes over to you and everyone in his crew throws a look over their shoulder

you blink when he stops in front of you - right, you think, he’s pretty tall

“are you getting off work?”

“yep”

“it’s really late, your boyfriend doesn’t ever walk you home?”

“boyfriend?”

you retort almost sarcastically, because where did the sudden idea that you - walking alone on a boardwalk made for summer romance - have a boyfriend

yukhei scratches the back of his neck and you notice some scrapes on his elbows

“oh there’s the guy - in the cafe with you all the time, he glares a lot - uh-”

“sicheng? oh no, he’s a friend.” you can’t help but chuckle “but you’re right he doesn’t smile often.”

yukhei seems to suddenly beam at the confirmation, which makes something inside of you feel a little warm, but awkward so you point to his injuries

“bike accident?”

he pokes at the yellowing flesh and winces, “yeah. but it happens a lot.”

“it seems like a dangerous sport, do you not mind getting hurt?”

the question is more curiosity than anything - you’re not trying to be mocking or even mean - and yukhei can tell from the way you’re still casting a concerned look at his other arm for evidence of any other “accidents”

“i mean i mind it, but i love it too much to give up”

yukhei laughs and it sounds nice, pleasant - people with good laughs tend to have good hearts

“and im not really good at anything else. like if i was to be a waiter in a cafe like you, id probably hurt myself a lot more than i do on a dirt bike”

you want to correct him, you’re technically not a waiter - but a barista - but you stop because you are slightly transfixed by the kindness that glows from him

you’ve never seen someone else radiate so......positively

suddenly one of his friends calls out his name, asks if he’s going to join them as they head back to get their bikes

yukhei looks at you before he answers - “i could walk you home, since it is late.”

“that’s ok, thank you for offering.” you push your hands behind your back a little as you tell him goodnight, before you’re a couple of steps away someone from his group shouts out

“yukhei’s not only good with dirt bikes - he’s a good kisser too-”

by the sound of it, yukhei jumps on his friend and tells him to shut up! you hear the aftermath of the scuffle, but don’t turn around as you giggle to yourself

a couple of times after that, you see yukhei simply in passing

sometimes you’re in the middle of your shift and he walks by the window with his friends, he looks up and sees you and waves - but he doesn’t come in

you wave back every time and a part of you pinches when he the door doesn’t open after

other times, you’ll see him after work - or you’ll hear his bike somewhere and he slows down to ask how work is before speeding off to catch up with friends

little bits and pieces of interactions, never anything more than that

you don’t really tell sicheng about it either, he grumbles enough about the noise they make and the other things he doesn’t like so you decide not to bother even though he’s a close friend

and the twilights of a little crush on yukhei are most definitely seeping into your brain

but everything changes when you find yourself closing the cafe after a super busy saturday, where you hadn’t been able to get everyone out until it hit past eleven.

the boss had thanked you profously and promised a good overtime check since you’d stayed so late

and you were too exhausted to be too mad about having to stay past your schedule

as you went through your routine, you nearly jumped from your skin when the door opened and you turned to explain - no really, you were closed now when you came face to face with yukhei

the side of his cheek is obviously bruised, scrapes that look like bad road rash cascade down past the angle of his jaw and onto his neck

he limps a little when he makes it across the doors threshold and you see dried blood on his knuckles

“yukhei?” you rush over and take him by forearm, making sure to hold onto the skin that isn’t covered in some kind of wound

“yukhei what are you doing here - did you fall off your bike, you have to go to a hospital now!”

not anywhere close to being a doctor, you can only prematurely tend to him with the cheap ass first aid kit from the kitchen

the entire time you keep saying that he has to go to the hospital

and yukhei mumbles that he doesn’t know where one is, his friends weren’t with him either - he got hurt alone - so he came to the only place that was close by and familiar

you look up at him - he’s sitting on the same bar stool that sicheng is usually in and you’re standing between his legs, bottle of ointment uncapped on the counter - bandages in your hand

“ok, ill take you - ill call a friend who has a car.”

“im ok.”

he lifts a hand and wraps it gently around your wrist. you can feel the wear on his skin from his leather gloves and old callouses from old injuries

he stares at you and the only light is from the kitchen, flickering on and off

“you’re not ok, you might have a more serious internal injur-”

“if i was bleeding inside, i would know.”

you frown, he says it like it has happened before - you wonder how many times has yukhei fell off his bike, or gotten hurt some other way - how many times has he done it alone

“fine, you don’t have to go now but go sometime soon. promise me.”

he looks at you, the autumn chestnut color you saw when you first met him is glazed now in a darker brown.

“ill promise you if you promise me something too.”

swallowing, you become acutely aware of how close you are - his knees are grazing either side of your thighs. your wrist is still in his lax hold.

you smell sweat, blood, and cologne on him. he smells the tiredness of your work on you.

“this isn’t a joke yukhei, i just want you to be-”

“i will go, i promise but promise me something too.”

“ok. ok fine, what? do you want free coffee or -”

“promise you’ll kiss me at least once before this summer is over.”

before you even realize it, you agree. simply because you want him so badly to go to the hospital, or at least that’s how you come to terms with it on your own.

you itch as the promise swirls around your head, even hours after you watched yukhei walk away from your front door - banged up and bruised and stilling insisting on walking you home

when you see sicheng the next day, you want to tell him about everything because your head feels like a tangled mess

but you don’t - you just pick at the strings of your apron, make drinks and heat up pastries

three days go by and yukhei doesn’t show himself anywhere. he’s not even in his group of friends who you see once again on the boardwalk one night after work

you somehow push past the nervous feeling and ask one of them where he is

“ah, his bike is all fucked up so he’s been mopping about it while it’s in the shop.”

“did he go to the hospital?”

the guy laughs, shakes his head - “knowing yukhei, probably not. but we haven’t seen him for a while either.”

you say thank you and turn to leave - you hear some kind of buzzing, some kind of mention of you and yukhei and what kind of ‘relationship’ you’re in - but you push past it

you don’t even know where he lives, let alone where he rides his bike so you can’t really go and check on him

you have to wait for him to come to you - that bothers you.

you stop and return to the group, who all simmer to silence when you come close again.

“where do you guys usually ride your bikes?”

you’ve never been this far up the beach, mostly because this part is relatively blocked off from swimming because of the high ridges of rocks and the part of the coast that disappears into the mountains

there’s a trail for hikers that leads off and into the trees, but you don’t go there - worried you’ll get lost without a map or guidance

yukhei’s friends said they mostly biked here - dirt bikes aren’t motorcycles you know that right babe?

you cross your hands over your chest - on your one free day of the week, you want to be splayed out on your floor under a fan. not looking for yukhei - someone who is practically a stranger to you

is he though? we might have talked less times than i can count on all my fingers but would i really call him a stranger?

you look around but it seems barren, almost eerily quiet and isolated

so when the loud sound of an engine roars from that opening into the mountains, you almost teeter back

with a flair of dirt and sand that flies toward you in a storm, you hear a bike rip down and into dune

the red bike strikes against the sizzling backdrop of the summer day and your eyes widen when you see it do a half-circle and come to a halt

yukhei pulls the helmet off and shakes his sweaty hair from his forehead - he looks over at you and you think you have lost the ability to speak

i know im supposed to be angry and concerned, but he looks so hot it’s almost unfair

the road rash on his cheek is healing better than expected, but his wounds are all still clear as day - scabbing as they heal

he doesn’t get off the bike - just looks at you and then beckons you over with a tilt of his head

you almost protest because you came here to be all strong willed and insist that he go see the doctor, also when did his bike get out of the shop?

but you bend to the command and make your way over

he kills the engine and stares at you - you stare back

“where have you been?”

“i went to the hospital like i promised.”

the sudden confession makes you drop your hands - “really! what did they say?”

“no internal bleeding.” he leans his body slightly over the side of his bike “told you id know if i was dying.”

“still, im happy you went. it’s better to be safe than so-”

he drops his helmet on the sand and your sentence cuts off with the sound

“so i kept my promise, do you want to keep yours now?”

don’t be silly, im not kissing you - you don’t even like me and i don’t -

all the excuses in your brain just get lost in the jumble that’s already made a home up there, so you just decide that fine. you will keep that idiotic, dumb, heat of the moment promise.

you grab yukhei by the sides of his tank top, starling him as you push yourself toward his mouth

using the leveraged grip you let your hold relax only enough so that you can dig your nails through the fabric and into the skin of his ribs

yukhei makes a growling noise into your mouth that is somehow more sweltering than the summer sun

he cranes his neck slightly so when you run your tongue across the slip of his lips he can easily grant you any of the access you require, one hand goes up to grip the back of his neck

he takes one hand from the handles of the bike and slips it to the small of your back - then up between your shoulder blades as he pushes you closer

it’s supposed to be one kiss. one little, flimsy kiss, and yet the attraction you feel between you two is so charged that you cannot stop

you only break back to see if yukhei feels the same thing, and it is written all over his face, he does

that and the way he tells you to step back as he gets off the bike, it falls to the sand and you start to ask why in the world he’s so careless with everything when he just wraps you up in his arms and starts kissing you again

“i wont be careless when it comes to you”

his mouth is magical, even more so as it drags down to your neck and the layer of sweat between your bodies is threatening to turn to fucking cement and keep you stuck in this embrace for the rest of eternity (not that either of you would mind)

but it’s so hot and you are not about to fall back on this sand - so you somehow manage to tell yukhei to meet you later tonight

“want a ride home?” he pants, but you unglue yourself from the plane of his perfect chest and shake your head, “meet me at ten.”

yukhei is there on time. he didn’t bring his bike, which is a good idea considering the noise it would make, he looks so sweet when you come downstairs and he asks if you want to go on a date

a date, like go get dinner if you haven’t had any or play boardwalk games until midnight

you say yes. just not tonight

yukhei’s look of childish confusion makes you laugh as you take his hand and lead him back inside.

sicheng might have warned you about yukhei being “bad”, the only little problem is you might have always been the “bad” one all along

with how big, strong, dirt biking yukhei looks up at you with absolute awe as you forgo chitchat over shared ice-cream and push him down onto the sheets of your bed

in the morning, you have to go to work and yukhei has to leave through the window, but you kiss him one last time and he mumbles he’ll meet you after your shift

“now i do have a boyfriend to walk me home, huh?”

you giggle and yukhei nearly trips over himself at the word

you do let yukhei take you on a date, of course you do - and it’s as soft and sweet as you expect because yukhei is the opposite of what he looks like at first glance

all the bruises, all the confidence, all the arrogant handsomeness that is ingrained in his perfect features is just a cover. he’s a big teddy bear.

refusing to let you pay, giving you his jacket, offering to come over early and help you lock up

holding your hand gently, kissing your forehead when you complain about dumb customers, the absolute sugary-sweet pillow talk that sometimes makes you feel like you’re in a hallmark movie romcom

when sicheng catches yukhei with a hand around your waist on the boardwalk - he nearly calls the police, but you explain everything - sans the more intimate details and it takes a long time for sicheng to accept it but

you are happy, god you are so happy it is pouring out of you - especially when you are with yukhei

even your boss warms up to him (only him, the rest of his buddies are basically barred from coming into the cafe)

and yukhei, when you see him with others, it’s obvious that he is an extroverted charmer - one afternoon he helps you with orders and when he returns, the receipt is covered in numbers

of course - he crumples it and tosses it into the garbage as he lets a secret hand sneak up your shirt behind the shield of the counter

and then, the summer is whisking away, and you feel the first kisses of autumn when yukhei is helping you steady yourself on the dirt bike - even though you refuse to actually ever ride it

you shiver at the breeze and yukhei feels your goosebumps under his fingertips

“hey, are you going to leave once summer is over - i know you and your friends are just staying here because it’s a great place to bike but-”

he leans down and buries his face in your hair

“why, you gonna miss me if i leave?”

you reach behind you to try and flick him, but he dodges

“i just wanted to know - if i should get ready for heartbreak or-”

“don’t ever say that, i would never hurt you.”

his tone drops and you know he’s being serious

“i love you and im not going anywhere.”

he helps you off the bike and then pulls you into his arms

“promise?”

you whisper, but yukhei hears it and you feel him nod

“promise.”

a couple of years later, you hear a loud sound from the living room and rush out to the garage

you see yukhei rubbing his head - wrench in one hand and a broken looking bike on the floor

“what happened?!”

“i didn’t put the kick stand down all the way so it toppled over”

you kneel down beside him and examine him for any wounds,

yukhei watches you and the concern that is always so bright and tender in your eyes when it comes to him

you turn his hand over to make sure, the engagement band on his finger catches the light as you do

the matching one on your hand feels cool against his skin.

“you’re so careless, seriously!”

you puff your cheeks out and chide him with all the love, he smiles back and leans in to kiss your frown

“true, but im never careless with you.”

you roll your eyes, but it’s true - ever since he first said it till now.

#ok in my defense.......i think dirt bikes are cooler than just motorcycles.#also the suits they were during xgames is so cool like imagine yukhei in one #yukhei au #lucas au #nct au #wayv au #lucas imagines #yukhei imagines #wayv #lucas #yukhei #blood/#wayv imagines #wayv scenarios #yukhei scenarios #lucas scenarios #nostolgic au

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stressedoutcanary · 3 years

Text

Family Matters - Batfamily x Reader

Summary: A surprise birthday party and Batfamily being chaotic.

“That's it Dick just a little to the right...No the other right...No! Not there you goofus! Just...Just get down from the chandelier before it comes crashing down on the rest of us and For God's Sake let Duke handle the ribbons before you somehow strangle yourself with them”

Warnings ⚠️: Fluff, lots of it, angst because I can’t help myself, Reader has got some parental issues. Hurt/Comfort.

Word count: 2.4k

A/N: I wanted some good dad Bruce content so I did it myself. Also I might have been influenced by a post I made a while back about Bruce and his children. I haven't used reader's pronouns anywhere so it's kinda gender neutral.

I don’t know where I was going with this, my imagines are often like a train derailed from its track but I think it’s fine. So Enjoy ;)

•°•°•°•°

"Focus (Y/S/N), don't jump in in blind, assessing what action your opponent is about to undertake and countering it out before they can complete that action, this is the key lesson for you today", Batman's commanding voice echoed in the enclosed area of the batcave as he observed you attempting to roundhouse kick the boy in front of you. It was rather rashly executed with the hope of knocking him down which, for obvious reasons, only ended up with your leg connecting with nothing but thin air.

'Damn he is fast when he actually tries.'

"Easy for you to say Old Man! You aren't the one dancing with Mister Duckboy, the teen wonder over here!", you exclaimed, panting as your chest heaved from the exertion.

"Duckboy?!", Tim looked near scandalized as you grinned in return, stealing a glance towards the giggling crowd gathered near the stairs.

Everyone was already in the cave, it was a rare occurrence, it happened only when the issues of upmost importance were being discussed. Today was one of those days; The planning of Alfred Pennyworth's surprise birthday party.

However things usually went a lot less violent, this day every year. The sparring session this year was the result of you messing up, real bad while on patrol last night and since you were around the same age as Tim, he was found to be the most appropriate partner for it. The only drawback was that he had a staff in his hands while your weapons were confiscated, because in Bruce's words 'you rely on them too much'. You were already tired and Tim had a huge advantage over you, if you wanted to win this match you had to be quick and efficient at the same time.

Distracting Tim by your comment allowed you to have an opening, gathering all your strength you went in for a forward strike. Unfortunately he was more than ready to take you on, he crouched down, narrowly missing your punch then proceeded to swipe your legs off of the ground with his bo staff making you fall butt first on the floor.

"Congratulations you've managed to hurt both my ass and my ego, Timbers", You said laying back on the ground, hands and legs spread out and instead of helping you up, Tim joined you on the floor sitting next to you. You gave him a look that was equivalent to 'next time I get the chance, I am going to push you off a roof'.

"Your skills need improvement", Bruce said in his monotonous tone as you grunted knowing that a full ass lecture was gonna follow, but before he could get another word out, Jason chimed in with a statement no one ever expected to hear from him,"You know (Y/N), he's not wrong in fact I think the old man's actually got a point."

Jaws dropped to floor, Tim looked like he just saw a ghost, Dick who was standing near Barbara pinched himself to see whether he was dreaming or not, Damian snapped his neck up from where he was sharpening his katana, even Titus and Ace perked their heads up at the sudden silence that settled over the place. Barbara, Cass, Duke and Steph looked equally shocked.

"Before you all get any ideas, what I'm trying to say is you better pay attention because B over here won't be able to save your ass, 'cause if you slack off the next thing you know you would be in a warehouse with a maniac, getting blown to bits", Jason looked at Bruce with accusing eyes.

'And here I thought he was finally going to say something sensible', you thought to yourself as he continued,

"Take it from someone who has had that experience, you guys remember right? The fact that I--"

"Died, we know!!", everyone groaned at the same time and Bruce looked like he had to physically restrain himself from faceplaming.

"Okay! Guys how about we go ahead and do the thing we all actually came here to do instead of... whatever this conversation was", you suggested, getting up and patting the dust off your clothes.

"Well then someone has got to ask the important question here", Barbara looked around as she worded her sentence,"who is going to be the one to keep Alfred busy while we get everything ready?"

Once again the cave went silent. For a whole bunch of detectives, you all were very, very scared of Alfred, including Bruce even though he will never admit it, lying to The old-butler-cum-grandpa and making random excuses for the whole 3 hours was a thought dreadful enough to make all of you exchange petrified glances at each other hoping someone would step forward to do the job.

"I'll do it", dick raised his hand.

"NO!", everyone snapped and Dick's head tilted with a pout.

"You are good at doing a lot of stuff boy wonder, hiding things from Alfred isn't one of them", Barbara comforted Dick as Damian stepped up next.

"*tt* Since none of you imbeciles have the courage or the ability to do it. I shall be the one to handle Pennyworth. Gordon, Cain and Titus, I will require your assistance", Damian spoke or rather commanded as he went up the stairs, followed by the group he chose.

"Don't mess this up for us, you gremlin!"

"Tim!", you lightly jabbed him in the side with your elbow.

"Ow! What?"

"Be nice", you narrowed your eyes and he understood you were being serious.

"Fine I'll try, but don't blame me if he starts something", Tim shrugged carelessly. You shook your head and let out an audible sigh as you followed everyone else up towards the manor.

•°•°

"That's it Dick just a little to the right...No the other right...No! Not there you goofus! Just...Just get down from the chandelier before it comes crashing down on the rest of us and For God's Sake let Duke handle the ribbons before you somehow strangle yourself with them", you eyed him worriedly.

"Oh come (Y/N) it'll be fine!", the cheerfulness in his voice made you cock an eyebrow at him from below. Duke slid in beside you.

"10 bucks says he will somehow fall within the next hour"

"Oh Duke you should know better, 20 says he'll fall within 30 minutes", you turned towards him with an evil smile.

"What are you both talking about down there?"

"NOTHING!", you both said in unison on which Dick gave you a confused look.

"Oh Hey look Steph needs my help with the cake so, see ya!", you quickly moved to the other side of the room checking in with Stephanie and Tim. She gave you a thumbs up to signal that everything was going according to plan and the place was almost ready. Everyone was laughing, bickering, having fun, it was all very rare and seeing it, a warm feeling spread throughout you.

You smiled to yourself for a moment but it faltered and a frown pulled up at your lips, a sorrowful thought crossed your mind, something you always kept buried deep down. Looking around and seeing as nobody needed your help at the moment you decided to slip out of the chaos, taking slow steps towards the patio to clear your head.

•°•°

Leaning against the railing you thought back to how you left your house this morning telling your mother that you are going to stay at your friend's place for a while and how she just waved her hand at that, not even questioning you anymore. Your mind was completely elsewhere, despite the awe-inspiring dense forest right in front of you, your eyes were lost in space.

You registered, a bit too late, the presence of someone standing beside you.

"It is a nice view, but something tells me that's not what brought to out here, away from everyone else"

"Careful there Brucie or people might think that you are actually capable of some emotions which happen include caring for people", you retorted back at him. It was always a sort of defense mechanism for you, whenever you felt exposed you countered it with snarky remark.

You closed your eyes hoping that Bruce would just walk away. But he didn't. He stayed there.

Bruce leaned on the railing beside you and waited. You took a deep breath, contemplating you next move carefully.

"...Look It's really silly so can we drop it?", you whispered wondering why in the world would Bruce of all people, care about your feelings.

"Talk to me (Y/N). I can tell when something is bothering you, I may not be your father, but you are my family.", unlike usual, his voice was gentle and genuine when he spoke to you.

"I am really not a fan of surprise birthdays", you stated, starting off vaguely.

"And why is that?"

"Because I...It's silly but this one time I spent a whole week working on a birthday gift for my mom, it was like a craft pop up box which had multiple photos of us together, I made that from scratch! everything in it I made that, I worked hard for it, I did it out of love but when I gave her that surprise gift you know what she said Bruce! She said that I wasted my time that she would've been much happier if I had focused on my studies, she never even once said that she liked it and I--", you looked at him with tears brimming in your eyes, threatening to spill.

"I don't know Bruce, it-it just makes me feel sad you know? every little thing reminds me that my mother doesn’t seem to love me anymore. There is this constant thought in my mind that no one cares about me, about what I do for them and I don’t know what to do with a thought like that."

"That's not true, look around you kiddo, you are surrounded by people who would do anything for you, who love you from the bottom of their hearts", Bruce finally looked at you, placing a hand on your shoulder.

"That's the thing! I am not an orphan!", you blurted out and Bruce looked more confused than ever.

"I'm aware"

"No! No you are not. I am not one of those kids you picked up from somewhere, I don't live here, Like I am sure you people aren't even sane, hell! you all make up the most dysfunctional family I have ever seen! I don’t belong here, you people have no reason to care about", Bruce gave you a sideways look, slightly chuckling at your sudden description of the people in the manor.

"But I still love everyone, my mom, you, every dumbass inside the manor right now, no matter much pain they cause me and I don't get why", this time when he looked at you, you didn't look like the vigilante who sucker punched The Riddler in the face last night, you looked like a scared little kid who is lost.

Bruce stood up straight and wrapped you in a hug. Something you never expected to happen in a million years. The shocked settled in after a bit and you wrapped your hands around him, burying your face in his chest.

"The people we love are still people at the end of the day. They act out, and sometimes they let us down, hurt us even, but that doesn't mean we stop loving them. For every bad memory, there will always be a good one that will get you through it. I promise you that (Y/N)", Bruce pulled away and gave you a warm smile. You couldn't help but smile back, your face matching his.

"Okay who are you and what have you done with Bruce Wayne? because I don't recognize this man who is full of emotions and on top of that, is giving free hugs right now", you broke into a grin, making Bruce's face go back to the stoic version.

"If you tell anyone, I will deny it"

"Sure you will"

Suddenly a clattering sound came from the hall, alerting you both. This, however, was followed by a 'I'm okay!' By the one Dick Grayson, which in turn was followed by Duke's 'Oh no!'

"Any idea what that was about?", Bruce inquired raising an eyebrow as you burst out laughing.

"That, you big softie, was the sound of me getting my 20 dollars, now let's get back before they destroy everything."

•°•°

You and Bruce entered back into the hall, everyone was gathered around waiting for Damian and his group to signal the beloved butler's arrival. You stood next to Tim as Jason moved towards the switches to turn off the lights.

"Okay I'll bite why are you covered in frosting before the party even started?"

"Steph", Tim replied, too tired to elaborate, leaving you giggling.

Barbara, Cass and Damian rushed through the door, looking close to terrified, with Titus tagging along.

"He is here, HIDE!", Damian said quickly closing the doors.

After a few moments, the door creaked open and Alfred's voice came through, "Master Damian, you and I will have words for what you did to-- Oh my", he was stuck to his position at the door, too shocked to say anything more after looking at the decorations and bunch gathered around an enormous cake.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY ALFRED!!", you all exclaimed with extreme excitement.

As the party went on you noticed that there was, in fact, a broken chandelier broomed to the side, later on there were a few not-at-all-safe stunts performed by the boys, some really bad puns made by Dick, all sorts of shenanigans by the others and cake, lots of cake. You looked around, everyone was busy doing something but now you knew Bruce was right:

You have one hell of a family, original, found or otherwise. And you love them all no matter what.

°•°•°•°•

Tags: @thesesickfics-justmakemesick

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coeurdastronaute · 3 years

Text

The Cover Story, Ch. 1

Greetings! This is a preview of my first chapter that I’m posting exclusively on my patreon. If you like it, I hope you follow along as I work on it there. I appreciate your time and thoughts and would love to hear what you think.

Without further ado, or perhaps much ado about thing...

Lucy Madani was not going to cry.

That was a lie. She might cry. She wanted to cry. She was known to cry very easily, but not without reason, and there certainly were more than enough reasons already for her to tear up as she stood on the corner and felt a wave of water from a bus going through a puddle splash her legs and skirt. It was only just after eight in the morning, and she was ready to crawl back into bed, admit defeat graciously, and sleep straight through to tomorrow.

“I can’t talk right now, Baba,” Lucy muttered into her phone as she resumed her quick walk down the street.

“You are mad, and we need to talk.”

“Let me rephrase it. I don’t want to and I also can’t. I’m going to be late for my meeting.”

“Your big interview pitch. I wanted to wish you good luck, but you stormed off.”

“Yes, that is what one tends to do when their father informs them that he is getting engaged,” she fumed, her anger coming over her once again at the thought as she darted across the street, waving her hand at the honking car.

She was an adult, she tried to remind herself. A full, grown adult. An adult-adult who barely had a stable job, had heaps of student loans, and still lived with her widowed father. She didn’t throw tantrums and she wasn’t going to cry about any of it. Today was too important for that, and she was going to nail the pitch and finally move on from puff pieces for teen magazines. She was going to make the jump to serious journalist. She was going to be requested, by name.

Today she was not going to cry.

At least not on purpose.

“Will you be home for dinner?”

Luckily, he knew enough to sound sorry, though it wasn’t enough of a victory for her, only fueling the prickling behind her eyes.

“No, I’m going over Laila’s. I’ll just stay there. Wouldn’t want to interrupt your time with her.”

“Lucy joon, please talk to me. I know you’re mad-- you have your mother’s temper, but I think we should talk about this.”

“I’m going into my meeting. We’ll talk sometime this week,” she offered, shaking her head. “Just… I have to go.”

She didn’t wait for much of a reply because she knew he was playing low, dragging her mother into it. It only made it worse. Shoes sloshing against the tile of the lobby, she made her way to the elevator and decided firmly, once again, that she was not going to cry.

Her phone chimed with a handful of well wishes and good luck’s from the group chat and she thanked them quickly before trying to find the meeting information from her calendar, head down and lost in her own world as she stepped into the elevator and right into a stranger.

“I’m so sorry,” Lucy hurried, looking forward and then following the chest and then long pale neck up a few more inches to an amused smirk and eyes hidden by wayfarer sunglasses.

“Not a problem. I was in the way.”

The stranger ran her hand through a mop of curly copper hair atop her head, faded on the sides and shaggy on top, decidedly better put together than any tiktok boy’s. Her small smile pulled at bow-shaped lips and left dimples on both cheeks, and there were too many freckles to even begin counting. Lucy gulped before moving to the side and slinking to the back corner.

Of course she would get into an elevator with the hottest woman she’d ever seen. Of course she would nearly plow her over in her hurry. Of course she would be sweet and smile like that and have an adorably shaped chin and face. Of course Lucy would do all of that while looking like something the cat dragged in after a bad night.

But luck wasn’t with her today, and she was unable to hide too long, as no one else got on behind her and she heaved the heaviest sigh before looking down at her ruined stockings, spattered with mud and whatever else was festering in that puddle. Her skirt was soaked still and dripping and she was beginning to really feel it sinking into her skin. Phone clutched tightly in her hand, she felt the weight of it all and didn’t know what to do with it.

From under her brow she looked up to study the back of the stranger, their long legs and black jeans, their primly tucked in black t-shirt that stretched slightly across her shoulders, and the softest looking hair in the most beautiful shade of red she’d ever seen.

The elevator ascended approximately three floors before she started crying. Alligator tears slipped down her cheeks before she could do anything to stop them. And then the stranger cleared their throat and quietly turned around to verify what was happening, was actually happening, only making it worse.

But she didn’t say anything, just turned back around, and with the smallest movement stretched an arm forward to hold the elevator between floors, and quickly, Lucy turned herself around and faced the wall. She took a few steadying breaths and wiped her cheeks, mentally preparing to leave everything else behind and focus on the moment-- when she would be selling herself to one of the largest companies of all time to be the writer of the profile of their Director of Creative Design before they went public. She’d prepared. She was ready. Nothing else mattered and she was a goddamn adult.

The stranger, the kind, hot stranger pushed her sunglasses up into the messy curly hair and offered a smaller smile than before, the communal ‘it’ll be okay’ without saying anything. Lucy didn’t register much of it, just stared at the grey-green of her eyes, forgetting all else, and especially that she was a goddamn adult who desperately needed a payday to move out of her father’s place and away from whoever was moving into her mother’s side of the bed.

“I’m not usually,” she began, but bit her tongue because she didn’t want to lie. She was usually like this, just occasionally less muddy. “Thank you.”

“We can stay a few more minutes if you’d like. I don’t really want to go to work today.”

For the first time all day, Lucy smiled genuinely and felt lighter. It was that quick and that easy.

“It’s okay. I’m ready.”

A curt nod led to a stretch again and the elevator started once more. Lucy leaned across and pressed the button for her floor, catching a whiff of a distinctly woodsy smell, like sandalwood perhaps? There was a hit of lavender? Maybe cedar? It was wonderful. She wanted to breathe in more of it, but retreated before she was the girl who cried and sniffed people in the elevator.

The silence was oddly comfortable for a few more seconds until it dinged and she took the step out. The stranger politely held the door and offered one final smile, complete with just one dimple this time.

“Good luck,” she winked before pulling back, hands clasped loosely in front of her before the doors closed forever.

It couldn’t get better than that, Lucy decided, staring at the elevator doors and steadying herself once again. But she was hoping it couldn’t get worse either.

XXXXXXXXXXX

Quinn Sullivan wanted to die.

Not really die, but she might have taken a good coma. Just for like a week maybe. Or six months. Something long enough to beat out this hangover she was sporting, courtesy of her very thoughtful best friend, and if she was lucky, long enough to survive the offering and release of the new game. Maybe a year-long coma? Was that too much to ask for, honestly? Maybe the universe could toss her a bone, just this once, especially after the previous year of her life.

But in lieu of a swift and merciful death and/or coma, she was just going to have to survive the giant hangover that was currently attacking her body. All she needed was a quiet day and an extra large piece of leftover pizza she was certain was waiting in the staff fridge somewhere. Maybe some birthday cake--

And then a five-five wrecking ball of a human barreled into her chest.

The rest of her ride up, Quinn thought about the weird trip it’d been, and if she should have done something different. And then she beat herself up for winking. Who winked? Why did she wink? She’d never done it before. But she earned a smile from a cute girl, and there was a tiny flutter at the base of her rib cage, one she hadn’t noticed in a long, long time. She pressed her fingertips there for the rest of the ride to her floor.

With a groan, she put her sunglasses back on as the elevator dinged to her floor and took a deep breath to prepare for her day, not allowing her brain to trace out an entire life with the cute, crying stranger where they bought peaches at the farmer’s market on Saturday’s and danced in the kitchen. Romance was dead and dreaming was forbidden.

“Aspirin is already on your desk,” Jenny greeted her cheerfully. “With an egg sandwich and some fruit.”

“No leftover pizza?” Quinn didn’t pout, but she might have for that.

“Trust me, this will fix you up much better. I went to a state school, remember, MIT?”

“We partied…” Quinn trailed off as she pushed open the door to her office.

She hadn’t partied, but she was certain people had to have partied. It was college, and though it was many moons ago, she certainly couldn’t remember hangovers feeling like this. Maybe this is what almost thirty felt like. That thought didn’t help with the headache.

“All-night coding sessions don’t count. Eat the food. I’ll hold the wolves at bay as long as I can, but Chris and the Exlust team are adamant you have the meeting today to resolve story issues.”

Quinn tossed back the aspirin before she even sat down. Maybe Jenny was her universal compensation. The shades were already drawn so her normally bright office was much more tolerable. Even the eggs didn’t make her stomach swirl, and she was grateful her assistant learned something useful while studying biomedical engineering..

“I just need like an hour to work something out. I had an idea last night--”

“Before or after the sangria?”

“During. Definitely during, but still. I just need to work through it and then they can tear me to shreds. Can you add to my calendar a warning to never drink again?”

Quinn was fairly certain she’d texted her assistant that at some point in the morning. Probably before the shower, but after the first cup of coffee.

“Gladly,” Jenny smiled softly. “You doing okay? It’s been a while since you tied one on like this.”

“I’m fine. Just celebrating with Darcy. No more sad drinking, I believe was the rule you came up with and I follow all of your rules.”

With a roll of the eyes, files were placed on her desk and her assistant retreated to the ringing phones, which when the door was held open, were actual torture devices to Quinn’s brain.

“Sadie wants your afternoon free. I think it’s another reporter.”

“She’s relentless.”

“Maybe you’re impossible?”

“It’s genetic then,” Quinn sighed, munching on a grape and tugging open a notebook. “One hour, please?”

“I got you, boss.”

“Thanks.”

Never quite sure how Jenny did it, Quinn chose not to ask any questions. But when she asked for an hour, she got it. And despite the headache and laziness in her muscles, the food and aspirin did help so that by the end of her allotted time, she felt like she had captured the breakthrough that appeared to her the night before.

Before she could admire her work though, her team filed in and she was prepared to start her day, finally, even with the nagging idea of a reporter nipping at her thoughts through it all.

Somewhere between her breakfast and lunch, Quinn felt better. She fired off a few texts to see how Darcy was handling it and received only pictures of a half obscured but obviously still in bed face and chuckled to herself. It was a slower day, and she wasn’t about to waste it with a hangover. She should give Jenny a raise, she decided, because the woman could cure hangovers. Maybe submit her for the Nobel for Science.

“Sadie is here,” her assistant buzzed and Quinn lost all forms of motivation.

Her head hit her desk dramatically as the door opened and her sister walked in. Slightly shorter, but older by two years, Sadie was nearly everything Quinn could never manage to be despite her best intentions. She had the MBA from Harvard and the doting husband that came with it, a cute brownstone near White Hill and the park, and her first baby on the way. But even past her resume, Sadie Sullivan-Hawkins was personable and charismatic. She was adored and shrewd, capable of disarming anyone and eviscerating the others. It all came so easy to her, to have people around, to talk and be listened to, to be loved. She was a shark in business, and at the same time warm and put people at ease.

Quinn could barely tie her shoes and Sadie was running a marathon in life.

“Want to talk about it?” Sadie smiled as she took the seat across from Quinn’s desk.

“About what?”

“Why you’re getting drunk with Darcy on a Tuesday?”

“She got the job at Taylor and Vine. We were celebrating.”

“So not about Chloe’s announcement in the Times?”

Quinn played dumb, typing gibberish into her phone because she didn’t want to look at her sister’s kind and caring face. If she looked, then she’d have more feelings, and for the life of her, she just wanted the incessant tinnitus of the break up to disappear completely.

“Nope, I caught that this morning though, so I was in the right physical and mental place to really wallow. I don’t care about her.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard.”

“I have these notes to get done for the Shadow Operation team before our meeting with design. I’m fine. My ex can marry whoever she wants-- God knows she didn’t want to marry me. Good luck to the next sap.”

This made her sister chuckle, and Quinn smiled quietly to herself. There was still a bitterness there that she couldn’t get rid of. It was masking potentially the worst hurt imaginable. She preferred the bite of the bitter though. Easier to navigate.

“I have someone I want you to meet with.”

“Oh, fuck off Sadie,” Quinn moaned, knowing full well what was about to happen. “I’m not talking to anyone. You’re the face of this outfit. That’s what you told me.”

“You’ve run off three other reporters. Our public offering is going to underperform if there is no faith in the heart of our company,” she explained, sitting up a little straighter. “And that’s you. I might crunch the numbers and keep the lights on, but you are what people are buying.”

“Then you tell them about me. I don’t even have to be there.”

“If only that were true, my job would be a lot easier.”

At a stalemate, the sisters stared at each other for a few moments before Sadie broke, making a face as she smiled towards her lap, running her hand over the smallest bump barely showing. Quinn shook her head and looked away. Anywhere else was better than the damn disapproving look leveled at her now.

“I don’t know what to say,” Quinn finally muttered. “I don’t want to-- I can’t--”

“Chloe was an idiot. She broke your heart. Now, you barely exist, but I know that you’re still you. And we need this.”

“I can’t. I really can’t. I wish you’d get it.”

It hurt too much all over again. In a weird way, Quinn missed the feeling of the hangover because at least that was a useful ache. The dull throbbing in her chest and bones just felt hollow and haunting.

“We have a meeting with her. I’ve already walked her through the contracts and final edits, as well as shown her around. Please just rip the bandaid off and get it over with. She’s good. I’ve read a few of her pieces and Donna recommended her to me.”

Sadie had their mother’s eyes. It drove Quinn crazy, that she looked like she didn’t belong in her own family. It also meant it felt like her mom was staring at her and reminding her to do her chores. She rubbed the back of her neck, letting her head lull to the side.

“I’ll… I’ll try.”

“Yes! I knew it. Thank you. Seriously, Q. It’s going to be great. This is going to--”

“I said I’ll try. I didn’t say I’d do it.”

“It’ll be great,” Sadie ignored the warning, hopping up from her chair and moving to the door to beckon the reporter in. “Come in and meet the genius of the whole outfit.”

Quinn rubbed her face with her hands, digging her fingers into the corners of her eyes under her glasses before steadying herself. She could do it for her sister, she reminded herself, and that stupid niece or nephew she was incubating.

Maybe it would be as simple as ripping off a band-aid. Maybe she could just let a stranger rifle through her entire life and being, except that she wasn’t sure there was anything there anymore. Everything felt like she was going through the motions, and it was terrifying to Quinn to let someone see that she was barely stitched together. How could she explain that there was nothing behind door number one? Let alone number two or number three.

“Quinn, this is Lucy Madani. She’s a freelancer hired by New York Magazine. She did a great piece on the Attorney General last month and her article on the director who went on to win Cannes went viral.”

There was still mud on her skirt, but her stockings had been disbanded, gone forever, but it was unmistakable the stranger from the elevator standing in her office. That felt like an entire lifetime ago, and yet Quinn tried to swallow.

“You have longer hair, in the pictures I found of you online,” Lucy offered, overcoming her surprise much quicker. She stuck out her hand over Quinn’s desk and waited for her to shake it.

She was a reporter. A reporter who cried in the elevator. A reporter Quinn had, if she were being honest, checked out. But foremost, she was a reporter. She wanted to dive into the deepest parts of Quinn’s brain for profit, mutual benefit and all. It sounded dreadful.

The universe did not owe her anything, Quinn remembered, but the perpetual mocking was getting a little over the top.

“Quinn Sullivan,” she shook the hand presented and tried to breathe. Lucy’s hand was warm and felt soft. She wasn’t sure how to let go. “How’s it going?”

Fuck! Her mind blared as she dropped the reporter’s hand and mentally beat herself to a pulp. Who talked like that? And still, she could not answer, winked?

“It’s been a day,” she smiled, nodding to herself as she accepted the seat Quinn offered. “Your sister has sung your praises all morning though. I feel like I could write about your without even meeting you.”

“Great. Let’s do that.”

Sadie laughed but gave Quinn a stern look.

“I’m going to go grab you some passes and copies of the contracts,” Sadie smiled graciously at Lucy before turning to her sister. “Listen to her pitch.”

“Seems it’s been decided,” she muttered to herself before plastering on a smile.

“Don’t have too much fun. I’ll be right back.”

And with that she truly was gone, and Quinn was left in her office with the reporter who had pretty eyes. They felt like syrup-- warm and deep brown, gooey and sticky. Her face was longer, her nose thin and long, her lips full and bitten-- and Quinn snapped herself out of her perusal and felt her chest warm too much. No, the universe didn’t owe her anything, and the punishment for thinking it did was sitting across from her in a muddy skirt and gentle smile.

For just a moment, Quinn held her breath and willed a coma..

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