#One time when I was collecting everyone's notebooks I accidentally rested my hand on a random guy's shoulder and instead of saying sorry | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

earlgreydream · 3 years

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professor barnes.

| professor!bucky barnes x reader | smut | fluff |

don’t mind me, I’m fantasizing about bucky being my hot professor ✨

cw: this is obviously a professor au, so there’s that (please don’t hook up with your profs irl) and also like, slight innocent kink? but not really, mild degradation (not meant)

You were tapping your pen against your lips.

You were deep in thought, hanging off of every word your professor spoke. You listened intently, taking in everything Professor Barnes had to say about World War II history.

History fascinated you, but not near as much as your sexy professor did. James Buchanan Barnes was nothing if not criminally gorgeous. It was distracting.

You really did try to focus on history, but it was so hard when you were watching his soft, full lips move. Occasionally, he would run his fingers through his dark hair, his muscles flexing under the white button downs he always wore.

“Miss Y/N!”

You were snapped out of your thoughts, your pen falling from your fingers and clattering against your desk. It seemed to echo as all of the other students looked at you. Silver eyes bore into you, and you swallowed thickly.

“Professor? I’m sorry, could you repeat the question?” You asked shyly. He looked at you for a moment before sighing.

“I asked who the leader of the Soviet Union was during World War II.”

“Joseph Stalin,” you answered, feeling sick to your stomach at his irritated tone.

“Thank you. Let’s try to pay attention for the rest of the lesson, yeah?”

Your face burned in shame, and a few of the girls smirked at his scolding.

“Yes, sir,” you nodded before he went back to his lecture.

You took notes and kept your head down the rest of the lecture, your penmanship a bit messy from your shaking hands. You closed your notebook and put it away as he ended the lecture, and students rushed out, eager to get to their lunch breaks.

You realized you were the last one left, and you stood, making your way through the empty desks.

“Y/N,” Professor Barnes said your name, and you stopped.

“I’m sorry-” both of you said at the same time, and you bit your lip, letting him continue.

“It wasn’t my intention to shame you.” He finished, and you looked into his silver eyes.

“I’m sorry that I got distracted. I’ll pay better attention next time... I usually do.”

“I know, you’re exceptionally intelligent, Y/N.”

You blushed at the praise, and he offered a small smile, putting you at ease. You thanked him before leaving, thoughts of him filling your mind the rest of the afternoon.

James couldn’t stop watching you. He was lecturing on the USSR, but part of his mind was on you. The way you listened to him, careful not to let yourself get called out again for being distracted. He noticed how you tapped your pen against your pink lips whenever you were in thought.

His mind wandered to your lips around him, though he caught himself and cleared his throat, letting a student speak about their research on Soviet Russia.

When you stood up, you smoothed our your miniskirt that drove him crazy. He imagined yanking it down your legs and bending you over his desk, teaching you to pay attention.

He was drawn back to reality by your sweet smile as you said goodbye as you headed out for the day. The image of your smile stuck in his head, and he couldn’t get you off his mind.

Professor Barnes was the subject of your dreams. You woke up in the middle of the night, after your subconscious had imagined him with his head between your legs, eating you out on top of your desk before class. Your cheeks heated furiously, and you took a cold shower, scrubbing your fantasies away.

You fidgeted in your seat, second guessing your choice of wearing a tight v-neck shirt. You felt silly. You had paired it with a short skirt, all in the hopes that your hot professor would notice you.

But why would he? You were just one of many students attempting to grab a few extra seconds of attention. You were running over your choice of outfit in your head as your professor passed papers back to all of the students.

He laid yours on your desk, and you noticed the lack of letter circled at the top. You were about to stop him when you realized there was a sticky note on the second page.

Please see me in my office after class. JBB

You looked up at him, but he didn’t glance at you as he handed other students their papers. You noticed nothing was marked on your paper, and you suddenly felt nervous.

Your heart was racing in your chest as you walked to his office, stopping by the bathroom to give yourself a pep talk in the mirror. You were sure it was fine, you would’ve gotten an email if you’d truly fucked up, alerting you ahead of time, you tried to convince yourself.

You knocked softly on the doorframe, leaning into his office. It was small and warm, filled with well-loved books and scattered notes of a chaotic mind. It smelled like coffee and books and leather, and everything about the small space seemed inviting.

“Y/N, come in.” Professor Barnes stood up, waving me inside. I stepped in anxiously, pushing the door shut behind me before taking a seat in the chair opposite his desk.

“I saw your note, in my paper. Is something wrong? There was no grade on it, and I’ve been worried...” you confessed, looking up into his silver gaze. He walked around and leaned against the desk in front of you, his hands gripping the edge.

“No, nothing is wrong. In fact, your paper is practically perfect. It’s incredibly written.” His words surprised you.

As he praised you, he looked down at your chest, shown off in your tight, low cut shirt. He wondered if you knew what you did to him, the effect you had. He acted as if he were deep in thought, covering up the fact he accidentally looked at your body a little too long.

“Thank you, sir. I don’t know what to say, I had no idea,” you spoke, and calling him sir made his cock twitch, and his breath catch in his throat.

“Of course. I wanted to talk to you to see if you were interested in publishing it in the school’s academic journal.”

“Oh? I mean, if that’s an option, then yes.”

“I can submit it for you, you’d just need to sign off saying that you grant permission for publication.” He explained to you, and you nodded, signing the form he placed in front of you.

You blushed, thinking about how he was directly in front of you, his body stretched out, muscles on display with his sleeves pushed up to his elbows. Your entire body grew hot with embarrassment when he caught you staring.

“What’s on your mind, Y/N?” His voice was low and smooth, and you could’ve sworn he read your mind.

“Nothing, I’m...” You stammered, unsure of what to say.

“You’re what, fantasizing?”

Your eyes snapped up to him, and his confidence grew as he saw your thighs squeeze together, giving away your thoughts.

“Professor...” You must have misheard him, and he smirked at how flustered you were getting.

“Is that a yes?”

“I can’t stop thinking about you. Wearing these little outfits and teasing me.”

He knew.

James knew he won when he saw realization flood your face.

“I wear them for you,” you admitted shyly, trying to ignore the throbbing ache between your legs as he gazed down at you.

“That’s what I thought, doll.”

You bit your lip, looking down at your fingers.

“What do you imagine me doing to you, pretty girl? Do you think about me taking off these little skirts?” He asked you, trailing his fingers along the hem, brushing against your thigh. You inhaled sharply, your head spinning at the touch. You nodded, making him smile as he leaned over you. His lips brushed against your cheekbone, and you felt him smirk against your skin.

“Tell me what you dream about, doll,” he whispered, and by now you were practically shaking.

“Now you’re going to be shy?” James teased, amused by how easily he made you nervous.

He stood abruptly when a knock sounded on the door, and he leaned back on the desk. Your eyes were wide, and you sat frozen, in shock.

“I’m finishing up with a student!” He called through the door.

“I’ll see you soon, then?” He asked, and you nodded, your breath hitching as he gently touched your face. You stood, and he opened the door for the other student.

“I’m sorry, I was just hoping to talk about my grade?” A girl asked, in tears, and he looked like he wanted to harm her for interrupting.

“Yes, come in then.” His tone was impatient, and you lingered in the doorway. James said your name, holding eye contact with you for a moment before going back to work, and you walked down the hallway in a daze.

You couldn’t believe what had just happened. You felt like you were dreaming, your erotic fantasies coming true. You weren’t able to focus on your work, and you went home for the remainder of the day.

When it came time for his class again, you wore a short dress with little straps, wanting to show off as much as possible for him.

Your heart and mind raced as you entered his classroom, and you smiled innocently when his eyes fell on you. The silver darkened, and he watched you move to your seat, and you squirmed under the heavy gaze.

James watched as you uncrossed your legs, catching a flash of the lace beneath your dress. He sat down behind his desk, trying to collect himself and tear his focus off of you.

He was thankful that there was no lecture today, only a short quiz before he sent everybody home. You bit the top of your pen as you thought about the answers on the sheet below you, and Bucky studied your mouth. Your cheeks warmed, feeling the heat of his intense stare, adjusting slightly under the pressure.

Finally, you looked up at him, and leaned forward on your desk so more of your chest was visible. On purpose. He cleared his throat, making several students glance at him, and you had to make yourself bite back a smirk.

Everyone dropped their quizzes on his desk, leaving once they finished. You were the last one done, and you set yours on top of the pile.

“Would you like to finish our conversation from Monday in my office?” Professor Barnes asked you calmly, and you nodded.

He walked behind you, making you lead the way to his office. You knew he was staring at your ass, barely covered by the dress you wore, and you turned as you heard the office door close behind you.

You dropped your bag and hopped up to sit on top of his desk. He tossed his own bag aside and clicked the lock on his door, letting his eyes slowly move over your body.

“Y/N, what am I going to do to you? You wore this slutty little dress to distract me, didn’t you?” He teased, walking to stand in front of you.

“Yes, professor. Do you like it?” You looked up at him for approval, and his small laugh graced your ears.

His fingers went to the thin straps resting on top of your shoulders, grazing down over your breasts before tweaking your nipples through the thin fabric.

You squealed softly, feeling chills throughout your body as he lightly pinched you, toying with you through the dress.

“Are you sensitive, doll?” He asked, and you nodded, your cheeks rosy at your eagerness.

“I’ve been thinking about you, and not been able to do anything about it, and I’m all pent up.” You offered an explanation for your sensitivity, and his eyes nearly rolled back from the innocent way you spoke to him. He wanted to absolutely tear you up and ruin you, and make you fall apart at his touch.

“Let’s see if I can help then,” he slipped the straps off of your shoulders, the dress falling down around your waist.

At the sight of your bare chest in front of him, an audible noise of need left his throat. Your professor knelt down in front of you, wrapping his lips around your sensitive skin. Your chest rose and fell quickly with your heavy breathing, and his hand squeezed and fondled the side that wasn’t in his mouth.

“Please!” You were nearly desperate, feeling your arousal begin to drip down your thighs as you grew more and more needy.

“Tell me what you want, doll.”

“I need you to fuck me,” you didn’t care about the embarrassment anymore, and he smiled as he left heavy kisses down the column of your throat.

He couldn’t draw out the teasing anymore. He was painfully hard and the sight of you alone and your filthy words were driving him wild.

You had managed to undo the buttons of his shirt, revealing an incredibly toned chest, and he undid his belt, pulling it easily from the loops. He snapped it as he tossed it aside, and you jumped at the noise, making him smirk.

“Maybe we can try that another time,” he watched an anticipatory shudder ripple down your spine.

“Do I get an A for this?” You teased, undoing the button and zip on his pants, tugging them down along with his underwear.

“Very cute,” he smacked your thigh lightly in response, making you jerk at the touch.

He slipped the dress over your head, discarding it along with his own clothing, leaving you in just lace panties on his desk.

He traced his fingertips over the damp lace, making you squirm on the desktop. You rolled your hips forward, eager for stimulation. He hummed disapprovingly at the action, pulling his touch away.

His hands held your waist as he carefully laid you down on the cleared wooden desktop, and you looked up at the stunning man above you.

“Please don’t tease me anymore, professor. I want you to fuck my pussy, please,” you begged, and he removed the lace in one quick movement.

“Relax, doll, I’m going to take care of you,” James answered gently, kissing down your body.

He hands wrapped around your thighs and he pulled you so that you were at the edge of the desk, your feet on top of the surface so you were spread open for him.

He leaned down and connected your lips, consuming you in a deep kiss. You moaned into his mouth as his fingers lightly began to rub at your clit, making sure you were relaxed enough to take him in.

“I need you to be quiet beautiful, so all the students outside don’t hear those pretty screams for me.” He warned, kissing a line down your jaw.

“Yes, sir.”

“Fuck.”

You felt him brush his tip against your entrance before thrusting into you, and you struggled to adjust around him as he bottomed out. You held in a loud cry, arching your back, and pushing your chest up into his face as you did so.

Your breath hitched as he rocked into you, and he thrusted a bit faster, hitting all the deep places inside of you. He watched you struggle to ground yourself, your hands eventually holding his thick arms as he slammed into you repeatedly. You were smooth and tight around him, squeezing and contracting as he hit your g-spot.

“James, fuck,” the profanity tumbled from your pretty lips as his hips connected with yours. He wrapped a hand around your throat, keeping you down but not quite choking you.

The action caused you to spasm around him, and your hands wrapped around his wrist, keeping his hand around your neck.

“Do you like that? Do you like me holding you down by your throat? You dirty girl.”

“Yes,” you breathed softly under his grip, your thighs trembling weakly around his waist. You started to shake as waves of pleasure overwhelmed your body.

“Are you close?” He knew the answer, but he enjoyed seeing you fight to try to form words through the fucked-out haze that had settled in your mind.

“Answer me doll, or I’m going to stop,” James threatened, and you nodded.

“Yes, I’m so close!” Your soft whine was like music to him, and he dropped his free hand between the two of you.

He kept up his thrusts while playing with your clit, trying to pull your orgasm from you. He could feel your muscles tighten and threaten to snap around him, and you just needed a little help letting go. You were begging him softly, your eyes bleary as you cried for release. James wanted to feel you come around him, and was more than happy to help, squeezing lightly around your throat and pinching your nerves, the combination causing the pressure to snap. Your vision sparkled with color, electricity shooting through every nerve ending in your body. You threw your head back from the pleasure, and a hard thrust into your g-spot sent you spiraling into euphoria.

You came around him with a silent scream, and he struggled not to follow suit, and fill up your warm pussy. He released you as he felt you ride out the end of your orgasm, and he pulled out, coming all over your torso in several white ribbons.

You watched him in a daze, and once he finished, he gave you another quick kiss. You sighed softly, exhaustion starting to set in. His gentle smile made warmth spread over your body, and for a moment you forgot that you were lying naked on top of his desk.

He cleaned himself before cleaning you up, being gentle with you.

“Y’alright?” James asked, smiling at your soft yawn. You nodded, pulling the lace back up your legs and reaching for your dress. He handed it to you once you sat up, and helped you fix it.

Your fingers slipped the buttons of his shirt back in their holes, despite the fact that your hands were still a bit shaky. You felt all worn out, feeling like you could sleep for days and ride the dreamy feeling that was left in your mind.

He couldn’t help the smirk that pulled at his lips as you held his arm when you stood up, trying to steady yourself. You looked up at him shyly, and he placed his hand on your lower back.

“For the next time.” Professor Barnes said, putting his number in your phone before giving you a kiss.

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yandere-sins · 4 years

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There is a serious lack of the yandere dragon shifter content! (Especially the bakugou dragon shifter if you can...) So is it possible to have a rich like this where the reader is a mage or magician in search of ingredients and meet a dragon who becomes infuriated with her (or them if you are more comfortable)

You shall get what you ask for, if you want she-pronouns so be it there’s no being more or less comfortable about pronouns. The only time I need some more directions is if you want a gender neutral darling do the dirty with the yan, then it helps to know what to expect down below, you get it? Otherwise, if you want to request a female darling then be proud and request that. Also I am mostly writing x reader anyway, and for that it doesn’t really matter most of the time. Enjoy your scenario!

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You were no newbie to the forest. Ever since you were a child, you wandered the dark greens with your grandfather, and later on, with your teacher. Over all these years, you had grown into a respectable mage yourself, people came to your door for help, and you could summon the darkest threats there were; make them follow your instructions! But going into the forest on your own was a necessity, despite always presenting you with something unexpected.

The reason you had to go into the forest was simple: Your potions needed ingredients. Sure, you could have just magically made them appear in your laboratory, however, many did not know that ingredients that were made by magic had almost none of their substances needed for spells. It was easier to explain with self-grown plants in a garden; the one from the convenient market were good to eat, but those you harvested and collected yourself would always be better.

So you set out on your own. You didn’t have an apprentice in a while after the last one had an unfortunate accident with snake poison. Thus, it was on you to make sure your shelves were filled with everything you needed to make your potions and provide people with. To be honest, you found it quite pleasant to get out of your dark, filled-to-the-brim with junk and necessities home, scouting the thicket and breathing in the refreshing forest air.

Carefully you decided where to set your foot. You still remembered the few instances you accidentally ran into a fairy or almost got drowned by a mermaid while picking algae from the lake. Those things happened, but they were no pleasant occurrences, and you preferred to not run into them. However, with a calm mind, you wandered around, picking what you needed. Never more than you actually needed, making sure the forest would be able to reproduce it on their own. That was a law for magicians like you, and you were more than happy to follow it.

“Let’s see,” you mumbled as you brought up your notebook where you had written down the things needed for a very potent sleeping potion for one of your customers. You were almost done gathering everything, aside from one more flower which petals had a sweet smell, soothing even raging minds. As such, it most commonly grew in places where wild beasts lived, but much to your relief, this forest had long been abandoned by those, only leaving the occasional fairy or gnome behind.

There was no way you’d have a run-in with something worse like a werewolf or a dragon.

At least, you were quite sure of it until you managed to reach the clearing where the flower grew. You were so sure of it, you ignored the roaring snoring filling the air as you drew closer to the flower’s whereabouts, merrily humming a little song and focusing on your steps. That was, until you reached out for the flower, finally knowing how the earth around it... breathed.

You just stood there, not moving a muscle. There was no immediate sight of anything, but you knew it. You knew that beneath your feet, a monster laid, as big as the clearing itself, as dangerous as snake poison. The only ones possible of laying down in a field of flowers, resting for so long that their magical energy would make the flowers start growing around and on them, were dragons. Despite really not wanting this thought to be right, you knew that there was nothing in comparison.

For a mage like you were, it wasn’t anything to take on easily. Dragons were wild, untamable, and, most of the time, grumpy. The age, you assumed. They tended to be very territorial and get butt-hurt over every little thing... like you, picking one of their flowers. The worst, however, was that even if you retreated now if you were to be noticed, the dragon surely would hunt after you, and you’d lead it back to your little village.

So all that was left as an option was to retreat quietly and make sure you wouldn’t be noticed. For a moment, you got upset that you would have to find another, less convenient flower spot now or do the potion without it. For at least three years, no monster had closed in on that clearing, and yet, now that you needed the flower, you had run into such trouble retrieving it.

Backing away slowly, you walked a while backwards, eyeing the creature still hidden beneath the field of flowers. You were just about to spin around and make a dash for it, hide somewhere in the dark corners of the forest when your foot got caught ever so slightly. Nothing that made you lose your footing, but widened your eyes nonetheless, the shining silver of a claw revealing after you got stuck on it.

The next few moments happened fast, too fast for your human eyes. A flinch, then a growl, and suddenly, the earth broke loose as something erupted from beneath it, a tall, slim body, covered in scales and shining brilliantly in the sunlight.

For a moment, you were mesmerized by it, absolutely awestruck. Seeing a real dragon definitely was better than any portrait painter could put them on a canvas. You realized quickly that it wasn’t just wondering about the creature before you that kept you in place. More so, it was fear. Even when it’s snout came dangerously close to your face, you couldn’t turn and run away.

“Look at you, a smelly little human thief,” it snarked; the perks of being an intelligent creature was it’s ability to speak. “Did you think my flowers were free to take?”

“Where does it say those are yours? Can’t be helped if you sleep on them.” Perhaps, you should have tried a friendlier approach, but it wasn’t like this creature was full of manners either. Against your expectations, though, it only looked at you before suddenly erupting into deep, growling laughter. There was no way to discern if it was actually amused or if it was laughing to mock you, but you took your chance to turn and run, not waiting for a comeback.

“Where are you going?” you heard behind you as you reached the border of the clearing. That suddenly sweet and luring voice made something in you snap. Without thinking, you stopped to look back, the earth around the clearing still torn up, but instead of a dragon, a man stood at the clearing, arms wide open. “You got some nerves, fucking waking me to tell me the flowers aren’t mine and then run away without even taking any. Takes some guts. Here.”

Sweeping down, he picked up one of the few flowers that hadn’t been destroyed by his dragon form, holding it out to you. Aside from the way he spoke, everything suddenly was so tempting. You hadn’t noticed before that the dragon was a shifter, which automatically gave him natural sympathy from you as a human. Their dangerous skill that even a mage like you couldn’t deny.

They were terrible, and you knew it. Everyone told you about how bad shifters were, only ever turning into a human to do bad things. They naturally looked so much better than your average human, too beautiful, too perfect. Their voices were so lovely that they could lull you to sleep, and they emitted the feeling of security that many men and women sought after, making them perfect targets to be kidnapped and, in the worst case, bred or eaten.

But here you were, the little town mage who had never seen a shifter before. The flower in his hand was calling to you to take it back with you, and his voice lured you. Despite resisting, you did have the urge to throw yourself into his arms, like a good, willing target.

Instead, you kept eye contact, holding out your hand for the flower as you approached. His eyes were the only thing reminding you what a beast he was, wild and dangerous, fire burning in them like you could only see in dragons. Yes, you should have just left, but you felt like he actually... accepted your retort. As if it hadn’t been so bad to stand your ground, and that feeling made you confident. Confident that you could handle this situation.

When your finger finally reached around the stem of the flower, he let it go, and immediately, you felt something sharp and painful drill into your forearm. Shocked, you could watch long sharp claws catching a blood-red color as he dragged them down your arm, your body instinctively moving forward to stop the pain.

And that’s when he snapped for you, lifting you up from the ground as if your weight was a joke for him. Throwing you over his shoulder, you were confronted with the feeling of a strong arm pinning your legs to his chest. “Fuck, I hate humans like you. Always talking back, thinking they are in the right.” Giving your rear a rough slap, you yelped before trying to kick your legs unsuccessfully.

He began to move, his shoulder pushing into your stomach so harshly, you felt like throwing up. But before you could complain or say something, you had to watch as the ground before you slowly distanced itself from you, the peaks of the trees soon what came into view. Your still ‘okay’ arm, clutched desperately between the bleeding one and the shifter’s body, trying to find something to hold onto.

“What- Where! Let me down! How dare you!”

“Your really want to be let down now?” Pulling you forward, you landed on his hands under your arms, noticing how your legs struggled in the air without any halt. Finally, you could see his wings and slowly realized what was going on, gulping as you felt helpless in his grasp. “S-Stop this madness! Get me down on earth again!”

“No,” was his simple answer, your cheeks suddenly squishing against his chest as he tugged you in and wrapped you in his arms. Convenient to carry you, yet not helping your problem of feeling helpless. “Not until you learn how to properly behave, Human.”

“I’m not an ordinary human!” you complained, hearing a mocking, “Oh?” rumbling from his chest.

“I’m a mage--”

“And I am so scared. Mage’s are my favorite breakfast.”

A loud laugh erupted all around you, and this time you were sure he was mocking you. “How dare you, you are so rude!” Pounding your hands against his chest, he only laughed more. “That’s it, bare your teeth, little Mage. I love it when my food resists.”

That’s bad, you thought. That’s really, really bad. Magic wouldn’t help against a magical being as he was, and you looked down, seeing the forest, and then your village pass by as he dragged you off. Not like there was anyone who could have helped you in this situation.

“What’s your name, Mage?” he asked, ten minutes into you struggling against him with his arms never tiring. “Why would you want to know?!” you hissed back, and he grunted in response.

“My mother taught me to know the name of the things I put in my mouth; the fuck you care?!” Stretching out your neck, you tried to see his face, but his expression was denied to your gaze by his chin. All you could see were his ears. They seemed unusually red, but you hadn’t looked at them before to compare if that wasn’t normal for a red dragon.

“Just so you know, but the person eating you am I. Katsuki Bakugou. You better speak your last prayers now, Human. And make them good.”

“Well, to say it in your words: Fuck you, Dragon!” Being defiant had helped before. Maybe it would do it again, you hoped.

This time, the rumble in his chest was short as he laughed, different from the ones before. “You’re gonna be my favorite to crush,” he announced, the grip around you tightening until you gasped in pain. Your struggles ceased as you passed out while he carried you off to the no-mans-land that was his home.

He hated to admit it, but the tactic of his friend of simply laying in a bed of flowers and waiting had really paid off, and he was more than overjoyed to have caught someone like you. Having you keep his lair warm would be more than he expected from his endeavor. Katsuki simply loved a bit of a feistiness in the humans he captured, ensuring that you’d give him a good time playing with you before the end of your little togetherness would draw near.

He would make sure to enjoy every second of it.

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After-writing-comment: Well, this sounded better in my head than it turned out to be. Maybe I will rewrite it sometimes from his POV but we’ll see. It’s 2k words long so it would be a shame to just trash it, so I decided on posting it anyway. Sorry if it isn’t what you had in mind either anon!

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youvebeenlivingfictional · 3 years

Text

I’m Always Curious Part Thirty Four

Previous Part | Next Part | Masterlist Notes: I hope everyone’s having a good week 💕

Warnings: Cursing, a lil fluff, a lil angst. Y’all know me. Summary: I already knew that whatever my fate in this time, it would be different from my own now.

“This doesn’t seem such a bad place to be. I’m an Admiral here,” Eli smiled.

“Well you’re technically not you, so someone that looks and sounds like you is an Admiral,” I reminded him, “You would not be an Admiral if we got stuck here.”

“Have you looked yourself up yet?”

“No.”

“Why not?-- Maybe you and Pike are loved up somewhere.”

He was teasing, or trying to, but I couldn’t take the jest in stride. I hadn't told him what Mr. Spock had told me about Christopher in this universe; I hadn’t told anyone. I was trying not to let it cloud my mind. I wanted to focus on the task at hand: returning to our universe. But how could this new insight not make that mission all the more urgent? “...Hey,” Eli frowned, “What is it?” I glanced at him, considering. I couldn’t tell Eli— I’d hardly gotten Spock to tell me. Besides, if my hunch was correct and the same events didn’t occur in our universe, it could sound an alarm for nothing. I just shook my head, excusing, “Just...Can’t believe I didn’t attend the Academy in this universe— at least, not with Spock. I can’t imagine going to the Academy without him. We practically lived in the long-range sensor lab together our second year.” “I didn’t know that.” “...Eli, this has to work. We have to get back.” “This Spock says there’s a 12.31% chance that our plan works. That leaves an incredibly large margin of error—” “Durling, you are the Captain of the Pinnacle. What is a pinnacle? It’s a successful point, a culmination. You were over the frickin’ moon when you became Captain— and you’re just going to roll over because there’s a version of you that’s become an Admiral in some universe? Why not focus some of that smugness into your work, get us home, and become an Admiral where people that really know you will be able to see it?” Eli was quiet for a moment, watching me before his eyes darted to the doorway behind us. “I thought that the captains were meant to make the rousing speeches,” Came Kirk’s amused voice behind us. I turned to look at him and Mr. Spock and cleared my throat. “Yes, well… Sometimes Communications officers have to drum up a speech or two to get a captain’s wheels turning,” I grumbled, tucked my hands behind my back. “The occasions are far and few between,” Durling added. -- “Commander, a word, if I may.” “Yes, Mr. Spock?” I turned from the transporter bay with Durling and the rest of our crew was preparing to return to the Pinnacle. “I took the liberty of looking into your existing whereabouts in this universe.” My stomach swooped in fear and anticipation. “Oh– You did not have to do that.” “I must admit that I found it quite curious that you were so adamant about learning about Captain Pike’s future and not your own.” My eyes lowered to the floor as I considered my answer, “Well… Perhaps I care more about the fate of my friends than my own. Is that terribly suspicious?” “I believe I used the word curious, Commander.” “...I guess you did,” I conceded. Spock nodded a little, bringing an envelope out from behind his back. “I cannot force you to come to terms with your own fate in this time,” He said, “But I will allow you the opportunity, should you choose it.” I looked at the envelope for a long moment. I already knew that whatever my fate in this time, it would be different from my own now — my beginnings were already different, my day-to-day existence was entirely separate. I hesitated before I reached out, taking hold of the envelope. “Thank you, Mr. Spock,” I nodded. “Have a safe journey, Commander.” “And you,” I raised my hand in a Vulcan salute. Mr. Spock arched a critical brow, tipping his head toward me as he mirrored the gesture. “Live long, and prosper.” --

I held my breath as we dropped out of warp. We all held very still and quiet for a moment, but as the moments passed without a hail from Captain Kirk, the Bridge collectively relaxed and began to whoop with relief. I had never been so relieved to not see the Enterprise anywhere in my periphery. I turned to my station, opening the channels to try and get a hold of any ships in the area. I raised my hand to my earpiece, scanning the array of sensors and monitors in front of me. As I waited, I eyed the envelope on my console, as I waited. I shivered a little, shaking my head. While I hated knowing what Christopher may be in for, I hated the idea of my own potential fate sitting just inches from me nearly twice as much.

-- When I heard that I was receiving a message from the Enterprise, I was expecting Christopher. I had, instead, been greeted by Una. “Before I ask where you’ve been, let me begin with my purpose,” She said, “Thaleh is leaving the Enterprise. We need a Communications officer. You can, of course, decline.” “I’ll need time to pack,” Was my quick answer. “Well, then you can tell me where you’ve been once you beam aboard. And we’ll have to find someone to replace you with for the Pinnacle.” “....Right, that,” I muttered. Una smiled a little. “I’m sure Durling will be disappointed.” “A little, maybe, but he won’t be surprised.”

“And I should warn you, Pike has been more than a little...harried with your lack of communication.” “Understandable. If one of you suddenly blipped elsewhere, I would be concerned.” Una arched a sharp brow. “Blipped elsewhere?” She repeated, “Well… I’m certainly looking forward to reviewing that log.”

-- “Door,” I ordered. I didn’t turn away from the box of things that I was unpacking. I could’ve sworn I’d left more notebooks on the Enterprise— “...Finding the new quarters alright?” I stilled at the sound of his voice. So much had happened since we’d warped through the singularity: the Discovery had beamed to an uncertain future, Spock— my Spock, had returned to the Enterprise...And so had Christopher. I hadn’t seen or spoken to Christopher since Mr. Spock had told me of his potential fate. It had been on my mind since I beamed aboard, and it had lingered, even as I settled into my new quarters and unpacked the boxes of my things that had been saved and stored.

“It’s certainly larger than the last time I was aboard,” I conceded, lowering a notebook and brushing the dust from my hands as I turned to face him. I found Christopher looking around, and I took the chance to look him over. It was nice to see him in Command gold again, especially after that jarring experience of seeing Kirk in Captain’s chair of the Enterprise. Christopher’s eyes drifted to me, finally, and he smiled, “Well, you weren’t a Commander the last time you were aboard.” “That is an excellent point.” Christopher was quiet for a moment before he took a couple of steps deeper into the room. His hands were still tucked behind his back, and I found myself wishing that he would just reach out; I wish that I felt like I could. “What happened out there?” He asked, “Una used the word blipped.” I sighed softly, scrubbing my hand over my brow. I’d explained to Una exactly what had happened as I’d unpacked what I’d brought over from the Pinnacle. “Oh… Sometimes you accidentally warp through a singularity and wind up a universe where you never went to Starfleet. Typical Thursday, you know.” Christopher’s brows rose, his head tipping forward. “An alternate universe?” He repeated. I nodded. “I know you’ve some experience with that. Una told me about the Terran incident before I became part of the crew. It’s uh…. Jarring.” “It certainly is.” “We were only there for about three days but here, it was… It was months.” Christopher nodded as he came to a full stop just in front of me, looking down into my box from storage. “Everything you needed in there?” He asked. “Um— … Could’a sworn I had a couple hundred more notebooks aboard, but it’s been a while, you know. And Pal might have a few, I used to lend them to him all the time for conjugations and stuff,” I leaned back against my desk, folding my arms across my chest, “You’re um… You’re alright?” “Fine. It’s nice to see that you’re in one piece. I was concerned.” That warmed me more than it was surely meant to, and I had to duck my head to hide the smile that crept up at his admission. “I didn’t mean to concern you. I can point you in the direction of the singularity that we warped through, if you’d like to pick a fight.” Christopher huffed a soft laugh, shaking his head a little bit. “How about I just...See you on the Bridge tomorrow?” “Sounds good, Captain.” “Don’t be late.” “I wouldn’t dare, sir.” I smiled, watching Christopher leave my quarters. I sighed softly, sliding off of my desk and into my chair, looking out of my window for a few moments. I had a warm feeling swirling in my chest, something safe and soft. It felt like home. Tag list: @angels-pie ; @fantasticcopeaglepasta ; @mylittlelonelyappreciationtoo ; @how-am-i-serpose-to-know ; @onlyhereforthefandomandgiggles ; @inmyowncorner ; @tardis-23 ; @paintballkid711 ; @katrynec ; @hypnobananaangelfish ; @elen-aranel ; @blueeyesatnight ; @hotchswifey

#I'm Always Curious #captain pike x reader #Captain Pike x You #Captain Pike/Reader #Captain Pike/You #christopher pike x reader #christopher pike/reader #christopher pike imagine #Christopher Pike/You #Christopher Pike x You #Christopher Pike fic #Captain Pike Imagine #Captain Pike fic

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jimlingss · 4 years

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Sugar and Coffee [9]

Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 9.5 OR Chapter 10

➜ Words: 3.9k

➜ Genres: 99.5% Fluff, 0.5% Angst, Pâtisserie school!AU

➜ Summary: It isn't hard to be a pâtisserie chef, but it's not a piece of cake either. It seems like for you in particular, life keeps throwing in one wrench after another. It always finds ways to make your sweets bitter. The cherry on top is Jeon Jungkook — a rival with a sensitive sweet tooth who always finds ways to complain about you.

➜ Warnings: Heavy mentions of sexual themes.

cr.

Fuck romance. That shit is overrated anyway. Everywhere you look, there’s love here and there — in television shows, movies, advertisements, short stories, novels. But it hits you like a train, like a light switch that finally turned on in your head, you don’t need love to be happy. You don’t need someone else. You’re perfectly content with being by yourself for the rest of your life. You’ll never have to shackle yourself down or compromise again. It’s the ultimate freedom. “I approve this message.” Aeri nods several times. “Right?!” You wipe away the cheeto dust that’s accidentally sprinkled on the pouch you call your stomach. Your sweater’s ridden up as you’re slumped over her bed. “Like do people even realize that almost half of marriages end in divorce?” “Exactly.” “Love? It’s all trash feelings. It’s a distraction. Why should I have to work hard for years and then throw away my career and ambition to stay at home and have kids and then eventually be divorced and have to fight over custody?” There’s a bitter taste in your mouth and you shake your head. “Men ain’t shit.” “Hallelujah.” You don’t believe in love anymore, not when you’ve come to realize that you’ve been brainwashed for so long. Now, you were enlightened. But you just can’t believe you were so blinded and stupid in the first place. You were crying over a guy who wasn’t worth shit. “But where are you going?” Aeri is dressed up in a summer outfit despite it being the end of February and still frigid outside. She looks at herself in the mirror, fixes her lipstick and then whirls around. “Oh, I’m just...meeting up with Hoseok.” “You’re going on a date?” A blush creeps up on her cheeks. “N-No. W-Well...he didn’t really call it that.” “Oh my god, all my friends are leaving to the dark side.” “Just for a little, love.” She winks at you and you can’t hate her when she’s so evidently excited. Aeri grabs her bag and smiles. “Well I shouldn’t make him wait. How do I look?” “If Jung doesn’t cream himself, he doesn’t deserve you.” The tips of her ears turn scarlet and she throws a pillow at you, making you laugh. You watch Aeri leave and then the silence settles. You sigh and get up to go to your only friend left. Your fist pounds on his door for a good second until it opens. “Jesus, try not to break it down, will you?” “Hey, Yoongi,” you greet the person on the worn sofa, brushing past Jungkook. “Where’s the other guys?” “Well, unlike you two, people actually have their own lives,” Jungkook mutters, flopping down to where his butt’s been imprinted into the couch seat and he resumes his game. “Taehyung and Jimin are in class like good students,” Yoongi says, “and I’m only here cause Hope’s ditched me for a lame date apparently.” “Same.” “Is my room a refugee camp?” Jungkook glances over with his brow cocked. “Am I everyone’s second choice?” “Get used to it,” Yoongi mutters, watching Jungkook play. In the meanwhile, you walk over to Jungkook’s bed that’s sloppily made with the covers wrinkled, but at least the effort shows. You’re about to flop down and maybe roll over to take a nap, but then you pause, gawking at his collection of IU merchandise. You’ve seen it before, but you realize you’ve never gotten a good look. There are posters of her from when she debuted in 2008 until the most recent comeback lining the corner of his wall like a small shrine. And over his bed is a shelf of albums and her lightstick. “Wow, you have a lot of her stuff. Must’ve costed a fortune.” It occurs to you that he even had a substantial amount of IU things in his room at his parent’s home — little things that you didn’t pay mind to at the time — a sweater that was on a hook, more albums, some DVD sets, posters of her in her dramas. Your comment seems to trigger a reaction from him. Jungkook pauses the game and those bambi eyes of his are rounded. He’s defensive. “What?” “He’s got a massive hard on for her,” Yoongi snickers. “Don’t talk about Jieun like that.” You steal a glimpse of Jungkook, rather puzzled over his hobby. You just never expected Jeon Jungkook to have an idol, or rather, celebrity crush. “Why do you like her so much?” He looks like he doesn’t even know where to start. “She’s just so...talented.” “Oh, here we go again.” Yoongi rolls his eyes. “Shut up,” Jungkook spits and then turns to answer your question seriously. “Her voice is beautiful, she’s good at singing, she can play guitar, and she’s really cute. She produces a lot of her music too. And her personality is great. She’s kind and funny. She donates a lot and stuff like that.” Jungkook shrugs. “I just like her.” “Yeah I get it.” You nod while staring into IU’s eyes. “She’s pretty hot and cute. I’d do her if given the chance.” His big nose wrinkles. “You act like you don’t have any celebrity crushes either.” “True. If Song Joongki walked through the door right now, I would throw myself at his feet and he could do whatever he wants with me. He’s so handsome and such a sweet guy.” You sigh wistfully, wishing you had someone like that. “Do you have any celebrity crushes, Yoongi?” “What’s her face from the Notebook.” “Rachel McAdams?” “Yeah, her.” “Okay, I can see that. Jungkook!” “What?” “Would you smash or pass Rachel McAdams?” He wrinkles his nose again. “Smash, I guess.” “You guess.” A scoff comes from your throat. “What? You think you’re too good for her?” “No. She’s just okay.” “You’re wrong,” Yoongi deadpans, making you laugh. You ask— “Okay, how about Sana from Twice? Smash or pass.” “Smash.” — “Pass.” Both you and Yoongi look at him with brows raised and you audibly gasp. “Dude, even I would smash her. Why would you pass? She’s cute and hot. Isn’t that your type?” “No.” Jungkook snorts. “You don’t know my type.” “Okay, so who would you smash then?” “I don’t know. Maybe Gong Hyo Jin. That main girl from Master’s Sun.” “Seriously?” Jungkook glances over. “Why?” “No, she’s pretty and really girl-next-door-ish. She’s just older, like twenty one years older than us.” “Yeah, well, she’s good at what she does. She’s a good actress.” Apparently being good at what they do is enough for Jungkook to want to bang them. It’s a juvenile game, but a fun one. And it’s particularly interesting to hear both Yoongi and Jungkook’s responses. They’re unpredictable, unlike Taehyung who you’re sure would say yes to anything as long as it breathed, and Jimin who would be too shy to answer. “How about people we know? Byun Baekhyun.” “No.” Yoongi answers right away. “He’s so loud, he gives me a headache.” “If you find him annoying, it makes for good hate sex.” “Sure. But that’s still a no.” “Okay then, who would you say yes to?” “I don’t really swing that way but if I were to give it a shot, maybe Kim Jongin, just so he can teach me how he gets the ladies.” “Word,” Jungkook mutters, concentrating on his game. “Or maybe Lee Ken,” Yoongi points out. “His face looks good enough for me to spit on.” “That’s disgusting.” Jungkook wears a distressed expression, looking at you as if to ask if you’re hearing the same things he is, but you merely laugh. “Trust me, Ken’s a screamer. Jin told me about it when they shared a room during their first year.” You don’t notice how Jungkook pauses his game at the mention of your ex. He stares at you from across the room, on the edge of his seat, but you don’t have a trace of sadness on your features. “He’ll burst your eardrums. He’s a loud dude.” “No thanks then.” Yoongi hums and bluntly considers, “Maybe Seokjin then. He’s pretty good looking. Looks spitable.” You smile softly. “He’s too nice for you, Yoongi.” You recall the faded memories with Seokjin, but they don’t make you feel so sad anymore. Your heart doesn’t ache as much. It makes you wonder if this is what it means to move on. // The cardboard box is in your lap as you study the small trinket in your hand before tossing it in. Everything that Jin ever gave to you, anything that’s associated with him, sweaters and tokens, key chains from amusement parks and stuffed animals he gave is thrown in the box or stuffed in a trash bag. “I wonder if I’ll ever regret giving this stuff away.” “Maybe, but you’ll always have new stuff and new memories and all that.” “Yeah.” You remind yourself that you’re just making space for the new memories you’ll make — maybe with Aeri, maybe with Taehyung and Yoongi, Hoseok or Jimin, or Jungkook, or just by yourself. Jungkook helps you put away the stuff, asking every once in a while if you wish to discard a certain object. You had asked for his help, afraid you would chicken out, and you promised him that in return, you would buy him a meal. It seems like you owe a lot to Jungkook these days. You donate it all before deleting all of Seokjin’s contact information on your phone. The pressed rose he once gave you on your first date and the first note he ever passed you in class is thrown away too. Finally, you’ve severed your ties with Seokjin once and for all. It’s a bittersweet moment, like sugar mixed with coffee. Not quite sweet but not quite bitter. The room seems emptier, but it’s welcoming. “So where are you going to treat me?” Suddenly, a light bulb flicks on inside your brain. Your entire face lights up and Jungkook notices, shifting on his spot in discomfort. It’s never good when you have ideas. “I think I know something better we can do.” “Better than eating?” “When was the last time you ate some pussy, Jeon?” Jungkook chokes on his spit. He wheezes. And pounds his chest. Jungkook’s doe eyes look at you in horror like he’s been personally violated. “What?” You repeat the question and he makes a strangled noise like he’s absolutely disgusted talking about this with you. “Are you ten? Answer the question.” “I don’t know! Maybe like over a year ago,” he rambles in a breath, “I dated a girl named Olivia for a few months but then it didn’t end up working out, so we broke up.” You put your hand on your friend’s shoulder, squeezing securely while nodding once. “I think we're both deprived of some good pussy and cock.” “So what do you propose?” He doesn’t know where you’re going with this. “We go to a club and get ourselves some one-night stands.” “That’s a terrible idea,” Jungkook spits without even needing to think. It’s instinctive. Impulsive. Like he knows not to squeeze a lemon into his eye, to not touch his crotch area after handling chili peppers, to not take toast out with a metal fork. “Why not?” You shrug. “Some low-level commitment, no love or strings attached sex. We don’t need relationships to keep us satisfied and we don’t need to keep...you know handling it ourselves…” Your hand makes a rounded circle and you thrust back and forth obscenely, wiggling your brows, and it makes Jungkook groan. “Oh my god. Please stop.” “Listen, I’ll be the best wingwoman you’ve ever seen. I owe you, right? So I’ll find you the best fuck of life and then I’ll find my own. I see this as an absolute win-win.” “It’ll be fun,” you insist and then pout when he continues to glare. “If you’re not coming, I’ll go by myself.” “You’re not going by yourself,” Jungkook says. “Why? You can’t tell me what to do. What are you, my dad?” “Why? Because you’re an idiot. If I see you on the news, I’ll never be able to forgive myself….” You scoff and he continues. “—for being best friends with such an idiot…” “Are you coming or not, jackass?” Jungkook sighs. // It’s spontaneous. One moment he’s in your dorm room and the next blink, there are strobe lights flashing around, sweaty bodies, and deafening music. The alcohol on his tongue is certainly not enough to make him feel remotely sane. Jungkook didn’t even have enough time to drag Taehyung, Jimin, Hoseok or Yoongi over. You told him that it was a two man mission and any more people would only serve as a distraction to the main goal. He’s not sure what you think that goal is. Jungkook isn’t really a one-night stand kind of guy. “Hey!” You scream in his ear above the booming beat, making him wince. Your breath is stained with that tequila. “What do you think of her?!” You point to a girl dancing on the floor. “She’s got a great ass!” He internally sighs. “Why don’t you go fuck her then?!” “What?” Your voice strains above the music. “Go fuck her!” He points. You frown, lips lopsided. “You want to suck her?!” Jungkook’s last two brain cells are about to die. “Never mind!” “What?!” He shakes his head and then you giggle. Jungkook wonders if you’re just fucking with him, but before he can even react and perhaps punch you, you’re leaning over the bar, waving your arm towards the bartender. “Excuse me! Can we get two shots again?!” Of all the shit you make him go through, he’s hoping you don’t get drunk. He can’t carry your ass back to the dorm. His back is too precious for your idiocy. The two of you down the alcohol given to you and he shudders after. The taste is sharp and beginning to dull his senses. You can feel it too, how the world is spinning faster and that’s when you begin, clasping your hands together. “Alright!” You lean in close to talk into his ear, breath skimming against his neck. “Let’s get down to business, Jeon. Anyone caught your attention yet? How about her?” You signal to a busty girl sitting alone at the bar. She’s in a tight, red dress with her lips matching the same crimson shade. Her black hair contrasts the boldness, cascading down her back in waves. Jungkook looks and then glances at you. “Not re—Hey! Where are you going?!” You strut with drunken confidence, sliding up to the girl with plans to be the best wingwoman on this planet. “Is it always this noisy?” The girl turns her head and visibly relaxes to see another female and not a greasy dude. “Well, it’s a club. So yeah, it usually is.” “I’m just not used to it.” You sigh and take a seat on the stool. “Know any good drinks?” “Chardonnay’s pretty good,” she tells you with a friendly, open expression. “Usually wine sucks at bars, but it’s pretty good here.” “I’ll order it then,” you muse and extend your arm with a grin. “I’m Y/N.” “Hyuna.” She shakes your hand, red lips curling. “Can you do me a favour, Hyuna?” You point across the bar to Jungkook. He’s frozen. Watching you in horror like you’re trying to seduce his mom or something. You wish he’d wipe that stupid fucking expression off his face. It’s not helping. Frankly, it ruins his looks and for once he’s not in gym shorts or sweatpants. Jungkook’s dark hair is gelled back, black dress shirt and black trousers fitted to his muscular frame. It took so much nagging to get him dressed up, but it was worth it. If he didn’t look so dumb, you would be proud of your best friend. “My poor friend here really likes you, but he’s pretty shy. If you said hi, I’m pretty sure it would make his entire night.” Hyuna gazes at him and her smile only widens. “I’d be happy to help.” “Great!” You slide off the stool, strutting back. Inside your head, you are screaming for joy that you actually pulled that shit off on the first try without getting a drink thrown in your face. Maybe you should consider switching career paths. Jungkook leans in close to you when you’re in earshot distance. “What the hell are y—” “Jungkook, this is Hyuna. Hyuna, this is Jeon Jungkook.” Her hips sway as she approaches him and she extends her hand. “Hi, nice to meet you.” Jungkook shakes it with a polite smile, trying to diminish the awkwardness and attempting to be civil. In the meanwhile, Hyuna’s cat-eyes sweep him up and down, focusing on how his pants are tight around the meat of his thighs. Her perfume fills your senses. “Nice to meet you.” You stick your nose between them. “Jungkook goes to baking school, so he knows how to knead dough! He’s really good at it!” You grab his wrist, pulling it up in front of her eyes. “Look at his hands!” “Oh god, shut up.” If there was enough light in the room, you’re sure his face would be beet red. But unbeknownst to you, Jungkook’s embarrassment is second-hand. He takes his own hand back and looks at the stranger. “I’m so sorry for her behaviour. She’s obviously drunk.” “I’m not!” You’re just….happier. A little giddy. On an energy high. Hyuna giggles and looks between you both. “Are you two togethe—” “No.” Jungkook cuts her off and is truly thankful his relationship with you isn’t like that. He can barely handle you as a friend. Anything more would frankly be overwhelming. “We aren’t.” “Oh, okay, cool. I thought this was going to be a threesome situation.” Jungkook starts wheezing as you giggle. You put your hand on Jungkook’s shoulder and squeeze. “Oh no, he can’t keep up with me. Not for miles. Anyway, I’ll leave you two at it. I should probably go to the bathroom, gotta take a leak.” “Y/N.” Jungkook calls after you. “Y/N! L/N Y/N!” He shouts after you, tightening his fist and wondering if you actually have the outrageous audacity to leave him behind like this with some chick you picked up like you just went grocery shopping. But much to his dismay, you don’t even glance behind you. You dive into the sweaty bodies, disappearing from sight. He groans internally and turns back to Hyuna. She smiles at him. “So you bake?” “Yeah, well, I’m in this pastry program.” “Wow.” Her thick lashes bat. “That’s so impressive! So you can make whatever dessert you want?” “Working towards it.” He smiles meekly. “Are you, uh, here by yourself?” Jungkook has never done this before, never talked to a girl like this — but so far it’s not bad. Probably because it was her who was salvaging the conversation and lessening the stiffness. “It’s actually one of my friends’ birthday today, so we’re just out celebrating, but I lost them in the crowd.” She flashes a million watt smile. “I assume you’re just with your friend, Y/N?” “Yeah, she dragged me out here. She’s a headache. I swear she’s shaving years off of my life.” Hyuna laughs and bats his arm. She leans close and he swallows hard at the way her eyes sparkle, her lashes thick, and her cleavage is practically shoved in his face. “Want to dance?” “I don’t really…” “It’ll be fun. Trust me.” She takes his hand and drags him out on the floor. In the meanwhile, half across the club, you’re dancing to the music. It’s not until a second later that you feel someone's hands on your waist and you turn around in their arms. In dark lights, you make out a half-decent looking guy. “Shake that ass, babe.” You smile at him, looping your arms around his neck. Maybe this is how it was always supposed to be. Giving into temptation and the heat of another person’s body, not having to commit to someone else and put yourself out there. Maybe you were doing it all wrong to begin with. You don’t even know his name, but you dance with the stranger, your sweaty bodies moving against one another. You’re not sure how long it lasts, but eventually he presses his crotch to your front and offers to buy you a drink through a whisper in your ear. When you get to the bar, you don’t see Jungkook and Hyuna anymore and you wonder if he’s getting lucky in the washroom or if he’s gone completely. But you try not to dwell on what your best friend might be doing. You focus on the present moment and order a Strawberry Daiquiri. You’re sipping your drink as you talk to the guy. You don’t exactly catch his name, but it doesn’t matter. The fewer connections, the better. After all, you’re just looking for a rebound. But you’ve never done this before and in your nervousness and intoxication, you end up on a tangent. “Like it’s so easy to make better cheesecake! And there’s so many kinds of cheesecake.” “Cheesecake?” The tall blonde frowns as if he doesn’t understand what you’re talking about. “Yeah! Cheesecake! All you need is the crust, cream cheese, sugar, eggs, sour cream, vanilla extract, and all-purpose flour! My favourite is actually chocolate cheesecake in a restaurant back at home and they had chocolate wafer crumbs in the crust and it was so delicious, must have had ganache between the layers or something. I can’t remember anymore.” “Oh, cool.” The guy glances around, looking at the other people on the dance floor and the bar. When he realizes you’ve stopped talking, he directs his attention to you again. “Uh, what’s a ganache?” “Ganache? It’s just chocolate and heavy cream and you can use it as a glaze, icing, sauce, or filling for pastries. You’ve probably had it before if you’ve had chocolate cake!” “I see.” His eyes flicker down to the swell of your chest exposed by your small black number, and they linger there. “You ever tried pouring chocolate over your body?” “What?” You realize he doesn’t care about baking — he doesn’t care for what you have to say. The guy excuses himself to the bathroom and never comes back. After ten minutes of waiting, you sigh and check your phone. You stand up, ready to leave as it occurs to you one-night stands aren’t really your thing. You’re about to text Jungkook, but you catch his mop of hair on the dance floor. He’s dancing with Hyuna, her back pressed to his front. His hands are placed on the dips of her waist, grinding his front against her ass that’s pushed out. You make a face of disgust before snapping a blurry picture and sending to the group chat. But Jungkook seems to be having fun, out of breath, but still enjoying himself. You’re happy for him, glad that at least one of you is getting lucky tonight. Or rather, it was Hyuna getting lucky. Jungkook’s a great catch. You wonder why you didn’t realize it sooner. Whoever ends up with him will be fortunate.

#bts fanfic #bts scenario #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fluff #jungkook scenario #bts fluff #sugar and coffee #bts baking AU #jungkook baking AU #honestly I think this is a hilarious chapter #:D

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iamvegorott · 3 years

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Operation Love Bus Part 1

Art provided by @theprinceofflies

We’re Off!

JJ sat on top of his desk, legs crossed and leaning an elbow on his knee with his chin resting on his hand. He looked out of the large window he convinced Dark to allow him to have and watched Wilford down below. Wilford had pulled up in an RV and was now talking with Dark, his arm gestures telling JJ he was very excited about what he was saying and JJ could practically feel the headache Dark was most likely getting. JJ also knew Wilford’s had the RV for a good bit of time considering the paint job it had. They would never lose sight of the RV due to it being bright hot pink.

Eventually, Dark gave in and walked away, hand rubbing at a temple as he made his way back into the house. JJ was glad to see that Wilford was happy, as his little bounces of joy told him but now he could feel a little worry in his chest about what Wilford actually had planned.

JJ perked back up when he saw that Wilford was waving at him, his big, goofy smile on his face, and in a blink, he was gone.

“Jamesy!” Wilford happily greeted, now inside of the room.

“How are you?” JJ signed, unaffected by Wilford just appearing in front of him.

“My plan is starting!” Wilford plopped himself down on the desk next to JJ.

“What plan?” JJ asked.

“Operation; Love Bus~” Wilford snapped his fingers and a notebook was now in his hand.

“‘Love Bus’?”

“I’m annoyed by all these lovey-dovey looks everyone’s giving each other and nothing coming from it.” Wilford flipped open the notebook. “So I’ve decided we’re all going on a fun trip to get everyone together.”

“Really?”

“I mean, it’s not the only reason I’m doing this.” Wilford handed JJ the notebook and pointed to the top line. “Robbie and Blank couldn’t go on the school trip this year, because, ya know, can’t risk them accidentally hurting their entire class because they were sleepy.” Wilford chuckled at that. “So, I thought having a big family trip this summer would help make up for it.”

“Robbie and Blank’s Super Awesome Summer Trip Extravaganza?” JJ slowly signed out the title, trying to find the proper signs for it since it would have taken much longer to spell it out and Wilford wasn’t the best at long-form fingerspelling, getting distracted and lost easily with it.

“Yeah!” Wilford gestured dramatically. “Three weeks of sightseeing, trying out new things and foods, and finding love along the way.” Wilford leaned against JJ at the last part. “You know, for the others.” He quickly added and bounced to his feet. “If you’ll look through that lovely notebook in your hands, you’ll see that I have everything planned out to a T.”

“I see a pattern with your buddy system.” JJ silently giggled as he flipped through the pages, surprised by how well organized and thought out everything actually was. Wilford’s been working on this for a long time by the looks of it.

“Like I said, it’s a love bus.” Wilford went over to JJ’s closet and threw it open. “And you’re going to be my number one in making sure all of this happens.”

“Who said I want to do that?” JJ raised a brow.

“Wait, you don’t want to?” Wilford’s shoulders slumped.

“Of course I do!” JJ jumped up as well and joined Wilford. “I’m always your number one with your crazy schemes.”

“Now, I wouldn’t call it a scheme.” Wilford reached up and pulled down two of JJ’s suitcases.

“It is when Dark’s an unknowing participant.” JJ held up the page of the outline that was dedicated to getting Dark with Anti.

“Am I wrong with that?”

“Far from it. All of them make complete sense and if they don’t end up together, I’d be shocked and I would do Jackie’s laundry for a month if we’re wrong.”

“Is that a bet?” Wilford carried the suitcases to JJ’s bed.

“Are you betting against me?” JJ giggled again when Wilford made a face and realized what he had said. “So, when are we leaving?”

“In the morning, Dark’s having Google and Bing tell everyone as we speak.”

“Such short notice.” JJ sat on the edge of his bed while Wilford started grabbing clothes. Wilford was focused on getting JJ ready and JJ knew it was easiest to stay aside and let Wilford work. “I should make a scrapbook.”

“A scrapbook?” Wilford dropped several pairs of shorts on top of a suitcase.

“For Blank and Robbie. If the trip is for them, I’m sure they’d love a collection of memories for it.”

“You just want an excuse to craft.”

“Maybe.” JJ stuck his tongue out while Wilford laughed. “I’m going to get started on it right now.”

“I look forward to it.” Wilford gave JJ a wink and went back to gathering clothes.

“Don’t forget to pack your own bags.” JJ placed the notebook down before heading to his desk to get started on the scrapbook.

x~x~x

JJ had spent the rest of the day buying and gathering supplies for his scrapbook. He made sure the book itself was fairly large since he knew a lot was going to be happening, he had plenty of stickers and even stamps to work with and he managed to get pictures of all of the buddy duos Wilford has set up and had just finished putting all of those together.

He had stepped away from the book for a bit to make sure that everything was properly packed since he wasn’t sure what all Wilford would have grabbed for him. He went around to check on some of the other Septiceyes as well since it’s always nice to have another person to list of things they’d need on the long trip.

Meaning Wilford was left alone with the scrapbook.

“He is so grounded.” JJ puffed his cheeks out when he saw the little notes Wilford made on the first two pages and he wrote his own next to the one that said ‘You dot your i’s with hearts?’

Stay out of my scrapbook, Wil

Even as JJ wrote that he had a feeling that Wilford would continue writing in it regardless of what he said. But that would just add to the fun of this already chaotic adventure.

-------------------------------------------------------

Original Drawing Post: Link

Part 2: Link

Tag List (let me know if you want added or if your name has changed)

@rainymae523 @thesinginggal @ashywasteland93 @shadowkitten0321

#roadtrip!au #dapperstache #danti #phantomhero #madmare #schneeplier #robbie/blank #trickshot #bingle #bimdere #couldn't help myself from writing this #just too cute

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defultuser · 3 years

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Britverse fic

Inspired by this post. Thanks to @theladyfae and the whole britgate team for your help

As the bell rings Julie looks round her music class. Luke is diligently scribbling in his notebook, she thinks music is the only class where he’s not racing to leave as soon as it's possible for him to do so. While the rest of the class leave Julie silently motions to Mrs Harrison, a request for her and her friends to stay in her class during lunch. After receiving confirmation and watching Harrison leave Julie pulls out her phone to see a text from Flynn in the group chat, an offer to get food from the cafeteria for anyone that wants; Julie replies with a thumbs up and sandwich emoji before letting them know to come music once they have food.

Turning back round she sees the class is empty but herself, Luke and Carrie; who pulls out her salad before throwing her pen at Luke’s head effectively waking him from his musical coma. With Luke’s attention back on them Julie asks, “Did you want to practice for the performance Saturday while we wait for the others?”

It's a pretty certain bet Luke will do just about anything with the promise of music so it comes as no surprise when in place of an answer he stands and grabs his guitar. The pair begin to sing through the song while Carrie eats and watches, preparing feedback.

“That song is fit my g’s”

No matter how many years Julie has lived in the UK she will never understand a word that comes out of Reggie Peter’s mouth. Just last week he called her pencil case, phone, and both her parents peng, apparently it's a compliment. Putting down his guitar Luke walks over to his friends and begins a handshake far too complex for people that ‘don’t care for all that stupid friendship stuff’. Willie joins her and they take their seats on the tables with their feet on the chairs.

“How was media? Miss like your homework?” She turns and asks the guys.

“Her lessons are so dead man, Miss Ellis is so dry” Reggie answers she gives Bobby a confused look,

“Bad, he’s saying that it was boring, as always.” He translates as he pulls Reggie into his lap where he’s sitting in Harrison's chair. Cause yeah that's a thing now. Despite spending most of year 9 fighting and most of year 10 deep into school conspiracies, they both accidentally came out just before the start of year 11 and they've been sort of romantic ever since; by romantic she means they go Mcdonalds as a pair and have been caught on one too many occasions making out in various classrooms. But they seem happy enough so none of the group questions it.

Julie's internal monologue is cut short by the arrival of Flynn and therefore food.

“Food!’ Julie screams as if announcing it to the group, as she heads over to Flynn to collect her lunch, an unappealing pasta and bottle of water. Nick sets about handing out food for the rest of the group that asked for some.

“Hotdog” Willie calls as Alex makes his way over to him and takes Julie's spot, with a kiss on the cheek Willie asks, “How was class?”

“Not too bad, we had a test but it was on what I revised last night.”

“Lucky bitch!” Flynn calls from where they're sitting, feet half in Carrie’s lap “some of us had netball so didn't study.”

“Probably should have studied, would have been better than your help at the game.” Carrie argues which sets off a chain reaction.

“What are you trying to suggest? At least I didn't spend 45 minutes making sure my tracksuit looked good. A tracksuit you only wore on the bus”

“Yeah 45 minutes you could have revised cause you sure as hell were not making yourself look good.”

“Yeah i’m naturally this fit,”

It's at this point Julie steps in “Girls enough!”

“No at least let them trade blows next time,'' Bobby complains, earning him a middle figure from both netball girls.

At this moment Kayla, late from her film studies lesson enters. In place of a hello she greets the group with “Fuck me french film is pretentious,” she gives Carrie a hug and collects her lunch from Flynn.

“That bad?” Willie questions and Kayla heads over to Harrison's desk to eat, in place of an answer she groans earning a laugh from the group.

The group drifts off into the kind of comfortable silence you can only get around your friends. Willie and Alex chat amongst themselves, while Luke and Nick discuss his latest song, occasionally strumming a chord or two, Carrie is deeply engrossed in her instagram feed. With the rest working on homework over at Harrison’s desk Julie pulls her folder out of her bag and joins the study sesh. Every now and again someone will address the room and sometimes a lasting conversation will form, such as “Did you see Ms Mathew’s computer? Her background, it's her and Harrison on a beach.” It would seem Bobby isn't quite out of his conspiracy theory phase just yet, this was one of their favorites, are Mrs Harrison and Ms Mathew dating? As Julie has already tried to explain, they've been married for years now but that seems like too easy of an answer for walking conspiracy podcast Bobby Wilson. It's not long until silence falls over the room again.

Luke suddenly jumps up guitar in hand. As if taunting him the rest pay him no attention. “Guys!” he screams.

“What ?” Julie rolls her eyes.

“I got it, the melody, listen” he begins to play, Julie recognises some of the chords and lyrics from earlier in lunch, she’ll admit it's a good song, incomplete but good. Before he’s able to finish Mr Davids walks into the room, looking as sour faced as ever.

“Um folks, what are we doing here?” He calls in that voice all teachers can do “It's lunchtime … What are we doing in this classroom? You know you’re not allowed in here without a teacher.”

Reggie clearly with more confidence than the rest goes to answer before getting cut off by Davids.

“No Mr Peters, don't answer me back.”

Not shaken Luke cuts in “Mrs Harrison let us stay here,”

“Mrs Harrison said you could be in here, well is this Mrs Harrison’s room? er i didn’t think so,” Davids is so quick to tell them off he doesn't listen to Carrie’s protest that it is Harrison’s room “All of you out!” Figuring it's easier to leave than argue they start collecting their things, “Go outside, eat, be sociable.”

“We were just practising” Luke grumbles catching Davids attention

“You’re practising? Really, Mr Patterson for what? Last I checked only yourself Miss Wilson and Miss Molina were music students”

“A gig” Luke mumbles Davids is clearly not a fan of this answer,

“For a gig, umm is that a school event... it isn’t?” again Davids doesn't even wait for a reply “Right. Well then I suggest you practice outside of school. You’re here to learn not trash a classroom… out!”

In perhaps what might be the only time they've ever been grateful for the far too short lunch break at this school, they don't find themselves classroom-less for long; almost as soon as Davids shuts the door on the music room, locking them out, the bell rings and they're sent off the afternoon form. Both couples share a kiss before separating for class. Luke and Alex leave first in what can only be described as a sprint, after all their form is unfairly far away from everyone else’s. And Carrie drags a begrudging Reggie away to their shared form. The rest offer a series of “see you in class” and “meet me at the shop after school”s before Julie leaves with Willie and Kayla following as they cut through the drama studio and into the art department.

Once the register is called Julie is free to work on her homework, although songwriting isn't strictly homework. She finds herself drawn to the lyrics Luke had been working on earlier; perhaps she could finish it for him and they could play it at the Hollywood Ghost Pub’s open mic night. Already imagining how it'll go: the surprise and excitement on Luke's face as she presents it to him, the perfect song to play with the boys, the amazing performance as they give it their all, she smiles losing herself in the daydream.

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obsidianfr3sk · 4 years

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five valentine’s day that went wrong and one that (almost) didn’t

@queercreators event 02: romance — [ five valentine’s day that went wrong and one the (almost) didn’t ] [ “Five Things” Fic ] “

dedicated to my dear Reneweys [ @nodrianbcyes @honey-hippie-harper @healing-winston-pratt @alecjamesartino @bluenoctuary-art @everyone-has-a-nightmare ] ♡

Summary: They always managed to ruin their Valentine's Days one way or another, but it didn't matter. Because there was no way they could ruin what the two of them had.Boy, he would like to see someone try.

AO3

Well, hello there!!! It’s been a while since the last time I posted something x’d I know I always say the same thing but it’s true skjdfhkjdfs I started this fic during the first week of febreary when I had this shot of adrenaline and started to do a lot of creative stuff, and originally I wanted to post this during Valentine’s Day, but... the shot of adrenaline passed x’d and let me to deal with this alone.

As you can see for the description, this a “Five Thing” fic. At first I wanted to post each chapter seperately, but idk, it seem a little bit... weird x’d so, here in Tumblr, the six chapters are all in one post. If you don’t like the format, but want to read the fic, you can find it on AO3! Don’t forget to leave kudos and a comment if you liked it:’)

Now... I’m not used to write happy sttuf in general x’d AND I’M LESS USED TO WRITE HAPPY STUFF ABOUT HUGH AND SIMON BECAUSE SKJDFHKJDSF the angst, dudes:))) but I think I did. Like... I actually wrote a fluffy fic:’) I’m so proud of myself dkjfhkfdshjk

Tag list: @the-lady-with-the-pen @chiyuki-hiro @all-weather-is-bad @styeenza

First try

Year 2

It was the second Valentine's Day after the beginning of the Age of Anarchy, and the capacity that the human being had to adapt themselves to the most terrible of conditions never ceased to amaze him. The economy had collapsed, the government had fallen, his school was practically one of the last ones still in open, and there was a “fucking junkie” ruling the city...

But the world celebrated Valentine's Day anyway.

Or at least in his class did.

The teacher had brought a bunch of cardboard boxes, that looked like she had fought with some tramps to get them (which she probably did, they were too many boxes for one person to generate) (unless she was a crazy person who collected boxes). She gave one to each one of her students, took out the last bottles of paint, pieces of colored cardboard, and rusty scissors, and then told them that today they were going to learn how to make a mailbox.

At first, Hugh had no idea what turning a box into a mailbox had to do with the curriculum the school was supposed to follow. It's not like people sent a lot of letters anyway. But when the girls got excited, he remembered that February 14 was something like an important date. And then, he remembered an activity that they did during his first year, when everyone decorated a box for their classmates to put letters and sweets in it.

First year… And now he was in his third year.

Time flies by.

After telling them which parts to cut into (Hugh had to share his scissors with other three classmates because there weren't enough for everyone), she invited them to pick the decorations they wanted to put on their mailboxes. The girls pounced on the pink, red, and even white paint, while most of the boys laughed, saying it was a stupid activity and they didn't want to do it. Hugh felt the urge to agree, but he didn't

He had already tried to make them like him. It hadn't worked for him.

So he grabbed a bottle of navy blue paint, some cartoon bear stickers, some notebook paper, and a bitten pencil. That would be enough to make his mailbox and his cards.

After a while, he started to have a good time. Crafts had never been his strong suit, but he was proud of how it ended up looking. One couldn’t tell his mailbox used to be a cereal box because the paint he used was so dark, that it only needed two coats of it and it dried much faster than Abernathy’s, who had practically finished the pink paint trying to hide the face of that missing child in the milk carton box the teacher gave to her. Hugh realized that she was holding her tears back, and as the good classmate that he was, he told her not to worry, that the missing child could be decoration if she painted him a mustache or something, and it would look very funny. Abernathy, far from finding it funny, acted super offended, assuring she had never met a child as rude and insensitive as Hugh Everhart, and she ran out of the classroom, hiding her face in her hands and screaming like a baby.

Unfortunately, the rest of his class agreed with her, and when it came time to deliver the cards, Hugh did not receive a single one. Although he doubted it had anything to do with that missing boy thing.

They wouldn't have given him anything anyway.

He wasn't sure if they knew he was a prodigy. Maybe they had noticed that it wasn't normal that Hugh had practically broken a chair in two when he placed his backpack on it to get something out, or that he had left the PE teacher unconscious when he accidentally threw a ball at his face while they were playing soccer. The teachers, if they noticed, didn't say anything. After all, that school was supposed to be only for normal kids.

Not prodigies.

But children could be very insightful. Most likely, they did notice and therefore did not want to be associate with him.

Or maybe—

Maybe they just didn't want to hang out with Hugh, because of… that.

Because he was Hugh.

He decided to wait for everyone else to leave before starting to cry (or before breaking another chair, whichever came first). Or at least that was what he was about to do when he heard that someone had come up with the same idea as him and started crying first.

Simon Westwood had never been too talkative. Even before his older sister and mother died, he liked to sit at the last table, not speaking to anyone, and some older kids were constantly picking on him, without any teacher trying to do anything to stop them.

Not that Hugh was paying much attention to him or something.

The teacher practically ran to see what was going on with Simon Westwood, asking him what happened and why hadn’t he finished decorating his mailbox. Simon Westwood tried to explain it to her, but he was mumbling his words so neither the teacher nor Hugh could understand what he was saying.

Hugh didn’t get mad with him though. His mom had died. His sister died too, a couple of weeks later. He wouldn’t be in the mood for doing cheesy crafts if the same had happened to him. But the teacher wasn’t as benevolent as him, and started to say things like she was trying really hard to bring joy to her students, and that she was sure that if he tried a little bit harder, he would be able to enjoy Valentine’s Day, like the rest of them.

“Let’s see what nice things your classmates have said about you,” she exclaimed. But that only made Simon Westwood start crying again.

No one had given him a card.

Like… no one.

And Hugh was listening to all of this conversation, just sitting there, trying to stay as stiff as he could so they wouldn’t notice he was there (as if he weren’t literally right in front of them). Seeing Simon cried like that made him think that maybe he was just acting though when the other kids laugh at him because of his looks, his ratty old clothes (older and rattier than theirs), or just—

His mind exploded.

He suddenly understood why the other kids didn't like Simon Westwood. It was before he was him.

Just like how they didn’t like Hugh Everhart because he was Hugh Everhart.

When the teacher went out of the classroom with Simon, saying something about calling his dad (although he knew they wouldn’t be able to do that, since no one had a functioning phone those days), he took one of the cards he did for his classmates, cards that he never gave to them, and put one inside Simon Westwood’s mailbox/cereal box. He had left his backpack and his things there. When he came back to take them home, he would see the card too.

A voice in his head told him to get out of there before he came back, but another one told him to stay. Maybe Simon Westwood and he could be friends. Maybe he would understand what it felt like to be hated just for the way you were born. Maybe he was a prodigy too.

Or maybe he wasn’t.

He couldn’t take that chance.

So Hugh went home, but promised Simon Westwood (and himself) he would keep an eye on him.

After all, friends were there to have each other’s back.

Because they were friends, even if Simon didn't know it yet.

Second try

Year 9

They were friends.

He had never seen Hugh before meeting him on that alley where Simon got his powers. Like— he had seen him because he was in the same class as him, but he hadn't really seen him. During his childhood years, Simon was more focused on other things. Like being a little depressed and anxious ball with skinny legs and skinny arms, for example.

It wasn’t like he wasn’t depressed or anxious now. Nor it was he had gotten super muscular all of the sudden, like Hugh (he had always been bigger than the other kids, but he practically turned twelve and already looked like a teenager, except for the voice and the face).

But at that moment, he wasn’t depressed or anxious. He felt weirdly at peace.

He and Hugh were walking down the street, thinking about which store were they going to rob that day to get dinner for them and their families, when Simon noticed a couple holding hands in front of an abandoned café. She had dark hair and he had blue eyes, which looked at his girlfriend as if she was the Virgin Mary or something. Then, she kissed him and gave him a small blue flower and a heart-shaped card. The guy looked so moved by the gesture that he kissed her on the lips again, with so much more passion than before.

Simon looked away before they realized he was looking at them, not only because he didn’t want to come off as creepy, but also because he knew how awkward he would feel if they started to make out or something.

“Love is in the air,” Hugh sang.

Simon chuckled. “You noticed them too?”

“I noticed them when she gave him the flower,” he told him. “I had never seen a girl giving flowers to a guy before.”

“Times have changed, I guess. That’s why they don’t feel uncomfortable giving such public displays of affection. Kids in our day weren’t like that.”

“I know, right?” said Hugh continuing with the joke. “They are so perverted. There are children present, for God’s sake.”

Simon chuckled again and Hugh stopped to tie his shoe. While he was there, Simon noticed he was throwing glances at them.

“You know, giving them the death stare isn’t gonna prevent them from being in love,” Simon told him.

“I can try,” Hugh joked. Then, he shook his head. “It’s not that. I just—”

He waited for him a couple of seconds before asking, “Just what?”

He finally answered, “Someday we’ll have something like that.”

Simon frowned. “Huh?”

“You know,” Hugh mumbled. “We’ll have girlfriends and— and all of that.”

“Oh!” Simon exclaimed. “Yeah, someday, yeah.”

But before Simon could keep talking about it (or just develop some opinion on the topic) Hugh shrugged and urged him to keep walking. “I guess. I didn’t even remember today was Valentine’s Day though. They were my reminder—” he turned around and waved at them “—Thank you, exhibitionists, you reminded me what day is it!”

Now, Hugh probably didn’t mean for them to hear him say that. Simon knew him well enough to know Hugh thought he wasn’t being loud, but the thing was… Hugh was always loud. He could be “whispering” and the whole neighborhood would hear him ask Simon if he knew how bars with strippers worked because he did know, and wanted to brag about it. Then, Simon would feel embarrassed, because, in fact, he didn’t know how bars with strippers work.

Simon immediately turned around and realized the girl was looking at them with an expression he couldn’t read. He turned invisible and pushed Hugh inside of an alley, hoping those trashcans hid them well enough in case the guy turned out to be a freaking animal and wanted to kick their flat asses for calling them exhibitionists.

Simon felt the anxiety kicking in, when Hugh started laughing so loud, that said anxiety turn into the need of punching him really hard on the arm.

So he did it. Multiple times.

“Dude, dude, shut the fuck up, dude,” Simon said keeping his voice low (because he could keep his voice down, unlike others), “that guy’s gonna kick our asses, for real. Dudeeee—”

But his voice kinda cracked when he said that “Dudeee—” and that made Hugh laugh even more, so Simon kept punching him, using a vocabulary that would make the most dangerous of gangster blush. And he probably would have kept hitting him, if the anxiety of being discovered hadn't been overshadowed by how weird it made him feel to see his best friend laugh.

When Hugh laughed, his cheeks would turn red and his eyes would water. They could be in the most embarrassing situation ever, one where no one was laughing, and if he found it funny, he was going to do it, because he wasn't going to be able to help it. And it wasn't like Simon would stop him, either. Not at all. He liked it when he laughed.

Even though he ended up making him laugh too. Like at that moment.

Most of the garbage ended up in the drains, the sidewalk, or anywhere else except where it belonged, the trash can. Generally, Hugh always refused when someone hinted at sitting on the floor, precisely for that reason. However, on that occasion, the two were sitting in that stinking alley, throwing pebbles at each other, playing with some bottle caps they found on the ground, and arguing about who would win a bare-handed fight, Wonder Man or Phantom Feline.

They decided it was time to go home when a cat-sized rat appeared out of nowhere, and the two of them came out screaming like idiots, even faster than they would have run if that guy with the girlfriend would have chased them. They ran until they reached Simon's house, all sweaty and tired, their hands on their bent knees and breathing heavily.

Then Hugh laughed again. And his cheeks were flushed again, and his eyes were watery again, and he made Simon laugh again until Mr. Westwood came home from work and told him to go inside, that it was too late to be outside.

Once he was locked in his room, with his younger sister playing in the living room and his father in the kitchen, the image of that guy kissing his girlfriend did not make him feel anything. So, he tried to imagine kissing a lot of girls that he considered a thousand times more attractive, but just when it seemed that the idea was beginning to be something desirable, Hugh came back, with his laugh, his screams, and his eyes, like one of those freaking trains that he dreamed of having the opportunity to stop one day and that never missed a single chance to tell Simon all about it.

The truth was that Simon did believe that Hugh might be able to stop a train with his bare hands, but he doubted he would be able to stop the train of thought that Simon hopped on whenever he thought of him. And he was so ashamed to know that not even the strongest prodigy on the planet was capable of doing that, that he decided to take those memories from the collar of the old blue hoodie that each one of them wore and bury them alive in the backyard of his memory.

Forever and ever.

Thrid try

Year 12

Two months ago, after their first date, Simon told Hugh he would never plan another important date, forever and ever. But now, Simon had let him plan their first Valentine's Day together without putting any objections, proving that he trusted him. And he was happy for him; Simon had always had problems when it came to trusting other people. It was nice to see the other grow to become a better person.

And it was even nicer when you were no longer only friends, but a couple.

So yeah, he wanted to make Valentine's Day special. It was kind of a big deal.

Georgia and Tamaya brainstormed with him places he could take Simon to. They all agreed that it had to be a place safe enough and that it wouldn't put them in a situation where they had to reveal their powers, and by consequence, their secret identities. But then, everything started going downhill, especially because Georgia had some very odd ideas (like something about flowers, a choreographed dance, and poetry) and Tamaya was as romantic as a rock (“Just don't end up nearly killing yourself in front of him, that should be enough.”)

It was February 13th, and Hugh was on his cot, a bit angry at Georgia and Tamaya, not only because they couldn't help him on such an important mission as they promised, but also because they blamed him for their failure, telling him that he "had no imagination" and that he "thought with his dick", just because he thought all their ideas were horrible.

Maybe he should have phrased that better...

Simon and Evander slept on the bunk bed Simon used to share with his younger sister. Simon was taking a shower, so he was all alone with Evander and Kasumi, who sometimes went there to visit her best friend, even if Tamaya told her not to do it because it smelled horrible in there and she would bring the odor to the girl’s bedroom (Hugh thought the room didn't smell bad at all, and if it did, it was because Evander acted like he was living in the street yesterday and had no sense of personal hygiene). But Kasumi didn’t seem to mind, and she spent most of her afternoons cuddling with Evander on the top bunk, while she read an old book and Evander read one of Simon’s comics (because Hugh would join the Anarchists before letting Evander touch his comics).

They started whispering at each other about who knows what, and even though he kind of wanted to know what they were talking about, he was just too tired, so he decided to put a pillow on his face and try to fall asleep. But then, he heard, quite clearly, that they said his name.

And he couldn’t let slip that.

He pulled the pillow off his face, and said, “What are you saying about me?”

They both peered over the edge of the bunk. “We were talking about how you're not good at romance,” Evander replied.

The audacity of that b— boy.

“You are eleven years old," he told him. “What are you going to know about romance?”

“No more than you,” Kasumi acknowledged, very solemnly.

Hugh made his “See?” face and he looked away.

Then, Evander asked, “Why don’t you take him to Cosmopolis Park?”

Oh, stars. He couldn’t be serious.

Cosmopolis Park.

A freaking theme park.

Evander was eleven, all right. His idea of a date was probably something out of a princess movie he and Kasumi watched from time to time (sometimes Tamaya joined them too and she always acted like she was just watching it to make fun of it, even though everyone in the house knew she had a weird soft spot for cheesy princess movies). But Hugh was technically an adult now. He should know better, and knowing better was not taking your boyfriend to a theme park for Valentine’s Day. That wasn’t very romantic.

“What a stupid idea.”

Kasumi got red all of the sudden. For the look at Evander’s face, Hugh knew he had fucked up even before she said, “It was my idea…”

“Oh— no, Zoomie, I… what I meant was that—”

“Don’t fix it, bro,” Evander interrupted him. “You’re gonna make me want to punch you more.”

He wasn’t afraid of Evander punching him because he couldn’t compare a kid’s strength to his, but he obeyed him and mumbled a small, “Sorry.”

The “sorry” was for Kasumi though, not for Evander. If Kasumi hadn’t been there, he probably would have told Evander something like “Oh, yeah? You’re gonna punch me, little punk? Come on, punch me, don’t be a pussy” (and then Georgia would have stormed into the room, telling him not to use the word “pussy”, and they would have pointed at each other saying “He started it!”)

After giving him a goodnight kiss, Kasumi got off Evander’s bed, with the book under her arm. Before leaving the room, she knelt beside Hugh to kiss him goodnight, as to show his comment didn’t cause her to feel any kind of resentment towards him.

Because of course it didn’t. Kasumi was like that.

“I was just saying— Valentine’s Day is also a day to be with friends,” she whispered. “And you and Simon are not only boyfriends but also... you know, friends. I bet that wherever you take him, it'd be magical for both of you. Because you find magic in each other's company, even before you knew you were in love. So... why not?”

She turned off the lights on her way out.

He never thought Kasumi’s tendency to romanticize everything was odd or weird. It was something that he expected from a teenage girl, especially one who has such a vivid imagination. But he also never expected that imagination would help him in some way. And he never expected for her to say the exact words he wanted to hear, even before he knew he wanted to hear them.

She was so wise.

Cosmopolis Park didn’t sound like a bad idea anymore when Simon entered just after Kasumi, wearing his pajamas, and asked him with a teasing voice, “So… where are you gonna take me tomorrow?”

Hugh didn’t know if Evander was already asleep, so he just smiled at him and told him it was a surprise. Simon rolled his eyes and gave him a soft kiss on the nose before getting into his own bed.

It was his way of telling him he trusted him. And relationships were supposed to be built upon trust. He didn't need anyone to tell him that.

As far as he knew, Simon hadn't been to Cosmopolis Park in years, probably before the Age of Anarchy began. It was no secret that the park was currently full of gangs and drug addicts but it was still a relatively peaceful place. At least peaceful enough that the park was full of families, groups of friends, and tons of couples.

Although there weren’t any couples...

Well, there weren’t any couples like them.

He wondered if Simon noticed that small detail too, but when he turned to ask him that, he knew it would be better if he just kept his comments to himself. Because he wasn't an expert reading other people's emotions, but Simon...

Simon looked so happy at the moment.

The two walked side by side, their shoulders brushing against each other's, but their hands tucked deep into their pockets. Hugh was trying to keep his eyes fixed forward to avoid bumping into anyone, but the small chuckles Simon let out every time he saw something that surprised him, made said task impossible. Suddenly, he no longer wanted to avoid the embarrassment that would cause him to bother someone by bumping into them; he wanted to look at him.

He wanted to look at him trying to hide his laughter by covering his mouth with his hand, as if he wanted to suppress some kind of dark feeling, without realizing that his joy was so full of light that it was practically impossible. He wanted to continue to see how his dark eyes, with very long lashes and deep bags under the eyes, perfectly captured the lights of the Ferris wheel and the food trucks. He wanted to see the tiny smile he had the entire time they were at the park because even if Simon didn't smile like that very often, when he did, Hugh felt as if he was witnessing the most wonderful of miracles.

Hugh took his hands out of his pocket, and when he turned his attention back to Simon, he was looking at him too. They stopped in their tracks, not caring that people passed around them, sometimes unintentionally pushing them a bit or stepping on their shoelaces.

Hugh took a step forward and Simon did too.

Then Simon pulled a hand out of his grey jacket's pocket, making him wonder if he was dreaming or if it was really going to happen.

Hugh held his breath and felt the blood rush to his face, along with the overwhelming feeling that everyone around him was staring at them, with the newly acquired gift of recognizing those two faces that always hid behind pair of colorful masks and now were gazing at each other with true devotion. He desperately wanted to know what was going through their heads, he wanted to know if they still considered them worthy of their admiration and respect, and he wanted to know if he had been right when he assured Simon that, someday, the two of them would hold each other in public without thinking it twice.

But then, just as Simon's fingers brushed his cheek, his attention was completely diverted to someone behind Hugh.

“Are you talking to me?” he asked awkwardly.

Hugh turned to see who his boyfriend was talking to. He was a slightly older man, juggling three balls and standing on the table of his own stand. He was smiling at Simon and he had a mustache that quite frankly made him look like a ridiculous comic villain.

“Yes, you!” and he threw a ball at Simon.

Simon covered his face with his hands, but Hugh caught the ball before it hit him.

Who did this guys think he was?

The guy, far from mocking Simon's reaction, seemed intrigued. “Do you want to win a prize, big guy?” he asked Hugh.

Hugh was ready to say no to him in the kindest way he could, when the guy pulled out a laundry basket, like the one Georgia put on his head every Sunday, saying "Laundry time!" in a voice so high that made birds explode.

“You just have to throw that ball you have in your hand—” he raised the basket “—here. And you can win a prize.”

He finally gave him a chance to reply. “No, thank you, we’re fine.”

He shoved his hands into his pockets again and told Simon to keep going. But the guy did not give up.

“I see,” he crooned from afar. “Your dad didn't play ball with you and that's why you don't think you're capable of throwing it correctly. It’s fine.”

Simon put his hand to his mouth as if thinking "Oh, stars, he did not."

And Hugh looked at him as if thinking "Oh, but he did."

If that guy knew who he was talking to, he would probably think it twice before making comments to strangers mocking their lack of a father figure.

So he turned abruptly and threw the ball into the basket.

If Hugh had been a little calmer, he probably would have been able to remember that, before leaving the house, Tamaya had told him that theme parks were full of games that had the sole purpose of scamming people and that one of them was that game in particular. The balls bounced so much that even if they made contact with the bottom of the basket they would jump back to whoever threw it, making them technically lose.

He would also have listened to himself, to Hugh, who told him that it would be best to turn around and get on with their lives, and not to Captain Chromium, who was determined to win that freaking game because he won every single game the world put in his way.

After three balls, the guy turned to Simon, extended his hand at him, and told him, “It's fifteen dollars.”

That was enough to make him lose his mind. Hugh told him that it was not worth arguing with him, but Captain Chromium did not tolerate that people tried to take advantage of him, and he spent about ten minutes screaming with the mustachioed man, until Simon panicked (or lost his mind), grabbed one of the balls and threw it right in the man’s eye.

Then, he did take Hugh by the hand.

But just to be sure they both got out of there before someone tried to stop them.

They ended the evening at a hamburger stand several blocks away from Cosmopolis Park (because obviously, they weren't going to stay there after the show they had put on). They did not have enough money to buy two sodas, but they bought a strawberry juice carton to share and sat on the sidewalk to eat their hamburgers of doubtful provenance, ranting against the man, against the park, and, especially, against those damn balls.

“I can't believe there are people like him breathing the same oxygen I breathe,” Simon commented, before taking a bite out of his burger ravenously. “He had no right to make that joke.”

But Hugh was so distracted by how attractive Simon looked when he bit his hamburger like that all he could say was:

“If my dad knew I couldn't win that stupid game, he would abandon me again.”

Simon frowned a little bit, repeating the sentence in his head until he finally understood the joke, and laughed so hard he began to choke with his food. Hugh started to panic and told Simon he would give him five back blows like he read he should do when someone started to choke. That was enough for Simon to spit his food on a napkin. Both were so grossed out by it, that they started laughing again. Simon hid his face on Hugh's shoulder, practically using his fit of laughter as an excuse to snuggle against him, and Hugh used his own angriness as an excuse to stay right there, telling the entire world to go to hell, and willing to keep doing it forever, just as long as the conversation didn't end and they had to go home.

Georgia and Tamaya would kill them. It was already late at night.

Fourth try

Year 17

It was already late night when they arrived at the motel.

Simon had stayed invisible the entire time they were at the reception like he always did when they had one of those more… private nights out. Hugh was the one who was in charge of booking the room because Simon got too anxious anyway at the mere idea of having to interact with one of the receptionists.

It was one thing for his entire family (or the Council, as they had been calling themselves lately, as a joke) to know that tonight he was going to have sex. Strangers knowing it was a completely different thing.

He still wasn't quite sure which one was more embarrassing, but yeah. It was different.

He only became visible again when Hugh closed the door behind him.

Simon looked at the huge sports bag that Hugh carried with him. “What you got there?”

“Nothing important,” he assured with a shrug. He was smiling like he was a kid getting a bunch of presents at Christmas, and Simon was extremely happy too, so, without asking any more questions, he kissed him on the lips and went to the bathroom to give both of them time to get ready.

Not that they hadn't done that before. They didn't like having such intimate moments in the house. And even if they had wanted to, it was practically impossible to have even a minute of privacy there. The last time he had slept in a room by himself had probably been… never. And the number of occasions someone had opened the bathroom door while he was there were more than he could count. The door lock had been broken for a few weeks but nobody knew how to solve the problem because they had no idea how doors worked. Georgia had tried to implement a serious policy of knocking before entering any room with the door closed, but the only one who paid attention to her was Adrian because the rest of them were simply too used to walk around the house as if they were in their own houses. (That they were their house, but it was more Simon's house than theirs.)

In fact, it was the first time in forever that he was in a bathroom and he didn't have to put his hand on the door, to stop whoever tried to open the door before they ended up seeing him in the most vulnerable of positions, so Simon took off his T-shirt, his jeans, and sat on the toilet, wearing his underwear and his jacket, trying to enjoy his first moment of privacy in a long time.

At least until his legs started to feel cold and Hugh told him that he could go out now.

When he came out of the room, Hugh, who was lying on the bed, widened his eyes. Simon was already ready to hear a flattering comment, but instead, he frowned and asked, “Are you going to leave your socks on?”

Simon looked at his feet automatically. He had indeed left his socks on.

He didn't see anything wrong with it.

“The carpet is filthy,” he replied. “I don't want to get fungus or something like that.”

Hugh found no fault with his logic. “Okay, but take them off when you get on the bed,” he asked.

Then Simon realized that Hugh, not only never stopped doing that ridiculous pose that pretended to be sexy throughout the entire conversation, but he also had thrown out the (probably dirty) bedsheets from the motel bed and put instead one of the blankets they took out of the closet to cover themselves during winter.

So that's what he carried in his sports backpack.

Hugh seemed to realize that Simon was looking at the blanket and not at him, because he immediately said, “Oh, I hate motel bedsheets.”

Simon couldn't help but laugh. “You hate them?”

Hugh finally stopped doing that ridiculous pose and sat down. “You just never know who sleep in them before us, Simon,” he replied, “and you never know when was the last time they washed them. Maybe they— ” he pointed to the pile of blankets thrown away “—are covered on the… bodily fluids of twenty other people, and you want me to lie on them? Is that how you want us to make love? Like animals?”

Simon kept laughing, but Hugh wasn’t laughing. “Simon, stop it!” he exclaimed. “A new class of bacteria could be there, ‘cause— oh, I am convinced that those things have a new kind of bacteria no one has discovered yet, and— ”

And he went silent when Simon put his hands on his shoulders, still with a smile on his lips.

“What?”

“Hugh, have I ever told you I think you're really sexy when you out crazy me?” Simon asked, running his fingers through his hair.

Hugh stood still, looking directly into his eyes. “No, I think you haven’t.”

Simon shrugged. “Well— I think you're really, really, sexy when you out crazy me.”

“Well, I think… I think—“

Hugh could no longer continue his sentence. Even though Simon wasn't doing anything to stop him from speaking.

He was literally just standing in front of him, one knee leaning on the mattress and one hand on Hugh's head.

“You think?” he asked him. “That’s new.”

“Simon, wait, I'm trying to seduce you,” Hugh said.

Simon took a step back, pointing to the bathroom door. “I think I’d wait over there.”

“No, wait—” he gently grabbed his wrist before he could move further away “—I’m starting to… Let me think of something.”

Simon chuckled. He put his knee on the mattress again and Hugh grabbed him around his waist, pulling him close to him and resting his head on his chest, while Simon rested his chin on his head. He had just taken a bath when they came out of the house, so Hugh’s hair smelled of him and lemon zest because they have been using dish soap as shampoo the last week.

That was the kind of privacy that they sometimes lacked at home. He was no longer talking about sex. Simon craved to have him like this, so close to him. Both in their underwear, both in a practically unknown place, and both completely vulnerable, but together. Feeling at home, even if technically they weren't.

Because Hugh was his home.

He was sure he saw him that way too.

Simon was so focused on trying to capture that moment in his memory so that he could repeat it over and over again for the rest of his life, that he was totally thrown when Hugh blurted out:

“I think you have a nice dick, dude.”

Simon broke the hug ... “What?”

Hugh’s cheeks turned even redder. “Tell me I didn't say that.”

He put a hand up to try to hide his laughter. “No, I think you did.”

He still couldn’t believe that was Hugh’s best try to seduce him. And apparently, Hugh couldn't believe it either.

“Then— forget about it,” he stammered. “Let's all of us forget about it.”

Simon realized that he tried to grab him by the waist again, but he moved away just in time, pretending to be extremely offended. “So I don't have a nice dick.”

“Let's just stop saying the word dick, please.”

“You started it.”

“I PANICKED, ALL RIGHT?”

“PANICKING IS MY JOB!”

“I’M TAKING YOUR JOB THEN. AND I’M GONNA STEAL YOUR BOYFRIEND TOO IF YOU KEEP LAUGHING!”

Simon didn't try to pretend that he wasn't laughing, because he was more than aware that it was already too obvious at this point.

So he decided it was better to play along.

“No, don't take my boyfriend!” he exclaimed dramatically, putting his hands on his shoulders. “Take me instead.”

Hugh took him by the waist and pulled him close. Simon didn't try to walk away this time. “Deal.”

But when Simon was about to start kissing him, he diverted his attention from Hugh for a split second, making him realize the curtains were wide open. “Oh, shoot, wait— the curtains.”

Luckily he hadn’t taken off his socks yet.

With quick steps, he headed to the window. He put a hand on each curtain and was about to close it completely when the lights of a car approaching from the end of the street caught his attention. It was a yellow sports car that looked more like a ripe banana than a vehicle.

Shit.

It stopped a few feet past the motel they were at. Out of it came a short man, with scars on his face and thin hair, and a tall blonde woman in a yellow dress, very inappropriate for the occasion. Not because it was provocative thought. It’s just that no one would wear such an expensive-looking dress in such a dangerous neighborhood unless they wanted to be robbed.

Or that they had enough status not to be.

Simon turned to see Hugh. “Hey—” Hugh looked up slightly. “—Come here.”

Hugh obeyed, a little bit confused, after putting his socks on (obviously). Simon had closed the curtains just enough for them not to be noticed but also not so much that they couldn’t see what was happening on the street.

Hugh gasped. “Are those—“

Simon swallowed hard. “Cyanide and Queen Bee in person.”

“What are they doing here?”

Simon had as much an idea of what Queen Bee and Cyanide were doing there as Hugh had, but he responded with the first thing that came to his mind anyway.

“Probably celebrating Valentine's Day,” he replied. “What a shitty place to take your girlfriend during Valentine’s Day though.”

At least take her to a motel. Like I did with Hugh.

“Do you think Queen Bee and Cyanide are together?” Hugh asked Simon.

Simon shrugged. “I don't know, but I know Queen Bee has a thing for Ace Anarchy.”

He had the slight hope that Hugh would take the bait and give him a chance to discuss his theories about Queen Bee's fixation with Ace Anarchy (which he always talked about with Tamaya), but Hugh, despite being very nosy, just kept quiet, watching Queen Bee and Cyanide argue outside the car.

How could that woman walk in such big heels?

“Or maybe Cyanide is the one who has a thing for Ace Anarchy,” Hugh blurted out suddenly.

Simon turned to see him. “Wait, really?”

“Don't be so heteronormative, Simon,” he scolded him. “Plus, I've never been in the cathedral, but I bet that when you enter there, it reeks homosexuality.”

“Dude—”

“I just know.”

And they kept watching.

There was something very personal about seeing two people arguing from a distance, like old ladies peering out of their home windows whenever the neighbors had a particularly loud fight. Simon almost considered it romantic.

Then, Queen Bee tried to turn around to turn her back on Cyanide, but something went wrong with her heel and she went face first towards the sidewalk, letting out a scream that could make someone think she was being murdered, and causing Cyanide (and the two of them) to laugh out loud.

How could that woman walk with those heels? Well, apparently, she couldn't.

The tension he felt when Cyanide interrupted his laughter and turned around as if he knew someone was watching them, made him remember that they were not gossiping old ladies peeking out of the window of their house and that those two were not some neighbors having a little fight. No, they were Dread Warden and Captain Chromium, stuffed into a hotel room like they were fugitives from the law or something, and those two little people in the middle of the street were two of the most feared and powerful villains in the world.

There was nothing romantic about that.

So Simon immediately closed the curtains.

But now neither of them was in the mood to have sex anymore, really.

“We should do something.”

“I'm on it.”

Hugh was already crouched slightly by the bedside, pulling his unmistakable superhero suits out of his sports bag.

Simon was so puzzled that he couldn't even stop to enjoy the… image that Hugh was inadvertently giving him by bending down like that.

“Wait, did you actually bring our supersuits to our date?” he asked him.

“Yeah,” he replied without looking up.

Who knows what kind of demon got into Simon at the time, but a not very family-friendly thought crossed his mind, and that thought was the one that made him ask, “Why?”

Hugh, completely unaware of what he was thinking, handed Simon his clothes and dropped the two pairs of boots on the floor as he sat in the bed.

Only the stars knew how he had managed to fit a blanket, their shoes, and their suits in that sports backpack.

“Because I thought something like this was gonna happen,” he explained while putting on his leggings. “You know, crime doesn’t celebrate Valentine’s Day the same way we do.”

Oh.

The little not very family-friendly thought hadn't been right then.

Simon felt a bit sick admitting that he wasn't sure if he was relieved or disappointed.

“Oh. I thought...”

Hugh looked at him, intrigued, and a second later, he understood what Simon was thinking. “Oh, stars, no. I was not thinking about that.”

“All right then.”

Now it was Hugh's turn to watch him change. Simon knew that was what he was doing.

Because he knew his look better than he knew anyone else's.

When he was fully dressed, Simon reached out to reach for his shoes, and Hugh put his own hand over his', to get his attention.

He already had the mask on, but he could see that he had turned red. If Simon had been white too, he probably would be redder than him.

He swallowed. “Unless— unless you're into it?”

Simon swallowed too. But he didn’t plan to answer him right now.

It had been hard enough to put on their suits. They didn’t need to start taking them off.

So he pulled his hand away and started putting on his shoes.

“Hugh, the villains—” he reminded him.

“Right, right.” Hugh brushed off his knees. “The villains. That’s important.”

After making sure the door had the lock on (and that said lock worked), they turned off the lights, Simon turned invisible, and Hugh climbed onto the roof, pushing himself off the window frame as fast as possible so that Queen Bee and Cyanide, who were turning their backs on them, standing in front of the door of an apparently abandoned building as if waiting for someone, did not see him. Afterward, Simon followed him, assuring him that he could climb on his own.

The two remained hiding behind the building's water tank. Well, Hugh was behind the building's water tank, and Simon was in plain sight, invisible, with his hood on and his cape fluttering behind him, making him feel…

He wanted to say that it made him feel heroic, but the truth was that Simon also felt very sexy when he got into this mysterious and threatening mode.

Simon turned his hand visible and pointed at them as if to say "Are we going or what?"

Hugh turned to see them with a frown, analyzing the situation. But when Simon was about to ask him what they were waiting for, Hugh turned to see him, with the same smile he had on his face when he was about to let the world know the coolest plan of all the plans, completely ignorant that in reality, it was the dumbest thing he had ever came up with.

“Wait, I have an idea.”

And in that situation, Simon had to take the role of being the one to tell him that his idea was bullshit and that it wasn't going to work, but he used to listen to his idea before expressing his comments about it. Not only because he didn't like talking without knowing all the facts first, but because may he could go to Tamaya the next day and tell her what had happened in the last episode of Hugh Had an Idea And It Went Wrong.

(They also enjoy episodes of Evander Acted Like An Animal Again and Queen, Realize That Junkie Doesn’t Care About You, Please.)

“Do you remember that song Evander used to sing to us?” he asked him.

Oh, Simon remembered it and cringed every time he thought about it.

But the cringe wasn't enough to stop him from singing the song.

“The Warden and the Captain are sitting in a tree—”

Hugh cringed too. “That one, yes. Stars, I hate it so much—” and he pointed to Queen Bee and Cyanide “—Let's make them hate it too. ”

Simon seriously tried to take his role as the voice of reason in that situation. He let his imagination (or rather, his anxiety) run wild, making him imagine the thousand and one scenarios in which that specific fight could turn out worse than they usually did if Hugh made that comment. Queen Bee would probably call Hugh a "lesbian" (“You have a lesbian haircut, honeybun, accept it”), Cyanide would go crazy trying to find Dread Warden to melt his skin slowly and painfully, everyone would wish death upon everyone, and the only reason the fight would end would be because either Cyanide would finally manage to injure Simon or because Queen Bee’s stilettos would break.

He didn't see how teasing them with an attack worthy of elementary school kids would make the situation worst.

Besides… it was going to be hilarious to see that.

He didn't see why he couldn't co-star in Hugh Had Idea and It Went Wrong.

“I'm in,” he replied, trying not to raise his voice too much. “I'm super in.”

Hugh rose his hand and Simon high-fived him quietly. But Hugh seized the opportunity to take his hand, running his finger across his knuckles. “Okay, but you sing the spelling part, because—”

“You don't know how to spell,” Simon interrupted.

Hugh let go of his hand. “Well, when you said it in that tone, it sounds a little mean.”

Simon rolled his eyes and took his hand again. Then the logical part of his brain (yes, the same one that always insisted on being the voice of reason in situations like that) began to yell at him that he should convince Hugh to let Cyanide and Queen Bee did whatever they wanted, while the two of them did whatever they wanted.

But that the logical part of him had no voice in that situation because the logical part of his brain was not the part that loved Hugh. After all, there was nothing logical in loving the way he made a kind of mini-horn with both hands, took a deep breath, and yelled with all his might:

“CYANIDE AND THE QUEEN BEE SITTING IN A TREE—”

Fifth try

Year 20

K-i-s-s-i-n-g.

That was what he wanted to be doing. He wanted to be kissing Simon. He wanted to be with him, walking in the park and watching life go by in front of them. The birds singing from the trees, the children chasing each other, and the wind ruffling their hair. The day was going to be so perfect that he was going to be able to ignore homeless people getting high on corners or young people dealing drugs (that should be) illegal, focusing all his attention on Simon and how happy he felt that this time, everything he was going well.

He didn't want to be crammed into the living room with the rest of his family, listening to the thunder and the rain crashing down on the ceiling.

But apparently, that's what he was doing.

Tamaya was sitting on the floor, covering herself with her wings. Simon had sat on the other end of the three-seater couch, looking out the living room window with a thoughtful expression, worthy of a character in a Shakespearean play or something. Evander was leaning over him and had Kasumi on his lap. She was watching him play (or rather trying to play) a Tetris game that he had on his phone, putting her icy feet on Hugh's arm, probably without realizing it, and Hugh was on the other end of the couch, first starting at Simon, thinking of how handsome he looked when he was thinking, and then at Georgie. She had been smart enough to sit on the reclining sofa, which gave her the space she needed to cuddle with an inconsolable six-year-old Adrian.

“The storm will end soon,” she was telling him. “The storm will end soon.”

But that was not enough to comfort Adrian. His mother had already been telling him for about an hour that “the storm will end soon”, but the storm just ... did not end. And each time they heard a new thunder, Adrian let out a howl and clung to his mother with more force, asking her to please not go away.

Everyone knew that when Adrian asked Georgie not to go away, he was actually asking everyone not to go away. If any of them left the room, he would probably lose his mind.

He felt the urge to tell him that she wasn't going anywhere. That wasn’t very Georgie. Georgie didn't leave people who needed her like that, scared, crying, and begging her to stay. So since Georgie didn't do it, neither did the others.

It is not like they could have gone anywhere though.

Georgie realized that Simon hadn't stopped staring out the window.

“I'm sorry you couldn't do anything special this Valentine’s Day,” she whispered. Simon blinked as if he were waking up from a dream. “What did you have planned for this evening?”

Simon turned to see him, disappointed. Hugh decided to answer for him.

“We were going to have a picnic at the park,” he replied.

Georgie blurted out something that sounded like “Awww”, and Evander scoffed.

“That’s gay.” Hugh put his arm behind Kasumi and smacked Evander on the back of his head. “BRO, YOU LITERALLY MADE LOSE ME.”

Tamaya laughed and Kasumi shook her head. “I want to play too—” she tried to take the cellphone and Evander pressed it closer to his chest “—Vandy.”

Georgie intervened (without letting go of Adrian). “Vandy, give Kasumi the phone. It’s her turn. And then it's mine.”

But Evander didn’t want to.

“But it only has ten percent of battery left,” he exclaimed.

“Perfect, it's more than enough for Tamaya, Kasumi, Simon, Hugh, and I to get a turn too.”

“Hugh punched me! He does not deserves a turn.”

“I didn't punch him,” Hugh said. “I just hit him very slightly.”

“My brain almost felt out of my head.”

“Do you still have a brain?” Tamaya asked. Hugh high-fived her. “I've been thinking about that joke for weeks, dude.”

“Evander Wade, share the phone,” Georgia said. “I'm no longer asking.”

“No! It's my phone.”

Desperate, Tamaya reached out to take Evander's cell phone, and he stood up so fast that Kasumi ended up falling on Tamaya.

“MOTHERFU—”

A thunder. Again.

Adrian started crying. Again.

And they all went silent. Again.

Hugh took advantage of the fact that Evander got out of the coach to move closer to Simon. Evander didn't say anything to him because he was too busy handing the cell phone to Tamaya, who then gave it to Kasumi. Kasumi refused to sit down with Evander again and stayed on the floor with Tamaya (although resting her head on his knees, as if they were a pillow).

Simon rested his head on Hugh's shoulder.

“Next year will be better,” he whispered in his ear. Simon didn't answer him; he only put his hand on the window, leaving the trace of his fingers on it. “Are you all right?”

Simon put his hand on Hugh’s waist and pulled him closer to him, closing his eyes for a while. “I'm tired…”

“Rest then.”

After all…

Hugh was tried too.

There had never been a day when they didn't have to face a new threat. It seemed that the Anarchists, instead of getting weaker, were getting stronger. Even with the many new allies the Renegades had, no one seemed to have a second of the day to rest. Adrian got more and more nervous when they went out as days passed by, and it was becoming more difficult to calm down him during his tantrums. Even he, who was a child, could feel the tension in the city.

But precisely because of that, because he was a child, he could not understand the enormous responsibility that the Renegades had on his shoulders and that they could not stay with him, no matter how much they wanted to.

Maybe that was why no one had tried to leave the room. It was their way of telling Adrian that they were still there for him.

He was about to fall asleep when Simon pulled him away. His first instinct was to pull him closer, but as soon as he realized that Simon was just standing up, he let go of him.

Suddenly, he looked happier. Much happier than anyone else in that room.

Everyone noticed that change.

“Are you still too tired to celebrate Valentine’s Day?”

Even Hugh didn't understand what he meant.

Evander turned to see Georgie. “Georgie, you told them no hanky-panky in the house.”

“Vandy—” Kasumi intervened.

“Zoomie.”

“Don't say hanky-panky.”

“Yeah, you sound like a grandma,” Tamaya told him slightly punching him on the leg.

Hugh shushed them. “Shhh, guys, let Si talk.”

“No, go on, guys—” Simon told them “—Let us show you.”

And he held out his hand.

Obviously, Hugh accepted it.

He had no idea what Simon was planning to do, but he wasn't too tired not to celebrate Valentine's.

He was never too tired of him.

Adrian immediately reacted to this. “Hey, no, don't go...” he cried, stretching his little arms towards them.

Luckily, Simon looked like he already had that covered.

“We're not going anywhere, Adrian,” Simon assured him. “You are coming with us.”

Adrian and Georgie's eyes widened at the same time.

“Me?” Adrian asked pointing to himself.

“You,” Simon replied, confidently. “But it's a very special mission,” he added in a lower voice, putting a hand on his shoulder. “You can't tell anyone.”

Adrian rubbed his eyes and Georgie looked up at the ceiling as if she were making sure a new leak hadn't magically appeared. Tamaya, on the contrary, didn't understand, and she stared at the scene, very intrigued by Simon's plan too. Luckily, Georgie noticed it, and with a frantic movement of her hand, told her to stop staring. Hugh made the same move, but this time, directed at Kasumi and Evander.

When Adrian opened his eyes again, everyone but the two of them was pretending they weren't listening to the conversation.

“What mission is it?” Adrian asked in a thin voice.

“Look, we can't go out to celebrate Valentine's Day,” Simon explained, “but what we can do is bring Valentine's Day here with us.”

Adrian looked puzzled.

“Hey, but you're going to need a superhero name to be able to participate in the mission,” Hugh commented, trying to get Adrian more interested. “Do you have any ideas?”

Simon scratched his beard, thinking. “Hmm, very good question, my dear Captain,” he commented. “Maybe—”

“Oh, I know what superhero name I'll have,” Adrian exclaimed, grabbing Simon by the cheeks. “Hey, your beard feels funny.”

Simon grabbed him by the cheeks too. “What’s your superhero name, then?”

Adrian whispered it in his ear and Simon's face lit up. “It's a perfect name, Adrian.”

Adrian shushed him. “Shh, don't say my real name! I have to use my superhero name, remember? It's a mission.”

Evander scoffed again and Kasumi shushed him immediately.

“And can he tell me your superhero name?” Hugh asked Adrian.

Adrian stopped to think about it. “Yes, why not?” he finally replied.

Then, Simon stood slightly on tiptoe to reach him and whispered in his ear the most perfect superhero name he had ever heard.

Sketch.

Hugh took Adrian by surprise when he graved him and carried him in his arms, making him gasp in shock and excitement. Even Georgie started to laugh out loud at her son's reaction.

“Ready for the mission, Sketch?” he asked him making his voice lower than it actually was.

Adrian gave a military salute. “I was born ready, Captain!” he exclaimed, moving his feet in the air.

Georgie stood up too. “Where you taking my son, guys?” she asked dramatically.

Hugh placed Adrian on his shoulders.

“Don’t worry, mom,” Adrian told her, “I’ll be fine. I need to accomplish this mission.”

Georgie pretended to start sobbing. “No, but you don't have to, son of mine, you're too young!”

“Listen to your mother, kid,” Tamaya intervened. “Stay with us, stay safe with your family—“ and she passed her wings over Kasumi's shoulders.

“Tamaya has two wings,” Kasumi pointed out. “And they're warm.”

“Really?” Evander asked.

But Tamaya’s face changed immediately. “It's not for you, it's for Adrian.”

“GO WITH THEM, LITTLE SKETCH, GO!” Evander yelled standing up on the sofa. “GO SAVE VALENTINE’S DAY!”

That was enough for Adrian. He kissed his mother on the cheek and told her that he would be back soon. Then the three of them began their journey to the kitchen while the others stayed in the living room.

Simon pulled out a bag of bread from the refrigerator and asked Hugh to pass him the peanut and hazelnut butter jars from the cupboard. Adrian took it upon himself to count the remaining loaves of bread and separate them into pairs, spreading them on the table. Simon encouraged him to count how many pairs there were and Hugh had no problem helping him when he got stuck at number five. Then Simon toasted them on the stove, and he allowed Adrian to pile them up like a tower on a red ceramic plate.

When it was time to make the sandwiches, Simon and Hugh sat at different ends of the table, each holding a butter knife. Simon would spread peanut butter on one of the loaves, Hugh would spread hazelnut on the other, and Adrian would gather them together and wrap them the best he could in a napkin, before putting them in a makeshift basket that Kasumi had made long ago.

“Mommy, no!” yelled Adrian when Georgie dared to enter the kitchen. “It's a secret mission!”

“Don��t worry, don’t mind me,” she told them pretending not to notice what they were doing. “I'm just gonna prepare myself some strawberry milk.”

As soon as Adrian looked away, Georgie winked at Hugh. And Hugh winked back.

“I think we're done with this mission now,” he replied using that ridiculously deep voice again. “You have to break the news to the rest of the team, Sketch.”

Adrian jumped out of his chair and practically ran into the living room, holding the basket with sandwiches in his hand.

The three of them had been so into their mission, they didn't realize that the others had put several blankets on the floor and Tamaya was cursing under her breath for being unable to use a lighter to turn on the candles. Kasumi approached Adrian, with a VHS in each of her hands, asking him which movie he would like to see, and Evander came over too, but to try and tell Adrian to pick the action movie, not the romance movie the girls wanted to see.

Simon seemed like he wanted to join the conversation too, but Hugh thought he had done enough. And he meant it in a good way. So he took him by the hand and they lied down on the couch, not caring that perhaps one of the others wanted to sit on it.

Adrian had already chosen the movie (he chose the period drama over the action movie, thankfully) when Georgie walked into the living room with a stack of plastic cups under her arm and a jug half full of strawberry milk, carrying it as it were a trophy. During her birthday, everyone in the house had raised money to buy her a huge pot of strawberry milk powder, which they made her promise that she would not share.

Some promises could not be kept.

The adults got two sandwiches each, but Adrian had practically all of the strawberry milk. Throughout the movie, Kasumi was sighing and muttering how much she wanted to wear a dress like the one the main character wore in the movie during that elegant dinner. From to time, Tamaya frowned and muttered something about how problematic she found a line or scene. Georgie braided their hair and when she finished, she would undo the braid and start over, laughing out loud at Evander's comments about how horrible the romantic interest looked and that he did not understand how that was the ideal of beauty that women had. Adrian fell asleep in Simon's arms about halfway through, and about that exact time, Hugh began to notice that Simon was starting to have a hard time trying to stay awake.

He looked adorable when he was thinking, but he liked it even more how he looked when he was falling asleep.

He kissed the back of his head. “Are you tired?”

He nodded slightly. “Yes… but never of you.”

Hugh kissed him again. “I was thinking the same thing.”

“What thing?”

Georgie turned around for a second and realized that Adrian had fallen asleep. She stopped braiding Evander’s short hair (for some reason, Evander had let her braid his hair) and sat on the recliner chair, hugging Adrian like a stuffed animal.

She winked at him once more. And Hugh winked back, one more time.

“Nothing— ” he laid himself more comfortably on the couch and allowed Simon to get on top of him, resting his head on his chest. “—Sleep for a while.”

Simon made no further objection. “You too.”

Hugh did not fall asleep. In fact, he stayed awake for the three hours the movie lasted, even though by the time the credits started, Tamaya was snoring and Kasumi and Evander were under her wings, rolled up, and cuddled up to her. Georgie ended up falling asleep on the couch, covered in the same blanket Simon used to cover himself a few hours ago.

When the clock told him it was 7 PM, Hugh knew it was time for them to go patrol. However, the rain had gotten even worse, and Simon...

Simon looked so peaceful.

He hadn't realized how deep the bags under his eyes had gotten, nor that his face hadn't looked as relaxed as it looked right now for weeks, because he frowned most of the time. He hadn't held him that close either or had the opportunity to give him as many kisses as he had been doing in that time. Not because he didn't want to, it was just ... well, they had been busy trying not to die.

How tiring it was to try not to die.

He knew Simon was tired because, again, he was tired too, and he bet that the rest of their family felt the same as them. But Simon was the only one who had overcome his tiredness and his moodiness to just... make them forget their sorrows for a moment.

He was like that.

Hugh gave him one more kiss on the cheek.

Thank you.

If Simon had been awake, he would have asked him "Thanks for what?"

And Hugh would have answered him, "For just being you."

Someday they would get their happy ending. But for the moment, all he wanted was to be crammed into the living room with the rest of his family, listening to the thunder and the rain crashing down on the ceiling.

He doubted that happiness would ever end.

Sixth (but not last) try

Two years after the Day of Triumph.

Just over a year ago, Simon had been on the roof of the same building he was currently in. Of course, it looked very different from how it looked now. It didn’t have any windows, no furniture, and, obviously, no electricity. It was the vile shell of what had once been one of the most beautiful skyscrapers in the city. Simon was thinking about that when he realized that he did not have a single memory of having seen that place when it was in its maximum splendor and that the only proof he had of it was the stories of those adults who arrived before him.

That sooner or later, he would become one of those adults. Those who told stories of the past to the generations that came after them.

He thought of Adrian. He thought that there would come a time when he would be curious to know certain things that happened and would ask questions that Simon would not be too sure how to answer. Not precisely because he didn't want to or because he thought he wasn't ready to hear the truth; he just didn’t know those truths at all.

Why did people change for the worst? How did the world use to be when prodigies weren’t divided by heroes or villains?

What happened to Lady Indomitable?

How did the world use to be before she was gone?

Then Simon, with tears in his eyes, looked up at the crescent moon and the six stars lined up in such a way that they seemed to form a smile. He hadn’t seen anyone in his family smile for… a very long time.

Because when Georgia Rawles left, she took with her their capacity to smile.

Yet, at that moment, Simon could feel her. He could feel her when he was crying, asking her to please fly again and to help him get down from that skyscraper. He felt her hugging him, keeping him from falling to his knees and cutting his skin with the shattered glass that was on the floor. She promised him that she would never give up on him and assured him that every time he saw the sky, he would find those six stars forming that smile, which from that moment on, would be hers.

Simon didn't want her to make promises, but… it was Georgie. His Georgie. The Georgie who made pinky promises even though she was about to turn thirty because you were never too old for pinky promises. The Georgie who always protected him and never gave up on him, even though there were times when Simon thought she should.

So since she was his Georgie, Simon accepted the promise. As she turned around and rose again to the sky, he wondered what would happen when the city was so full of light, that the stars (Georgie’s smile) faded away and everyone, including them, forgot about them (about her).

But, after all this time, Simon was looking at the stars, on the roof of that same skyscraper that had now been turned into a fancy restaurant, holding Hugh's hand across the table, and noticing that Georgie was still smiling at him from above.

As it always should be.

“Did you ever expect things to turn out like this when you were little?”

He turned to see Hugh again. “What things?”

But Hugh kept staring at the stars. Simon didn't care. He liked to think that the sparkle in his blue eyes was due to them. “Us.”

Simon shook his head, “No,” he answered when he remembered Hugh couldn’t look at him. “Did you?”

Finally, Hugh saw him again. “I think that when I was little, I didn’t know one could be as happy as I am with you right now.”

Simon rolled his eyes.

“I'm serious,” Hugh insisted, taking him just a little tighter by the hand. “I'm so glad we finally made it out.”

Simon leaned forward slightly. “We really did, huh?”

Then, Hugh gently pulled him closer to him, making their foreheads bump and closing his eyes. “And I'm so glad that now, nothing bad is gonna happen to you, to us, and to what we have.”

Simon closed his eyes too. He would have liked to promise Hugh that it would be like that. That this new chapter of their lives, the chapter of getting married, having kids, and rebuilding a city together, was would turn out as well as the last one, when they fought crime, defeated the bad guys, and held hands only when they were not wearing the armors that protected them from the outside world.

But he could not promise that. And anyways, Hugh was not very fond of promises. He said they were very easy to break.

So he grabbed his chin and gave him a quick kiss on the lips before saying, “It's getting late. We should ask for the check.”

Hugh nodded and called a waiter. He noticed that Simon was reaching into his pocket and quickly told him not to do it, that he got it. Simon knew there was nothing he could do to make him change his mind, so he instead just asked if he could get a slice of chocolate cake to go. Adrian would love to have chocolate cake for breakfast.

The waiter returned a few moments later with the bill (and Adrian’s chocolate cake). Simon almost winced when he saw the amount of money they had spent on a meal that hadn’t been that good in the first place (although he did not know if it was because of the lack of ingredients or because gourmet food kind of sucked). However, Hugh didn't seem at all concerned and reached into his pockets to get his wallet.

Suddenly, he leaned his elbows on the table. “Simon.”

Simon leaned his elbows on the table too. “Yes?”

“Have I mentioned you look very handsome tonight?”

He tried to remember. “No,” he replied. “But thank you for noticing. I even took a shower.”

“Wow,” Hugh exclaimed with too much enthusiasm. “Feeling fancy today.”

“I do feel fancy today,” Simon replied, adjusting the jacket he had put on over his pink button-up shirt at the last moment because Hugh had told him that the restaurant had a pretty rigid dress code.

Simon almost didn’t put on the jacket out of pure spite. In fact, he spent all the way ranting about how it was stupid to have such a specific dress code in a place like Gatlon City, and that he bet that the owners of that restaurant, who now were acting like total snobs, had spent most of their lives wearing only a t-shirt and old jeans, like the rest of them.

Hugh, who had been wearing the jacket from the beginning (a blue one), was quiet, listening carefully to what Simon was saying until he blurted out:

“We can do something else if you want to.”

He didn't say it in an “I’m hurt by your comment” tone. Instead, he said it the same way he would tell him that they could watch another movie or that they could get take out instead of cooking dinner. He said it as if the reservation he made was not at stake, or as if he hadn’t been sending him hints of wanting to go to that specific restaurant since New Year.

Simon knew that if he had said yes, Hugh would have taken him wherever he wanted. However, Simon also knew that it didn't matter where they went. They had spent Valentine's in an alley, at a fair, fighting villains, and in a house too small for seven people. And in all those places, he had a great time.

Surely that place was… snobbish, but he could have a great time there too.

After all, they were together.

He was sure Hugh knew that too.

Hugh nodded, agreeing with him. He hardly ever agreed with someone other than himself anymore.

“Is this your strange way of making me say you look good too?” he asked him then.

And Hugh’s smile grew bigger. “Simon Westwood, you are the love of my life,” he replied taking his hand, “and this is my strange way of telling you I forgot my wallet at home.”

Simon laughed so loudly that the other customers turned to see him. But he couldn't care less. He kind of wanted them to saw them. He wanted them to notice how much he was laughing and he wanted them to see him kiss Hugh as he reached for his pockets…

Oh, no.

“Hugh.”

He tensed. “Yes, dear husband of mine who’s going to pay for this dinner?”

“You look good too.”

That was enough for Hugh to realize that Simon had also left his wallet at the house.

The two remained serious for a long time. But then, Simon could see how Hugh's brain clicked in a very strange way, which made him see this whole situation as the funniest thing that had ever happen to him.

He kissed him once more.

They always managed to ruin their Valentine's Days one way or another, but it didn't matter. Because there was no way they could ruin what the two of them had.

Boy, he would like to see someone try.

#queercreators #queercreators02 #renegades #archenemies #supernova #renegades trilogy #hugh everhart #simon westwood #humon #obsi's writs

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come-on-shitty-boys · 4 years

Text

//accidental irritations. akasshi keiji//

Request: hello!! Can I request what a first fight would be like with akaashi? From angst to fluff Bc my heart,,,, 😔🤚

Warnings: swearing

Word Count: 1.9K

Notes: someone put this baby to sleep please ;-;

You weren’t sure why you were surprised. You knew your boyfriend well enough to know that this was something he would do. He worked hard, you knew that. He was ambitious and you knew that too. He had a bad habit of not knowing when to stop, so the general negative aura that surrounded the setter should’ve been your sign that he was overworking himself again.

Akaashi did this every now and then, especially around finals time. He would stay up for hours, scanning his textbooks for anything that he might have missed that could possibly be on the test, copying his notes all over again into a separate notebook (he always that the repetition helped him, you just thought it was extra), flipping through stacks and stacks of flashcards until he got them all right. He’d average around three hours of sleep a night unless someone physically made him go to bed and even then he would find himself tossing and turning for hours on end, unable to find the confines of sleep.

But, seeing you boyfriend just, sort of, crumple onto the gym floor? Well, it was not at all what you were expecting from your calm Thursday afternoon. A stunned silence had fallen over the gym, everyone in complete shock that their composed setter just went down as easily as a sandcastle being washed away by incoming waves. And when Akaashi didn’t move for a few seconds? That’s when the mutual panic set in. Sneakers all running over, frantic questions being shouted from the members. “What happened?” “Did he hit his head?” “Should we call an ambulance?” “Is he breathing?” “Where’s Coach?”

You pushed your way through the group of boys, kneeling down next to Keiji’s body. You would’ve loved to have been more help, but the worry took over you and all you could remember from your first aid training was how to properly apply gauze. There was a cool rag pushed into your hands by one of the other managers to be applied to his forehead.

“Keiji,” you say, tapping his cheek with your finger. No response. You can feel your heart pounding in your chest, the desperation rising in your throat as you repeat his name. “Keiji!”

His face contorts into discomfort, eyelids stuttering as his eyes shift beneath them. Slowly, his lids start to open and he’s squinting into the bright overhead lights of the gymnasium. Akaashi pushes himself into a sitting position, taking the cloth from his head, Konoha’s hand on his bicep in an attempt to keep the setter steady. It takes a minute before he even says anything, just taking in the distressed expressions that formed a circle around him. “I’m fine.”

“Dude, you’re really not.”

“Yeah. Fine people don’t just pass out.”

“Akaashi, you should probably go home.”

There was a pounding in Akaashi’s temple, only further worsened by loud echoing concerns of his teammates. He leans forward, his palm rubbing small circles into his forehead to try to alleviate the feeling. Your hand is on his back and Keiji can’t help but to relax under the tenderness of your touch. He felt like shit, truly. His whole body hurt and this creeping wave of nausea kept climbing into the pit of his stomach. No matter how many times he tried, he couldn’t get the world to stop spinning around him. So, when he felt you scoot up beside him, he immediately took the opportunity to lean his body against you, breathing deeply as he tried to ground himself again.

Your hand snaked up to his hair, tangling your fingers into the soft curls. “Keiji?” You ask gently. There’s a soft hum in response to signal to you that he’s listening. “I think we should get you home, okay?”

But, he just shakes his head, uttering again that he’s fine. That he just lost his balance and tripped as if he was blatantly unaware that he had lost consciousness.

There’s a cumulative sigh. Everyone was expecting this response, but it’s only when Bokuto squats down in front of him that Akaashi’s eyes move from where they had been trained on the ground. “I know you want to stay, but, come on, man. We all just watched you go down and it freaked us all out. You’re obviously not feeling good, so you’re either sitting on the bench the rest of practice or you’re going home,” the captain states, an overwhelming sense of concern lacing between his words.

Akaashi wasn’t happy about it, but he let you call his mom to explain the situation, asking if she could pick him up early. There wasn’t much of another option, really. What was the point in staying if he was just going to have to sit out? He already hated that the team was forcing him to sit on the bench while you went to get his stuff out of the club room. He was fine. He could get his own bag, but despite all of his objections, you were passed the keys to collect his things. Akaashi felt like such a child. Everyone looked at him like he was some fragile doll that would combust any second. He couldn’t help but roll his eyes at how out of proportion this whole situation had gotten. It wasn’t anything serious, yet he was being treated like a baby.

But, when it was finally time for him to go, rather than just accepting your hug and small peck of goodbye, he laced his fingers with yours, a small plea buried somewhere behind dark irises. Okay, so maybe he wasn’t being as tough about this whole thing as he would have liked, but he was just desperate to be comforted in the confines of his own bed rather than in the middle of the humid gymnasium.

But, you just kept nagging him.

You kept trying to weasel it out of him, the explanation as to why this happened in the first place. You had felt his forehead. He didn’t have a fever. It wasn’t that hot, so he couldn’t have overheated. It didn’t make any sense for him to just collapse out of nowhere like that. But, no matter how many times you would ask, he would respond with a simple, “I’m fine” annoyance creeping into the edge of his voice with each reassurance.

You should’ve expected the snap, really. He had been irritable most of the day and the incident in the gym only worsened his mood, but Keiji had never been one to raise his voice, especially not at you. So, when the raven-haired setter released a loud groan, hands rubbing his face, frustration echoing in his eyes, that should’ve been your sign to stop talking, just let the subject drop, maybe come back to it when he was feeling better. But, you didn’t. You just kept pushing and it’s not like you wanted to piss him off; you were worried. Seeing him just fall to the floor so easily without any warning had scared the shit out of you.

“Have you been eating well lately? Maybe your blood sugar dropped and that’s why you passed out,” you say as you sit across from him on his bed.

“Please, for the love of God, stop. I have told you at least twenty times already that I’m fine! Stop asking!”

“Keiji, perfectly healthy people don’t just pass out! I just want-”

“If I knew what happened, I would tell you, but I don’t! I don’t know why I fainted. I barely remember doing it, so please, get off my back! You’ve been nagging the shit out of me ever since we got here. If I knew that you were going to be like this, I would’ve just let you stay at practice! I don’t feel well and I just wanted to be able to lay down, but I can’t do that because you’re being obnoxious!”

There was a deep scowl in his brows that you didn’t see from him often. It usually appeared when he was deep in focus, but here it was, directed towards you. It took you aback, the sharp bite of his words. “Keiji, I-”

“No! I’m not going to deal with this right now! I’m tired, Maddi! I don’t want to deal with you right now!”

The flash of hurt across your face brought Akaashi back to reality and out of whatever hellscape his head had been in. You didn’t cry or make any outward sign of being upset, but he knew you by now. He knew that the minute your eyes went to the ground, there was something wrong. You had folded your hands in your lap and he was sure that if he looked away, you would begin shrinking.

“Maddi, wait. I- I didn’t- Hang on,” he stumbles, scooting closer to you in an attempt to comfort you by pulling you into his chest, but rather, you simply shy away from his touch. Akaashi pulls his hand back, looking away, swallowing the heavy lump in his throat. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m just- I’m worried, Keiji. I was scared and I didn’t know what the hell was wrong so I didn’t know what to do. I’m sorry that I annoyed you, but please, I just want to know what’s going on,” you mutter, barely meeting his gaze.

He nods solemnly and there’s a heavy sigh that leaves his mouth. “I think I just didn’t get enough sleep. I’ve been trying to study for finals and, I guess- I don’t know. I guess that I just, sort of, tried to do too much.”

A small gasp of surprise escapes his lips as he’s tugged into your arms, letting him rest his head against your chest, but he’s quick to melt into your embrace, taking comfort in the feeling of your fingers running softly through his hair. “You need to take care of yourself, Keij. I know that you want to succeed and do your best, but your health is more important than a grade,” you whisper.

You can feel him not against you. “I know, and I don’t mean to. I just- It just happens.” He wraps his arms tightly around your waist, pulling you back so that you’re laying down against the mattress with him. Within a matter of seconds, he’s tucked into your side, seeking the comfort of your body against him. “I’m sorry for scaring you and the others. It kind of freaked me out too. I think that’s why I got so mad, because I didn’t really know exactly what was going on either. So, I’m sorry that I snapped at you, really.”

“It’s okay, Keiji. I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have kept pushing you. I’m just really glad that you’re okay,” you say, softly brushing the curls from his eyes, a small smile on your face.

“I love you, you know?”

“I know.” There’s a soft shine in your eyes and you lean down to place a short kiss to his lips. “I love you too, Keiji. More than you know.”

#haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu imagines #haikyuu x reader #akaashi #akaashi keiji #keiji #akaashi x reader #x reader #imagine

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sleepless-in-starbucks · 5 years

Text

Respectable

Logan was a respectable boyfriend. Really, he was. He had a tie, after all. And the fact that he was wearing his boyfriend’s jacket and shifting through the contents of its pockets? Well... he had a reason for that. Totally.

Pairing: Romantic losleep Content warnings: They kiss once, food mentions Author’s note: Shout-out to the ever-lovely and amazing @blinksinbewilderment who inspired all of this with one (1) headcanon/idea and accidentally threw my muse into overdrive

Logan was a respectable boyfriend. He tried to avoid being overly affectionate in public. He made dinners on the nights he was supposed to, and sometimes on others when Remy seemed particularly stressed. He massaged Remy’s back when it was hurting worse than usual (which was nearly every night, but Logan didn’t mind, because within ten minutes Remy always melted back onto Logan and remained aggressively cuddly for the rest of the night, something Logan considered to be a definite positive). He wore a tie. He was respectable.

His explanation for the fact that he was currently pulling Remy’s slightly too big leather jacket as close around himself as he could? Well… it was comfortable. And it looked nice on him. And it smelled of coffee and cinnamon and, maybe, just a little bit like… Remy.

…

It wasn’t like anyone could see him, for Einstein’s sake! Remy was out of the house! He was still respectable, damnit.

That’s what Logan told himself, anyways, as he sunk further into the couch and wrapped his arms around himself and pretended it was Remy hugging him and not just himself. He had been telling it to himself for a while, actually, but he was struggling with the ‘believing it’ part.

Logan sighed and let go of himself, already feeling much too silly as is, even if the only person around to judge him was himself. Instead, he tucked his hands into the jacket’s pockets. At least he could keep his hands warm-

Wait. Logan wiggling his fingers within the pockets, crinkling noises bringing a small smile to his face. He should’ve known Remy would have stuff in his pockets.

With a quick, guilty glance around- as if he might be caught- Logan grabbed at the various items, pulling them out and piling them in his lap. A few of them were just wrappers from some candies. With a frown, Logan pushed them off to the side. He’d really have to talk to Remy about his cleanliness later.

Next up was a crumpled ball of receipts. Logan unfurled them, unsurprised to find them all from Remy’s favorite coffee shop. He didn’t even need to read the order on them to know what it was- a mocha with one to three shots of espresso, depending on how tired Remy was. Logan smiled softly as he checked and found himself, as always, perfectly on-point. He moved the receipts to the trash pile. Remy would have an identical bunch of them within a week.

Logan’s smile widened as he picked up the next thing- it was a piece of paper, torn off of a notebook or something similar. It was folded over, but on the outside was written in Remy’s lazy scrawl, “reasons why I have the best boyfriend in the world- suck it everyone else you’re stuck with b-grade bois.” He unfolded it, still smiling as he read through the listed reasons:

Reason one: He’s Logan. Need I say more

Reason two: He’s super smart. Like, SUPER smart. Beat-a-super-computer smart

Reason three: He has THE most kissable face in the entire universe

Reason four: If I tell him I love him he says it back??? Insane???

Reason five: Gives quality massages, ten out of ten, would recommend, except I don’t, because he’s MINE and as such I am the only person allowed to get his massages, deal with it

Reason six: Soft warm cuddly warm VERY warm soft softie

Reason seven: He’s going to look even better when he’s my husband, which I almost didn’t think was possible but I just feel like… like it’ll be different when I’ve got his name or he’s got mine. Just a feeling. But a good one

Reason eight: Hands down the LOVELIEST blush

Reason nine: A somehow even BETTER smile

There were more reasons on the list, but Logan only got so much further before his brain ran into a metaphorical wall, his eyes scrambling back up to re-read reason seven. And then re-re-read it. And again and again and again for about two minutes before it finally, completely sunk in.

But it couldn’t- it didn’t really- no it- Remy couldn’t- it wasn’t-

Slowly, Logan folded the paper back up, slipping the list back into the jacket’s pocket. He could ask Remy about what it meant exactly later. He was already blushing enough right then and there.

Luckily, there was only one scrap of trash left- another receipt. Logan assumed it was for the coffee shop again, though he still unfolded it, surprised that it had fallen out of the ball from earlier. As he flattened out the creases in it, however, he realized the formatting of it was different from the cafe’s. It looked more… professional?

Frowning in confusion, Logan read it over.

Gentleman’s- Charms, rings, and classy things

Date: 01-21-XXXX

Cashier: Miranda

Transaction #: 552943

Item(s): Ring, model 9277 [special order]

-Size seven

-Titanium, black

-Star sapphire, blue, primary

-Silver flecking [custom done, see record 329943]

-Engraving [custom phrase, see record 329943]

Pricing: Fluctuates on customization. For exact cost, collect receipt upon actual purchase and pick-up of item(s) purchased.

Logan felt his breath catch in his throat. This was… this was a receipt. A jewelry store receipt. A jewelry store receipt for a… A jewelry store receipt for a…

For a ring. For a custom made, carefully designed, clearly tailored for him, ring.

And Logan knows in this economy, with how much Remy makes, there is only one reason he’d spend as much money as a ring like this must cost. And that reason paired very, very well with reason seven of “reasons why I have the best boyfriend in the world- suck it everyone else you’re stuck with b-grade bois.”

Logan… didn’t know what to do. How was he supposed to react to this? He knew, of course, how he’d react if (when) Remy told (asked) him about it, but how was he supposed to react now, with the receipt in hand, saying everything Remy was planning to in much more concise, and much less romantic, terms?

Apparently the correct answer to his question was simply not, since all Logan did after that was… sit. Sit there, staring almost unseeingly at the paper, taking in the words again and again. He felt slightly breathless, which may have come from the fact that he stopped breathing a minute ago.

He was shaken from his stupor by the need to breathe, his lungs forcing in a breath and startling Logan out of his state. He looked the receipt over once more before he stuffed it in his pocket- not the jacket pocket, but his own.

Logan wasn’t entirely sure what he would’ve done next were it not for his phone suddenly ringing. He jerked his head to look at it a little too fast, but that was alright, all things considered. He quickly scooped it up, checking the caller and, unsurprisingly, finding it to be Remy. He took a deep breath and took the call.

“Hello, this is Logan.”

“Hiya babes. How’s my boo?”

Logan glanced down at the jacket he was wearing, thinking about all the secrets within. “Oh… fine. A little tired.”

He could almost hear Remy frown. “Tired? Didn’t you have work off today?”

“I did, yes, I just… didn’t sleep great last night, I guess.”

“Aw, hun.” Remy tutted sympathetically. “You should have told me. I could’ve stayed home and aggressively cuddled you into napping.”

Logan quirked his lips into a small smile. “It’s perfectly alright. I got in a short nap after lunch.” He said, which wasn’t a lie. He had napped.

He had also been napping in Remy’s jacket but that wasn’t something he was going to mention.

“Yeah, but we could’ve napped together.” Remy whined, and Logan chuckled.

“We can nap together soon enough.” Logan pointed out, waiting half a beat before he added, likely sounding a touch whiny himself, “Speaking of, how soon will you be returning home?

Remy laughed, and Logan knew his neediness hadn’t gone unnoticed. “Awww, miss me much?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Logan said. Remy didn’t respond, however, and eventually Logan sighed and slumped further back against the couch. “Alright, perhaps I have missed you. Just a bit.”

“That’s my truth-telling nerd.” Remy said cheerily. Logan rolled his eyes, though he knew Remy couldn’t see him. “And pretty soon. I’mma stop and pick up some Chinese since it sounds like you’re not gonna want to make dinner, and I certainly don’t. And after we eat we can sleep the entire rest of the evening away, yeah?”

“I don’t know, love, that sounds horribly unproductive…” Logan trailed off, not even sounding convincing to himself.

“I promise to cuddle you the entire time.”

Logan let a moment pass before he answered, trying to downplay the fact that he had been ready to enthusiastically agree the second Remy said that. “I suppose that would be alright, yes.”

He didn’t need to see his boyfriend to know Remy was fistpumping in victory. “Yet another win for the gays!” He exclaimed. “I’m going to go get some quality fast food to celebrate this momentous occasion. See you in a few, alright?”

“Got it.” Logan confirmed. “Love you.”

“Love you too, sweetheart.” Remy said, the pet-name sincere, before he hung up. Logan did after, putting his phone back down on the table. He didn’t move for another minute, still enjoying the warmth and familiarity of Remy’s jacket.

The minute ended soon enough, however, and Logan sighed as he reluctantly stood up and shed the garment. He put it back where he had found it- tossed over the back of the couch, clearly left there on accident by a Remy who had slept in a bit too late and had rushed to get out of the house and to work.

He then pulled himself towards the kitchen, pulling out plates and silverware to set the table. He knew they could just plop on the couch, attempting to use their equally poor chopstick skills to eat out of the containers, but the last time they did that they had stained the couch. Badly. And they could only use the ‘flip the couch cushion over’ trick once.

By the time everything was laid out, Logan heard the door opening. Remy was pushing it open with a greasy paper bag in one hand. He smiled brightly as he spotted Logan, quickly closing the door so he could hurry over. He more or less flung the bag onto the table before he latched onto Logan, wrapping his arms around Logan’s back and squeezing him close.

“Missed you!” Remy said energetically. “You and your warmth!”

Logan chuckled as he hugged Remy back. He was just in a t-shirt, and his exposed arms were cold. “Forgot your jacket?” He asked, tone lightly teasing.

“Only a little bit.” Remy responded. Logan didn’t respond outside of another quiet chuckle, running his hands up and down Remy’s back to help warm him up before he released his boyfriend.

“Come on, the food will go cold.” Logan said as Remy grabbed his wrist and refused to completely let him go.

“But can’t we eat and snuggle on the couch?”

“You know what happened the last time we did that.” Logan responded. Remy pouted, but he still let go of Logan, sadly sinking into his seat across the table from Logan. He kept the pout up the entire time they served themselves, it only going away when he finally started eating.

“I love when I’m cold and food is warm.” Remy said simply as he shoveled more rice into his mouth than Logan really thought was healthy. Logan ate slower, not in the mood to choke today, the conversation remaining nonexistent until Remy, finally, took a break from eating to prompt some small talk.

“So, how was today?” He asked casually as he wiped off the mess of grease around his mouth. He then smirked. “Aside from being so sad and empty without me in it?”

Logan scoffed and rolled his eyes, though the gestures were fond. “It was fine.” He returned simply. “I mostly just read. The silence was a nice change of pace from your constant rowdy clamour.”

Remy raised a hand to his chest in mock hurt. “I’m pained you describe my natural noise levels as such! I prefer the term wild. Rowdy’s too undignified.”

“Yes, and you have no dignity.” Logan pointed out.

“I am aware, but we can at least pretend I do.” Remy said, slumping down in his chair dramatically. “Gosh, it’s almost like you love having a chaotic mess as a boyfriend.”

“I do.” Logan said, voice quieting a bit as he added, impulsively, without a first thought and much less a second one, “I’d love it even more if I was married to one.”

Remy raised an eyebrow, tilting his sunglasses down so he could look at Logan better. “Whatcha’ say, darling?” He asked, sounding confused and maybe just a little bit hopeful.

Logan didn’t answer him at first, his thoughts and rationality finally catching up to him and demanding answers from him as to why he had done this. But they were still behind his mouth, which once more started moving without his permission, saying, “I said, I’d love it even more if I was married to one.”

Remy pulled his sunglasses off at that, dropping them on the table, allowing Logan to see now that his emotions had shifted into a mess of confusion, hope, and the tiniest bit of upset. “You gonna propose to me, babes?” He asked, words light though his tone was practically awed.

“No.” Logan answered, watching as Remy grew even more confused. His heart started to hammer in his chest as he reached into his pocket, fingers crumpling around the receipt he shouldn’t have seen but currently didn’t regret finding. He flattened it out before he pushed it towards Remy, watching as his boyfriend’s eyes grew as large as saucers as he recognized it. “I’m going to propose that you propose to me. Preferably sooner rather than later. Or right now. Right now works too.”

“I- you-” Remy pressed his lips together, stopping the stammered words from slipping out as he continued to stare at the receipt. Finally, he pressed his eyes shut too, letting out a shaky laugh. “Damnit Lo.”

“I-I beg your pardon?” Logan asked, feeling relatively shaky himself by now. He was relatively sure he hadn’t always been able to hear his pulse in his ears.

Remy laughed a bit louder, opening his eyes and lifting his gaze back to Logan. Logan gasped a little as he realized that tears had formed at the corners of Remy’s eyes, but he didn’t seem to mind, smiling as he said, “I had it all planned out. Meteor shower in two weeks. I was going to drag you out to the park for a midnight picnic to watch. It was going to be great. I was going to compliment you until you were so flustered you were refusing to look at me, get you distracted by some scientific ramblings long enough for me to get the box open and I- and then I was going to-”

Without even realizing it, Logan was suddenly standing, pushing his chair back so quick he was surprised it didn’t topple over as he moved around the table, Remy standing up just in time to catch him as he flung himself at Remy.

Remy caught him with ease, pulling him so close Logan could have sworn Remy could feel his heartbeat against Remy’s chest. Remy buried his face into Logan’s hair and Logan did the same into the side of Remy’s neck. Distantly, he realized that he had started crying too. Which was ridiculous, of course, given it wasn’t like Remy had even really proposed to him yet.

But he was, he was going to, in two weeks time, during a meteor shower, filling the time with compliments and space facts and ranting and everything all leading up to one thing-

“Yes.” Remy said, his voice only slightly muffled by Logan’s hair.

“Yes?” Logan repeated, torn out of his thoughts and confused. “Yes what?”

Remy laughed again, and it was a beautiful sound, even if it was a little congested sounding at the moment. “Yes, I agree to your proposal to propose to you.”

“Oh.” Logan said dumbly, before the words truly registered and he said, again, “Oh.” He pulled his head from where it had been slotted against Remy’s neck, looking up his face. “When?”

“Well, uh… you said now was good, right?”

Logan smiled. “I did, yes.”

Remy nodded at that, more to himself than Logan. A sheepish smile slipped onto his face as he gently pulled away from Logan. “One moment.” He said before he turned and rushed down the hallway, likely to their bedroom.

Logan made good use of the short time he had to collect himself by shoving his fist into his mouth and squealing into it. Not that he’d ever admit to ‘squealing’ per say. Just… a yell. That happened to be very excited and very high pitched.

He didn’t have much time to contemplate that he was quickly losing the title of ‘respectable’ before Remy was back, a grey box clasped in his hands. He was fiddling with it between his fingers, clearly nervous. He came to stand in front of Logan, fidgeting in place, looking between Logan and the ground.

“You know, I think you’re supposed to get down on one knee.” Logan suggested as Remy didn’t do anything, seemingly stuck in place, stuck in the moment. Logan didn’t blame him.

“I know, I know, I just…” Remy paused, hesitating for a second before he quickly moved forward, kissing Logan on the lips. Logan didn’t react immediately, startled, but he quickly wrapped his arms around the back of Remy’s neck, pulling him close and returning the affection. By the time Remy pulled away, Logan was breathless.

“Wh- What was that for?” He mumbled. Remy laughed, shifting the ring box to one hand as he cupped one of Logan’s cheeks with the other, bringing Logan to the realization that his cheeks were ‘suddenly’ startlingly warm.

“You’re so beautiful when you’re flustered. I don’t even remember why I was so nervous.” Remy murmured in response, making Logan only flush harder as Remy fully pulled away. He dropped to one knee, holding the ring box in front of him.

“Logan Dearest Darling Sanders,” Remy said, smirking just the slightest, though the majority of his smile was still caring, still adoring, still loving, “will you do me the highest honor and allow me to call you mine, legally?”

“And you say I’m the dork-” Logan started, though he didn’t get that far, considering Remy chose that moment to open the ring box. True to the receipt, it was jet black, and a midnight-blue star sapphire was set in the middle of it.

The custom silver job that the receipt had mentioned but not described was also there, however, and that’s what caught Logan- because on each side of the star stone, flecks of silver were placed extremely carefully, in patterns that were more than familiar to him.

“Ursula major and aquila.” Remy said, softly. “Your-”

“My first constellation and my favorite.” Logan finished for him, tone wonderstruck. “You remembered.”

“I’d wouldn’t dare forget.” Remy replied feverently. “There’s an engraving, too, but you don’t earn the right to know about that unless you say yes.”

“I wouldn’t dare say no.” Logan said, smiling and feeling more than a little silly at the echo, but not minding it much as Remy broke out in a grin and reached forward, grabbing Logan’s hand and pulling it closer. Logan knew he was probably going to slip the ring on, to make it official, but Logan let himself completely move with the motion instead, lightly falling to his knees so that he was on level with Remy. He reached forward and grabbed Remy’s wrists, pulling him closer so that he could lean his forehead against Remy’s, because it only felt right to be close in that moment, felt right to leave as little space as possible between them.

“What does the engraving say?” He asked, still sounding breathless, likely because he still was breathless for more reasons than he could be bothered to count.

Remy grinned, not removing his forehead from Logan’s as he pulled the ring out of its box, letting the box fall without a second care. He lifted it up so that Logan could see it, tilting it around so that the light caught on the engraved words. They were tiny, just barely able to fit on, but they did.

I bet you could sometimes find all the secrets of the universe in someone’s hand.

“And I know I can.” Remy said softly as Logan looked away from the engraving, Remy taking the moment to slip the ring onto Logan’s finger. It fit perfectly. “Because I found all of them and more in yours.”

Logan let out a little laugh, breathy and airy and light and not humorous at all but happy, oh so very happy. “Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe.”

“The engravement, yes.” Remy admitted. “The second part? That’s just me being a sap.”

“I think that’s generally allowed in moments like this.” Logan replied, and he laughed, laughed even as more tears fell down his face. “Oh- I- I’m crying again.”

“Y’know what?” Remy said as he lifted up Logan’s newly adorned hand, entwining their fingers, the ring shining like the night sky against his hand. He tilted his head up just the tiniest bit, enough to meet Logan’s eyes more directly, his own shining with joy like Logan had never seen before and he was almost certain he would never see again (except perhaps one more time, one more time in a future that was far away and yet so close, one more time with more joy and love and each other). “I think that’s generally allowed in moments like this.”

Logan was a respectable boyfriend fiancé. It was not very respectable to topple into your fiancé’s arms, crying, and insistently pull them closer to you while they hold you as tightly as they possibly could, also crying as they press kisses into your hair.

But then again, it also wasn’t very respectable to steal your fiancé’s jacket to sleep in, or to rummage through its pockets, or to spoil his proposal surprise to propose that he propose to you because you’re too impatient to wait.

So, yeah. Maybe Logan wasn’t exactly a ‘respectable’ fiancé. But he was a very happy one. And, really, that’s all he cared about.

#don't y'all love what my muse will and will not do for me sdbcshjbcsd #anyways #have this #and btw #there's a lot more going on in this story than the summary says ;)))#losleep #ts remy #ts sleep #ts logan #fanfic #fanfiction #ts sides #sanders sides #the cryptid speaks #blink

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