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wolfstarendgame · 2 years

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Third Time’s a Charm - Pt 2

Part 1

As Regulus makes his way over to the stand next to his bed to pull on his rings and necklaces, his eyes pause on the small polaroid of him and Sirius from when he was 11 and Sirius was 12. Sirius had come home for winter break with an old camera that he had gotten from his friend for Christmas. They had snuck out to the park with their cousin Andromeda to play in the snow. Regulus was hesitant at first but Sirius always broke him.

“Come on Reggie it’ll be fun”

“I don’t know Sirius, what if Mother and Father come back, it’s against the rules.”

“It’ll be okay, I promise, we can make snow angels and snow people, and we’ll have Andy there.”

“... okay” Sirius had always been the one to break him out of his shell, but that was the last night his shell cracked.

Regulus could have sworn the snowflakes were falling stars, with the way they sparkle in the moonlight and how they fall together in clusters. They made snow people in their snow towns and snow angels to watch over them. They had snowball fights and competitions on who could slide down the hill faster, Regulus always won that one.

At the end of the day Sirius had pulled out his camera and asked Andy to “capture the moment”. Regulus could still hear the echoes of their laughs, the biggest smile on both their faces, reaching their eyes, the twinkling snowflakes contrasting their raven hair. He could feel the warmth in Sirius’ embrace as he wrapped his arms around him to keep him warm, feeling himself wish with all his might and on all the stars that they could stay in that moment forever.

But all good moments eventually come to an end, and when they got home trying their best to muffle their laughs so they didn’t wake their parents, they were already waiting for them. They had returned from their dinner early to find the house empty and were furious. You could almost see the rage radiating off their mother in waves, her wide eyes and flared nostrils, the thin line of her mouth and pencil straight posture.

They pulled Andy into Fathers office, he knew it wasn’t good, it was never good in Fathers office. That was the last time Andy ever visited. Next it was Sirius. Regulus had begged for him not to leave but of course he didn’t have a choice. He could hear their voices through the door, he would never forget the sound of their Fathers cane across Sirius’ face. He didn’t speak for a week, too afraid that he would say the wrong thing.

Sirius later told him through tears that they had burned the camera but that he had saved the photo which he gave to Regulus. He had always been better at hiding things.

Regulus snaps out of his daze and grabs his apron. He’s working the closing shift at Broomstick, a coffee shop a couple streets away. When he leaves his room the house is empty, Barty probably off bugging Pandora or Dorcas, and Evan up in his room typing away on his tattered old computer. They have better ones but Evan also insists the computer is magic and refuses to let it go.

They had all been looking for jobs since their move, all of them successful except Barty. Dorcas has been volunteering at the local veterinary clinic. Pandora found a job at a crystal store run by someone named Sybill Trelawney, Regulus had never met her but Pandora seems to like her so that's enough for Regulus. Evan can work from anywhere as he is a writer, and Regulus has his job at Broomstick. He still isn’t sure on why he’s allowed the closing shift on his own since he hasn’t worked there that long but either Hooch was really trusting or they don’t care. In the end he’s getting paid so it doesn’t really matter.

***

The air had turned sharp and the wind had picked up, the trees dancing around him as Regulus made his way to the shop. Regulus never minded the cold, it always cleared his thoughts and the walks calmed him before having to interact with people.

It takes him less than 15 minutes, so when he arrives he has an extra few minutes before his shift actually starts. He quite likes his job, it isn’t anything fancy but he could get lost in making orders and cleaning up, it always soothed his mind when he had a task he could solely focus on. Since this was the last shift of the day Regulus didn’t get many customers, a few students, a couple on a date, and some adults getting a coffee to refresh before heading home other than that it was a pretty slow day. It could be an added factor that there was definitely a storm headed their way and the wind had gotten so bad that Regulus was sure some trees might just snap in half.

There hadn’t been any customers for over half an hour and there was about fifteen minutes left until closing so Regulus decided to start cleaning. He wiped down the counters, stacked the chairs, washed and dried the dishes, all that he was supposed to until the only task left was to sweep the floor. Grabbing the broom from the closet Regulus began, unconsciously humming along to the tune in his head. He barely registered the bell to the front door before he was flat on his back, something heavy on top of him, or no, someone. He got a face full of curls, a mix of pine and cinnamon overflowing his senses causing him to sneeze.

“I’m so sorry, and bless you,” The mop of curls lifted and was replaced with two brown eyes behind slightly crooked glasses, a lopsided grin forming out of new found recognition.

“Hello Mystery Boy” Regulus’ daze was instantly replaced with confusion.

“Excuse me?”

“You do speak English”

“Um, what?”

“Oh yeah right sorry, I didn’t know your name. Or if you were real. So I’ve been calling you Mystery Boy.” Real? Regulus’ confusion was growing more and more every second.

“Why wouldn’t I be real?”

“That’s harder to explain, and embarrassing.”

“Well you’re literally on top of me so I don’t know how it could be anymore embarrassing.”

“Oh uh yeah right sorry.” Scrambling to get off of him, the pink on the other boy's cheeks deepening to a magenta. He held out his hand and Regulus hesitantly reached for it, being gracefully pulled to his feet. “The wind is bloody mental outside, I wouldn’t make it home in this weather so I found the nearest place that I could go inside and that just happened to be here. Didn’t realise you would be so close to the door, sorry again. I’m James by the way.” He finished with a sheepish smile. Regulus had only now realised that James was drenched head to toe. His hair flat on his head, coat dripping on the wood floor, no umbrella in sight. When neither of them said anything the curly haired boy gestured towards the door, starting to move.

“I can go, I know it’s supp-”

“No, no it's okay. Besides if I let you go out there I might as well be murdering you, or at least an accessory to murder, in which I would go to jail. So it’s best if you stay inside.” James laughed, a sound that Regulus found he would love to listen to on repeat if he could.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” After another awkward moment of silence Regulus started to walk backwards towards the counter. He pulled out two mugs and two chocolate chip cookies. James still hadn’t moved from his spot by the door, but his eyes were watching Regulus carefully, unsure of what to do. In the end he made his way towards Regulus, placing his arms on the counter and folding his hands together.

“What are you doing?”

“Making us drinks. Coffee or tea?”

“Um, coffee please, but decaf.” Regulus continued his work, pouring the coffee, boiling the kettle for his tea, and grabbing two plates for their cookies. Once he was done he grabbed both mugs and plates, moving to the table in the corner with two sofas, one red and one green, a small table in the middle. James was at his side in an instant holding his hands out to take a mug or a plate, but Regulus swiftly placed everything on the table and took his place on the green sofa, folding his legs and taking a small sip of his tea, the warmth immediately flowing through his body, a nice refresher for his tired bones. When he glances up James is already looking at him, mouth slightly open. Regulus tilts his head.

“What?”

“How did you do that? I would have for sure dropped all of those.” Regulus shrugged and continued nursing his tea. They both seemed content to sit in silence and Regulus wasn’t about to argue, instead he watched as the drops of rain raced down the window pane. He began to root for the drop on the right, as it seemed to be moving faster and more swiftly. But, just as Right was about to win, Left caught onto another drop of rain and slid all the way to the bottom without interruption. Regulus frowned slightly, moving his eyes to another part of the glass to find new opponents. He could feel James’ eyes on him but he was solely focused on the new race. This time he decided to go for Left, it was a bit slower than Right but it eventually worked its way down the glass until they were side by side. They were a drop away from the finish line when a new drop blocked Lefts path, giving Right a clear line to finish. Regulus’ frown turned into a small smile as the new drop seemingly made Left faster, an extra boost, a helping hand for Left to win the race.

James started to fidget and Regulus finally tore his gaze away from the window. His leg was bouncing like crazy and fussing with his fingers to the point Regulus thought they might break.

“Are you alright?” The other boy didn’t respond, eyes locked on the dancing trees.

“James?”

“Hmm?”

“I asked if you’re alright”

“Oh, uh yeah I’m good, just never liked storms. Too loud, too much.”

“Oh”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine though” Lie.

Regulus had always liked storms, they were a reminder that even mother nature needed to scream. The wind and rain, a comfort that Regulus wasn’t alone, even if he was. He never really thought that someone wouldn’t like storms. But here he was, sitting in front of a boy burning his fingers from all the fidgeting. If Regulus didn’t do anything he was sure the skin would peel right off James’ fingers. But what? They were trapped inside a coffee shop with no tv or games.

Regulus looked around the shop but came up empty, until his eyes wandered to the back corner. Where, hidden beneath the shadows was a rickety piano. Regulus stood and wandered over, leaving the anxious boy behind, to explore. He lifted the cover and immediately sneezed, years of untouched dust now disturbed. Regulus had worked there for the past couple weeks and had never once noticed a piano… weird.

He hasn’t played in a while since they didn’t have a piano at home, but as soon as he sat on the stool he felt as though he was home. The comforting pressure of the fresh keys beneath his fingers, the 16 years of lessons returning at an instant. There may not have been anything good about that house but Regulus could always lose himself in music. The notes became words and the music a story. Regulus hasn’t told a story in forever.

He’s never played in front of anyone before - except for his teacher and parents - not Evan, Pandora, Dorcas, or even Barty. But there’s a first time for everything, right? And James needs a distraction. Regulus doesn’t know why he’s doing this, it’s not like he and James are close, they’ve barely met twice and yet there’s something in his bones drawing him to James, whispering to him that he needs this, and maybe Regulus does too.

The minute he pressed down on the first key Regulus was gone, lost in his own world where the only sound was the wave of harmonies washing over him. He closes his eyes as he moves deeper into the story, the dark tones signifying a sudden danger amidst.

He can feel James’ weight settle on the bench next to him but he doesn’t dare open his eyes, for the spell would be broken and the story would be left unfinished. Regulus’ hands work their magic moving up and down the ivory keys, occasionally brushing against James’ arm but never slowing their pace.

As the story comes to an end and Regulus’ hands finally still he hears a small noise come from the boy beside him. Slowly Regulus opens his eyes and turns his head, coming face to face with the taller boy - the piano bench was really only made for one - and realises that James is now sitting with his mouth hanging open, silently gaping at Regulus. Regulus leans away, staring intently at the piano keys as if they hold the universe's greatest mysteries.

“What?” The question was soft, barely more than a whisper, Regulus not ready to face the ruins of his stories as they crumble with the following words.

“T-that was” awful, horrid, nails on a chalkboard “amazing” It was Regulus’ turn to gape. Growing up it had always been “Try harder” “Again” “Adequate”, never, not once had Regulus been given a “Good Job” “Amazing” “Beautiful”, and here he was sitting in front of a strange boy, albeit handsome but a complete stranger and Regulus is playing piano for him and blushing at his foreign words? Blushing? No no no. Regulus does not blush. James was oblivious to Regulus’ mental spiral and continued his spiralling.

“That was really good, like chocolate chip cookie good. Wait, that's random. I really like chocolate chip cookies. They are the best cookies. But yeah, oh my daisy that was so cool. We have a piano at home but I’ve never bothered to learn, my best mate knows how but he refuses to play. Sometimes I catch him almost looking sad when looking at it. That’s besides the point, I’ve never really heard a piano up close, that was so cool. The most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard. Wait, I want to learn something. Teach me something?” As James finishes his ramble Regulus can feel a small smile form on his face and he mentally curses himself, willing it to go away. Not even a minute after Regulus succeeded it was back, because James has started to pet the keys.

“What do you want to learn?”

“Anything. Everything.”

“Okay slow down, let's start with Hot Cross Buns”

“That sounds yummy” Regulus swiftly ignores that comment, instead placing his fingers on three keys in front of James.

“These are the only keys you need,” when James didn’t move Regulus reaches over and gently grabs his hand. It’s warm, unlike Regulus’ own. His fingers and palms calloused from years of working.

Regulus focuses on the keys, snuffing out the candle beginning to burn inside. They go through the motions a few times before James can play on his own, his face lighting up like the sun, his eyes glowing as he repeats the song over and over again.

When James finally pauses, fingers resting on the keys, Regulus tears his eyes away from the ivory to look at James only to find his eyes already on him, blue meeting brown. They sit like that for a while, just watching eachother, taking in every detail; like the way James’ glasses are always slightly tilted even though he fixes them every two seconds; or how there’s the slightest hint of green in his eyes, masked by the deep brown; the way his nose curves and his hair is always falling in front of his face. It takes everything in Regulus’ being not to reach out and move it away from those perfect, beautiful, deep, brown eyes that never seem to want to leave Regulus’ face. The candle burns, the flame growing taller, reaching every bone and muscle in Regulus until he is sure he’s going to melt. If Regulus isn’t careful he’s going to get burned.

Again.

Regulus is the first to break the contact, feeling too hot under James' gaze. Now back in reality, Regulus realises the thunder is gone and the rain is only sprinkling. James follows his gaze coming to the same conclusion, Regulus doesn’t notice the small frown form on James’ face before it is swept away by a sweet smile, one he thinks he might be content drowning in.

No, no. Stop.

Regulus mentally rolls his eyes before sliding off the bench and making his way back to the sofas. He rinses the cups and plates, plucking two napkins off the counter to wrap the cookies, and grabs his coat and scarf. James is at the door, coat already on and waiting patiently. Neither of them have umbrellas, both taking their chances with the weather. Regulus opens the door and is met with a light breeze. He holds the door for James before retrieving his keys from the depths of his pocket and locks it.

The silence is back, Regulus not knowing what to say and James standing there with a goofy smile on his face. Regulus breaks the silence once again by turning down the street, mumbling a quick, “Goodbye James” Except it isn’t a goodbye, because James continues by his side. After 10 steps Regulus finally stops, turning to face the curly haired boy.

“What are you doing?”

“Walking you home” James, unfazed by the question, responds as if it’s the most simple answer in the world. Regulus stares, head tilted, confusion swimming in the ocean that is his eyes.

“You know I don’t actually know you. You could murder me.”

“You do realise we were just in that coffee shop alone together for like an hour.”

“That doesn’t mean I know you.”

“If I wanted to kill you don’t you think I would’ve done it then, you know, in a secluded building with no one around.” Regulus falters, that’s a good point. Anyway, Regulus could probably take him, he’s fast.

“Fair point”

They walk the 15 minutes, at first in silence until James starts speaking random facts of knowledge and after one too many times catching Regulus' eyes wandering up to the stars James asks.

“You like the stars?” The question is soft, spoken like a secret.

“Hmm?” Regulus looks away from the stars and back to James, not quite catching the question in his daze.

“You like the stars?”

“Oh, yeah.” Regulus’ eyes once again wander up to the city above, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips.

“Can you tell me about them?” Regulus is caught off guard by the question, but he can’t help but comply, the stars have always been a weak spot for Regulus. He starts out hesitant, not wanting to bore the poor boy. But as he continues there are no protests, no yawns, no fake snores so he keeps going. Explaining all of the constellations and how they got their names. Which ones are his favourite and why. He goes on and on until they arrive at Regulus’ little cottage and he pauses in the middle of his sentence, the corner of his lips tugging down.

“Well, this is my home.” James nods but doesn’t leave.

“You didn’t finish telling me about why Andromeda and Canis Major are your favourites.” A sad smile appears on Regulus’ face as all the memories of his favourite cousin and brother come flooding back, he’s quick enough to push them away that James doesn’t notice but not quick enough to stop the pain settingling in his chest like a wound reopening.

“Maybe next time” Regulus whispers as he walks through the little garden and up the stairs onto the porch. As he goes to open the door he’s interrupted by a voice calling out behind him.

“Wait!” Regulus turns back to James, hand hovering over the handle. He hasn’t moved from his spot by the little gate, the streetlamp making his dark skin glow and his hair look like it’s made of gold, “You never told me your name.” Regulus doesn’t hide his smile, doesn’t immediately snuff out the flame in his chest, he knows he’ll regret it later, but not right now.

“Goodnight, James.” He can feel the warmth spread through him as James’ smile grows brighter. He turns the handle and steps through the threshold. Once the door is closed and locked he lets out a long breath, leaning back against the door, letting his eyes flutter close.

“He was pretty” Regulus jumps, not realising he isn’t alone.

“What?”

“That boy, with the curly hair”

“Oh uh yeah, I guess” Regulus could feel the warmth creep its way onto his face but hoped that Barty didn’t notice, of course luck was not in his favour.

“You’re blushing”

“No I’m not” Regulus would die before ever admitting he was blushing.

“Yeah you are… Regulus Black do you have a crush?”

“Shut up, I’m going to bed” Regulus mumbles, leaving the conversation faster than necessary. Resulting in the other boy transforming himself into a witch and starts cackling. Regulus rolls his eyes as he closes the door to his room, Bartys laughs fading behind him. He quickly changes into his warmest pyjamas and curls up in the mound of blankets and pillows that occupies his bed.

That night Regulus dreams of a curly haired boy with crooked glasses, and the prettiest brown eyes.

#jegulus #jegulus fic #regulus black #james potter #marauders #cuties #i love the hc that the whole Black family plays the piano #it's just such an ominous instrument #be prepared for more piano :))) and possibly other instruments 😏🤭#if you want to be tagged lmk #i've never tagged people so idk how it works but i'll try 😃

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kodzuvii · 3 years

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CLUB STUPID [EXTRA: there’s a pretty girl in our kitchen]

PAIRING - suna x fem!reader ft. suna rizu aka the little sister :)

GENRE - crack + fluff

warning - just grammar and spelling mistakes lol + y/n cuts her finger + y/n is implied to be really short + suna is a bit ooc but that’s because he’s a simp for you <3

wc - 7k

SYNOPSIS - Club Stupid, an anonymous podcast meant for the dumb and dumbest to send in unspoken and nonsensical thoughts about issues they face in their day to day lives and for Y/n to speak out and give her opinions and feelings. Normal feelings though, nothing romantic like how she thinks this lazy guy with questionable hair in the volleyball club is actually pretty cute.

a/n: bringing this baby back because we recently hit 5k notes :D this is also my peace offering for my sudden absence on this blog LMAO sit back and enjoy as we catch up with suna and yn as well as witness whipped!suna

[Somewhere at the start of December]

“I don’t understand”

“Don’t understand what?”

“You’re the one who failed your test, why am I the one buying groceries?”

“Because I paid during our last date”

“Rin, I’m helping you study. Does this even count as a date?”

You looked down at your hands that were holding bags full of ingredients you needed to make some sukiyaki. With the boys being on break from volleyball, Suna had texted you after school asking for help to review for a retake on a test he failed.

You had to take a double-take while reading the text because, Suna? Studying? Willingly? A rare combination.

The original plan was to go straight to his house since his family owned a really nice kotatsu table that also acted as a couch. With winter settling in and the weather starting to get much colder, you and Suna quickly realized that neither of you enjoyed going out during this time of the year. Sure, the snowflakes were pretty, but sitting comfortably under a warm kotatsu surrounded by snacks while you tried to get his mind around trigonometry sounded more appealing

Suna looked down at you, “You’re acting as if you’re not craving a hot pot right now,” You rolled your eyes, “I never said I wasn’t craving it, I just know that I’m gonna be doing most of the work because your ass can’t cook” you reasoned. Suna shrugged, “not my fault you decided to upgrade your cooking skills during the past 5 months we’ve been together” You rolled your eyes and buried your face deeper into Suna’s scarf that was wrapped around your neck in an attempt to cover up the blush rising up on your cheeks.

A smug smile came upon Suna’s lips as he watched you get embarrassed. You two were still going strong and had hit 5 months just a week ago. Even though you both had your minor little arguments here and there, you were both still content and happy with each other.

With 5 months flying by, Suna didn’t think that it was possible for him to fall for you even more. By now, you had both settled into a comfortable state in your relationship. Regular dates about once or twice during the week with a couple of sleepovers and late-night facetime calls thrown in between. Since it was colder, he had at least two hoodies on him at all times. One for you and one for him (but he wouldn’t mind if you took both.) He enjoyed seeing the sight of you curled up in his hoodie when you stayed over at his place or when found himself keeping you company as you edited your podcast for the week.

Once the second semester of the school year started, you started to branch out a little bit more on your own and found yourself being busier as you started joining clubs of your own interest.

Sure Suna was a bit disappointed that he wouldn’t be seeing you sitting by the bleachers anymore during practice, but he understood that you had your own passions and needed your own group of friends outside of the boys on volleyball team.

He liked seeing the smile on your face when you talked to him about something your friend had said or about how fun of a day you had after hanging out with them. He had to reassure you many times that he didn’t mind you hanging out with other people at all, you both knew and did your best to balance your time with friends and each other anyways.

Plus, he thought it was quite cute that you’d always give him a quick kiss on the cheek when you’d walk by the water fountain before running off with your club members.

[“Suna hurry up!” he heard Atsumu call for him by the entrance of the gym.

Suna spared him one glance before straightening himself up and lifting his palm off the button of the water fountain. He gave the setter a nod as he wiped the corner of his lip with the back of his hand.

Just then, he could hear a familiar voice calling for his name behind him. Not too long after that, he felt a pair of arms wrap around his waist and a chaste kiss pressed on his cheek. The corner of his lip twitched up and he looked down to meet your e/c eyes. “Hey bub, don’t you have club activities?” he asked. You nodded, still not letting go of his waist, “just wanted to come and say hello, so...hello” you grinned. Suna smiled and pressed a kiss to your temple, “well hello to you too” he muttered before wrapping his arms around you and embracing you with all his warmth.

“Y/n you piece of shit there you are!”

You jumped back at the sound of your friend’s voice from around the corner. You pulled out of Suna’s embrace and gave him an apologetic smile while rubbing the back of your neck, “Sorry Rin gotta run, see you after school!” you didn’t even give him a chance to respond as you placed one last kiss on his jaw before running off to your friends.

Even though he could hear the faint yelling of Atsumu’s voice calling for him at the back of his head, his eyes were focused on the way your face turned red as your friends teased you.

God, who let you be so damn cute]

Suna took out one of his hands from the pocket of his coat and wrapped it over your shoulder and pulled you a bit closer to his side. You leaned into his side and let your hair rest lightly onto his chest.

“You’re so annoying, I’m not making any hot pot for you”

“I will lock you outside of my house”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Stepping inside the Suna household, you were instantly met with warmth. Suna flickered the lights on as you slipped off your shoes. Suna slipped off his own jacket and motioned for you to give yours to him as well so he could hang it up inside the coat closet. You smiled and put the groceries you were holding in one hand and let him help you shrug off your coat.

“Here give me your bag, I’ll place it by the couch,” he said with his hand out. You nodded and handed him your backpack as you slipped on some house slippers and made your way towards the kitchen and settled the bags down onto the island.

As you took the ingredients out of the bag, Suna walked into the living room and turned the TV on to a random show. You were way too invested in deciding which vegetables you wanted to include in the hot pot that you didn’t hear Suna walk towards you with his phone in his hands and the camera app open.

“Babe smile”

“Huh”

Just as you looked up, with mushrooms and green onions in your hand, you hear the sound of the camera shutter go off and Suna snicker. “Cute” he grinned.

You rolled your eyes, “I thought you only took blackmail of the twins” Suna put his phone down and raised his eyebrows at you, “would you rather have your face or Atsumu’s all over my gallery?” he asked. You thought about it for a minute before nodding, “yeah no never mind you have a point” he chuckled and walked over to you and placed a kiss on your cheek.

“I need to grab my charger really quick, you know where everything is right?” you nodded, you’ve been over at the Suna residence before and this wouldn’t be the first time you’ve cooked there.

“Do you need anything upstairs?” he asked. Your ears perked up at the sound of his offer, “Can I borrow a hoodie?” you asked. Suna eyed you up and down, “you’re already wearing one of my hoodies” he stated and narrowed his eyes on the navy blue hoodie over your figure. “No, no, I mean can I wear the really soft one? The black one with the embroidering and cool design on the back” you smiled and gave him a look that you both knew he couldn’t say no for.

Suna knew what hoodie you were talking about, it was a hoodie that you often wore of his that he hasn’t brought to school in a bit since it was in the laundry. “Think of it as your payment for me since I’m cooking you a meal” you grinned. Suna sighed, “fine, hands up,” he said as put his phone into his pocket and made his way over to you.

You giggled and did what you were told and lifted your arms up and watched as he held onto the ends of the hoodie and lifted it over your head. Once you felt the sleeves of the hoodie be pulled off your arms, you put them down and straightened your hair and your shirt and smiled up at him, “thank you~” he rolled his eyes “you’re lucky you’re cute” he muttered and looked away which made you laugh. You made your way back to the kitchen and heard his steps going up the stairs.

You sighed as you eyed down the ingredients, you forgot to ask him if his parents may have wanted some. You didn’t wanna cook too much and not have the means to finish it all but you also didn’t wanna make too little and leave you both hungry. “Better more than less” you thought.

You turned around and grabbed the cutting board from one of the cabinets and a knife from one of the drawers. Placing the cutting board and the knife on the marble island, you grabbed the bagged vegetables and placed them on a clean plate and discarded the plastic in the trash bin beside the fridge. You ran the vegetables under some water from the sink to clean them before placing them back on the plate and setting them to the side so you could grab another pot and start boiling the water on the stove.

You were silently thankful that Granny and Shin had helped you learn how to make a proper hot pot. As you opened the packet of udon noodles, you were too much in your zone to notice what was happening around you.

Your cooking was sometimes a hit or miss and with the day you’ve had, you were hungry, and the last thing you wanted was for the meal you took some time to make to taste terrible and leave you hungrier than when you started. The sound of the TV playing in the background drowned and you focused your attention on the cabbage you were cutting.

You were way too concentrated on making sure that each cabbage slice was the same in length as the rest that you failed to hear the sounds of the front door opening and closing and a female figure walking into the home.

“Nii-san~oh what the fuck since when did you cook-”

The sudden voice coming into the kitchen and cutting through your concentration made you jump and unfortunately for you, your finger slipped off the cabbage and met the blade of the knife you were using.

“Oh shit” you hissed in pain and lifted your finger off the cutting board. However, instead of immediately tending to the cut, you looked up at the figure to whom the voice belonged to.

You looked up and made eye contact with a little girl who was definitely not that much shorter than you. Judging from her middle school uniform, she was definitely between the ages of 11-13. She had brown hair tied into two pigtails, rosy cheeks that were the result of the weather outside, and slim grayish-yellow eyes that were awfully familiar.

Your brain must’ve short-circuited as two and two didn’t click in your head and a good couple of seconds passed as you both stared at each other in complete silence, mirroring the shocked and confused expression both of you had on your faces.

Just as you were about to open your mouth and say a word, you watched her face become completely red and she dashed up the stairs leaving you stunned and completely lost while your finger continued to bleed.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Suna hummed to himself as he rummaged through his closet and tried to find the hoodie of his that you were asking for. He had changed out of his uniform into some more comfortable clothes and had his back towards the door.

“Shit, where did I put it?” he muttered to himself and closed the doors to his closet. Just as he turned around, the door to his room opened making his eyebrows furrow in annoyance at the amount of force that was used to open his door.

“Babe did you need something-”

“Nii-san! There’s a pretty girl in our kitchen!”

Oh, that was definitely not the voice of his girlfriend.

Suna sighed and went back to his task of finding the hoodie that you wanted, completely ignoring the sudden appearance of his little sister. However, a small smile tugged on his lips as he heard his sister call you pretty.

His sister came into his room and looked at her brother in annoyance as she noticed how nonchalant he looked, “hello?? There’s a pretty girl downstairs that is definitely not ‘kaasan so who-” “Idiot. That’s my girlfriend”

His sister blinked at him once,

Then once again,

And one last time just for good measure.

“HUH??” she yelled with a face of disbelief. Suna looked at her weirdly and watched as she flopped down onto his bed with a bewildered expression as she tried to wrap her mind around the new information she was just given.

“You? Girlfriend? For real?” she asked in shock. The concept of her brother actually getting a girlfriend not clicking in her head. “Are you sure she’s not some group project partner or something?” Suna scrunched his face, “Why do you look so shocked, I told you about her before-” “Nii-san I thought you were lying!” she exclaimed. Suna gave her a blank look and sighed, a part of him not even surprised that his sister thought he was joking.

He rolled his eyes and walked over to slap the back of her head, “Stupid. Why would I lie about that” She gave him an exaggerated shrug, “uh because she’s too pretty for you! She’s even cooking for you! I’m calling it right now that she’s too good for you” she stated and crossed her arms.

“Rizu, you’re so stupid I swear to god-” he asked. Rizu shook her head “Don’t blame this on me!” Suna gave her an unamused look, “even ‘kaasan and ‘tosan know” Rizu rolled her eyes, “I thought they were in on the joke too!” she exclaimed.

Suna shook his head but took a sigh of relief as he finally found the hoodie he was looking for hanging on the back of his chair, “You’re such a twerp. Did you at least say hi to her?” he asked as he looked down at her once he got the hoodie. Rizu’s face flushed in embarrassment and she scratched the back of her head, “Kinda I guess” Suna narrowed her eyes as he caught on to how nervous she got. He suddenly got suspicious, “what did you do?”

“Nothing bad! I think? just don’t get mad ‘kay?” Suna already began to worry about what she was gonna say.

“I came in and called for you, but I didn’t know she was cooking so she must’ve been startled and then next thing you know I come in, and we make eye contact and -oh yeah good job Nii-san, you might be stupid but you’ve got a good eye. She’s wow, took my whole breath away you know?- anyways I had to take a sec to admire her, but I think I startled her and I think she cut herself because her finger was bleeding and then I panicked and yeah now I’m here,” she said all in one breath and met eyes with his blank once as she gave him a bright smile.

“Rizu”

“Hm?”

“I’m gonna throw out all your posters”

“Wait what?! No Nii-san come back!!”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

“Rizu say sorry”

Your eyes shifted from your boyfriend who was wrapping a paw patrol bandaid on your finger to the same little girl who stood beside him and was sheepishly looking down at the floor and avoiding all eye contact with you.

Suna sat you down on a chair in the dining room and a part of you was zoning out as you tried to wrap your mind around what was happening. Looking at the girl who has a striking resemblance to Suna, it didn’t take a genius to know that this was his sister. They had the same striking eyes, cocoa brown hair, and she was even a bit taller for her age.

There was no denying it, this was definitely his sister.

But for the life of you, you can’t remember if your quiet bean pole of a boyfriend ever told you of her. Surely you would’ve remembered if he had told you. Did he forget? Or maybe you just failed to notice her presence. Then again you had been over multiple times but you don’t ever remember seeing her.

“Sorry” she muttered quietly and began to play with the material of her school uniform top.

Suna rolled his eyes and nudged her with his elbow, “at least look at her when you’re gonna say it” Just as you were about to interject and say that it was okay and it really wasn’t a big deal, Rizu looked up at you, her eyes glassy and her lip slightly jutting out as she puffed her cheeks, “I’m so sorry! You’re very pretty! My head malfunctioned! Please don’t break up with Nii-san! He’s lonely!” she cried. Your eyes widened, taken back by her “apology” and Suna only rolled his eyes and clicked his tongue in annoyance.

“I-it’s fine really, it’s just a small cut anyways, no biggie Rizu-chan” you assured.

At the way you said her name, Rizu’s whole mood flipped. Her eyes instantly sparkled and she looked up at you with a face of adoration. She wiped away her tears away with the sleeve of her top and harshly pushed her brother to the side making him let go of your hands as he stumbled over. Your eyes widened at the amount of strength inside the little girl in front of you as she managed to push away your 6ft tall boyfriend to the side like it was nothing.

“Really? Are you sure it’s okay? Y/n right? I’m gonna call you Y/n-chan! I think we’d make great friends” she beamed, her eyes still twinkling as she looked at you with an excited daze. “How come we’ve never met before? I thought Nii-san was lying about you. Do you like drama? how about musicals? You can come to my show next week! And are you sure you’re dating Nii-san? You can run now I can distract him for you-” your mind couldn’t even process the words she was saying with how fast she was talking. You felt your palms starting to get clammy and a part of you began internally panicking at how overwhelmed you were feeling.

In Rizu’s perspective, she had always wanted an older sister but was instead cursed with (in her words) a musty older brother. Now that she knew of his girlfriend, she wasn’t gonna let the opportunity slip away. They were gonna become the best of friends. She knew it.

You laughed nervously and nodded along during her incoherent ramble before turning to Suna with a slight look of panic as you didn’t know what to do or how to handle her sudden change of emotions and the never ending fountain of words leaving her mouth.

Suna sensed your need for his help, he knew that little kids were never really your strong point. Along with Kita, you also lived with his little siblings who were your little cousins. They were the ages of 4 and 9 and you often complained to him about how they gave you a headache with how loud and rambunctious they were.

He had to hold back a laugh at how panic you began to look when his sister began to talk your ear off. She kept switching topics and was now rambling on about how pretty you were and asking what moisturizer you used because your skin looked so soft and why you decided to date her brother who she considered looked like a malnourished raccoon.

Shaking his head and holding back a smile, he walked over and flicked his sister’s forehead making her stop midway into her sentence and whine. “The hell was that for!” she cried as she rubbed the sore spot on her head.

Suna rolled his eyes at her dramatics and stuffed one of his hands into his pockets while the other found its way to rest on the small of your back, drawing shapes on the cotton fabric of the black hoodie that he slipped onto your figure when he got back downstairs. “Stop being so rude brat. Relax and introduce yourself first before you start thinking about getting buddy-buddy already” he scolded in his usual bored tone.

You were baffled. Seeing your boyfriend act like a responsible big brother was something you were definitely not prepared to see today.

Hell, you didn’t even know he had a sister until literally a couple of minutes ago.

Suna felt you staring at him and looked down at you with one of his brows slightly raised up as if he was asking if you were okay. Before you could reassure him that you were fine, Rizu cleared her throat and took a step back from you.

She put a hand on her hip while she proudly pointed her thumb to her chest as she looked at you with a confident and prideful smile. “Suna Rizue, Rizu for short, Class 2-B Representative and Vice president of the Nobara Middle School drama club” she exclaims proudly. She flipped away one of her pigtails back behind her shoulder before crossing her arms, the same prideful smile never leaving her lips while her eyes had a flash of mischievousness in them. “I’m also known around this household as the prettiest Suna sibling. ‘Kaasan said so herself” she spoke triumphantly.

You stifled a laugh as Suna clicked his tongue and muttered “dramatic brat” under his breath.

As you felt yourself slowly relax, you stood from your seat, realizing not too long after that you were barely taller than his little sister but chose to ignore that minor detail, you extended your hand out to his sister and watched the way her face lit up. “L/n Y/n, Class 2-5 and member of the Inarizaki art club. While your brother is cute, I have to agree that you are the prettier Suna sibling” you joked and turned to Suna momentarily with a teasing glint with your eyes. Suna only narrowed his eyes at you and furrowed his brows which made both you and Rizu laugh.

You turned back to Rizu and smiled, “It’s nice to meet you Rizu-chan, Rin doesn’t really bring you up much-” or ever “so I’m sorry it took so long for us to meet.”

Rizu shook her head, “It’s okay! Nii-san talks about you sometimes but I thought he was just lying. He’s kind of lame and he zones out a lot so I thought you were just some weird figment of his imagination that he made to cope with his loneliness” your jaw dropped, were kids always this blunt?

Rizu shrugged and pulled her phone out of her backpack, “But whatever, I guess the universe felt bad for him and decided not to make him some lonely loser. Anyways, can we exchange numbers Y/n-chan? I wanna send you Nii-sans baby photos” she smiled and looked up at you hopefully. At the sound of Suna’s baby photos being offered up on the table, you quickly nodded and typed in your contact info into her phone.

Suna’s jaw dropped ever so slightly before scoffing and looking away as he crossed his arms. “Can’t believe my own girlfriend is ganging up on me with my sister” he thought in disbelief.

“Rizu-chan you’re brother and I are gonna make some hot pot, want some?” you asked as you handed her phone back into her hands. Rizu nodded enthusiastically, “that sounds great! Can I help? Please!” she asked in a hopeful tone as she brought her hands together. You laughed and nodded and watched her beam and skip away to the kitchen.

Before following her, you turned around to look up at Suna with a frown on your face and your arms crossed over your chest. Suna looked back at you, unsure of why you were giving him that look. “What?” he asked, which only made you look at him in disbelief at his cluelessness. You scoffed and rolled your eyes before making your way towards him and slapping his arm, “You idiot! You never told me you had a little sister” you hissed.

Suna blinked at you, “I didn’t?” he asked, genuinely confused, while raising one of his eyebrows. You looked at him incredulously and shook your head, “no!” you exclaimed. “God I can’t believe you didn’t tell me” you muttered and looked away, cheeks warming up in embarrassment.

Suna eyed your actions and sighed knowing that he must’ve upset you. If he’s being honest, he didn’t mean to keep you in the dark about his sister. He just always had his mind on you whenever the two of you would hang out so he truthfully forgot about his sister whenever you two were together. He sighed, he leaned back to sit on the edge of the dining room table before grabbing your arm and pulling you closer to his chest.

When you didn’t budge against him, he wrapped his arms around your shoulders and he leaned his head on your shoulders before muttering a quiet, “sorry” into the fabric of his hoodie. A couple seconds passed before you gave in and wrapped your arms around his waist, embracing his warmth.

Truthfully you weren’t upset or mad at him, just a bit embarrassed that you never knew about his sister until literally a couple of moments ago. You remember how nervous you were when you first met his parents and felt all those nerves coming back because you wanted to impress his little sister.

You pulled away first and scratched the back of your neck, “It’s fine Rin I’m not mad. If anything I’m just a bit embarrassed that I never noticed. I mean I’ve met your parents and been over multiple times. Plus I’ve slept over like twice already!” you exclaimed.

Suna moved his arms off your shoulder and used one to support his weight on the table while the other moved your hair away from your face and tucked some strands behind your ear. “It’s not your fault, The brat is always away doing her drama club stuff or whatever so she doesn’t get back until I’ve already walked you home for the night. For the sleepover, I think it’s just a coincidence that she would be away while you were over” he said and you nodded.

Suna stared at you for a moment, he caught onto how uneasy you looked and immediately figured out why. “Babe, don’t worry about impressing Rizu too much. Trust me, she already likes you a lot” he said while using his thumb to rub the side of your neck gently.

You nodded slowly before looking up at him with a confused expression, “how did you forget to tell me huh?” you asked. Suna thought back for a moment before shrugging nonchalantly, “I only think of you when we’re together, the brat is old enough to take care of herself” he admitted bluntly.

Your cheeks warmed up and you chuckled making Suna’s chest erupt in butterflies at the sight of your smile. “Calling your sister a brat is kind of rude you know?” you teased. He looked at you with an unamused expression, “you call your little cousins' demon spawns as if that’s any better” he pointed out. You opened your mouth but quickly closed it as you realized he was right.

Suna pushed himself off of the table and walked towards you and you already saw the mischievous look in his eyes. He leaned down, his lips just barely brushing over yours, “am I forgiven?” he asked in a hushed tone. Your face quickly turned into a bright shade of red once you realized how close he got. While the offer was tempting and his lips were right there, you remembered that his sister was only just a couple feet away from the two of you and you didn’t want to risk her seeing anything.

You didn’t answer and only looked away, flustered, which made Suna chuckle. He pecked the corner of your lips before straightening himself up, “I’ll take that as a yes” he smirked, making you roll your eyes.

Suna then grabbed your shoulders and turned you around as he pushed you into the kitchen where his little was sitting on top of the counter wearing a blue apron while a pink folded apron was in her hands.

She looked up at the two of you entering the kitchen, she smiled at you and noticed how flustered you. She shot her brother a look of disgust. “Ew don’t tell me you were making out in the dining room. So gross Nii-san” she commented as her brother walked towards her to grab the extra apron in her hands.

Suna looked at her with his normal bored and lazy expression, “shut it brat” he said before turning his back and making his way towards you. Rizu rolled her eyes and turned her attention back onto her phone. It wasn’t until she started to hear the two of you banter when she put down her phone in her lap and watched the way you and her brother interacted.

She listened to you ask about what vegetables he would want in the hot pot and watched as he moved behind your back and pushed your hair over your shoulder so he could tie the strings of the pink apron behind your neck.

The sight was strange and oddly sweet. Rizu always thought that her brother would be a terrible boyfriend. He was quiet, borderline lazy, and had no romantic bone in him. He seemed like the type of partner who would do nothing but the bare minimum when they’re in a relationship. He was often annoyed at the sight of other couples and he never had much interest in being in a relationship himself which was partly the reason why Rizu didn’t think to believe him when he told their parents that he had a girlfriend out of the blue one day.

[“Rintarou stop playing around” Their mother chuckled.

“No for real, I have a girlfriend and she wants to go stargazing so I’ll be home late” he said monotonically before slipping on his shoes and heading out the door.

Rizu watched as her parents exchanged a lost expression with a mix of disbelief towards each other. Part of them were surprised, part of them were happy, but part of them didn’t know if he was playing around or not.

“Did you know about this?” Their mother asked their Dad who was grabbing a glass from the cupboard. Their Dad only shook his head, “No. You think that’s why he’s been so busy lately?” he asked only to receive a clueless shrug from his wife.

Rizu rolled her eyes and jumped up from the couch to face her parents. “Come on this is Nii-san we’re talking about. He’s probably just lying. He can’t even talk to girls, let alone get a full on girlfriend”]

“That statement didn’t age well” Rizu thought.

Her eyes followed the way he had the smallest smile on his face as he adjusted your apron, asking afterwards if it was comfortable or if you needed him to adjust it better. Once you told him it was okay, he moved onto gathering your hair into his hands and tying it back with the small black silk band he had around his wrist. Suna placed his hands back onto your shoulders to turn you around to face him. He brought his hand over your face and moved the fly-aways to the side while tucking the loose pieces behind your ear.

After he was done, you stood on your tippy-toes and pressed a kiss onto his cheek and whispered a quiet “thank you Rin Rin.” She narrowed her eyes and had to hold back her urge to laugh at how the tips of his ears lit up into a bright shade of red. It was then that she concluded one thing:

“he’s so fucking whipped” she muttered under her breath.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

“Wait are you serious? He really gave you a can of lemonade for your birthday?” you asked looking up from the meat you were slicing in bewilderment as Rizu nodded. “Mhm! It wasn’t even the brand I liked, it was the generic ones that had too much sugar” she explained as she moved past you to set the bowl of mushrooms she had cut up with the other vegetables.

You turned to look at Suna who was sitting on a stool by the kitchen island with his attention fully on his phone. “Is this true?” you questioned. Suna didn’t even look up from his phone as he simply replied, “she likes lemonade.”

You stifled a laugh at his answer and Rizu only scowled. She nudged your arm and whispered “I dunno how you put up with him” into your ear making you giggle.

Cooking with the Suna siblings was definitely interesting, to say the least. You weren’t surprised to see that Rizu was a complete polar opposite from her brother. Judging from her first words to you, you knew that she was a lot more outspoken than her brother. While Suna was quiet, Rizu spoke as if she had a microphone taped onto her mouth. She was talkative and energetic while Suna always seemed like he was close to shutting off at any given moment.

Their dynamic was different, to say the least. Rizu lived up to the annoying little sister type while her brother looked as if he could care less about whatever she did. However, all siblings had at least one thing in common and between them, and you figured out what that thing was quickly.

They both shared a high level of pettiness.

If one said something the other didn’t like, they’d find something expose worthy to embarrass the other person. It was a constant back and forth of how could embarrass the other person the worst.

When Rizu told you that Suna didn’t learn how to tie his shoelaces until he was 8, Suna told you that she failed her math test. When Suna told you that she once slipped on stage mid-performance, Rizu told you that Suna came to their mother when he needed dating advice.

[ Nii-san shut up! The stage was slippery and my costume was a long dress!” Rizu cried out dramatically. Suna rolled his eyes, “the costumes of your classmates were long but you didn’t see them tripping all over the stage” he teased. Rizu’s jaw dropped, a fire inside lit up as she felt herself getting angry with her older brother. ‘Two can play at this game’ she thought.

Rizu scoffed and turned to face her body towards you as she leaned onto the counter. “You know Yn-chan, Nii-san always asks ‘kaasan about what he should do to impress you! You know that sunflower field date? He and ‘Kaasan planned that whole thing together ‘cause Nii-san is a clueless idiot and didn’t know what to do” You turned your head to the side and looked at Rizu with a curious expression before briefly looking at your boyfriend who had tensed up.

“Really now? Rin had me convinced that he did all the planning himself” you teased as you narrowed your eyes at him. Suna huffed, “she just let me use her card to pay for the stupid tickets, I did everything else.” he muttered.

You chuckled, noticing the way his cheeks puffed out and how the tips of his ears started to turn red. You smiled as you nodded at what Rizu saying, momentarily glancing at him every so often.

How cute.

Suna then looked up from his phone, a devious smirk on his lips as he knew the perfect moment to us in order to one-up her previous statement.

“Babe did you know that Rizu sleeps with an Eren body pillow-”

“shut up!!” ]

It was a never-ending petty battle between the two siblings.

Nonetheless, you could tell that they still cared about each other. Albeit in their own special way.

Rizu rolled her eyes and turned to you and leaned closer, whispering loud enough so that her brother could hear, “Y/n-chan are you sure you’re actually his girlfriend? Like willingly? If he’s paying you then I can guarantee that he’s not paying you enough. Blink twice if you need help-hey!” she whined as she felt a mushroom hit her arm. You both turned to Suna who had a smug smile on his face, “stop talking shit about me brat.” Rizu narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms, “or what Nii-san?” she challenged. “I’ll tell ‘kaasan that you walked home with that boy yesterday,” he shot back.

Rizu’s smirked dropped, “hey! You promised you wouldn’t tell her!” she whined. Suna shrugged his shoulders, “I lied” he replied simply. Rizu scoffed, “I can’t believe you’re dating such a meanie!” she exclaimed and began to angrily stir the broth in the pot.

You watched her actions momentarily before walking around the kitchen island and towards Suna and whacking his arm with a towel you were using to dry your hands. “Stop being so mean to your sister!” you scolded. He looked at you with an unamused expression as he rubbed his arm, “she was mean to me first,” he defended himself bluntly. You rolled your eyes and turned your back to go and start frying the beef.

A comfortable silence came into the kitchen as you and his sister continued cooking. Of course, this silence didn’t last long as the two siblings would go back to their back and forth bantering but nonetheless, there was a comfortable and homey aura in the atmosphere.

The hot pot was coming together and you occasionally would have Suna try the meat and make sure that it tasted okay. Suna may not be the one cooking, but he had offered his assistance early on by cutting some of the tofu and cooking the udon noodles. You and Rizu would trail off and have your own conversation, missing the way Suna would glance up at the two of you, his hands propping up his phone as he took photos of the two of you laughing and joking around together.

The rest of the night went by smoothly. Once the hot pot was ready, you asked Suna to prepare the table while you and Rizu set the food down. Since it was nearing 6pm by the time you and Rizu had finished cooking, you all considered this an early dinner. You sat beside Suna while Rizu sat across from you as you all enjoyed a warm bowl of hot pot during a cold winter night.

Suna watched as you and Rizu talked about a certain anime you both had been watching and took everything within him to not smile at the moment. Seeing you interact with his sister warmed his heart and a part of him was relieved that you two got along well.

He knew that Rizu was a bit overbearing and you weren’t a big fan of younger children so he was worried that you two would clash.

But alas, seeing that two of you laugh together put him at ease.

After dinner, Rizu knew better than to try and third wheel you and her brother. She could see from the way his shoulder kept brushing past yours and how his hands kept getting closer and closer to yours during dinner that he was itching to get any sort of alone time with you.

She could be a little shit and steal you from him during another day.

Before scurrying off to her room, Rizu gave you a high five before exclaiming once again that you’re really pretty and way too good for her stupid brother while also saying that she would text you his baby photos later. You laughed and nodded along and she flashed Suna a cheeky smile before running up the stairs.

Once his sister was finally gone, Suna grabbed your wrist and dragged you over to the kotatsu sofa in his living room and practically dragged you down. “Well aren’t you clingy” you teased as he pulled up the blankets over your legs. Suna rolled his eyes, muttering a quiet “shut up” as he laid down and made himself comfortable under the blankets.

You mirrored his actions, shuffling under the blankets and finding a comfy spot to lay on. Suna’s hands found their way around your waist and he moved you closer to him, letting your head rest against his chest. You couldn’t help but laugh at how clingy he was being as you watched him shift so you were laying on top of him while he hugged you as if you were a teddy bear.

Suna leaned his head back comfortably on the couch cushion as closed his eyes and a content smile came over his face. “You’re so warm,” he muttered quietly. You smiled “I think that’s just the kotatsu heating Rin,” you said quietly muttered into his chest. “No it’s definitely you, I always feel warm when I’m with you” he whispered.

You smiled, not failing the way his words made butterflies erupt in your stomach “how cheesy” you teased while momentarily lifting your head so you could poke his cheek. “Whatever” he sighed, his arms around your waist slowly holding you just a bit tighter. “I thought we were supposed to be studying Rin” you said quietly. “Tomorrow, too comfortable right now” he answered back. You giggled, “you just want me to come back huh.” Suna didn’t even bother to deny, only simply nodding and humming a faint “mhm” before relaxing his body.

A wave of comfortable silence came once again as you two embraced each other's warmth. Your ear was pressed against his chest and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat lulling you into sleep. Slowly but surely you found yourself getting drowsy from your comfortable position and you no longer had any energy left in you to stop your eyes from closing.

Suna wasn’t surprised to hear the faint sounds of your gentle snoring not too long after. For a moment he sat up, careful not to wake you, and he took a moment to just admire you. How soft, gentle, and unbothered you looked in his arms. He removed one of his hands from your waist and gently rubbed your arm, he stiffened for a moment as watched as you shuffled slightly before relaxing against him once again. His body loosened up and a small smile spread on his lips, ‘How could someone be so damn pretty’ he thought.

He admired you for a moment longer. His head replaying the memories you two made in the past 5 months while silently looking forward to what you two had in store together in the future.

He petted your head gently as he wondered starting about what he should do for your 6 months. You’ve been talking about ice skating after seeing it in a movie so he considered that as an option. The idea of seeing you excitedly skating under the twinkling lights of the ice rink made Suna excited. He knew he couldn’t skate, but he didn’t really care. Just sharing the moment with you was enough for him.

Slowly, his own exhaustion from the day soon caught up to him and soon enough he was getting tired as well. He shuffled back down and rested his head on the cushions. He lifted his hands off your waist to adjust the blanket over you two, make sure you were all snuggled up and warm.

Just before he surrendered himself to sleep, he pressed a soft kiss on the top of your head and another one on your forehead. Whispering a faint “love you” before closing his eyes, failing to notice the small smile that grew on your lips.

However, he didn’t fail to feel the heart that your finger softly drew on his chest.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Bonus Scene

“Nii-san can I borrow a pencil?”

Suna looked up from his phone and narrowed his eyes at his sister who was standing by his doorway. Suna looked at her blankly, for a moment he grew suspicious of why she suddenly wanted a pencil but he was honestly far too tired to even try and figure out what she really wanted. “It’s on my desk,” he said plainly as he nodded his head over to his desk on the other side of his room.

Rizu nodded and made her way over to his desk that was placed in front of his window. Rizu came in front of his desk and scanned the surface for what she needed. He had an open notebook with unfinished work displayed in the middle while his pen holders lined up the top of his desk.

Rizu saw a pencil sitting inside his pen holder and reached out her hands to take a hold of it. Just as she was about to turn around and leave his room so she could finish up her work, she noticed something taped on the side of his wall that was being covered up by the curtain blowing in front of it.

While she knew it was wrong to snoop around other people's things, she was empty of blackmail against him and that reason alone was enough for her to justify her actions. She turned around to look back at her brother and saw that he was fairly distracted and took that moment as an opportunity to push the curtain aside.

However, instead of finding incriminating blackmail, all she saw was a picture of you and him taped from what looked like to be the inside of the photobooths at the movie theatres. The first picture was of you two smiling (well more you than him), the second was you kissing cheek, the 3rd one he had pulled you to sit on top of his lap and he was now the one kissing your cheek, and the last photo was the two of you smiling genuinely to each other, paying no attention to the camera as you both got too caught up in the moment.

“I hate how they're so cute,” she admitted in her head.

Rizu’s eyes then drifted from the wall that had a bunch of other taped printed photos of you and him to his window sill where a bunch of little trinkets were displayed along with a singular photo frame.

Her eyes looked over the little trinkets. He had some action figures and random knick-knacks. Nothing interesting in her opinion. “Typical boy stuff, nothing I can use against him,” she thought. Looking past the small transformers' action figure, she kept looking at his window sill until she stopped and stared at a paper box full of little things inside. She squinted her eyes, her eyes having a hard time seeing what it was with how dark it was in his room. She leaned closer and upon further inspection, it finally dawned on her what was inside the box.

It was a bunch of little origami strawberries.

A bunch of little origami strawberries piled on top of each other, some had wrinkled leaves while others had bent corners. Rizu then looked back at his desk and saw a small stack of red and green papers neatly set on the corner of his desk.

“weird,” she thought.

Her eyes shifted from the paper box to the small white square frame where there was a photo of you inside sitting at the edge of the window sill.

Surrounding you were rows and rows of sunflowers that were facing towards the sun. You were clad in a pretty dress with small floral patterns along with a small sun hat on your head that was tipped back so the sun was hitting your face. Your hair was blown back behind your shoulder, your left hand was holding a bunch of sunflowers while your right hand was resting on top of your hat, holding it down so it wouldn’t be blown away by the wind. Your eyes were closed and you had the warmest smile on your lips as you were basking into the afternoon sunshine. The sunlight was kissing your skin so perfectly that she swore you were glowing. You looked so peaceful, relaxed, and content. It was clear that you weren’t trying to pose for the camera, this photo captured you and all your natural beauty.

You looked ethereal.

She looked back at her brother and back at the basket of origami strawberries and the photo frame and concluded one other thing.

“what a fucking simp”

a/n: yes it’s may but this story takes place in december oops

UGH WORDS CANT DESCRIBE HOW SUNA AND Y/N MAKE ME SO HAPPY. DEADASS THIS EXTRA WARMED MY HEART AND SO I HOPE IT WARMED YOUR HEART TOO.

I promised a while back that I was going to make an extra that featured suna’s little sister. Personally, I feel like Suna’s sister with be the complete opposite of him. Hence why I wrote her to be very dramatic and enthusiastic. He’s probably able to put up with the miya twins bullshit because his sister already made him go through so much LMAO

I’m uncertain if this is going to be my last extra for club stupid. I have one last long fic idea in mind but truthfully I’m not sure when I’ll get to writing it </3

Regardless, thank you guys so much for the love and appreciation for this series. It really means a lot to me and I’m glad to see people continue to enjoy it :)

a/n 2: ayo where do i find myself a suna? genuinely asking and in need of help.

taglist! [CLOSED] @aircorumble@elianetsantana @versatilewindow @introvertatitsfinest @aristatrois @mizukisonoda @amberisnotcrazy @kritiiiii @iloveyouasmuchaspoohloveshoney @a-moon-fairy @akaasht @lotusweebs @marvelous-maxi @laughingismorefun @hhmnvm @sweetyrina @honeydrip @miracleboy420 @rachelexe @charsdummb @mjoork @loser-keiji @dinablossom @ntimacy @kac-chowsballs@unhappyraspberry @sbaepsae @doebopeepeebbod @missalienqueen@ssuna @violenthead @unstableye @tycrackculture @a-applepi i @lollyzen @aisawa-reo @ashybitch89 @sunflowerirl @sapphicstarss @melodiamore @valrubiii @urbasicaveragegirl @mint-mai @4kaashl @sugawsites @anngelllla @applekenm @bumblebeesofspace @dreamstormings @milkingkageyama @tsumu-core @luvelyxp @aquariarose

[it’s been a long time since I updated this series so i apologize if I am unable to tag you 🥲]

#haikyuu #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu social media au #haikyuu smau #suna #suna rintarou #suna x reader #suna rintarou x reader #suna imagines #suna rintarou imagines #suna fluff #club stupid

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gucciwins · 4 years

Text

it’s your birthday?

As luck would have it you once again find yourself in a breakout room with Harry

Word count: 3296

A/N: Hello friends, it’s a new semester and it felt only right to continue breakout room, a story that was well loved by you. The inspiration once again came to me during class and also because it’s Harry’s birthday. Thank you to the lovely @soullikestyles for reading this over. Here it is, enjoy!!!

I hope you love this, it is a continuation from Breakout Room

Please shoot me a message of what you thought!!!!

i love you, take care xx

_____

It's the start of a new semester. It's safe to say you did not make any friends last semester due to this ongoing pandemic, but what you did manage to get was a 3.9 G.P.A for the Fall semester. It was probably because you did not leave your apartment, and when you did, it was to go grocery shopping with your roommate, who would be dead without you because, as she liked to put it, you're the chef, and she's the taster.

Well, you maybe did make one friend.

Harry Styles.

He was the person to talk to you during a zoom breakout room in your women's gender studies course.

Sure, you were never in the same room again, but you might or might not have pinned his face during one of the professor's long ramblings that is no longer related to the course.

He was pretty to look at; you would never deny that.

No, with the floppy curls that he almost always seemed to run his hand through, then stopping when one of his rings got caught in a knotted ringlet. His camera would instantly turn off, and in thirty seconds, he was back as if nothing had happened. The glasses framed his face just right, making his eyes look soft and inviting. Also made his dimples stand out. He almost always wore a different colored cardigan. Your favorite from the semester was when he wore a multicolored cardigan. That looks like it was knitted; there was a hole by his heart. Honestly, you were hoping he had, would have made him even more endearing.

Also, might one day ask him to make you one, or he could even teach you. You're a fast learner and have patience.

He's got a great choice in clothing from what you was able to observe in such a short time—also a lovely personality.

After his initial email, you decided to answer, thus creating a chain of messages back and forth. He was honestly funny, and that was just on paper. He had asked for her number and said no, and he respected that. It doesn't mean they never helped each other in the class; Harry asking for more help than Y/N. She sent him over her notes and explained the readings he found harder to grasp.

As soon as finals week hit, she received her last email from him with the subject as Goodbye. It took you by surprise, and you erased the draft you had waiting for him that had your phone number wanting to keep talking to him. Still, clearly, he thought of them as just classmates for the semester, so without even opening his last email, you trashed it.

You felt guilty about it, so you then transferred it to your archives, where it sits with other unwanted emails.

_____

The holidays are over, and since you could not make the trip home, you celebrated with Amy, your roommate. You both help each other buy your family's presents, looking for the best discounts and adding extra items to get the free shipping. Together, well, mostly you as she handed you pieces of tape you wrapped present after present in brown wrapping paper. It was harder to tear and more comfortable to decorate in any way you wanted. On each box, it had everyone's name written in beautiful handwriting, courtesy of you. Then you would add snowflakes or stripes to make it stand out.

It was a success from their looks when each gift was open through the zoom call.

The month break flew by, and the next thing you knew, it was time to be back at your desk for hours of learning. It was fun until it wasn't sure there was a lot to look forward to, but you would miss sleeping all day and eating snacks in bed with no fear of forgetting to submit an assignment.

This semester you had four major courses. Psychology of Personality and Psychology of Aging were the two courses you were most looking forward to. You decided on taking the women's gender studies class called Politics of Sexuality. You had gotten the recommendation from the department's head to take it and did so without a second thought. Yes, fifteen units was a lot, but you were close to graduating, and you knew you could handle it.

The first week flew by because it was merely going over the syllabus. You had your camera on, but you did not bother to look at your other classmates. Sasha, a fellow person in your major, would be your study partner as she had been all semester. Sasha might not always be in the class section, but she did take the same professors and courses. It makes studying and taking notes easier. You know you won't always have Sasha, but having a study partner has ever made you do better.

February 1st. The start of the second week of the semester.

You woke up at seven, got the tea that Amy had ready for you, and were sitting at your desk by eight. Your professor droned on about the first chapter of the book. You felt confident knowing you understood the significant points.

It's 11:30, and your second course of the day is going to start. You were not looking forward to the class simply because Dr. Rossi had warned you he would be putting you into breakout rooms of two. That person would be your partner for the semester. You had a project due at the end of the semester, and he wanted you to be acquainted with someone rather than having a person working alone.

You sat there, Baby Yoda ceramic mug in hand, as you waited for your breakout room to load and to see who you were destined to work with for the next fourteen weeks.

There was a knock on your door that distracted you from seeing the video of someone else load.

"Sorry, I know you're in class, but I was wondering when lunch was to see how big of a snack I should have." Amy shoots you a small smile.

"No worries, Ames, I'm out at 12:45 and will need half an hour to cook, so roughly 1:30. Is that okay?" You tell her feeling a little awful, making her wait.

"It's perfect. Have a good class." Amy shuts the door.

As you hear the click, you turn back to your computer, and they're staring at you in a lavender cardigan with a white shirt underneath is the one and only Harry Styles.

His curls are shorter, meaning he recently got a haircut, and they are just growing back. You wished he had let it grow out, wanting to see how much more ruly they would have gotten.

You feel your face heat up, remembering you did not do your hair, instead of letting it sit messily in a low ponytail, small hair framing your hair. You were sure the black sweatshirt you had one had a hummus stain but too afraid to look down to check. You weren't even aware he was in this class; it shows you should be paying attention more to your classmates.

He shoots you a small smile, and you grimace, trying to force one out, but you're still a bit shocked.

You see his microphone go white, meaning he was about to speak. You leaned forward in anticipation, a bit desperate to hear his smooth accent through your computer speakers.

"Hello, it's been a while." Harry raises his glasses to hold back his hair.

You reach forward and unmute yourself. "Hello, Harry. It has been a while. It's a new year and everything." You joke.

He chuckles, scratching his chin. You aren't sure what to do; it was never this awkward the first time you chatted.

"Guess we're partners, huh."

"Apparently." You sigh, a bit loud, forgetting he can hear you.

"Ouch, don't need to sound too excited." He tells you not at all hiding his frown.

"No, I didn't." You stop not knowing how to go back from that. "Sorry, that was rude of me."

He nods, not saying anything more, and you take it as a sign to continue.

"I-i, well, after our last class ended, I figured that was that. You said goodbye in the last email, so I figured that was the end of our friendship, if you can even call it that."

"I thought my email would give the opposite impression, but not everything can translate as smoothly when talking." He tells you, which causes you to pause.

"Your email literally said goodbye," You blurt out before you can stop yourself.

He hides his smile, "My subject said goodbye, the content said quite the opposite. You did read it, right?"

You duck your head, not allowing yourself to meet his eye even through a computer screen, too embarrassed to be caught. "Well, no, I didn't. Hurt my feelings, just seeing the goodbye." You look up and see his eyes soften, giving you just a bit more courage to continue. "I've always struggled to make friends, I have like three good friends, and it's hard putting myself out there, and I didn't actually if you considered me a friend or not."

"Y/N" He breathes out your name.

You stop him before he can continue. "Do you mind if I read it now?"

Harry shakes his head.

You restore down the zoom and open up your Gmail on the split-screen. You find it reasonably quickly; you look up at him to see him patiently sitting back chipping at his nails. They are a pastel yellow; it makes you smile, knowing just yesterday you went from that color to a deep red.

[email protected]

Subject: Goodbye

Y/N,

It's been enjoyable emailing back and forth. I honestly would not have passed this class without you. I think you are brilliant and if I had you in every course, I would finish with A's in them all. So, thank you for having the patience to teach me.

Also, thank you for being my friend. I know we mostly talked about school work. Still, you did help me decide on what coat to buy for my sister, so I know that makes us friends, and I did help you get that switch for your little brother. (That was like trying to buy floor tickets for Lady Gaga.)

On another note, after emailing for twelve weeks, I was wondering if I could have your number. I would like the chance to give you a call and formally ask you on a date. I know we're in the middle of a pandemic, and dating is hard, but we can do zoom dates before we try in person.

I understand if it's a no, but I am really grateful to have met you.

Your friend (although I do want to try to be more)

Harry Styles

City Pointe Apt 32 (in case you want to send a care package, I would gladly return the favor)

"Oh, Harry," You inhale, "I'm so sorry."

"No worries." He shrugs.

You pause, thinking your next words. "I live in Rose Villa." Those were not the words you wanted to say, but you don't take it back.

"That's across the street from my building." He gasps. "We could have run into each other."

You nod. "Small world."

Harry brings his focus back to something you skipped over. "I realize you didn't mention the part of asking you on a date."

"Oh, I figured you over that now. It's been well over a month since I ignored your email." You grimace, starting to feel awful about it all over again.

"I guess it was email abandonment this time." He jokes.

You laugh, and it gets Harry laughing as well. He was always good at that, making you laugh and not be so serious even if he didn't know it.

"Y/N," Harry's voice was strong, no signs of laughter in his trace. You lock eyes as best you can through a computer screen. "I would still very much like to take you on a date."

A date with Harry.

You want to say yes, but it's like you're frozen.

"Can I say something else before you give me an answer?" You nod, waiting for him to go on. "Sarah Jones, do you know her?"

Sarah Jones, you rack your brain trying to place her.

The theater composer. She's written original tracks for the theatre department for the original plays they've done and remakes. She's won countless awards.

Sarah even won the talent show. Played a killer drum solo that no one else could ever think of topping.

If you're honest, she's the definition of your girl crush.

"We follow each other on social media. We met at a paint night; she was really easy to talk to." You tell him, remembering how sweet she was to you when she saw you walk in, and just as you were about to walk out, she introduced herself to you, asking to sit with you.

He nods. "Sarah is my roommate's girlfriend. Mitch and Sarah practically live together; he's so in love with her it truly is the sweetest thing. Back to the point, she overheard me talking about you to Mitch and spoke how she knew you. Then I proceeded to stalk your Instagram on her account. I hope that's not weird."

You laugh, and it causes Harry to calm down, "Not weird at all. I would have done the same thing, but as you can see, I rarely upload anything."

"Well, the things you do have, I think, are wonderful." He rambles on explaining how your beach photo on a bike with a pretty pink basket was one of his favorites and how cute you look wearing sweaters.

As endearing as Harry was being, you decided to put him out of his misery. "Harry," you interrupt.

"Yes."

"I'd love to go on a date with you."

"You would?" He gasps in surprise.

"Yes."

"That's fantastic. I think this is the best birthday gift I could have received." He tells you, but you're stuck on the last thing he said.

"It's your birthday?"

Harry smiles sheepishly. "Yes."

"Happy Birthday, Harry." You tell him softly, a big smile on your face.

A blush overtakes his face; you can tell he wishes to cover up his face with hands but holds back from doing so. "Thank you."

"Do you have any plans?"

"No, well. Mitch and Sarah are coming over for lunch in a bit. Then they are off to study at Sarah's for the week. Her roommates are gone for the week."

You frown, not liking that he'll spend the rest of his birthday alone.

"Would you-never mind" You stop yourself from being able to invite yourself over to celebrate with him?

"Hey, it's okay. Whatever you wanted to say, I wouldn't judge you, love." His voice was soft and reassuring.

"Well, I'd love to come over and hang out with you if that's okay. I can make us dinner, I make delicious enchiladas. Also, my carrot cake is to die for."

Harry is surprised at her offer but nods his head quickly. "That sounds wonderful, but you don't have to cook for me. We can order takeout."

She shakes her head. "Consider it my gift to you."

"Well, okay. Is six okay for you?" He bites his lip, not believing this is happening.

"Perfect."

You sit there smiling at each other.

When a message pops up overhead, "You have five minutes left before we join back as a group."

Your eyes go wide, having forgotten you were in class. "We didn't even discuss the assignment."

Harry shakes his head in laughter, a smile spreads over your face. He has an adorable laugh that just rings through your ears, and you can't wait to hear it in person.

"We've got time, now that it seems we'll be getting to know each other better."

You relax, settling a bit, you have weeks before the assignment is due.

"I'll email you my number, love. Easier to communicate for later."

"Sounds great." You respond.

_____

It's five-fifty, and you're standing outside his door. You're more than a little nervous. You're wearing high waisted jeans paired with a black off the shoulder top with floral embroidered sleeves. You decided against a sweater knowing the short walk would keep you warm enough. Your mask is red, with three small hearts stitched on the lower right side. Perfect for February.

You shift the items in your hand to the right and lift your hand up to knock. After three gentle knocks, you hear footsteps and take a step back.

"Hi," Harry breathes out, a big smile on his face.

"Hello, Harry, happy birthday."

"Thank you." He smiles wide, blessing you with his dimples. Definitely look better in person. "Please come in." He grabs some of the items from your hand and allows you to step in before locking the door behind you.

"Your mask is lovely. Did you make it?"

"I did!" You share excitedly. "My roommate, Amy, and I spent lots of our free time making a different kind. We took old shirts we no longer wanted and used for the material. It was a lot of trial and error, but we're pretty solid at it now. My embroidery could use some work, but I think it's lovely.

"It really is. Would you make me one?" He asks, staring at you as you pocket your mask. No longer needing it in his home.

"Yes, I'll send you pictures of the fabric I have, or you could come over, and I can teach you as well." You tell him, excited at the prospect.

"Sounds like a wonderful date." You nod, feeling your body get warm at the word date because today could also classify as a date.

Harry knocks you out of your head when calling your name. "Turned the oven on like you requested." He informs you.

"Thank you, my mom showed me how to make them, but I learned about the melted cheese on my own. She wasn't a big fan of it, but everyone else I know loves it, so I hope you will as well."

Harry grabs your hand and gives it a squeeze. "I'm sure it's wonderful." He bumps your shoulder gently. "Go finish up; I'll set the table."

He pushes you into the kitchen, and you go in and place your stuff. Harry is whistling, settling down on the table two glasses and two forks when you turn back around towards him.

Harry turns around just in time for you to wrap your hands around his waist. You fit perfectly in his arms, taking in his musky scent. "Happy birthday, Harry." You whisper against his chest.

He squeezes you tighter, leaning his head on top of yours. "Thank you, love."

He pulls back, holding you by your shoulders. A big smile on his face, you reciprocate it feeling his happiness warm your heart.

"Run along now; I'm starving." He jokes.

You walk backward, creating distance; as his left-hand trails down your right hand slowly until he's touching your fingertips, do you pull away. Although you, more than anything, wanted to hold his hand. You want to feel the weight of it in yours; you want to know if his hands are soft or calloused. How cool his rings will feel against your palm. All in due time.

"I'm happy to be here."

"Me too, love. Me too."

It's safe to say you were more than luckily going to have yourself a valentine for the first time in a long time.

#harry styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #fluff #harry styles fluff #zoom university #zoom online #harry styles writing #harry styles uni #my writing #harry styles fanfic

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some-kindofgnome · 4 years

Text

for auld lang syne

“And then I woke up in the hospital alone, and I saw the doctor alone and took a taxi home alone. I went to physical therapy alone and saw my counsellor alone. Whatever you thought, Katsuki, whatever you believed made me spend six months staring at my phone and thinking I’d ruined everything.”

It’s time for your agency’s extravagant New Years’ Eve party. But after a little sabbatical, there are some things you’re not ready to come back to.

characters: katsuki bakugou x f!reader

wc: 7.2k

warnings: smut (18+ please!) aged-up characters, pro hero!bakugou and pro hero!reader, mentions of injury, near-death experiences and gunshots, smoking, drinking, angst with a (filthy) happy ending, me being a whore for glamorous new years’ parties

notes: This fic has been dragging me across the coals since Christmas- I could not get it out of my head, despite how much work I knew it would be to get it out on time. Still, it feels supremely worth it. I have a metric ton of love to give to @hoe-doroki for beta-ing this mammoth on such short notice (I dumped it in her lap at 4am) because she really helped me whip it into shape. As always. 💖

Happy New Year, everyone.

(MASTERLIST)

“Won’t be long now.”

Anxiety bleeds into the already-nervous voice of your driver, muffled by the plexiglass divider that separates you. You’ve been sitting in bumper-to-bumper traffic for the past four red lights, barely inching toward the intersection with every green.

You’re well past fashionably late at this point. You’re sure that the commissioned driver’s fearing for his job at this point, knowing exactly how long ago you were supposed to have arrived at your own party.

But you couldn’t care less. The longer it takes you to get there, the better. The vodka you’d downed neat, standing over the bar cart in your polished apartment, sours in the pit of your stomach. And the fact that your outfit barely allows a spare breath isn’t exactly cooling your nerves, either.

You’re draped over the door, resting one elbow on its edge to cushion your jaw as you lay your forehead against the chilly glass. Outside, the crowded traffic casts a golden warmth over the bluish urban night, betraying the slow swirl of fluffy snowflakes that drift lazily into the street.

Tonight has all the makings for an ideal, albeit bitterly cold, New Year’s Eve. But if it were up to you, you’d be watching all the wonder unfold from the comfort of your own bed.

You’ve been away long enough, though, says your agent. It’s time, says your manager. You stay away from the spotlight for too long and we’re going to forget about you, says the Internet.

The glittering gold fabric your stylist presented you with would’ve swelled your heart on any other occasion. He knows your taste to the button. And after breaking into exhausted sobs at your first fitting together, you’d been able to tell him that the outfit was perfect.

At long last, the glossy windows of your agency loom outside. You push the backseat door open before your driver can even kill the engine, stepping out as gracefully as you can muster and pulling the folds of your designer coat demurely closed around your glamorous party clothes. You’re greeted by swaths of flashbulbs and determined shouts of your hero name, and suddenly the practiced gracious smile that you’ve always saved for the cameras is stretching your lips one more time.

You used to love something about this. But you’ve almost never had to face it alone.

Inside, the party’s taken off without you. Your coat’s taken before you can even see who’s hands are slipping it deftly off your shoulders, but by the time you’re ushered into the elevator and sent all the way to the top floor, you’re already sweating with the anticipation of all that’s waiting for you.

The doors open to a rush of guests, each noticing you simultaneously and pushing in to greet you.

Arriving late does absolutely nothing to dissolve the grandness of your entrance. Your attention is immediately pulled in a handful of different directions as celebrities and dignitaries and politicians shake your hands and congratulate you. People you’ve never met are telling you how good it is to see you on your feet again and, despite the overwhelming distractions, you can’t stop searching the crowd.

You don’t want to let yourself search for somebody in particular, but you spot him long before your shame catches up with you.

It’s not a glimpse of his mussed hair you catch, bobbing through the crowd. Nor is it a slip of the edge of his suit, the most devastating shade of midnight blue you could have possibly imagined.

Your eyes, like magnets, are drawn right to his crimson gaze. Lightning shoots through your chest, and you look away so fast you nearly pull a muscle in your neck. You cast your gaze immediately to the red-faced MP in front of you and let yourself stare. Still, from the corner of your eye, you can see the way he lingers, still facing you.

You haven’t seen Katsuki in months. Luckily, your ability to multitask has not faded, and you make easy small talk with the mayor and his wife while you sense him, in all his midnight splendor, disappearing into the crowd again.

A close call. Too close, in fact, not to warrant a drink. You excuse yourself kindly from the mayor’s attention, cutting through the glamorous partygoers until you reach the bar at the center of the room. It’s crowded, but you grab the bartender’s attention quick enough and order the first of many glasses of Dom Perignon.

The agency knows how to spend, for a special occasion.

It’s while you’re trapped at the bar, waiting for that imperative first drink, that he corners you. You spot him an instant too late, sidling between two dancing couples and crossing the short distance between you. There’s no way to skirt subtly away from him now. Instead, you lean more fervently across the bar and immerse yourself in an intense examination of the liquor, shelved decoratively behind the working bartenders.

He hesitates—possibly for the first time ever—but you’re determined not to watch as he searches for the right way to bridge the silence. You spot the way he stuffs his hands into his pockets, and when he finally speaks it’s low and sharp and bitter.

“That’s a nice dress.”

He has to lean too close to make his voice heard, speaking low and gruff to you in a way he never used to. You’re too anxious to care whether he sees the way you close your eyes to dull the fervent ache that flares in your chest.

He’s not allowed to say things like that to you. Not now.

“Listen.” He doesn’t wait for you to answer, pushing ahead.

In the throes of closeness, it’s easy to pick up the tremor in his voice. That kind of shake used to scare you. It’s the way he’s always spoken to you when he’s keeping his temper at bay in public.

He’s opening his mouth to say something else, something deeper and far more expository perhaps, but your champagne arrives with no moment to spare. You pluck it eagerly from the bartender’s fingers with an exceedingly gracious smile and turn quickly in the direction you swear Katsuki’s not blocking.

“Watch it.” He grabs your wrist to keep you from sloshing half your fresh champagne down your front. His touch sears hotter than you’d dreaded, and you can’t stop yourself from flinching at the rough brush of his calloused fingers over your tender inner wrist.

Fuck.

“Don’t run off,” he insists, squeezing your wrist just a little tighter. Your entire body is drawn tight like a bow, but you’re not actively searching for an escape route at this point. Sensing this, he slowly unwraps his fingers, dropping your hand and letting you down half your drink in a couple of parched gulps.

“You look…” you start to say, letting your eyes wander his immaculate form one more time. Whoever cut that suit for him knew his shape well. It fits perfectly. Contrasts his golden hair like the night behind a harvest moon.

Absence has not culled your feelings for him. Especially not when he comes back to you like this.

You take another long, slow sip, ignoring the way Katsuki’s brows shoot toward his hairline when you nearly empty the glass. His gaze darts to the narrow flute in your hand, the prints of peachy lipstick that mar it.

With your heart beating a touch slower, you try again.

“You look good.”

Katsuki rolls his eyes.

“I can’t—” he starts, shaking his head as his eyes swim the crowd. “I’m not doing this.”

“What?” Your stomach drops. When he looks at you again it’s dead straight, burgundy and blazing in that way that used to make you molten.

Now it makes you want to cut and run.

“I’m not gonna fuckin’ play nice, like this,” he pushes. He takes a step toward you, letting your name—your real name—fall from his lips as tender and soft as a prayer. “Explain to me why my agent had to tell me you were gonna be here tonight.”

“Katsuki,” you plead quietly, backing away from him a touch. “I don’t want to—I can’t. Here. Please.”

For a million other people he might press on. He might get angry and demand an answer, threaten anything it takes to solve the puzzles in his brain. For you, his strong jaw ticks and he shoves clenched fists back into his ironed pockets.

“Let’s just,” you begin, “make it through to midnight, okay?”

“Fine,” he bites, but he doesn’t like folding to you. He gets you back by clearing his throat and extending you a palm, drawing the attention of the people around you. They turn, charmed by the agency’s finest reappearing as the duo they’ve always adored.

There’s a glint of something in his eyes as he gives his chin a little jut toward the dance floor.

“Dance with me, then.”

You’ve been to hundreds of opulent agency spectacles together. Charity benefits, galas, holiday parties and the like have always been studded by your presence. But no matter how many times you’ve entered the party together, you never managed to get him onto the dance floor. Despite your whining and pleading and fussing, he’s never ever let you drag him out there.

So this feels like a particularly low blow. But the orchestra’s struck up a dreamy rendition of The Way You Look Tonight and there are too many people watching for you to turn him down.

Instead, you down the rest of your champagne, set it on the bar behind you, and slip your hand defiantly into his.

“Fine.”

His fingers close gently around your palm and he gives it a lingering squeeze that turns your blood to venom.

You’re already racing through a complex plan to survive this attention as he walks you onto the dance floor. Some of the other couples pause in their swaying to send a smattering of applause over the crowd. You can feel the winning smile tugging at your mouth, forcing you to swallow the panicked ache in your chest.

Katsuki pauses at the center of the dance floor and pulls you slowly closer. The low dip of your gown places his warm hand on bare skin when he settles it in the small of your back, and you’re sure he doesn’t miss the sharp little suck of breath that you’re not prepared to hide.

He does not try to speak, so you’re silent as you settle a shaky hand on the shoulder of his perfect suit. He’s as perfect a dancer as you’ve always known he’d be, and he leads you into a smooth little sway that’s easy enough to navigate in your precarious gold heels but sweeps you into the music like a scene from years gone by.

“Hey,” he grunts a few bars in, ducking a little closer as his fingers press into the bare skin of your spine. He pulls you against him, forcing your tense body against his. The gentle dip of his hairstyle brushes your temple as he leans forward to murmur in your ear. “You’re holding your breath.”

You deflate against him, letting your eyes fall shut. When you take your next careful inhale, your head is filled by the heady, smoky scent of him. Your heart pounds so forcefully it’s practically blinding you. But above all else you hate yourself for still feeling all of this, after so many months of promising to force it away.

Katsuki knows you well enough not to try and trap you in conversation in public. But he doesn’t pull back any further, continuing to hold you flush against him, letting your soft cheek brush his with every couple of steps.

Despite your best efforts, you’re drowning in him: the strength of his touch, the fluidity in his movements. His thumb strokes the base of your spine with an easy rhythm that you’re trying hard not to notice. It’s becoming too much. He’s holding you closer than a colleague should, tucking his nose too attentively against the side of your head for a courtesy dance. You’re overthinking too many of the signs. You’re letting yourself believe what should have been thoroughly dashed to pieces so many months ago.

It’s when tears well behind your glittery eyelids that you put a stop to it.

“Katsuki, I—” You can’t finish, pushing yourself sharply away from his chest. Whatever expression of dreamlike peace that had touched his eyes fades quickly as he sees the telltale wet sparkle in yours, and he reaches for you an instant too late.

He calls your name softly, fingertips brushing the edge of your upper arm. But your tears are spilling over and you’re backing away and you cannot be here anymore, not when people are starting to see.

“I can’t do this,” you plead. “I can’t pre—I’m sorry.”

With a final shake of your head, you turn and hurry clumsily from the dance floor, pulling up the beaded skirt of your heavy gown and sweeping, as quickly as possible, to the glass doors shut tightly against the imposing snow on the terrace.

It’s bitterly cold, nearly fifty storeys up, and the wind whips mercilessly past your bare arms with biting chill. You can’t stay out here long, but it still feels better than the alternative.

With shaking fingers, you dip into the tiny bag you’ve been wearing over one shoulder. You’ve stashed exactly one emergency cigarette in its silky depths. You haven’t smoked in weeks, but something told you that tonight would beg one.

You have to back away from the railing to even light it in the wind, but you’re barely two puffs in before the door behind you opens carefully.

It’s the last person in the world you hoped for. And the only one you can imagine finding you out here. He’s got a glass of something neat in each hand—amber in one, clear in the other. He spies the cigarette in your fingers and his soft, concerned expression melts into a scowl.

“You’re still smoking?”

You take a defiant drag, blowing the smoke in his direction. The wind catches it, carrying it in a sharp curve back over your head. Katsuki licks his lower lip, but you can tell by the way his nose twitches that he’s trying not to chuckle.

You nod toward the whiskey in his right hand. “How many of those have you had tonight?”

“Not enough,” he quips. He nods toward the cigarette. “Put it out.”

“You don’t get to order me around anymore.”

“I said put it out.”

Your livid soul wants to defy him. You’re craving the conflict that inevitably comes when you both dig in your heels. But you’ve got no energy left to fight, so you flick the smoke dejectedly onto the wet pavement and crush it under one delicate pump.

“Better?” The attitude cuts cruelly through your voice. Katsuki just pushes the other glass into your hand and you know that it’s gin before you even have to smell it. You roll your eyes.

“The healthier alternative,” you snarl, but he’s finished with your games.

“Come inside,” he prompts. “You’re gonna lose your nose out here.”

“I’m not sure that’s your problem any longer.”

“What the hell’s wrong with you? Why are you talking like that?”

“Like what? Katsuki, I wanna hear you say it.”

He’s throwing back an irritated slug of his drink, but he bristles, gesturing wildly with the cup.

“Like we’re not gonna be partners anymore.”

His voice is punctuated by a horrible, involuntary sob that breaks from your lips. He’s always been able to read you so well, picking up on things that you’re not even ready to acknowledge. But he’s right. That is how you’ve been speaking, because you can’t even imagine standing next to him in a photo right now, let alone letting him take your life into his hands.

Katsuki moves forward, shocked by your tears, but you hold your empty palm out straight and, like he would only for you, he relents.

“Because I don’t think we can be anymore.”

“Shut up. Look at you. You’re fine. You look…” his eyes cast briefly over your form, “fine.”

You clap a hand protectively to your abdomen, remembering the painful tug and knowing that he’s missing the point.

“That’s not why,” you snap through your tears. “That’s not even…close to why. Katsuki, don’t be dense.” Your voice is breaking because you’re about to say it, the thing you couldn’t even bring yourself to feel as you were zipped into your gown earlier tonight. And if you’re going to say it, there’s no point in doing it with gusto.

Might as well go out like the whimpering fool you are.

“I can’t do this anymore,” you whine, “because somehow, despite my best efforts, Katsuki, I fell fucking in love with you, so hard, and you knew I did, and so you…you don’t. You don’t, and I’ve ruined everything, and that’s fine, but I—”

He pulls your name from the very depths of his chest. If you were expecting fire and brimstone, you’re met with an even more harrowing sight—soft, somber, remorseful Katsuki, looking at you like he’d stop the world on its axis if it would make things better.

The memories are too easy to reconjure, and the sunshine of that sticky summer afternoon that changed everything lights up behind his gaze.

There was a crime syndicate you’d been uprooting for months. An underground hideout tucked well away from the prying eyes of hero society. A stray spray of bullets—bullets, of all things, finding the gaps in your shattered armour and nearly taking you from him.

You’d been sure. Both of you. There were too many shots. There was too much blood. The hideout was too well-hidden for anybody to find you in time. Your vision was bleeding out around the edges, and you saw Katsuki cry real tears for the first time.

In a slurred heap of breathless prose, you’d unloaded everything. The most important secret you’d ever kept from him came spilling from your blood-tinged lips.

You were glad to go, if it meant you never had to lose him. Glad to be the one to selfishly leave him behind. You were going to be okay if you never had to face a world without him in it. Because—and you’d choked this on a fresh wave of blood and ungraceful spittle—you’d loved him as long as you’d ever known him.

Six days later, you woke up alone in the ICU. And that was the last you’d seen or heard or known of the man who’d once promised to have your back, always.

Katsuki silently finishes his drink. His cheeks and nose have flushed deeply from the ruthless chill, and he turns to give the city one last glance before moving toward the door.

“Come inside,” he gruffs. Deep shivers have broken out along the column of your spine, but you wrap your frigid arms around yourself in protest.

“I’m not going back in there.” Not like this.

“Idiot,” he snaps softly. “Look at you. You’re gonna die for real if you stay out here.” He tightens his jaw and slams the empty glass down on the windowsill. Then he looks at you with all the lights of the night blazing in his crimson stare.

“Let me take you somewhere quiet. No one’s gonna see.” His chest rises and falls with a deep breath and he reaches carefully for your arm. “I promise.”

Even with a breaking heart, you’re a fucking sucker for him. Your voice is teary and pathetic but pinched by cold.

“Fine.”

He slips an arm around your shoulders—making your chest lurch—and you duck back inside. Immediately he takes you to the wall, putting himself between you and the rest of the party. With the breadth of his chest he shields you from prying eyes that grow drunker by the minute.

You skirt the edge of the party, making it to the stairwell door on the opposite wall. Somebody by the bar looks up just in time to see Bakugou tugging fiercely down on the handle, but you slip onto the fluorescent-lit landing and the silver door falls shut behind you without consequence.

You’re turning around to grab for the door that isn’t closing fast enough as he slips through it, colliding gently with his chest. Bakugou grabs your wrists to stop you, and for an instant you’re nose-to-nose, smelling him and the whiskey on his breath and the faint odour of paint that never quite faded from the concrete walls.

If not for the tears leaving streaks in your makeup, you might let yourself believe he’s lingering in front of you on purpose.

You pull from his grip and turn back toward the stairs before either of you have the chance to imagine more.

Your office is at the end of the hall on the next floor down. It’s a corner office studded with windows, far too lovely for someone who spends as much time in the field as you do. But you’d worked hard to make it a personable space, with plants and artwork and a couple of very comfortable guest chairs in emerald velvet.

Katsuki rolls his eyes every time he has to wave off the odour of your favourite scented candle, but you’ve caught him admiring what you’ve done with his office, too.

Now, the space is too tidy for either of your tastes, a little dusty from so many months of neglect. You’ve been out of commission for six months, and nursing a heartbreak far too immense to allow any casual visits to the agency.

He closes the door behind the both of you. Locks it, just in case. You’re already pacing across the rug and perching on the edge of the desk, gratefully taking some of the weight off your aching feet.

He keeps his back to you for a long moment, fingers lingering on the brass doorknob. His shoulders bob with a deep, harrowing sigh.

“You were dying.”

He turns around, and in the quiet dark of your office his eyes are lit up with a deeper fear than you’ve ever seen in him. He comes toward you and sits in one of your squishy little chairs, steepling his fingers and settling his elbows on his knees.

“You don’t–” he shakes his head and lowers it, pressing the heels of his hands to his forehead. “You don’t understand. You weren’t making any sense.”

“I was,” you bite back, gripping at the edge of your desk. “I meant everything I said to you, Katsuki; I remember every word.”

He flinches. He looks so sorry it’s starting to genuinely scare you.

“That’s not it,” he demands, straightening. “You didn’t. I did.” He slapped a hand against his chest, the dull thud reverberating through your own heart.

“You said those things and I didn’t believe you. They couldn’t have been true. Not when I’d spent so much fucking time wishing they could be. I couldn’t tell myself you felt that way about me. I couldn’t hope. Not when I’d come so fucking close to losing you so easily, I—”

His voice breaks and he looks away, and you might be crazy but his chin gives a telltale little shake like he’s holding back tears.

“So you thought it would be easier to what? Fucking ghost me like a bad Tinder date?”

That hurts more than it should. You’ve seen Bakugou at his very worst, bleeding and soot-streaked and showing you feelings he never means to. For a very brief period in your lives, you believed yourself to be special.

“Don’t play the innocent,” he snarls. “You never talked to me, either. I had to find out from my fucking manager that you were outta the hospital.”

“So you never thought to drop by? Bring some fucking… flowers?” You can feel the venom filling your mouth and you’re not altogether certain you’re strong enough to swallow it this time.

“And tell you what? That I was in love with you and, maybe I heard you wrong, but you said something while you were dying in my fuckin’ arms and I was hoping for some goddamned clarification?”

“Yes!” You sob, the word ripping itself from your chest and landing wet and heavy on the floor between you. “That! Anything would have been better than radio fucking silence. Katsuki, I was sure you hated me.”

“Well I fucking love you, okay?” He rises from his chair, taking one step forward. It lands him almost right between your thighs and you hate how close he is, but you have no power to pull away. He cups your jaw in strong, gentle fingers, forcing your eyes to his.

“I fucked up,” he presses. He leans down and presses his forehead to yours and this time his proximity is on purpose. You drink it down in eager gulps.

“I missed you,” he murmurs. Despite your tears and the ache in your heart, you give a wet little laugh and nuzzle your nose against his.

“I missed you, too.”

He takes your hands and pulls them both to his chest. And for a long moment you just sit there, curled over one another in the dark and growing accustomed to the idea of being okay again.

“Did you just…” you start after a long moment of silence. His eyelashes flutter against your cheek as he tucks his cheek against yours, but the grin that pulls your mouth is enough for him to stand back and look at you.

“Did you just admit to making a mistake?”

You’re laughing at your own joke before Katsuki can even roll his eyes. But he’s scowling good-naturedly and tugging himself against you by the hips.

“C’mere, you brat.”

He’s leaning in to close the distance between you when muffled chanting from upstairs makes you pause. You tilt an ear toward the window and light up, easily recognizing the five, four, three, two, one as the magnitude builds.

Bright flashes of gold and red light up the sky outside your window in a brilliant display. And all at once the lingering ache drains from your chest and you shoot Katsuki a fond little smile.

“I guess it’s midnight.”

“We missed the fireworks,” he notes, nodding toward the window as he edges back toward you.

“Not really,” you confess, and the first real big smile breaks through the pain when he steps up between your knees again, nice and tight and deliberate.

He cups your jaw in one hand again, settling the other palm on your knee, where it peeks through the golden slip of your dress.

“Happy New Year,” you whisper, eyes falling shut. You hear the way he smiles, that bare little chuckle that used to make your heart light up like stars.

He leans in and kisses you without another word. It’s soft but firm and so loving, so much better than any brush of the hand or lingering glance. Better, even, than the way he danced you into a stupor upstairs. This is yours and nobody else’s.

And you’re not letting him go anytime soon.

You let the kiss deepen as naturally as you can, dropping your jaw and letting the bare press of his tongue roll against your teeth. You reach up and grab his jacket by its lapels, hitching him even closer as the fireworks die out behind you.

He’s not backing down, either. Katsuki draws his hands from your body to unbutton his jacket, shrugging it away easily without breaking the kiss. He’s pressing his mouth to yours in long, lingering spells, tasting you eagerly while his hands have to stay busy. But as soon as he can he’s touching you again, teasing his fingers under the slit of your dress and brushing them over your bare thighs.

“Katsuki…” you whine into his mouth, turning your head to gasp and fill your empty lungs. He finds the next bare patch of skin, kissing down the side of your jaw. He finds your earring where it lays against your tender neck, sucking the crystal into his mouth and giving it a gentle tug.

“Fuck,” you gasp, and he grins into your skin.

“Don’t tell me you’ve had enough already.”

“Not a chance,” you growl. There are millions of questions flooding your subconscious. But years of tension and desire spiral more fiercely between you. It’s energy that demands release. And you don’t want to wait another second.

“God,” he groans hard, collapsing gently into you. As he presses forward against you, the twitching swell of his erection pushes into your bare thigh. You slide your palms down the meat of his chest and find his mouth again, kissing him with searing intent.

“Look at you,” he rasps into your mouth, gripping hard at the weighty skirt of your beaded gown. “You’re a goddamned vision in this, you know that?”

You pull back to look at him, raw sexual energy briefly dispersed by his tender confession. For a long moment you sit there, panting at each other, remembering how much this is about to mean.

Fuck it. If he’s in, so are you.

“Help me get it off.”

You slide to your feet, pushing him back a couple of steps to accommodate you. As soon as you turn around he’s sliding a palm up your side, thumbing at the fabric to find its zipper.

“God damn,” he growls, leaning in to kiss a path down the column of your spine. He drops to one knee as he works the zipper down the back of the dress—sitting low, thanks to its open back—letting his mouth trail all the way to the waistband of your underwear. All the while, you brace a palm on the edge of your desk, trying your best not to implode.

This is more attention than you ever could have prayed for.

He peels the thin straps down your arms and shoves the whole mess to your feet. You’re bending down to unbuckle the straps on your heels, but he stops you with a hand on the back of your thigh.

“Leave ‘em on.”

His voice sends a sharp pang of arousal through your entire body. When he stands, trailing his fingers all the way up the back of your naked thigh and over the swell of your ass, the arousal disperses into a dull ache that settles in the pit of your stomach and throbs incessantly.

He digs his fingers into the flesh of your hip and turns you to face him. Your nipples are already peaking in the chill of your office, and he sucks a deep breath through his teeth as he slides his palms up your tummy.

There’s puckered scar tissue and new ridges on your abdomen, but there’s no pain when he traces brushes over them.

He pauses, looking down with dull shock tugging his brow. You’re holding your breath again, watching him circle the roughest part of your new scars with one tender thumb.

“It’s okay,” you plead, cupping his cheeks and forcing his eyes back to yours. There’s pain littering his gaze that you’re determined to dissolve, and you lean in to kiss him until he’s groaning into your mouth and drawing his hands toward your chest.

“God,” you breathe, goosebumps betraying you as they race beneath his fingers. Katsuki watches your face as he dips his head, pushing your breasts together and laying kisses between them.

“Please,” you whimper, reaching forward and settling a hand over the front of his pants. You palm the shape of his cock through the pressed wool and he flinches, biting gently into your tender flesh.

“Katsuki,” you pant, squeezing and rubbing the hard swell in a gentle, heady rhythm as you set your ass on the edge of your desk again. “I need you.”

“Jesus,” he curses, dropping his hands and reaching desperately for his tie. “You’re gonna fuckin’ kill me before I even get my cock out, sweetness.”

It’s the dirtiest thing he’s ever said to you. And it shows. You’re a shivering, lustblown mess already, but the petname that falls from his lips is enough to make you whimper.

He shrugs out of his shirt and pushes you further onto the desk, dropping to his knees in front of you and pushing your thighs apart with strong fingers.

“Always kinda wanted to do this in here,” he confesses with that cocky smirk that’s always made a hummingbird out of your heart.

But Katsuki doesn’t give you too much time to swoon over his pretty words, kissing a path up the inside of one plush thigh and nipping at your sensitive flesh. He helps you brace your heels against the rug and lift your hips, peeling your underwear off and rucking it down your knees. There’s something very naughty about the way it feels to settle your bare ass on your polished desk.

But there’s something even naughtier about the way it feels to have Katsuki on his knees in front of you.

He pushes your thighs apart again, harsher this time, and settles your knees over his shoulders. You’d like to ride the wave of self-consciousness that threatens to crest when his breath ghosts over the folds of your heated sex.

He pushes higher for a moment, taking your sides in his hands and drawing lovely little kisses down the rough length of your scar. You push self-consciously at his head, making him pull pack and settle a hand over the flesh instead. He tilts his chin up, shooting you a look so filled with guilt and sorrow it nearly shatters the moment.

He wasn’t there for the pain. And as he kisses back down to your hips and thighs, you let yourself hope that this will be enough to make up for it on both sides.

But then he leans in and licks a long stripe up your cunt and the groan that echoes from his chest makes it hard to do anything but cum on the spot.

“Fuck,” you sigh wantonly, letting your head fall back as you brace your palms on the wood behind you. Your fingertips dig into the surface and he settles into an easy rhythm, slipping his arms under your thighs and tugging you tight to his face.

He’s not shy with his voice, either, grunting and sighing into your pussy with every stroke of his tongue. The noises double your pleasure almost immediately, coupled with the obscene slurps that vibrate all the way up your spine.

It doesn’t take long at all for him to find that tender little spot, the perfect direction from which to swirl his tongue against your clit. It’s obvious in the way your legs go tight around the sides of his head, the way you shiver and cry and clap a hand to the back of his head.

He grunts hard into your body when your fingers rake through his hair, harder still when your tense thighs press the narrow points of your heels into the flesh of his back.

“Katsu,” you whimper, already fucked out and tender like you’ve never been for him, “I’m gonna cum. Fucking shit, I-I’m gonna…”

He takes your warning like a hit, leaning more fiercely into you, keeping his rhythm with intense precision. Later, you’ll try not to think about why he’s so good at this. But right now, all you can think about is the way your pleasure rears up and crashes over you, sending loud gasps and breathy mewls of ecstasy from your chest as you squeeze his head and pull his hair and roll your hips shakily into his persistent mouth.

“Jesus Christ,” he snarls, sitting back on his haunches and swiping a palm over his flushed lips. He looks up at you, rubbing your thigh with one free hand as you come down panting from your ecstatic high. Between his legs, his cock juts obscenely down one thigh of his suit pants, and he palms himself shamelessly as he gets to his feet, taking in every inch of your pleasure-soaked self.

“You’re gonna make me cream my fuckin’ pants someday,” he chides, fumbling with his belt and impatiently shucking his pants. His undershorts follow closely, and you’re barely on your feet again before he takes you by the shoulders and turns your back to him.

“C’mere.” He slides a hand under one of your thighs, hitching it gently onto the edge of your desk and coming up tightly behind you. The brush of his knuckle against your ass proves that he’s stroking himself, and the tip of his stiff cock leaves a little print of wet precum on the back of your leg.

“Please,” you moan, still hazy and shaken from your first orgasm. Still endlessly needy, though, when Katsuki’s involved. “God, baby, just fuck me already.”

“Fuckin’ hell, you can’t say shit like that,” he groans, twitching behind you. “It’s like you don’t know how fuckin’ sexy you are.”

He braces a hand on your bare hip and then you feel it, the tip of his drooling cock pressing up between your slippery folds. It’s enough to make you whine and arch your back, wiggling your hips impatiently against his.

It’s enough to make Katsuki lose it.

“Shit,” he growls, gripping the fat of your hip and pushing forward, sliding home with one smooth thrust. He bottoms out inside you right away, buried perfectly in your belly and making you feel every inch.

“Baby—” you start to breathe, but he doesn’t waste time. Katsuki reaches around and lays his palm flat on your sternum, pulling you back against him. He keeps his other hand braced on your hip for leverage, dropping his mouth to the crook of your shoulder while he starts to thrust.

All you can do is keep your knee planted on the edge of your desk and try not to scream as he fucks you in steady, long thrusts, lapping and sucking all along the side of your neck while his hand roams over your chest and thumbs your nipple. Whatever hairstyle you’d left the house with has come long undone by now and you’re sure that if your makeup wasn’t smudged before, it’s certainly not going to survive the drool and sweat and heat that he’s forcing through you with every push of his hips.

The slap of his body against yours fills the space, punctuated only by your harsh pants and quiet whines of pleasure. Katsuki’s fingers dig harshly into your hip, gripping you tighter each time he anchors himself back into your fluttering cunt. Your walls are clamping ruthlessly around him, but he doesn’t miss a beat, slipping that free palm away from your nipples and down your belly to strum rhythmically at the swell of your stiff clit.

“I love you,” he grunts breathlessly behind you, and the raw truth behind it brings a rush of warmth to your chest you can’t ignore. You turn your head sharply towards him, pushing your forehead to his and feeling every beat as his breathing becomes laboured.

His body’s growing tight behind yours, his thrusts losing some of their impeccable rhythm as his brow knits against yours. He’s concentrating hard—holding back, you realize—and you reach down to cover his hand that braces your hip, giving it a relenting squeeze.

“Baby,” you plead. “Let go for me, baby, I can feel it.”

“God,” he mutters. “No—fuck, gonna make you—with me, sweetness.” Your body is clenching in preparation for your own climax already, and the fact that he can even pick up on it shouldn’t surprise you.

“I’m there,” you promise. “I’m there, Katsuki, fuck, just cum for me. Please.”

His arms tighten around you, seizing you hard against his heaving chest. You lean forward and seal your mouth against his, kissing him as he loses control and cums with a shout that echoes at the back of your throat.

He grabs your ass in one hand and fucks madly into you, spurting warm handfuls of cum into your belly and biting down hard on your lower lip. The erratic twitch of his fingers on your still-aching clit and the warm release inside you is enough to bring you to another tight, simpering little peak—not as powerful as the first one, but just as significant.

He stays behind you for a long moment, pinning you to the desk while he goes soft inside you. Finally he peppers kisses down the back of one shoulder and steps away from you, already smoothing his hair and taking in the image of you, in nothing but your heels, dripping with his cum.

The first of many, you let yourself hope, as you turn to carefully face him.

“I guess we missed the countdown,” you quip, reaching for your discarded panties. Navigating the strappy thing seems a great deal more complicated now that it’s not Katsuki tearing them off you.

He smirks at you in a way that does not make it easier to concentrate on the task at hand. Especially since he’s watching you struggle, easily buttoning himself into his now-creased shirt.

“I didn’t miss a thing.”

He’s already half-clothed by the time you get your underwear on again, stooping to collect your delicate dress from the floor and thumbing the sequins that pepper its surface. His smirk has dissolved into another pensive look as he examines the cloth.

“If I’d known,” he tells you, pressing the scratchy fabric into your hands, “I never would’ve—”

You lean up and push your mouth to his, soft and loving and just enough to silence him.

“I know.”

Once Katsuki’s got the rest of his clothes on, he helps you carefully into your dress and gets behind you one more time to help you zip it. He can’t stop kissing you even for a minute, peppering his lips over your back, neck, arms. He turns you around and takes your hands, kissing the backs of each palm with devotion that, if you stop and think about it, you’ve seen in his eyes a thousand times before.

“You’ll make it up to me,” you promise good naturedly, letting him slide his arms around your waist. He looks at you again, diligent and honest.

“I will.”

“Good.”

You slide your hands up his sleeves of heart-stealing midnight blue, smiling so big it ought to hurt. You tilt your head toward the door, giving your chin a little jerk as you squeeze his biceps through the pressed wool.

“For a start,” you say, daring to lean a little closer while he’s still feeling tender, “how about another dance?”

#bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki #bnha x reader #bakugo katsuki #bakugo #my hero academia #bakugou #bnha #bnha bakugou #bnha bakugo #it's new years eeeeeeve and i am not #spending it with him #sigh #;.;

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soobadnoonecanstopher · 4 years

Text

Touch it for Real, Part 3

Genre: Humor / Fluff / Eventual Smut

Warnings: OMG they were roommates / slice of life / slow burn / mutual pining / crude humor / cursing / virgin!baek / enemies to lovers / bug gets meta

Characters: Baekhyun X You/Female Reader

Description: You teach Baekhyun how to date. (Basically the Get You Alone M/V)

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3 , Part 4

Mia.

Mia, Mia, Mia.

Oh she was lovely. You’d been chatting with her on Baekhyun’s phone for the better part of an hour and for a moment you forgot all about the man who now laid with his head on the other end of the sofa with his feet stretched over your lap and a phone held up to his face.

He was scrolling through something, giggling and typing.

The phone you had down in your lap vibrated with another incoming message.

Laughing emojis, a row of them. She was sharp. Wit and charm came through in her messages and you found yourself responding with an equally long string of laughing faces. The ones with tears leaking out their eyes. She felt so damn familiar and comfortable the moment you got past the awkward introductions and you really started talking to her; the jokes were easy and the topics were something you knew enough about to fake your way though thanks to Baekhyun’s many passions and his absolute inability to shut up about them. He’d held you hostage with so many video games and anime episodes, you knew exactly what she was talking about now. You felt like a complete pseudo pro. A well-read scammer. A faker but a weirdly genuine one.

You went back to her profile and dragged each of her pictures across the screen with the tip of your finger, switching between them all. She was pretty. She was smart. She was interesting to talk to. She was perfect. Just perfect. A steady warmth had seeped into your chest as you looked at her. It was welcome and actually felt nice at first; if not a little bit unexpected. But the longer you looked at her smile, the more intrusive that warmth felt. After too long, it was sticky and almost too warm. You struggled to breathe deeply. You were breathing normally, there was absolute nothing off about your breathing, but each breath you took suddenly failed to satiate. Why were your lungs suddenly missing oxygen? They were misbehaving without any reason to. You closed out her pictures and returned to the chat window.

She was asking about the latest episode of an anime. Something that was in its final season. Something you were sure Baekhyun would also be watching soon if he hadn’t seen it already. You could feel her excitement in her words. Something epic must have happened.

“Baek did you watch Attack on Colossatron last night — the latest episode?”

“Not yet—no spoilers, I’ll kill you.” His response was quick and you responded in a similar fashion in text to Mia; without the death threats. You weren’t quite that comfortable with her yet.

Baekhyun shifted and moved a foot behind you, digging it under your butt into the gap of the couch cushion. You ignored the intrusion because you were talking to Mia. His soon to be brand new girlfriend by the looks of the conversation. You caught what you were certain was subtle flirting just below the contexts. Then outright flirting. She was sending you a picture from the dating profile you’d set up for Baekhyun. She had to have saved the picture to send it. It would now be saved on the camera roll of her phone where she would likely look at it again and again, admiring how good Baekhyun looked in it.

She was commenting on how unexpectedly handsome you were and how most of the men who shared interests with her did not look like you.

She was asking for a picture of you—err, of Baekhyun. She was having trouble believing such an attractive man like you was real and she actually used the word catfishing, careful to insist that she wasn't accusing you of anything; just that she was sure you looked just like some celebrity she saw on twitter and one couldn’t be too careful.

But you were quick to cooperate and to agree with her need for assuredness. As a woman, yourself, you understood her suspicions instantly. Yes, Baekhyun did look shockingly attractive in the profile pictures you posted of him. You could see how someone might doubt that he was real and he lived only 5 miles away and was now sweeping her off her feet with his engaging conversations and hilarious jokes. You’d be sure and make him thank you well for this later.

The pictures of him were surprising, even to you, and you lived with the guy. You saw him every single day. Yet something about seeing him in these pictures, dressed in that black button up shirt and jeans and looking at the camera with a breathtaking natural smile; one he gave you so easily that night when you told him just how good he looked all dressed up.

“Peanut, look at you! You look so fancy.”

“Wow, I cant believe how handsome you are.”

It only took a couple of sincere compliments for the man to unfold before you and the results on camera pulled you into an uncomfortable and unwelcome thoughtfulness when you looked at them alone later. Of course you knew he was handsome. You just hadn’t been prepared for how very attractive he would look on camera.

You got all his best angles and the man had taken you off guard when you’d bravely asked him to give you a sexy look.

It happened just at the end of your little makeshift photo-shoot. You were both a little tired, you could tell with the way he slowed down with his talking and his movements. You could always tell when Baekhyun was tired. Sometimes before even he knew it.

The sun had gone down and you’d pulled him from your room into the living room where the lights from the city shone through the floor-to-ceiling glass windows, creating a soft glow on his face. The moon was full outside. It was a chilly winter night and snowflakes drifted down to the street below. You were feeling perhaps a bit romantic. Perhaps you were a little bit grateful to be inside and warm and spending your time capturing the pretty face of your annoying best friend.

You’d gotten a bit bold with the pictures and he’d been behaving so well, not even complaining when you asked him to lay down on the floor so you could capture the beautiful city-scape in the background of the shot. He’d gone still while you set up; moving furniture and turning on a lamp in the corner for more lighting on his features — you wondered briefly if maybe he had fallen asleep.

You laid down beside him holding your camera up in the right spot to get something nice. His eyes had closed up and his breathing was even and slow and when you’d softly called his name with your camera acting as a barrier in between your faces, you’d expected it to act as more of a buffer than it did.

“Baekhyun?”

When he heard you call him, his eyes opened and he turned his head toward the sound of your voice; the shift in his eyes was stark and breathtaking and he blinked them closed and then very slowly he opened his eyes again for you.

“Hmm?” His lips stayed closed when he hummed a response.

What exactly were you going for here? The mood was set. The lighting and the scenery were in place. Hell, even the position of him was set —him laying beside you on the floor in the middle of the night like this when everyone knew it was much too late to be entertaining any of this nonsense. The longer you looked at him the more shades of pink you saw in his cheeks. The pinkness matched his lips and the lighting made every bit of warm flush on his face tell such a romantic story. He looked so very warm and inviting.

You took a shot and you said it. If the picture came out well, that would be rewarding enough.

But, you didn't actually expect a real sexy look. Not really. You’d expected something silly, or something goofy or something with an awkward smile. Maybe it was the nighttime, or the way he unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt and just let it hang open with the clear smoothness of his chest visible, but when he pulled his chin down and ran a hand through his styled hair, bringing it down just a little bit; giving it a messy and tousled look, you had to grip the camera tighter to keep from doing something dumb like accidentally dropping it. You could not understand the flash of nervousness you felt run through you.

He lifted a single eyebrow. You had called him and it was clear from the inactivity in the camera that you weren’t taking any pictures of him.

“Hmm?” He repeated the hum that came from the back of his throat. His eyebrow danced and it was the only movement on his face.

You inhaled a breath and you did it.

“You look incredibly sexy right now.”

Despite the camera, despite the props you’d placed around him just so, his eyes seemed to seek out yours with purpose; one hand on the floor was within touching distance and the other hand rested over his forehead from when he’d ran it through his hair, the tips of his fingers landed over one of his eyes and it was so perfect. You felt goosebumps all over your skin.

The moment his eyes locked into yours you gripped the camera as if your life depended on it. When his lips slowly parted with a gentle exhale and the tip of his tongue appeared between his parted lips and slowly touched against the corner of his bottom lip a surge of heat rose up the back of your throat.

“I do?” He said with his eyes on yours as if he was looking directly at you; as if the camera did not even exist.

You hit the button and you heard the shutter click.

You allowed yourself a moment to look at the picture Mia had sent you. Only a moment though because she was talking again. She was instructing you to send a new picture right now, with your left hand holding your right earlobe. It was the kind of specific sort of picture that would prove that you really did exist.

“Peanut,” you reached down and tapped his leg three times quickly, “Peanut, our new girlfriend wants a picture of you right now with your,” you held up your hands in front of your face, figuring out which was the left one, “left hand holding your right earlobe.” You held up your left hand for him to see and he pulled the phone down from his face to look at you. After a second his opposite hand was raised and he gripped his earlobe with his fingertips.

“Is that your left hand?” You raised your left hand higher and lifted your eyebrows as you shook your head once. You felt a sense of urgency in getting this picture to Mia as fast as possible to calm her doubts.

“It’s my left. My left is your right, stupid. Why do I have to do this?”

You snapped the picture close enough that it would look like a selfie and sent the image to Mia. She was satisfied enough to send an emoji with heart eyes and you could feel victory at your fingertips. You could hardly believe this was working.

“She thought you weren’t real.” You said in between messages and Baekhyun’s leg was shaking behind your back. He’d been sitting still for too long here and the nervous energy was building, you could feel it trying to escape from his limbs. He probably needed to go for a run or something or you were in for a long and noisy night of singing or dancing or whatever other shenanigans he thought you needed to suffer though. He hummed a non-response to your answer, clearly so distracted by what was happening on his screen that he couldn’t be bothered to give you any more of his attention right now.

Baekhyun was not so quietly giggling under his breath and you looked up caught by that very particular sound of it. Something felt familiar in the sound of that giggle; more, the intentions behind it. The particular sneakiness of it maybe made you look up and it took you another second of listening to the way he stifled himself, tried to control the sounds of his laughter before a realization dawned and recognition struck you on the head.

Baekhyun couldn’t have been giggling, laughing, texting, having a grand ol’ time on his phone because you had his phone in your hands. You had been talking to Mia for a whole damn hour, who in the hell was Baekhyun talking to and was that your phone he was using?

“Baekhyun who are you talking to on my phone?”

His stomach bounced with stifled laugher below his shirt and he was typing again. His eyes secured on the screen of your phone and not at all looking at you.

“Baek, who is that. What are you doing?” It wasn’t that you didn't trust him with your private conversations. He knew more about you than probably any other human being on the planet. It wasn't the problem with him knowing it. The problem was with that laughter. The problem was with what Byun Baekhyun might do with all of the things he knew about you and with whoever the hell had the misfortune of texting you at the exact moment when he had your phone.

“Ben,” Baekhyun said after a long pause and you searched through your recent memory for a person who had that name. You’d matched with some guys last week but you were certain there was no one with that name.

“Ben? Who the hell is Ben? I don't know a Ben” You were leaning now and Baekhyun bent his legs up as soon as you moved, blocking your lean with his knobby knees. You leaned on the other side of them and he moved them to block again.

The maneuver brought out the panic in you. He was blocking you from your own phone. He was up to something and he was now blocking you from reaching for your phone and you had just nearly murdered him in the kitchen over cheese, did he really want to do this again?

“Give me my phone. Baek, who the shit is Ben?”

“I don't know. Some guy named Ben. Said he was some lady’s nephew or cousin or something. He knew your number and he knew your name, and wow he is—”

Oh god. Your co-worker Susie had done it. The son-of-a-bitch had actually given your phone number out this time even though you had successfully, you’d thought, dodged their high pressure tactics to set you up with some eligible bachelor who would probably be 10 years too old for you, balding, with bad teeth, or bad habits, or would be obsessed with his car or his muscles or some sports team and you’d have to make nice small talk with someone who’s interests, frankly, bored you to death until you could politely let the man down.

And now, what was Baekhyun telling him? What kinds of horrific lies was this little gremlin giggling about over there. You tilted and reached for him again and he moved his knees again.

“Bug, how- how do you spell hemorrhoids? Hem—hem—er—roids, no that’s not right. Let me look it up. It’s important that I represent you well. A strong, intelligent woman who can talk about her hemorrhoids.”

You leaped then, over the stupid knees you flew and you landed hard — seated across his belly and the pained grunt he let out was satisfying to hear. He doubled up in pain while simultaneously shoving your phone underneath himself into the softness of the couch cushions and you watched it disappear somewhere below his butt where he assumed you would not dare to reach.

“Baekhyun,” you said in as calm a voice as you could pry from your lips. Your teeth gritted together as you spoke and much of the sweetness was lost in the delivery.

Your hands were feeling the softness of the cushions that he laid on. You followed an arm that went down and disappeared behind his back and your fingers traveled to the end where you felt no phone at all, only his empty hand that you pulled up. You did the same on the other side, moving to the other hand and bringing it back empty too. On his face he wore a smug, self-satisfied smile.

“Peanut,” your next attempt at a compromise pulled his name out in a sweeter tone and his lips turned up into a mischievous grin with teeth bared and all. To your own ears though, you really laid it on thick. This was your darling Peanut. You let your whine come through and you pulled your lips into a pouty frown.

“Bug,” he said, mimicking your overly saccharine tone with a tiny lift of an eyebrow on his face and a fake frown that didn’t touch the rabid joy in his eyes.

“Give me back my phone,” you said and your hands dug into his ribs hard as he reached for your wrists and quickly grabbed to hold you still with both of his free hands before you could do any actual damage to him.

You struggled against his strong hands, reaching with out-stretched fingers despite his hold on you for a few more tickles before he tightened the grip and you could not connect any more attacks.

“Give me back my phone,” he giggled back, again mocking your ineffective attempts to overpower him. You simply couldn’t do it. He was much stronger than you were.

The childishness of this brat! You closed your eyes up tight as you forced yourself to take a deep calming breath. You could feel close to the edge again. Close to losing control. How many murder attempts did you need to commit today? Maybe you needed to enroll in anger management classes. You tried to count to ten again but gave up halfway through to threaten him again.

“I’m going to get mad, give me my phone.” The friendly tone you had forced was gone and you could hear the actual anger in your voice now. Any reasonable person would concede. Any normal human adult would laugh it off playfully, say ‘okay, okay, I was only kidding’ and hand the thing over. A normal person would even apologize for taking it in the first place.

Baekhyun was not a normal person.

“Ohhh, I’m going to get mad,” you heard him say in that same mocking voice and no amount of calming breaths could touch it. You could count to ten thousand and still want to destroy him. You squirmed all over and pulled at your wrists that he held in his grip and his hold tightened the more you moved until you could only lean, you could only fight back with one thing. The more you fought him, the tighter his muscles constricted and it became evident that you simply could not win this way. Your hands were useless to you. Only your head was free. You’d have to use it to your advantage, but how?

You could headbutt him; break his nose. Break your head. Make both of you take a trip to the hospital during a global pandemic. Catch the dreaded disease. Lose your sense of taste and smell and potentially infect someone vulnerable that you loved.

He was like a cat. Only interested in playing with something until it was dead and then losing interest after he couldn’t torture it anymore. You couldn't simply play dead. He had you trapped and you needed that phone back.

You could bite him. Break the skin. Mean business for real. Make him bleed and make him cry. Make him pay for all of it. Give him a nasty scar on his hand, or on his neck or on his chest, maybe rip off his earlobe like Tyson did to Holyfield. Send him to the hospital during a global pandemic. Go to prison for assault charges. Get a nasty infection from a prison tattoo. Die.

Your struggle for a plan made you go physically still and you looked at his face; into his eyes and in those eyes sat all the usual bullshit and toddler behavior that you usually saw when he had latched on to something to tease you with, something he could play with and have fun with at your expense. Something he could exploit.

You could use your mouth.

You could use your lips.

You could use your tongue.

What is this? Some sort of trashy rom-com? Would you really stoop so low, so early in the story? Kiss him to distract him, become a walking, talking, kissing cliché and an unoriginal failure of a human being? Get scolded and told to leave his home. Become homeless during a global pandemic. Without high speed internet access, lose your easy breezy data entry job. Get hungry and get cold. Possibly end up selling a kidney on the black market to make ends meet. Get a nasty infection from the shady surgery. Die.

No. This wasn’t a cheesy romance story. This was your life. You’d have to live with the consequences of your choices and there was no way you would steal his first kiss just to get petty revenge.

This wasn’t enemies-to-lovers, this a violent revenge plot and you were pissed off god-dammit. How dare this idiot get you into such a compromising, such an undignified, such a frustratingly suggestive position and hold you captive like this.

How dare he still be smiling through your entire inner monologue?

Didn't he know anything at all about women and the powers they possessed in their bodies?

He flinched visibly when you dropped down; lowered your chest to his chest and you were face to face with the man. Your quick movement startled him and he loosened the grip around your wrists enough for you to rotate them before he tightened his hold again and watched you with wide eyes. That grin finally, finally fell from his mouth. His lips sat down-turned and pink. He’d gone positively pink with your quick movement. Your plan to move into him instead of struggling to get away clearly startled him. You felt the advantage at once.

When you moved again it was only your eyeballs and it was to look pointedly at his lips before you pulled your eyes back up to look into his eyes. The slow movement made a bold statement, even to someone as clueless as he was. You were on top of him. He could most definitely feel the entirety of your weight on his body and your breasts were flush against his chest. And now, you had just looked down at his pink lips.

Whatever steady and in-control breathing he had, stuttered and his body below yours went rigid with his eyes wide; obviously unsure of what you were about to do and much too on edge to take his eyes off of you.

What became clear as you stared at his flushed face up close was that he had not thought this far ahead in his plan.

He probably didn't even have one to begin with.

You moved closer to him and his hands released their hold on you again. You heard a gasp for air when his hand let go. You weren’t convinced he let go on purpose. There seemed to be a disconnected look inside his eyes right now.

Instead of going straight for his earlobe and squeezing the shit out of it to teach him a lesson, you kept this going. You could not help it. You felt drunk on your own power and you didn't actually want to hurt him. You just wanted the damn phone so you could see what damage he had already done and begin cleaning up the messes.

He swallowed and his lips opened to speak.

“W-What are you doing?”

Nervous and trembling and uncertain; oh he was all of the above. Your free hand was moving now, traveling down the length of his arm to his flank when he moved again, this move felt much more frantic than the last. He grabbed your wrist more gently than before when you got close enough to touch him and he pulled your hand back. A feeble attempt it seemed, made by a man who had just come to his senses again after being in a daze.

You leaned in. “Peanut,” you said directly into the space below his ear. You could smell him here. He smelled nice. Clean, and vaguely familiar. You remembered your shampoo that he still had and made a mental note to get it back from him. The scent of it on him was different than on you. The breath you took at his neck definitely smelled different.

He was frozen stiff and when you pulled up to look at his face, his eyes were closed. He swallowed again and you reveled in the realization that you had not heard a single peep out of him since you began your counter-attack. Not a giggle, not a mocking laugh. Not a silly impression of what your voice sounded like to him. He was as quiet as a mouse. It paid to be pro-active. You felt free, as if you’d just been armed with some new very effective weapon that you had no idea would work so well.

He had your hand again and was pulling — keeping you from reaching below his body to reach where you were certain your phone was stashed. Right here below his left butt cheek. Maybe even inside his back pocket. Either way it was there and you were centimeters away from it.

So you went in again. This time it was a whisper. This time you went too far. You felt the softness of his neck brush against your bottom lip.

“Give it to me, while I am still being nice.”

It was the exhale from your lips after you spoke that seemed to do it. The puff of air from your parted lips that drifted over his ear and warmed his neck, you felt him squirm below you and his hands moved releasing you all over and all at once.

He was going now. He was leaving. You felt it happening below you.

It was a tactic you’d used before when he tried to grab a hold of you and throw you onto your bed, or when he tried to wrestle something away from you in the kitchen.

He went boneless. When you did it he would shout and laugh and lose his grip on you and you’d use the distraction to drop to the floor and roll out of his grip in one motion. It was much more difficult for him to do right now, being directly under you on the couch like this, but somehow he was vanishing fast.

He moved so quickly it was like he melted from beneath you and he was pushing you off at the same time as he rolled, simply rolled from the sofa down onto the floor below in a single motion of retreat.

You know that was where he went because you heard the rough thump of his body hitting the floor hard and you heard the grunt as he vocalized the pain of gravity having it’s final say. You were pushed with a force that made you roll onto your butt and below your legs you felt the rectangle of plastic and glass of your cell phone.

He was moving fast. But he was also talking as he did it.

“You are mean,” was what he said and he was halfway through the living room by the time you registered his complaint.

Something about his fit irked you though. Was it such a big deal — so out of the question? Did he hate the idea of you kissing him, even if on accident that he had to overreact like this.

“Oh settle down, It’s not like I was going to actually kiss you, Baekhyun.”

You’d expected to hear his bedroom door slam shut but he’d stopped with his hand on his door and turned his face in your direction. His expression was odd.

Baekhyun was rarely upset with you, so you had very little experience with what he looked like when he was. He had been upset with others around you, but it wasn’t ever directed at you.

“I know you weren’t.”

You could see it from where you sat and it made you stand up. Wait, was he really upset? At you? Because you pretended like you were going to steal his first kiss? Because you took something so precious to him and weaponized it against him?

He was breathing hard and you took a step in his direction.

“Baek, I was just—”

“—trying to get your phone, I know.” His voice was cold and his words were short.

You suddenly felt like absolute shit. It moved fast and it overwhelmed you. You’d made a mistake and Baekhyun was upset at you. You’d acted carelessly and thoughtlessly and you’d hurt him.

“We...we were playing around, I was just playing around, I didn’t mean it, Peanut. I’m sorry.” You could not help the thickness in your voice. You could not help how your voice cracked as you spoke up quickly, needing to get the apology out into the air before he could misunderstand any further.

Before he could wake up and realize how low of a person you could be when you really set your mind to it. Before he could understand that maybe you didn't deserve so many chances to get your life together and get a better job, or be a better roommate, or make more money and pay more rent, or delete your facebook, or create better passwords.

You realized you were crying when the wetness dripped down your chin and landed on your arm and as soon as you noticed you lifted both of your hands up to cover your face — before he saw, before he noticed or heard. You held your breath to keep from hiccupping or making any sort of sound at all and you closed your eyes and tried to stop the quiet gasps.

You succeeded for the most part.

It was the smell of him though. You did not notice that he moved, but you smelled him again, only this time it came with a warmth that enveloped you where you stood.

“I’m not mad at you,” he whispered over your head and you inhaled through the snot that filled your nose, unable to get any air through. You gasped through your mouth instead and hiccupped through the breath.

“You seemed mad at me,” you said into his shirt, the same shirt you’d cried into hours ago. This shirt would have so much of your messes on it by the end of the day. What in the world had gotten into you today? Maybe you were going to start your period soon. This was getting ridiculous.

His hands rubbed slow and steady circles over your back and until the gasping stopped enough for you to lift your head and look into his face.

“I’m not,” he said with more conviction the second time and you almost believed it. Had it not been for the strange way his eyes dropped yours so easily you would have.

You didn't say that though.

His lips parted once and his eyes grasped yours in that flimsy way again and his lips closed up again as he swallowed it away and didn’t say what he was about to say.

You shook your head. He had to tell you. Whatever it was, you could work on it, do some self reflecting, or read some self help books.

“What is it? Tell me.” Your insistence was desperate and his damn eyes refused to stick. It was making you crazy the more you noticed it.

His mouth opened again and this time he inhaled deep enough to speak for hours and hours.

“Peanut, what?”

“Don't—” he began and you closed your mouth and looked into his face, dipping to catch them when his eyes dropped again and again. He noticed the dance you did and you saw the light dance inside his eyes.

“Don't what? I’ll do it. Or I won’t do it. Whatever, just tell me.” If there was one thing you were good at, it was talking to this man. You could always pull it out. Whatever he had been sitting on, keeping from you, whatever he had deep down inside that was begging to be let out. You could talk to him. He could talk to you. It’s as part of the magic you shared with him.

“Peanut,” you said again, refusing to let him close up again, refusing to let this go. He had to say his piece for the upset to move behind you both, so you could get past it.

“Don't use your beauty as a weapon against me.”

As soon as the words left so did his eyes, but that did not matter because you could not look into his face anymore after he said it either.

Your…beauty?

Baekhyun didn’t look at you and see beauty. Impossible. You were a mess. Some days you showered. Some days you did your hair. These two events rarely happened on the same day.

Outside you could pull off some-what put-together and even downright attractive when you wore the miracle bust enhancing bra you bought off some shady website he definitely told you not to enter any credit card info into, but inside you felt like a circus clown wearing a respectable young woman suit. Every day you worked to stuff the oversized shoes into your feet and struggled to zip them up. Every day you painted over your honking red nose with concealer in the hopes that it wouldn’t rain today and give you away.

“It’s really shitty and really unfair to do to me.” He kept talking and you felt like maybe the ceiling had caved in on you. “I know who I am. I know my place and I know what league I am in.”

He said the word league with a whisper and you stared at his mouth as he spoke such nonsense words you hardly had any thoughts that made any sense inside of your own head.

League? He was such an amazing person, but league? You’d heard some serious bullshit come out of his mouth in the past, but this? Seriously?

He was a genius. He was beautiful inside and out and he was such a good person, a good person to you, a good person to his grandmother, a good person to his online friends. He was so good at whatever he wanted to do and he was really fucking sweet when he wasn’t being ridiculous. And even when he was being ridiculous it was so funny you usually didn't mind the ear deafening noise involved. He was a great dancer and an even better singer and he had so much to offer.

He was shy. He was terribly embarrassed and debilitatingly nervous at the mere idea of talking to any other girl that wasn’t you and he took a whole lot of warming up to until he opened up to you even, but when he finally did, after tiptoeing around him for 4 months after you’d moved in and he finally grabbed a bowl of popcorn and sat beside you on the couch to watch lifetime movies with you, making fun of the writing and the acting the entire time until he was making fun of you for crying at the happy ending.

He was reliable too. He refused to even entertain the idea of you moving out just because you could no longer afford the previously agreed upon rent after you lost your job. He searched for something to hold you over until you could get back on your feet and while the data entry thing was mind numbing, it was genuinely saving your life most days. You could at least pay your bills. You could at least force him to accept the much lower rent you started paying him again after you got your first paycheck.

Oh god. League?

You could feel it building again. The burning in your eyes peaked and you felt your face frowning down dramatically and the tears were flowing more freely than before.

“You’re such an idiot.” You cried openly and his face changed at once into one of extreme concern. His hands waved over you uselessly, occasionally connecting to pat over your back in some attempt to stop this.

“You are such a catch, you stupid idiot!” You were wailing very loudly. You could not help it. He was such an idiot. And he was such a catch.

“Oh my god, are you yelling at me right now? After everything you’ve done to me today, now you are yelling at me and calling me names. Great. Just Great. Here, my face doesn’t hurt, why don't you punch me in the face too.”

The sarcasm made you half laugh half choke in the middle of a particularly strong sob and you coughed with your mouth open to be able to breathe. Your nose was still useless.

“Jesus,” he said to himself, “my mouth was open.”

You were being steered. Your eyes were still closed and you were pushed now. You didn't really want to move but your stubborn legs saved you by taking a step instead of letting you fall flat on your face. You opened your eyes when you felt a fresh cold breeze against the wet surface of your cheeks and you saw in front of you the contents of the freezer.

There were some frozen veggies. Some ice in a bin. Something meat-like in a freezer bag. And about six different boxes of various ice creams. Most of them chocolate.

“Get one,” he said and his hand was pushing your elbow up and steering your hand toward the open box of chocolate popsicles.

You grabbed with your open hand and he pulled your elbow back like you were a claw machine and he was working the lever.

You grasped the popsicle between both of your hands with a small smile building against your will.

“Eat it,” he said from behind your head and you were already ripping at the plastic wrapper. You didn’t even have a chance to throw away the wrapper when his hand was pushing at your elbow again. It bent upward and the chocolate plopped right into your open mouth.

“Bite,” he said.

You bit. He didn't have to tell you to chew and swallow. You knew how to do the rest.

After the ice cream you were seated on the sofa next to him and he pulled out a portable game system to keep him entertained while he pressed play on the movie he’d put on the big tv on the wall.

It was Bridget Jones's Diary. You had seen it enough times to know the entire movie by heart and still, still you laughed at every joke, swooned at every steamy look, and squealed like a piglet at every kiss scene. It literally did not get old. You could fall asleep and wake up watching this movie for the rest of your life and be as happy as ever.

After he’d felt you’d been babied enough for him to trust you not to dissolve into a fit of disaster without him, he left you alone to finish your movie. He said something about a bug he was working on fixing and you could hear him working from behind his closed door in his room.

He had been quiet as he worked. He usually was, save for the occasional song he sang along to, or work sounding phone call he took.

The credits were rolling on your happy ending and you could feel the beginnings of the first few period cramps twinging inside of your abdomen.

Everything made sense now, as it usually did whenever your period began.

You’d just stood to head toward the kitchen for some pain medicine when Baekhyun’s bedroom door was abruptly pulled open.

He bolted through the doorway and his phone was in his hands, his eyes were wide. Panic was written all over his face as he searched the room for you and finally made eye contact with you in the kitchen.

You had a bottle of pain reliever in one hand and another popsicle in your other and you were trying to figure out the logistics of getting the bottle of medicine open without having to put the sticky melty treat down anywhere and things weren’t going so well. Things were getting drippy.

Baekhyun arrived then and you beamed a wide and genuinely happy to see him smile. He would help you. He would open the pills. He would stuff you full of them to stop the pain.

At this point you didn't even care how many. You’d take however many the Gods decided to shake free from their plastic prison.

“Help,” he said, walking by the medicine you held out to him with his phone displayed in his hands. “Help me, she...our girlfriend, Maya, she—”

You gasped at his mispronunciation and you lifted your popsicle hand toward his face as you made the sounds with your mouth, “Mia. Like Mee-uh.”

“Mia, Maya, Moira, She is — she is talking to me.” His eyes were wide and they were crazed.

“She’s saying things and she’s really fucking smart and clever and she’s saying things to me, Bug. She’s, oh god, -the fuck didn't you tell me she was cute. Fuck. You have to help me. She thinks I’m cute too. Oh God. What do I do? What’s next?”

He was breathless when he was done and both of your hands were still full. Your popsicle was beginning to drip down your wrist. You would have to clean it up before you got ants. You still had some medicine to take too.

He was pacing. He thought she was cute too, it wasn’t just you who thought so. He said it himself. Although he reacted this way with nearly every girl you had seen him interact with. Hell, just last week he made you answer the door for the delivery chicken because the girl was cute and he wasn’t about to scribble his signature all over her hand by accident.

“Baekhyun, I already laid the groundwork for you.” Maybe the day was finally catching up to you but you felt suddenly very tired and in no mood to play make-believe with him right now.

“What does that mean?” His face betrayed his utter cluelessness and you sighed deeply, feeling much of the same melancholy mood return to you despite the chocolate and your favorite movie still fresh on your tongue. “What does that mean? I don't know what to do. You were going to help me.”

He was right. You shouldn’t just abandon a friend in need like you’d abandoned the popsicle in the trash can just now.

“You have a new episode of your show to watch. She also likes that show. Why don't you stream it together?”

His eyes lit up and his smile was wide and beautiful. Then he was spinning on his heels without even so much as a glance back. He typed into his phone and had nearly reached the door of his bedroom without even acknowledging your help when at the last minute you caught the look he shot you. It was a bright smile. He was excited and his smile reached his eyes.

“She said yes,” he said, “thanks, Bug.”

His door closed and you reached for the bottle of pills. Grabbing just two today, you downed them quickly and retreated to your room with a gloomy, lonely, little storm cloud floating stubbornly over your head.

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3 , Part 4

Tag list: @j-pping @blahblahblah-boo @his-mochi-cheeks @amyeonzing@littleflowercrown13 @baekinmylife @insta1010 @nana-banana @f4ncyvelvet@bbhbeth @totallynerdstuff @byunbabybaek @beg0neth0t420

#Baekhyun #Baekhyun fic #exo #exo fic #baekhyun series #exo series #baekyun au #exo au #baekhyun exo #baekhyun fluff #baekhyun smut #exo smut #baekhyun fiction #baekhyun fanfic #baekhyun ff #baekhyun fanfiction

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wannabe-fic-writer · 4 years

Text

All Over Again - Chapter 4

Summary: What was lost can be found.

Warning: 18+ Smut, Language, Violence.

I was in the holiday spirit so I wrote this chapter. Kind of just filler stuff and LOTS of fluff. Enjoy!

Ch. 3

* * * * * *

“Awe, look at you in your fall colors.” You tease.

Wanda laughs, eyes on something ahead of her before she focuses on you,“ Laura gave me the scarf. I didn’t realize how cold it’d be today.”

You find your eyes looking at the window of your hotel,“ is it snowing there?”

Instead of answering, she flips the camera and you see the mix of leaves and snowflakes falling.

As beautiful as National City is, you admit you miss the weather in New York. The snow and leaves falling added to the holiday spirit. The white and shades of red screamed Thanksgiving.

“You could always come back, at least for the day.” Your friend says, the camera turning back.

With a shake of your head, you tell her,“ I’d never make it back in time. Besides, Lena insisted I spend the day with her.”

The brunette wiggles her eyebrows playfully. Only for her jaw to drop at the expression on your face.“ Oh my god you like her!”

“What? No.” You try to play it off with a laugh.

Good ole Wanda though, she can read you like a book(without the powers).“ That’s why you were so eager to go back to NC. You have a crush!”

“No I-” do you?

The idea isn’t far fetched. Lena’s an incredibly attractive woman. Intelligent, caring, ambitious, funny, genuine. But you have far too much going on with your emotions to even consider liking someone. Right?

Were you not just telling Natasha how much it sucks to see her with Bruce? How could you go from hating to see that to suddenly liking someone? Is that really how your emotions are choosing to work?

Escaping the onslaught of thoughts, you find Wanda smirking at you.“ You like her.” She says with a nod and smile.

“Doesn’t matter whether I do or not. There’s too much going on for me to be exploring something like that.”

She scoffs,“ yeah right. As we speak you’re on vacation. There’s no greater time to explore. And if you like her, you deserve to pursue it. If anyone should get a chance at happiness, it’s you.”

Damn. Could you have asked for a better best friend?

“Have I told you that you’re one of the few things I’m thankful for Wan?”

Blushing a little, she tells you,“ you hadn’t but I knew already. I’m thankful for you too, I-” a sudden swirl of emotions race through her eyes, red magic flickering with it,“ I don’t know what I would’ve done without you these last few years.”

“You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for, but I’m glad I could be there for you.”

It’s quiet on her end for a moment before she can pull a smile,“ love you Y/n, Happy Thanksgiving.”

“Love you too Wan and Happy Thanksgiving.”

With an over exaggerated kiss blown to the screen, Wanda hangs up, the lingering picture of her smiling face on your screen before it goes back to the generic wallpapered home screen.

You take a second to yourself, eyes trained on the city outside.

There may not be any snow, but NC definitely has its own way of showing the holiday spirit. In that, a lot of the skyscrapers have large light displays on them. And where there are trees, the orange, red, and yellow leaves fell from them.

Eventually, you get up to get ready. Taking a shower and putting on an outfit that reflects the season and holiday.

Having everything you need, you call a car, waiting for it in the lobby with a cup of coffee. Once in the car, you let Lena know you’re on your way.

It leaves you a little unnerved when she doesn’t reply as fast as usual. In fact she doesn’t reply at all but her doorman let’s you up so you know she’s home.

When she pulls her door open and you take in her slightly frazzled state you frown.

“Should I have waited to come by? Is everything okay?”

Lena’s heart melts at the worried expression on your face, a smile forming,“ no it’s fine I just, I forgot most restaurants are closed on Thanksgiving.”

A gasp leaves your lips,“ Miss Luthor,” you press a hand to your chest,“ take out is not a proper Thanksgiving meal.”

Her mouth opens to reply but seeing your expression has her keeping it to herself.

The few nights you’d spent here, you know Lena doesn’t keep her fridge and cupboards stocked.“ Come on, we’re going shopping.”

Lena will admit, she had a bit of a slow moment, wondering what shopping would do to solve the food issue. Arriving at the store though, she realizes you meant grocery shopping.

Walking around the store with you pushing the cart is probably the most domestic thing Lena’s done in a long time. She finds herself falling in deeper with you as she sees how, almost childlike you are: riding on the cart every so often, throwing completely unnecessary snacks inside, and doing small little celebratory fist pumps when you find exactly what you need.

“Okay,” Lena breaks the quiet,“ are you secretly a chef outside of being an Avenger?”

Currently the two of you stand in her kitchen, smooth jazz playing through the room’s speakers, Lena’s usual glass of wine on the counter mere inches from your glass of bourbon, as you prepare dinner. Admittedly Lena isn’t all that good at cooking, so she’s slightly fascinated with how easily you move about.

You raise an eyebrow, fingers sprinkling seasoning over the Cornish Hens,“ what’d you mean?”

“I just- you seem to be really good at this.” She gestures to you and the spread of food in front of you.

Shrugging, you tell her,“ I just learned from my dad. He literally taught me everything I know.”

There goes that tone again. Your voice sounding far off. You reminiscing.

You slide the pan into the oven, setting a timer, and looking back with a smile, nodding for Lena to come over.

She stands at your side, arms brushing with every move as you raise the lid off the skillet, steam rising from it,“ now don’t go sharing this recipe with anyone Miss Luthor.”

The CEO chuckles,“ well if it’s good I’ll have to capitalize on it.”

You laugh, eyes shutting with the action. So you miss the look Lena gives you, pride at being the reason you’re laughing and a longing to make that smile last.

From there you tell and show her the way you’d been taught to make yams: nutmeg, brown sugar, vanilla flavor, and butter. Then turning them over so the seasonings reach all the vegetables.

Grabbing a smaller spoon, you scoop some of it up, and hold it out to her. A hum of approval leaves Lena’s lips at the taste of it.

“That’s incredible.”

You watch the way her tongue runs over her lips, catching the remnants of the food, and resisting the urge to reach out and run your thumb across the pink muscle.

Opting to nod and jokingly say,” oh I know.”

She laughs with a shake of her head.

It goes like that as you continue to cook. Once a dish is done, you give Lena a taste and she tells you how great it is. Until you’re setting it all out on the table in front of where Lena set out the plates and silverware.

You both fix your plates and refill your drinks before sitting down.

“I’ll admit, this is a million times better than take out.”

While you hadn’t mentioned it before, you have to now,“ please tell me this isn’t the first time you’ve had a home cooked meal for Thanksgiving.”

The CEO shrugs, a sad smile covering her lips as she says,“ well I’ve spent the last two in my office.”

You raise your eyebrows,“ and before then?”

“Meals were made by the chefs. And holidays with my family were usually, well awkward. With the tension between myself and my mother and Lex’s silence. . .”

Reaching over, you cover her hand with yours,“ family can be tough. But from what I’ve seen it seems you have a decent one.”

The brunette looks at you quizzically. Did you not hear what she just said?

“Not the Luthors,” you clarify,“ I mean your chosen family. Kara, Alex, everyone else. They care a lot about you and you love them too.”

Lena smiles fondly at that. It’s true.“ And here I’ve yet to see your family, related and chosen.”

“As far as my given family goes, it’s just me and a few distant cousins. My mom was never around much and my dad passed years ago. Right after I’d graduated college actually.”

There’s the confirmation of her thoughts. Though she wishes it’d come at a different time.

She tries to lighten the mood,“ chosen?”

“Also complicated,” you chuckle,“ there’s all kinds of dynamics going around with them but we have each other’s backs in the end. I’d give my life for everyone one of them.”

“Anyone in particular?” She finds herself having to ask.

Praying silently that there isn’t. At least not in the way she’s referring to.

You nod with a smile,“ Wanda. She’s my best friend. A sister really. We’ve been close since she joined the team.”

She smiles for two reasons. One: you’re single. Two: it’s cute that you have someone like that.

Throughout dinner you both joke and talk about lighter topics. Despite the numerous looks you give each other, neither of you catch it.

When dinner is over(and leftovers are put away) you tackle the dishes and then move to the living room with your dessert.

“Okay, apple cheesecake. Never knew I needed it.” She says with a chuckle.

Your eyes widen in agreement,“ I know right. Apart from strawberry and classic New York, it’s my favorite.”

“I’m going to need you to make both of those for me, for research purposes.” She adds the last bit with a wink.

Laughing makes you lean just a little closer and Lena loves it. A quiet buzzing grabs yours and Lena’s attention.

The woman pulling her phone out.“ Speaking of desserts, my chosen family has an abundance of it and has invited us over.”

“Ooo, yes, I love desserts.”

She smiles at you in amusement and together you both get ready to leave, Lena insisting that you bring your cheesecake.

Unsurprisingly, christmas music is all over the radio on the drive over. You can’t say you expect anything less.

With Lena at your side, you knock on Kara’s door. The blonde pulling it open in seconds.

“Lena, Y/n, hi.” She hugs the both of you excitedly.

“Thank you for inviting us.” Lena tells her friend.

Stepping into the apartment, without a thought, you’re helping Lena take her coat off as she’s holding your dessert in one hand. With a blush, she thanks you, and you miss the wiggle of Kara’s eyebrows in her direction.

Mon-El throws a hi your way and everyone else does the same.“ Do I see more desserts?” He leaps up, happily making his way over.

You accept the quick handshake he gives before looking over your shoulder to the pan in Lena’s hands.“ Yeah, Lena says my cheesecake is to die for and it’d be a crime not to share it.”

The CEO’s jaw drops,“ I did not-” her elbow nudges your arm with a laugh,“ I didn’t say all that.”

Placing a hand on her shoulder you smile,“ but I could tell that’s what you really meant.”

“So cute.”

Your eyebrows pinch together at Kara’s mumbled words. You and Lena? Could she see your crush on the woman as clearly as Wanda had? Is it that obvious?

Figuring she didn’t intend for anyone to hear that, you refrain from commenting. Instead walking with Mon-El to the kitchen island.

“I never asked but what is it that you do?” Mon-El asks, head tilting in a way you’d seen Kara do a number of times.

You accept the glass of water he passes you,“ I’m a weapons specialist for the Avengers, occasionally moonlighting as a hero.”

“Me too.” His eyes widen as does yours.

“You’re a superhero?”

The man’s eyes widen, uncertainty flickering through his eyes as they search yours. Then he chuckles and nods,“ yeah. Super being Alien. I’m from Daxam.”

“Daxam.” You’d heard of plenty of planets, never that one.“ Where is Daxam? I’ve been to a few galaxies and planets, I’ve never heard of Daxam.”

He thinks for a moment,“ I’m not sure what galaxy it would be in but it orbited Rao.”

“Rao? Is that like another planet or a sun?”

Suddenly Kara appears at Mon-El’s side,“ what’re we talking about?”

You send a glance to Mon-El, wondering if Kara already knows. His nod and pursed lips tells you she does.“ Mon-El was just telling me about Daxam and the-”

“Star.”

“The star it orbits.”

It’s hard to place the expression on Kara’s face. Mainly because it’s a mix of a few emotions.“ Are you not surprised?”

You shrug,“ I am, just, well I’ve dealt with a number of aliens. Not many of them were good guys.”

Mon-El smiles widely, a matching one on Kara’s face. Little did you know, hearing that from you makes the blonde consider telling you about her heroic alter-ego.

Before she can mention it though, Winn comes sliding over, arms wrapping around you. Looking at him, you see the silverware hanging from his mouth.

Patting his shoulder, you pull back a little,“ hey buddy, what’s goin on?”

“This cheesecake is amazing.” His words come out with a little lisp due to the object in his mouth but you laugh nonetheless.

“I’m glad you liked it.” Finally he steps back and nods.“ How bout you show me where the rest of these desserts are.”

Together the two of you step over to the dining table where there’s a decent amount of desserts. You just have to put some of each on your plate.

When you plop down beside Lena she’s already wearing an expression of amusement. Looking at her, you smile softly,“ want some?” Her look of uncertainty makes you chuckle. Scooping a piece of pie up, you hold it towards her.

Hesitantly she leans in and eats the sweet. Your eyes once again drawn to the way she licks her lips then back to her green orbs.

“That’s really good.”

You quickly eat a bite,“ oh wow, it is.”

“So!” All eyes snap to Kara as she walks over with the guys,“ we did this earlier but a few of us weren’t here so we’re going to do it again.” The woman sits on the arm of Mon-El’s chair.“ What are you thankful for?”

Starting with herself, it goes around the room, until it gets to you.“ I am thankful for old friends and new,” you smile at the already smiling people around you,“ I haven’t known you guys long but you all mean a lot to me and I’m incredibly grateful to have met you all.”

Not being able to help herself, Kara throws her arms around you. Which incites Winn to hug the both of you and that just ends in a big group hug that dissolves in laughter.

* * * * *

Taglist: @username23345 @depressed-bi-bitch @fayhar @trikruismybitch @marvel-wlw @aznblossom @chicken-wang09 @bitchtits15

#lena luthor #lena luthor x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #dcu #dcu x reader #mcu #mcu x reader #reader insert #all over again

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lady-literature · 4 years

Text

for us to collide (part 4)

anyway who actually expected me to end this thing in 4 chapters lol

rip me ig

After the not-so-impromptu interrogation courtesy of her friends (because there was no way they hadn’t planned that, it was too coordinated) Robin doesn’t stop by for two weeks.

Which is… fine. Marinette is plenty busy anyways. The extra time she has free now that she isn’t entertaining a bratty vigilante, goes to more productive uses of her time. Like watching bad horror movies with her friends and jeering at the horrible acting and special effects.

(Red Hood stops by in the middle of watching Grizzly Rage and proceeds to rant for twenty minutes about ‘shitty, unrealistic blood splatters’. Marinette has long since passed the point of being worried about it.)

So, yeah. She doesn’t see Robin.

But Damian, oddly enough, seeks her out.

It’s early, and there isn’t anyone else in the studio right now which means Marinette has her music blasting and she’s humming along as she hand paints silk for Clara’s dress. It’s loud and she’s in her zone, so it’s only by Tikki warning her that she realizes someone entered her sanctuary.

Her eyebrows raise when she sees who it is.

“Uh, bonjour Damian," she greets confusedly, reaching over to lower the volume on her speakers. "I hadn’t expected to see you here. Is there something you need?”

He stops before her workstation, only slightly bigger than the ones the rest of her staff use due to the sheer amount of open commissions she normally has. She has an actual office on this floor, but Chloé uses it more than she does. Marinette likes the open space and being around her designers more than she likes the privacy.

His eyes catch on the two bouquets of flowers she’s yet to take home, neither of which have even begun to wilt—and likely won’t. (She’ll have to take them home soon before people start asking questions.)

“I was called here by Father, but he’s currently indisposed. I’ve been told to wait.”

She waits a moment for him to continue, and when he doesn’t, she asks, “So you came to visit me?”

“Yours is the only tolerable presence to be found.” His lips purse, and he crosses his arms. “And that includes that imbecile Drake who is no doubt still in his office like the pitiful insomniac he is.”

Her tongue is already halfway around a joke about excuses—she didn’t befriend Felix for nothing, okay? She knows how people like Damian work—when she realizes what he just said.

“Wait. Tim’s been here all night?”

Damian snorts. “He certainly didn’t return to the manor.”

She’s out of her seat in an instant, frowning and muttering up a storm as she rummages through the storage cubes pushed up against the far wall. She has a blanket, pillow and plain cotton shirt in her hands before Damian registers that she even moved.

“I’m going to kill your brother,” she says simply. “Would you like to come with?”

She’s gotten closer to Tim since working in Wayne Tower. He’s a notorious recluse and rarely leaves his office when he’s in the building, but Marinette makes it a point to visit him during lunch and before she leaves for the night.

He isn’t one of her Waynes, but he is a Wayne and her Waynes love and care for him so there’s not much of a difference really. She does like to think they might be something close to friends at this point though. And if the way Tim comes down to visit whenever he ventures out of his office means something, she might even be right.

Another thing that should be noted, is that Marinette is very much a ‘ride or die’ kind of person when it comes to the people she cares about. She will ruthlessly bully her loved ones into taking better care of themselves on threat of death because she is the semi-hypocritical mom friend and damn proud of it.

Damian looks her up and down, eyes lingering on the items in her hands and the determined set to her jaw and says, “Of course.” Then he’s plucking her things from her hands, offering her his arm and saying, “Shall we?”

Marinette laughs as she loops her arm with his. “We shall.”

***

She spends ten minutes scolding Tim before wrangling him onto the couch in his office and wrapping him up in the blanket so tightly he’d need to be an escape artist to get out of it. He tries to struggle anyway, but Marinette has too much practice at this and he doesn’t stand a chance in hell.

Damian stands at her shoulder and smirks the entire time, eyes dancing with amusement as she forces the CEO of Wayne Enterprises to take a fucking nap. Then, she’s treated to the sound of his surprised laughter as she begins switching out all of Tim’s regular coffee for magic-decaf—not that Damian knows it’s magic.

(By the devilish smirk playing at his lips, she’s starting to think that maybe Damian really is just as sadistic as Duke and Jason say he is.)

***

Damian starts dropping by more often after that (read: starts dropping by at all). Not that Marinette minds. She quite likes his company, actually.

He normally stops by first thing in the morning when Marinette is the only one in the workshop, walking in like he owns the place. For the first couple days, he asks about Ladybug and the rest of Paris’ Court, claiming that he’s curious about them.

She answers them, but only as far as she’d answer them for any reporter and is careful not to give away any sensitive information not known to the public. He gets a bit frustrated at one point, complaining that she must know more, but she stays stubbornly silent about it and, sometimes, steers the conversation deftly to the Great Bat and his Flock instead.

He eventually stops asking about the Parisian superheroes and instead their morning conversations turn to a thousand random things. Complaints and anecdotes and a silly back and forth between the two.

Marinette’s never been much of a morning person but having Damian there to keep her company is… nice.

She almost finds herself looking forward to mornings now.

***

When her Waynes learn that she’s started a food kitchen and makes a habit of spending her weekend there, they immediately insist on joining her, despite her protests.

“You guys really don’t have to do this,” she says even though the three of them are already in their aprons and Cass is eyeing the boucher, Vivian, and her collection of knives with glittering interest.

Duke grins at her, “We know, M. But we want to.”

Jason finally turns back to her from where he’s been staring at the kitchen with something just shy of awe on his face. “You’re downright incredible, you know that?” he waves a hand out at the seating area, and then at the people in the kitchen assembling the healthiest and cost-efficient meals she and Felix could find after days spent researching. “I would’ve killed for something like this when I was on the streets.”

“It’s not just me who’s got this up and running-” she tries protesting but then Fiona, the woman Marinette actually put in charge of this place, is at her side and all but shoving the four of them into stations.

Marinette ends up by the pastries, like always, and she can see Jason making sandwiches. Duke's been roped into making eggs and bean casseroles and Cass, by some grace, actually ended up by Vivian and is having a blast cutting up all the meats as fast as she can.

They don’t stop until lunch, all four of them helping prepare meals for the upcoming week in bulk. After, they all go out for ice cream by the pier and Jason smears chocolate on her nose and Duke carries her around on his back when she complains about being tired.

Cass takes pictures of it all and later, Marinette gets them all printed out.

It ends up being a really good day.

***

The buzz from the charity gala and all the press regarding her and Damian’s non-existent relationship had calmed down weeks ago. There was still the odd article about Marinette being seen with her odd assortment of Waynes and the newspapers still called her ridiculous names when they got a picture, but it was about as close to normal as she gets.

The quiet lulled her into a false sense of security.

Ice Prince and Sweetheart Finally Seen on Date: Fairy Tale Romance or Publicity Stunt?

The ‘date’ in question was a coffee and lunch run for her designers and also Tim (because kwami knew he'd work through lunch if allowed).

Damian normally didn’t stay past Lilliane arriving in the morning (the poor dear was chronically late and always the last to arrive) but he hadn’t shown up until after she came that day and overcompensated by hours—which she hadn't minded. He kept to the fringes of her workspace and didn't distract her, instead focusing on his own thing. She wasn’t quite sure what he was up to, but she knew he was switching between his computer and sketchpad every so often.

(She's pretty sure he was hiding from Dick for some reason. He’s the only Wayne brother who doesn’t visit her at work, seeing as they have their bi-weekly gymnastic sessions; recently, with the addition of Mar’i, who still calls her ‘twin’ and whom Marinette still adores.)

And then lunch had rolled around, and it was Marinette’s turn to go out so she brought Damian with since he was still there.

They were out together for forty-five minutes. Tops.

“Why me?” she whines into the surface of her desk.

Damian, the asshole, just laughs at her and she can’t even be mad about it because he’s only just started laughing around her and not hiding behind so many of his walls. He laughs and Marinette knows it's precious so instead of shooting him the glower he deserves, she finds herself having to hide the smile slowly creeping on her face.

***

They’re splashed across the papers again less than a week later, only this time she has her Waynes there too.

Marinette's wearing her bright red sundress and she's somehow convinced Damian to wear a jacket with elaborate crowns and snowflakes embroidered up the sides. Because, as Chloé says: if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em.

They see the camera this time and the photo splashed across the page the next day is of Marinette laughing with Jason’s arm slung across her shoulders as both he and Damian flip off the camera. Meanwhile, Duke and Cass stand just far enough in frame to capture their expressions of pain and amusement respectively.

(Marinette makes a mental note to order apology gift baskets for the PR department.)

There are a lot of headlines the next day about Marinette’s ‘harem of Waynes’ and how she’s a ‘horrible influence on such bright children’. She spends about ten minutes trying to decide whether she should be horrified or laugh at the sheer ridiculousness of it and eventually decides on both.

Adrien, the little shit, sees the headline and immediately prints it out to hang in her kitchen.

It reappears every time she tries to take it down.

***

Gotham does not smile upon daytime heroes.

Not to say that Gotham really smiles on anyone, but it’s especially vicious to those that think they’re owed anything. She’s heard the way Gothamites talk about Superman and The Flash—it’s not exactly what one would call adoring.

But Ladybug's been a daytime hero her entire career and it is not difficult to see that there's something distinctly different about the way daytime heroes and Gotham’s vigilantes operate.

Something more vicious, maybe; something more restrained.

Without the light of day and without the people’s eyes watching them at every moment, the Gotham Bats have become something else entirely.

Signal, their Daytime Protector, is especially strange.

A bat who's meta, straddling the line between day and night. The Day Patrol, trained by the night.

Sometimes, when she and Signal talk about heroing, there is such an odd type of disconnect that it throws her. Nothing horrible or major, but little things she’s sure she wouldn’t notice if she wasn’t so intimately familiar with it all herself.

They don’t always talk about heroing though. After two months, Ladybug is proud to say she seems to be worming her way past his outer shell nicely. He tried so hard to keep his distance from her, but Ladybug’s always liked a challenge, and it isn’t long before she has him relaxing around her.

Well, for a definition of relax anyway. He's still a bat after all.

But then, it’s pretty easy to get past Signal’s barriers when she’s already had practice breaking through the more stubborn bats like Robin and, to an extent, Hood. Not that Signal, or any of the bats, know that.

Which, speaking of the bats, isn’t it a bit weird she’s only met three spread across two of her alter egos? As Ladybug, she’d expect to be hounded by a few of them but the only one she’s met is Signal. She can’t decide if it’s because he’s the only one that operates in the daylight, or if they just don’t want to spook her into running or something.

Either way, they’re going to start giving her a complex. She’s heard so much about the rest of the Batfamily, and not one of them even wants to meet her? Either her?

(Maybe Marinette should ask Robin and Hood what’s up with that? The way they talk about how nosy Red Robin is, she’s surprised he didn’t drop by months ago and- is it weird that she’s offended by vigilantes not prying into her private life?

…Probably.)

***

Marinette blinks, stopping dead in her tracks.

Damian's on her fainting couch, sketchpad in his lap as he waits for her.

“Why are you wearing a beanie?” she blurts out instead of greeting him like a normal person. "You never wear beanies."

Luckily, Damian scowls at her question rather than at her. It’s a subtle but very important difference.

“Sorry,” she apologizes anyway, putting her bag down. “I haven't had coffee yet.”

He hums, then nods to her desk where she finds a steaming to-go mug. Her face lights up and she quickly snatches it, breathing deeply the lovely aroma. “You’re a godsend.”

That brings a quirk to his lips, closer to a smirk than a smile, but progress nonetheless.

After a moment, where she sips at her overly sugary monstrosity—just the way she likes it, when had Damian even noticed that?—and he continues sketching she asks again. “Okay but, I actually am kinda curious. What’s up with the hat?”

He sighs heavily, closing his pad. “It’s… better than the alternative.”

Marinette snorts. “Alternative to what? A top hat?” But instead of snapping back like she expects, he just continues to frown. Immediately, her lips turn down into a concerned frown. “Is there something wrong?”

“Yes,” he grounds out and Marinette puts her coffee down. She’s just about to open her mouth and say something else when he reaches up and rips the beanie off his head.

For the second time in less than five minutes, she stops dead.

Marinette opens her mouth. Closes it. Blinks, but the scene doesn't change.

His hair is still blue.

Damian Wayne's hair is blue.

Damian Wayne’s hair is vibrantly electric blue.

Her hand shoots up to cover her mouth as she tries to stifle her giggles.

Damian’s scowl deepens. He moves to shove his ridiculous beanie back on his head but her hand snaps out before he can.

“No! No, I’m sorry I just-” she giggles again. “You looked so upset by it and you took me by surprise. I like it!”

He glares up at her, still sat on the fainting couch so it’s her who has the height advantage for once.

“Don’t patronize me.”

She rolls her eyes, the hand that wasn’t settled on his arm reaching up to touch the bright strands. It's slow enough that he can stop her, but he, surprisingly, makes no move to.

His hair is a lot softer than she expects it to be. But she supposes he didn’t use that gel stuff today, planning on keeping his hair under a hat the whole time.

“It looks good on you,” she says softly.

He snorts disbelievingly and she smacks his shoulder lightly. “It’s true! I swear you could look good in any color.” She clicks her tongue longingly. “I wish I had your skin tone. I’m too pale to wear pastels like I want.”

He wrinkles his nose at her. “Pastels?”

“Oh you hush,” she quips, finally pulling her hand from his hair. “Anyway, if you don’t like it, why’d you dye it blue in the first place?”

“I… lost a wager with Todd.”

She laughs, starting to move around and get ready for the day. She doesn’t have any meetings scheduled, which means she gets the whole day to create. She’s pretty excited about it.

“I should’ve guessed it was Jason’s doing.”

Damian shrugs, settling back into the cushions. He drapes himself across them in a way that’s effortlessly elegant and like he’s ready to be photographed for a magazine cover or something. Must all her friends be so pretty? It’s playing hell on her self-esteem.

“But blue is your favorite color, right? So there’s that at least.”

Damian hums. “Todd had threatened to dye it pink or some other equally garish color.”

“Hey!” she exclaims in mock outrage. “What’s wrong with pink? I’ve been wanting to dye my hair pink for ages.”

“Nothing. It’s just simply not a color I appreciate.” He makes a face. “Like orange.”

Marinette huffs, but there’s a smile on her lips. It's quiet for a moment, for long enough that she thinks the conversation's been dropped. But then-

“Why don’t you?”

“Huh?”

“Why haven’t you dyed your hair?” he repeats. “Your friends—Couffaine and… Kubdel? They both have colored hair.”

Marinette shrugs. “I dunno. Never got around to it I guess. I suppose I could do it now. Dye mine in solidarity,” she jokes. “Oh! We could match even! Wouldn’t that be fun?”

“I thought you wanted pink?”

“Well, yeah. But blue is nice too. Besides,” she smiles wryly over her shoulder, “you just said pink was ‘garish’.”

Damian frowns slightly, shaking his head, “On me, perhaps. But I think you’d look very fetching in pink.”

“Oh,” Marinette pauses, feeling her face grow warm at the sudden compliment. “Well- Uh, pink it is, then.”

***

(Damian watches the blush rise on her cheeks as she turns away to try and hide it. Yes, he can’t help but think, fetching in pink, indeed.)

***

Luka insists on being the one to dye her hair, citing that he’s the one who had dibs all these years, but Alix and Jason both all but demand to be there too.

Her bathroom is not big enough for all four of them to sit in.

Not a single one of them cares.

Cass and Duke ask for progress pics along with Uncle Jay, and all her Parisian friends cycle through standing at the bathroom door to see how it's going.

The constant stream of people looking at her makes her feel not unlike an animal at a zoo. (When she wryly tells this to Alix, all she gets is her friend cackling on the ground.)

But, after all the bleaching and conditioning and waiting, she stares into the mirror with soft pink hair the color of bubblegum and thinks, yeah, it was worth it.

She thinks it again when Damian walks in the next day and almost trips over his own feet.

(She’s also wearing her Robin themed sundress, complete with hood, matching boots and personal touches not found on the mass-produced version—but Marinette doesn’t know why that would be relevant.)

Her favorite reaction to her new hair color though is, by far, Mar’i’s.

Marinette doesn’t see the young Grayson until a week later when she’s invited to the monthly family dinner Alfred insists all the Waynes attend—which includes her now, apparently (she tries not to show how pleased she is by that).

She arrived with Damian, who was kind enough to pick Tim and her up from work, and Mar’i takes one look at Damian and her standing next to one another before she starts babbling excitedly about Lilo and Stitch and Angel. A character who is—apparently—Stitch’s girlfriend and the complimentary pink to his blue.

Marinette is momentarily surprised, but Mar’i’s enthusiasm is contagious and it isn’t long before the rest of the Waynes are teasingly calling them Angel and Stitch. Marinette thinks it’s all very funny and adorable.

Damian, on the other hand, most certainly does not and threatens everyone who calls him that ‘ridiculous nickname’ with graphic depictions of bodily harm.

‘Angel’, oddly enough, sticks for Marinette. She finds she kind of likes it.

***

Later, Damian asks her about nicknames.

Well, he calls them ‘asinine titles’ and doesn’t so much ask as demand she explain why she allows anyone to call her by them seeing as she has a ‘perfectly serviceable name,’ in his opinion.

Ignoring the fact that she’s heard Dick call him multiple nicknames he hadn’t protested to, she says, “Well, I guess it’s that everyone uses Marinette. A nickname is something… special. A little more personal, I guess. And, I dunno. My parents named me Marinette, but it’s nice to share something between other people. And it shows they care.”

Damian looks confused after she’s done, but also thoughtful. He doesn’t say anything to that and Marinette doesn’t really expect anything to come of it.

She's proven wrong when, a week later, Damian calls her Starling instead of Marinette.

(And the transition from Dupain-Cheng to Marinette had been enough to make her beam—this is just ridiculous.)

***

When Robin disappears a second time, Marinette doesn’t get the chance to notice his absence on her own. He’s only stopped showing up four days ago—which is longer than normal, but not unheard of—when she hears unfamiliar voices on her balcony.

Looking out, she finds three semi-familiar individuals clustered around the plate of treats she leaves out for Robin and Hood.

Nightwing and Red Robin are both stuffing their faces full of the fruit tarts she had made while Spoiler glares at them and seems to be cursing the fact that her mask covers her mouth the same way Hood always does when she makes those raspberry scones he likes.

The scene is… odd. For many reasons but most pressingly that their arrival has come out of nowhere.

“Well,” Nightwing explains when she asks, “We wanted to visit ages ago, but baby bird threatened to stab us all if we tried.”

“He’s very… particular about you,” Red Robin tacks on while Spoiler nods sagely like she hasn’t crafted some strange straw monstrosity just so she can drink tea while still wearing her mask. Red Robin has one too, but his for the aesthetic rather than out of necessity.

Marinette stares at the three of them. “That… does not explain why you are here now.”

“Robin can’t stop us now, obviously,” Red Robin says casually, like he hasn't just kicked her heart into high gear with a few words.

“What? Why?” she demands, trying very hard not to sound panicked. “Is he okay? Was he hurt?”

Red Robin blinks, going quiet in that way Hood and Robin do when they’re judging her just a bit. She hates this family.

“No, he’s… fine.”

“B’s just benched him for the time being,” Nightwing helpfully supplies, amusement flickering at the edges of his lips. “He’s a little too… conspicuous at the moment.”

Marinette’s shoulders relax even as her brows furrow. Conspicuous? What in the world is that supposed to mean?

“Does that mean he won’t be coming around for a while?” she asks before she can think better of it.

The three vigilantes in front of her share a look before Spoiler says, “Probably. But the gremlin’s never been one to sit still so who knows?” she smiles, eyes crinkling at the corners as she leans toward Marinette conspiratorially. “But don’t worry. We can keep you company in the meantime!”

“We’re much better company than the demon anyway. Certainly less insulting.”

“Oh, he’s not that bad. He’s an ass, for sure, but you can tell when he means it and when he’s just stumbling over himself.” Marinette smiles fondly, “For someone so dignified, he trips over his tongue quite often.”

Now the vigilantes are really staring at her. She’s starting to feel pretty uncomfortable about it all when Nightwing beams at her, jumping up from his seat to sweep her into a hug. It startles her, but she doesn’t push him away, instead laughing at the sudden affection.

“Oh you really are perfect!” he exclaims, setting her down and still grinning like an absolute lunatic.

She’s smiling, because Nightwing’s joy is infectious, but she's even more confused than before. And then, before she can ask what he means, Red Robin’s wrist computer lights up—and damn, isn’t that cool? Marinette wonders if Tikki could do something like that for the Ladybug suit—and the three are moving to swing back out into the night.

She waves them off and they all promise to visit again.

Marinette shakes her head before going back inside with the empty pastry plate and four empty mugs.

***

Damian knows of Marinette’s friends of course. It'd take more effort not to when she talks about them every chance she gets and tells him all the wild stories about their escapades and misadventures.

(They also all came up in the background check he ran on her when they first met.)

Most of her friends are exceedingly normal oddly enough. Well, they’re all mildly famous and the leaders of their various fields, but they’re just civilians.

The only exceptions being, Bourgeois, Agreste, and Graham de Vanily.

Bourgeois is a former hero like Marinette, only she doesn't seem to still be in contact with the Parisian Court. All the articles he could find spoke about how Queen Bee was deemed unfit for her mantle and later replaced by the new bee hero, Ambrosia. Agreste was caught up in the scandal of his father being Hawkmoth, but he was found innocent and ignorant of his father's crimes (something Damian made sure to confirm). He now works at and is being groomed to own the bakery Marinette's parents run, seeing as their daughter has little interest to do it herself.

And finally, Graham de Vanily, Agreste's cousin, has a history of causing trouble wherever he goes. Nothing villainous, and rarely even malicious, but there's something about him that makes the hair on the back of his neck stand up. Not everything is as it seems with the Graham de Vanily heir.

Besides those three outliers, Marinette's friends seem to be untouched by the vigilante life. Which means he thinks they must be utterly boring.

Only, when her friends start coming around to visit and drag her out for lunch or some other random outing, Damian keeps finding himself baffled by each of them.

They act strangely and with a dangerous air none of them should possess, except for Tsurugi. The questions they ask him are strange and the jokes they make have no sense. He's been warned about how he better treat Marinette so many times, he's started to lose count. (Which is ridiculous. He treats her just fine and would never intentionally harm her. What are they trying to insinuate?)

But, by far, his most memorable encounter is with Lahiffe. A veritable wolf in sheep's clothing.

Marinette is excitedly babbling about her newest idea for her summer collection, pressed up against him on the chaise and practically shoving her sketches in his face as she demands his critique and thoughts.

Her hands are waving every which way and, on more than one occasion, he has to quickly lean back so she doesn't hit him in the face.

He’s focusing on what she’s saying so much—because she has a habit of forgetting things if she doesn’t write them down and needs someone to remind her of the ideas she had at a later time—that he doesn’t even realize Lahiffe is there until he clears his throat.

Marinette jumps, almost elbowing him in the stomach. “Nino!” she shouts, springing up and flinging herself at the other man who catches her like this is something she does often.

“Heya, Nettie.”

“Wait- what are you doing here? You’re not-” she jolts back to look at Lahiffe’s amused expression. “Oh kwami, is it time already? Shit. I wasn’t paying attention. I’m so sorry! I have to give this one thing to Publishing but then I promise we can go, okay? Like, just five minutes!”

She's already moving before she finishes speaking, sweeping up papers and rearranging files and putting things away with all the swiftness and agility of a speedster. Damian watches her go about her routine, occasionally handing her something she’s dropped or pointing out a thing she’s missed, weaving around her chaos with practiced ease.

Then she’s sweeping out of the office with a distracted “be right back!” and he’s alone with Lahiffe.

The second Marinette leaves, the man’s attention swings onto him with a strange weight. For a long moment, he doesn’t say anything and Damian’s hackles raise with every passing second.

He doesn’t snap at him though, because he’s one of Marinette’s friends. Insulting him would only serve to make her upset and that’s something Damian's been trying to avoid causing as of late.

“Man,” Lahiffe says at last. “Alix wasn’t kidding about the whole besotted thing, huh?”

Damian rears back, straightening up to his full height. “I beg your pardon?”

Lahiffe laughs and waves his hand about like that’s supposed to mean something. “Ah, no need to be embarrassed about it, dude. You’re far from the first of us to fall for her charms.”

“What.”

“Yeah, we've all been there. I think over half of the Paris crew crushed on her at some point, including myself. None of us are into her like that anymore, so as long as you treat her right, you got nothing to worry about."

“I’m not- I'm not interested in Marinette,” Damian tries to protest but Lahiffe just calmly steamrolls over him.

“Nah. Everyone loves Nettie. It’s universal law or something. First, there was me and Adrien, then Luka—who she actually liked back for a while there but are now practically siblings. Chloé liked her in collége, but she hadn’t really come to terms with that at the time. Alix might’ve, but she’s pretty grey-ace and fluctuates on the romance points, so who knows.

“Oh! And Nath. He also snagged a date with her, but he was an Akuma at the time so I’m not technically sure that it counts. And he’s with Marc now anyway. Thinking of adopting a kid, last I heard. Anyway- my point was: everyone loves Nettie. And don’t bother trying to fight it, because it only makes her pull of gravity worse.”

Lahiffe then claps him on the shoulder like their talk amiable and not the most confusing speech Damian’s ever heard.

And then he doesn’t even get to say anything to that because Marinette is sprinting back through the door, grabbing her jacket and bag, telling him goodbye, and dragging Lahiffe out to who knows where.

Damian stands there longer than he cares to admit trying to make the world make sense again.

***

A week and a half after she learned Robin was benched, Damian catches her staring off into space as she doodles tiny robins in the margins of her sketchbook.

He gives her an odd look when she scrambles to hide them, blushing hotly and babbling about how she’s “Just fine! Nothing to worry about! I’m just, maybe, perhaps, a little worried for a friend even though I shouldn’t be, because his family says he’s just fine and-”

He looks contemplative when he leaves that day, but he didn’t ask about her outburst, so she extends the same courtesy to him.

***

That night, Robin returns.

“What,” she says around the laughter threatening to bubble out of her throat, “are you wearing?”

Robin scowls from behind the full cowl he has on that she’s pretty sure belongs to Red Robin. It makes him look a whole ten years older and she can’t get over how ridiculous he looks. If he keeps doing stupid things with his face while wearing that monstrosity, she is definitely going to laugh at him.

“What are you wearing?” he shoots back petulantly.

She blinks in confusion, then realizes she’s still wearing her Red Hood inspired jacket right now. Tan colored fake leather with fuzzy, red inner lining, done with all the same pockets, buttons, and zippers Red Hood has on his own jacket. It looks almost exactly like the jacket she fixed for him all that time ago, except she's also added a soft, crimson hood and his own personal bat symbol stitched across her shoulder blades.

As far as things she's designed goes, this is one of her simpler ones. It's nothing like the elaborate creations she makes for the Ambrosia or Ryuko themed items.

But Red Hood was a simple kind of person, and she likes that it’s reflected in her work.

Robin doesn't seem to agree if the poorly concealed disdain on his face means anything.

“What?” she asks teasingly, “You jealous?”

He scoffs and looks off to the side. “Of course not. I simply do not understand why you’d want anything to do with that simpleton. Especially not when I know you have clothing articles referencing far superior individuals.”

She snorts good-naturedly, "What 'individuals'? You mean you?"

The way he raises his nose self importantly is answer enough, and she can't stop herself from rolling his eyes. "Well, it's certainly a start. But I'm not the only one."

"Oh, yeah? And who else is marvelous enough to stand on the same level as you?"

"Multimouse."

Her mouth goes dry, and she can tell Robin is pointedly not looking at her.

“Come inside,” she blurts in lieu of all the things she really wants to say—which are mostly just embarrassing variations of I missed you. “I can, uh, make us tea. If you want.”

It's the first time she’s ever invited him inside and she can see the small bit of shock on his face—well, what she can see of it anyway—before he schools it.

“Yes,” he says in a tone of voice that implies it was his idea in the first place. “That sounds… good.”

She steps aside, allowing him to pass her by into the flat. Only instead of just walking past her, he stops halfway through the doorway and stares at her. She’s about to ask what’s wrong when he reaches out with his hand to gently grab a lock of her hair.

“Pink suits you, by the way.”

She quirks her lips, “Yeah? You don’t think it’s… too much?”

The corners of his mouth turn down, “Absolutely not. You look…” he trails off, mouth flattening into a line and dropping his hand.

She blinks at the odd behavior. “Nice?” she offers tentatively.

He nods, but it’s a little jerky and strange. But before she can ask about it, he’s already turning to enter her flat like he owns the place, remarking about her choices of tea and if she’s finally acquired an ‘adequate teapot’.

She shakes off the moment and goes in to follow him before he wrecks her kitchen in his careless search for tea supplies.

***

MinnieMouse: COME GET YALL JUICE

and by juice i mean me

I still do not have an american license

JaneAustenStanAccount: what do we get out of it?

MinnieMouse: ???

the pleasure of my company??

also youre literally the one that invited me to watch megamind

JaneAustenStanAccount: and??

daisyduke: shut up jay

we all know youre soft for M stop tryin to play tough

MinnieMouse: this is why duke is my favorite

he’s a living callout post

swanlake: :(

MinnieMouse: second favorite

im so sorry cass ily

swanlake: :)

daisyduke: i aint even mad

JaneAustenStanAccount: I AM

guys wtf

MinnieMouse: you brought this on yourself

maybe you should be nicer to me

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

daisyduke: ‘get fucked jason’ -marinette 2k20

btw im omw for you now

MinnieMouse: thnx ur the best

also im bringing scones as movie snack

daisyduke: noice

swanlake: !!!

JaneAustenStanAccount: FUCK YEAH!!!

MinnieMouse: you dont get any Jay

JaneAustenStanAccount: >:(

i hate it here

***

Marinette doesn’t know a lot about Robin’s past, which she assumes is by design. Secret identities don’t lead well to handing out details and concrete information about one’s personal life.

But, she thinks, one would have to be blind, deaf, and dumb to not see that whatever facsimile of a childhood Robin had was about eight different levels of fucked up.

It’s in the vague allusions to ‘training’ and the scorn filled way he says the word ‘mother’. It’s in the not-quite-confusion—because whatever family he has is better now, at least—of Marinette telling him about her own parents. About the happy memories she’s shared with them, of learning to bake bread and croissants and macaroons under the loving guidance of her father and practicing delicate designs and frosting techniques with her mother.

So, yeah. She knows he’s kind of messed up and definitely checks off the childhood trauma box that’s apparently one of the requirements for being her friend.

So when Robin suddenly decides to go against everything she’s learned about him up until this point and actually share something about himself—and when that thing he shares just so happens to be a story from his childhood—well… Marinette wouldn’t say she’s prepared, but she’s not- prepared.

He’s in her kitchen, because Marinette has learned her lesson about bleeding vigilantes on her couch, and she’s pretty sure he could’ve gone back to the Cave for this, but he came here for whatever reason. (Was closer, he said. Marinette doesn’t know if she believes him.)

She’s cleaning the knife wound on his arm, and she has his cape laid out across her island. There’s a hole in it she plans on sewing back up after she finishes sewing the hole in her reckless vigilante back up.

“You need to be more careful,” she scolds. “You’re lucky this didn’t nick something important.”

“It's hardly the worst wound I’ve ever acquired,” he tells her in a tone of voice that he probably thinks is reasonable. “At seven years old I had to dig a bullet out of my side in the middle of a Himilayan snowstorm while still making it back to base with time to spare after having successfully assassinated a Russian ambassador.”

Marinette pauses where she’s smoothing the gauze onto his bicep. Her eyes flick up to his, and she sees the exact moment he seems to realize what he just told her. He’s gone utterly still beneath her hands, with terror or worry or the effort it takes not to bolt out the window immediately, she doesn’t know.

“That’s horrifying,” she tells him as she finishes securing the obnoxiously bright bandage, “Never tell me that story again.”

She then drops a kiss onto his bicep, subtly imbuing it with enough luck that it will keep off any infection—the wound was filthy when he came in, seriously, was he in a sewer?—and pats his cheek warmly before moving to clean up all her supplies.

She feels his eyes on her the rest of the night, but every time she turns to him, she can’t tell what he’s thinking. All she knows is that he seems… softer, in a way.

***

Three days after Marinette’s unexpected look into Robin’s past, she finds a box on her desk. It’s a jewelry box, and the only reason she doesn’t immediately freak out is the fact that it lacks any of the miracle box markings.

Still, she opens it hesitantly, and inside, she finds a necklace. A completely normal, non-magical necklace that’s simple and pretty and very much shaped like a tiny toy mouse.

There is no note.

***

(Lahiffe was right.

The Earth spins around the sun. The sky is blue.

Everyone loves Marinette.)

***

The necklace is obviously supposed to be a reference to her Multimouse days, but that doesn’t exactly narrow down who could have left it for her.

Or well, it does, but all the people it narrows down to don’t make any sense.

Multimouse is a badly kept secret, but it’s still a secret. Most people outside Paris don’t know about her and the people in Paris didn’t exactly recognize her off the street either.

Her Court knows, obviously, and so do the Waynes and the bats. But her Court wouldn’t leave her mouse themed gifts, they tend toward ladybugs or their own animal motif as a gift (the amount of cat and bee themed items she owns is ludicrous).

Which leaves the Waynes and the bats.

But her Waynes wouldn’t leave the gift on her desk, and they certainly wouldn’t forget to put a note, so Duke, Jason, and Cass are out.

She must stand there thinking about it too long, because then Jeremy's walking in, just as bright and early as ever.

He sees her holding the box and his face turns a strange mix of curious and outraged. “Is it your birthday? I swear, Boss if you didn't tell us it was your birthday-”

“No, Jeremy,” she says, amused despite her confusion. “That’s not for a while yet. I found this when I walked in,” she shakes the box slightly for emphasis, “but there wasn’t a note.”

“Oh.” A smile slowly spreads across Jeremy’s face. “Oh?” he purrs, waggling his eyebrows at her. “Does the boss have a secret admirer?”

Marinette blinks and- what?

“What? No. I can’t- That doesn’t-” she splutters but Jeremy just laughs and walks over to his station to start setting up for the day, leaving Marinette to her breakdown.

Because this can’t have been left by a secret admirer. That’s just crazy.

There are exactly two people who could’ve left this for her and neither of them would be an admirer of any kind. And she wouldn’t want them to be anyway because that would be stupid and ridiculous and weird.

She doesn’t like Robin or Damian like that…

Right?

***

(It’s impossible not to love her, he realizes, mostly by accident.

She loves, wholeheartedly and unafraid and so much more than Damian had ever thought one person could. She loves with a ferocity and passion no person deserves or can match.

And Damian, foolishly, loves and wishes to be loved by her anyway.)

***

There are roses on her desk the next day, potted and still healthy.

The day after that, there’s a box of expensive chocolates. Like, the kind only Adrien, Felix, and Chloé buy without a second thought. The gossip has spread far enough that all of her designers know about the gifts and probably-admirer.

On the fourth day, there is a box full of high-quality pencils and a new sketchbook, one with nice thick drafting paper, but small enough to fit in her favored bag. Her name is embossed across the front, along with her personal motif of delicate apple blossoms.

On the fifth day, she shows up to find there is only a drawing, which should point to it being Damian, but drawing-her is holding a robin in her cupped palms which cannot be a coincidence. Drawing-her also looks serene and beautiful with her mouth curved slightly and her eyes gentle and soft and Marinette is as touched by the image as she is frustrated by it.

There are hair sticks on the sixth, and delicate pins shaped like flowers on the seventh. Another stunning drawing of her on the eighth, a bottle of wine older than Master Fu on the ninth, the softest cashmere blanket on the tenth, a basket of sweet floral lotions, a glass statue of a bird in flight—she gets so many gifts, Marinette has to stop keeping count.

It’s somewhere around day six that her designers must’ve ratted on her to either Felix or Chloé because it’s not long after that, that all of her friends learn about the gifts and start being terrifically unhelpful about the whole situation.

They each try to give her advice, which would be sweet if it wasn’t all equally terrible and conflicting.

They’re also placing bets on who they think her admirer is, Damian or Robin. They’re trying to be discreet about it—which means they’re failing miserably.

Marinette, admittedly, never expected any different from them.

***

Marinette begins watching Damian in the mornings with a newfound interest.

The gifts are always there before she arrives, which means they're also there before Damian arrives, so she’s in a prime position to catch his reaction.

Or, she would be, if he ever reacted. He barely glances at them and never says anything unless the gift is particularly obnoxious, like the giant stuffed mouse she found sitting in her chair last week. (It was almost as big as she was. Adrien, Nino, and Alix had ended up on the floor from laughing so hard when they’d seen it.)

Damian almost never comments on the gift she received that day, but whenever she uses or wears something that her mysterious admirer had gotten for her, he makes sure to compliment her. Which would be very suspicious except that Robin does the same thing.

It’s just- they’re both so frustratingly silent about it all! Marinette is this close to just grabbing one or both of them by the shoulders and just shaking until they tell the truth.

It’s driving her insane! Before the necklace appeared on her desk, she didn’t even know that she liked Robin and Damian.

And now she’s overanalyzing their nonreactions. She hates it.

It feels too much like she’s back in collège, trying to sort out her feelings for Adrien and Chat. (Who ended up being the same person—which was just very inconsiderate of him, really. The least he could do is let her angst have meaning dammit!)

And- ugh. What if she doesn't even like either of them? What if her mind is just making her think she does because the idea of them liking her was presented? What then? Or what about the fact that the two boys are also ridiculously similar when she thinks about it. What if she only likes one and is just projecting her feelings onto the other because her mind associates the two?

Oh, she doesn’t like that thought. That thought makes her feel upset and like she wants to cry into a tub of ice cream.

Nino happily indulges her and doesn't even complain when she eats her way through his stash of mint chip as she dramatically complains about stupidly confusing boys.

Honestly, she may as well be back in lycée.

***

(What Marinette does not realize in the midst of all her careful analysis of his reactions, is that it’s not the gifts he’s focused on.

When she wears the necklace and hair sticks, she misses the way his eyes linger on the slope of her neck. As she cares for her roses, she doesn’t notice the way he follows the easy nimbleness of her fingers. She uses her sketchbook and eats the expensive chocolates and doesn’t pay attention to the way he steals glances at her lips. She doesn't see the way his hands twitch when she ventures just near enough to touch.

(She exists next to him, in any form or light, and he is captivated by her very presence.)

Marinette looks, but it is in all the wrong places.)

***

Strangely enough, it’s Signal who helps her with her internal crisis—completely unintentionally and in a very roundabout way—but he helps all the same.

He’s taken an… interest, she supposes, in her magic. One that is entirely his own and has very little to do with that Bat from what she can tell.

His abilities and hers stem from different origins, but she would be lying if she said his weren’t oddly complementary to her own. His precognition abilities stemming from his photokinesis has been useful on more than one occasion regarding the experimental spell matrices she, Tikki, and Nooroo have been testing out.

The magic is normally invisible to people without a Miraculous, but Signal seems to have little trouble seeing what she’s doing, even if he can’t interact with it the way she can.

(There is also the fact that she seems… more when he is around. Days that he spends watching her do her work go by faster and smoother than when he is away. Her magic is easier, and her mind spins with ideas and creations faster.

It’s an odd phenomenon and Ladybug is looking into it.)

There has been more than one occasion where Signal had warned her of the matrix’s imminent collapse with enough time for her to prepare herself for its blowback.

The version she’s working on today is their fifth iteration. It’s supposed to pull the miasma out of the building, filter it through her and Tikki’s own magical energy, before flowing back into the brickwork. Marinette had thought of the idea while talking with Nooroo.

If she can get it to work, it will shift the misfortune into good luck and order and release it back into the environment. Then she’ll only need to cleanse strategic portions of the city in a lattice network, and the creative and destructive energies will mix from there, balancing themselves without much input from her at all.

Of course, that’s only if she can actually get it to work. It’s been almost a month and this is the fifth version and it’s already collapsed on her three times in the last hour. Signal must see the frustration on her face and has taken to trying to distract her with small talk.

She’s very thankful for it, actually. If he wasn’t doing that, she would probably start screaming right here and now, on this random rooftop in the residential district. Which would just be very startling and embarrassing for everyone involved, so. You know. Glad she doesn’t have to do that.

Eventually, she asks him, apropos of nothing, “You’re a detective right?”

He pauses, and blinks at her, likely trying to follow the train of thought that led her to that question. She assumes he did not find it because when he speaks, he still sounds confused.

“Yes? I guess that’s technically what I am.”

“So you’re good at figuring out who’s behind a crime?”

Signal only looks more confused. “Yeah? But Ladybug, what-”

“Great, so. Hypothetically, if you had two suspects for a—well it’s not a crime. A… thing? Situation. How would you figure out which one of them is actually behind the… situation?”

Signal’s lips quirk, just a bit despite his confusion. “I think I’m gonna need a little more to go on than just ‘a situation,’ LB.”

Ladybug purses her lips and stares down at the light weaving intricate patterns in the space between her palms. Slowly, carefully, she tells him, “There are items being left where a person can find them. But the identity of the person leaving them and their intentions are unknown.”

“Are the items dangerous?” he asks worriedly.

Ladybug shakes her head. “No. They're more like gifts.”

“Are the gifts unwanted or creepy? Unsettling? Threatening?”

Another head shake. “Just confusing and… thoughtful.”

“Someone is leaving you thoughtful gifts and you're worried about that… why?” Signal asks, slowly and disbelievingly.

“It’s because I- wait! I’m not the person!” she panics, causing the magic to spark dangerously in her hands but she barely notices. “The person doesn’t even exist. It was a hypothetical question!”

Signal stares at her. She can’t see his eyes or the top half of his face, but she just knows he’s raising his eyebrow judgingly at her.

“Stop that!” she snaps. “Stop being perceptive! I have enough perceptive people in my life so knock it off!”

Signal laughs like the horrible person he is. “But don’t you need me to be perceptive? That’s like, a requirement to be a detective.”

“Stop it,” she says again, mulishly and very childish.

And isn’t that an odd thought to have? Ladybug being childish.

How novel. Ladybug has never once been childish. She can’t afford to be, because when she is behind the mask, she is all the most important parts of herself. She is the Grand Guardian, is the one who must be in control at all times because she has an entire team to keep safe and alive.

Behind the mask, she’s all of her greatest responsibilities.

But here, in Gotham and with Signal, she is none of those things to him. She is simply another hero, that is his age and very much like him in ways so few are. Ladybug, in the moments she spends with Signal, is probably the closest she has ever been to carefree while in the mask.

It’s as comforting a thought as it is terrifying.

Signal raises his hands in surrender, but his lips are still quirked in amusement.

Ladybug regrets starting this conversation.

She regrets it even more when, five minutes later, Signal manages to pull the rest of the story from her… along with a name.

She realizes her mistake a second too late to stop herself, and then all she can do is watch.

She watches, with ever-growing horror, as Signal slowly puts the pieces together. She watches, as her whole secret identity starts unraveling around her for the first time ever. She watches, stricken, as Signal opens his mouth to speak.

And then she grabs both sides of his head and Orders him to sleep.

***

The second Marinette bespells him, she regrets it.

She was panicking, okay? And Marinette panicking is very different from Ladybug panicking and truly, she creates messes just by existing.

Nooroo flies out of his hiding place to make distressed noises at the now unconscious Signal with her, which is… actually kinda soothing, if not exactly helpful.

At least she knows she’s not the only one upset right now.

“Oh no, oh no, oh no!” Nooroo frets, flitting around her head with agitated wings. Hers aren’t much better, if she’s being honest. “What are we going to do, Guardian? He knows who you are! This is bad.”

Marinette worries her thumb between her teeth, shifting her weight from foot to foot. With a thought, she's back in her civvies and Tikki is perched on her shoulder, blinking at the scene she’s suddenly a part of.

“Well,” Tikki says, sounding far too calm for the situation. “This isn’t ideal.”

The laugh that escapes Marinette is on the edge of hysterical. “You think?”

“It’s not ideal,” Tikki repeats firmly, “But neither is it a disaster.”

Nooroo lands on her other shoulder as she kneels down beside Signal to rearrange his limbs to not be so uncomfortable. “But he's unpredictable!” he argues, curling into the side of her neck like she will hide him from the world. “We don’t know what he’ll do with this information!”

Tikki hums thoughtfully. “Then we will have to ask. There are far worse people we could have been revealed to. We're lucky it was a friend rather than foe.”

“You think so?” Marinette asks softly, voice barely louder than a whisper.

She knows the Bat’s flock are good people. Many of them are her friends, or people she hopes to call friends soon.

But she doesn't know if these people Marinette calls friends could be Ladybug’s allies.

The bats hoard secrets like black holes, and perhaps they would keep hers just as well, but they could just as easily use it against her. Batman barely tolerates her presence, she can tell by the way Signal talks sometimes, and it is no small stretch of the imagination that he would use this to try and kick her out of Gotham.

Marinette cannot, as a Guardian, leave Gotham.

But more importantly, she doesn’t want to leave Gotham. It’s… her home now. Her friends are here. Her family is here. Robin and Hood and the other bats are here. Damian and all her Waynes are here.

Leaving Gotham would not only make her sick and jittery at the imbalance, but it would break her heart.

If, when Signal tells Batman, he reacts poorly, there is so much that Marinette is set up to lose. And that terrifies her.

Some of that thought process must show on her face—or perhaps Nooroo has just picked up on the turmoil in her chest—because the two Kwami are pressed on either side of her face, nuzzling and hugging as much of her as they can reach.

“We’ll make it through this, Marinette,” Tikki says firmly, no room for argument. “Don’t worry so much. Both of you. Everything will turn out just fine, you’ll see.”

***

@bluesimani @how-to-fuction-properly @chocolatecatstheron @mystery-5-5 @nickristus-dreamer @mochegato @thenillabean @animegirlweeb @novaloptr @darkdaysandfakesmiles @optimistically-pessimistic0524 @clumsy-owl-4178 @g-arya @undecisioned @smolplantmum @blackmagicforever @i-wanna-be-a-ninja @wannajointhecrabcult @paintedhope7 @redscarlet95 @roselynfey @ira-sairain @lozzybowe @tumbling-down-hills-and-stuff @2confused-2doanything @pepelachanel @too0bsessedformyowngood @miraculouspenta @itsmeevie01 @corabeth11 @jalaluvsu

#maribat #daminette #ml x dc #my typewriter #for us to collide

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five-rivers · 3 years

Text

Snow and Song Chapter 5

About five seconds after Danny registered the huge crowd of people gathered in the park (and why were they there? Had there been some kind of event he forgot about?), it began to snow. Danny looked around himself in alarm. He was often insensitive to temperature changes (and a few other things, according to his sister), but it wasn’t nearly cold enough snow. It was September.

He looked up. There weren’t even any clouds.

A snowflake, perfect and crystalline, stuck to his eyelash.

Alright. When something weird and unnatural started to happen in Amity Park, usually there was a ghost involved. All Danny had to do was find the ghost causing it to… snow…

Oh. Right. He was a ghost that could make snow.

He was an idiot. He hadn’t even noticed his core activating. His cheeks flushed with cold. This was so embarrassing.

Wincing, he looked back down at the crowd. Only about a tenth of the people had phones in their hands, winking camera lenses pointed up at him, but that was more than enough. He felt entirely too visible.

… Which he could fix because he was a ghost, darn it, something that he kept forgetting about tonight. Berating himself, he adjusted his visibility down to zero and flew away.

Almost at once, all the birds took off, the sound of wings obscuring whatever the humans down below were saying.

Danny didn’t stop until he got home, trailing snow all the while. He was not looking forward to tomorrow, but for tonight, maybe, he could forget what had happened.

He went human, phased off his clothes, laid down on his bed, closed his eyes, and started to-

“Maddie!” shouted Jack. “The ghost-kid is on TV again! He’s in the park!”

“Oh, good! Go start up the GAV! This time, we’ll catch him! I’ll be with you in a minute!”

Danny let out the breath he had been holding since his dad startled him from his doze in a long sigh. He resigned himself to being woken up at least once more that night.

The first rays of sunlight filtering through Danny’s window brought with them something that would have chilled Danny to the core if his core weren’t naturally frosty.

Music.

He peeled his eyes open slowly, grudgingly, because it was still September, and sunrise was still quite a bit before the time he had to get up in the morning. Hoping he was hallucinating, he trudged over to the window and pulled back the curtains.

Ah, yes. He hadn’t quite expected to find a bunch of cultists standing outside his house with a boombox, playing back a rather scratchy version of Tale as Old as Time, but, somehow, he was unsurprised to do so. What exactly were they attempting to accomplish here?

One of the younger (about six years old) cultists waved up at him. Resigned, Danny waved back, then let the curtain fall back down.

He rubbed his eyes. Normal teenagers didn’t have to deal with cults that worshiped them as a god. Even that dude from Nazareth was a full adult before he got hit with the heavy stuff.

(Yeah, because it wasn’t at all a sign of megalomania, mental instability, or good old-fashioned insanity to compare himself to that guy.)

(He didn’t want a cult, darn it.)

What did they want, anyway?

He got dressed and started downstairs. To his horror (but again, not surprise) he heard more music emanating from the kitchen.

“What are you guys doing?” Danny asked.

“Oh, morning, Danno!” boomed Jack.

“Shh, shh,” said Maddie. “We need to go over that last part again. There are pancakes on the stove, sweetie.”

“Oh,” said Danny. “Thanks. But, really, what are you doing?”

“Analyzing the sound patterns of Phantom’s voice!” said Jack. “We missed it before, but he must have a low-level mind control power! Just like that Rockstar ghost!”

“Sneaky post-human ectoplasm glob,” muttered Maddie. “That’s how he’s got so many people on his side. He’s brainwashing them. But don’t worry, sweetie. As soon as we figure out how he’s doing it, we’ll be working on a cure!”

“Well,” said Danny, trying not to sound bitter. They had made him pancakes. “That’s news to me.”

Danny stepped out of the house and sighed in the general direction of the cult.

As always, acknowledging them in any way shape or form proved to be a mistake. They rushed at him.

“Daniel Fenton,” intoned today’s leader, a man wearing robes colored in an approximation of Phantom’s suit. His beard was… interesting.

“What?” asked Danny. If only there was a way to skip through awkward conversations like this, like there was in video games. But, no, life was like one, huge, un-skippable cutscene. Tragic.

“Last night, our Lord Phantom gave us a message. A message, and a divine task.”

Danny was pretty sure he’d remember that. “What task?” he asked, resigned.

“To spread his word through song! And you, his prophet, his chosen, his blessed consort, shall reveal his intent upon the stage of the Casper High School Musical!”

“I’m begging you, call it anything but that.”

“We will do anything to make the Casper High School Musical go well! We are at your command!”

“Please stop picketing my house and harassing me on the way to school.”

“We have fine members of our choir here to audition for you! Please take word of their worthiness to our Lord Phantom.”

Several of the cultists began to sing.

“Danny!” called Jazz from the driveway. “Stop feeding the cultists, or we’re going to be late for school!”

“So,” said Sam. “The Ghost Watch feed blew up last night.”

“I know,” said Danny. “I feel so stupid.”

“Hey, it’s fine,” said Tucker. “But we really do have to put some time aside to test whether or not you really do have a pied piper ability.”

“I made it snow while I was singing,” said Danny.

“Ah. We’ll have to look into that, too,” said Tucker, making a note on his PDA. “Who wants to bet that the ‘Phan Club’ will try to incorporate last nights performance into the play somehow?”

“That’s not funny,” said Danny, closing his locker. “Guys, what if I accidently mind control the audience? Or start a snowstorm inside? The cultists are already on top of this. They were outside my house this morning.”

“Again?” said Sam, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes, again.”

“What did they want?”

“They seem to think that there’s going to be some kind of revelation in the play,” said Danny. He caught the look in Sam’s eye. “Sam. No.”

“Sam, yes.”

“Cults are not a toy,” cautioned Danny.

“Not the way you’re using them, they aren’t.”

“Seriously, Sam. No matter how much you want to change the world, do not use a cult to do it. It never goes well.”

“Christianity started off as a cult.”

“And would you say that went well? I’m asking you this as a Christian.”

“Are you a Christian?” asked Tucker. “I’ve never seen you in a church. Can you go in a church? Have we tested that?”

“I—What? I’m not a demon, Tucker. I went to church, uh… Last Easter. I can totally go in a church.”

“You had to think of that for an awfully long time.”

“What about a synagogue?” asked Sam. “Or a mosque?”

“I don’t know. But you’d think that if I could go into a church, that’d mean I could go into the other ones.”

“But what if you couldn’t?” asked Sam. “Would that mean that religion is more right than the others?”

“Or more wrong,” said Tucker, “since Danny is a good guy.”

“I—” started Danny.

“PHANTOM!” screamed Wes from down the hall, interrupting whatever revelation Danny could potentially have had.

“Oh, great,” said Danny. “I’m not Phantom, Weston!”

“Kids,” said Miss Lyn, poking her head into the hallway. “Please don’t shout in the halls. Class is about to start.”

“I have proof, this time!” crowed Wes. “I have video.”

“Oh, no,” said Danny, with perfectly flat affect. “Are you here to harass me with yet another badly photoshopped, grainy, vertically filmed, twenty-second clip of me ‘transforming’ into Phantom like some kind of anime heroine?”

Wes reared back, face coloring and nostrils flaring.

Danny would feel worse about what he had said, if half the videos in Wes’s last ‘Fenton is Phantom’ presentation hadn’t been exactly that. Tucker had made several of them and stealthily dropped them in various chat rooms for Wes to find, as something halfway between a joke and an exercise in misdirection.

As soon as Wes had included one of those in his presentation, it was doomed to be a laughingstock. Again, Danny almost felt bad.

“No!” said Wes. He puffed his chest out. “From Ghost Watch!”

“Uh huh.”

“I kind of feel like we’d be hearing about it from more than just you,” said Sam.

“Yeah,” agreed Tucker. “If the news decided Danny was Phantom’s dead twin or whatever, you’d think some of his groupies would be swarming.” He pointed at a pair of Phan Club members who were having a sedate conversation near the water fountain. “Where are the groupies, Wes?”

“Did you not learn your lesson from the beauty pageant?” asked Sam. “Or Egypt?”

“I don’t know, didn’t you learn yours from Desiree?”

“Who’s learning what from Desiree? Because you should ask her for a better naming sense. I mean, you just copied. Lame.”

“You’re talking to me about copying? You vegans are the copiers! Vegetable burgers, tofurkey, where does it end?”

“With the abolition of the cruelty of MEAT!”

At this point, most people would have started edging away from Sam and Tucker’s patented and infamous meat vs. veggies argument. However, Wes had long since proven himself to be of sterner stuff, and Danny wanted to hear what he was on about.

“Guys,” he said, “guys, it’s not working. He’s still here.”

Sam and Tucker turned back towards Wes. “Bummer,” said Sam.

“Yeah, Wes, why do you have to be such a bummer?” asked Tucker.

“Let him speak,” said Danny, magnanimously, twirling his hand.

Wes glowered. “Well, now I don’t want to,” he said, mulishly.

“Come on, Wes, what’s the video, don’t leave us in suspense!”

Wes attempted to glower harder but failed. Grudgingly, he held up his phone, which did, indeed, play a video from Ghost Watch. Danny watched himself singing for several long seconds before returning his gaze to Wes.

“I’m not sure what this is supposed to prove.”

“The song, you idiot! It’s from Beauty and the Beast! And I know the drama club gave you that music.”

“A movie that thousands of thousands of people have watched and know the music for?”

“That doesn’t matter! You’re the only one who has any reason to sing it.”

“You mean, other than everyone else in the drama club?” asked Sam, bored.

“Or anyone who likes Disney?” said Tucker.

Wes opened his mouth to make some kind of riposte.

The warning bell rang.

He closed his mouth. “I’m watching you, Fenton!”

“You and everyone else,” muttered Danny as Wes retreated down the hallway, pointing at him.

Why was everyone around him so ridiculous?

“We’re doing Snow White, not Beauty and the Beast!” howled Razor, baring his teeth at the hapless Phan Club member that had suggested adding ‘Tale as Old as Time’ to the song list.

“If you guys had taken that bet, I’d have so much money right now,” said Tucker.

“Students, please,” said Mr. Lancer. “We can’t have any actual copyrighted music in our play. Not without paying for it. And I’m not negotiating with Disney.” He looked into the distance. “Not again. Never again.”

Danny did not want to know the story behind that, but nevertheless, he had to ask… “Are you okay, Mr. Lancer?”

“I’m fine, Mr. Fenton,” said Mr. Lancer. “Thank you for asking. In any case, my lovely drama students! Today, we are going to do our first round of auditions!”

“But, sir, we haven’t finished the script, yet!” protested Mikey.

“Right you are!” said Mr. Lancer. “But I have found that things go more smoothly when we have people already in the main roles. There’s less… outright sabotage and script jockeying.”

“What does that even mean?” whispered Samhain (aka Kevin) loudly.

“People trying to change the script to fit a certain person so that person gets the role,” said Paulina. “Or exclude a certain person. Which I would never do, Mr. Lancer.”

The covetous glare shot in Danny’s direction indicated that Paulina’s words might have been less than truthful.

Mr. Lancer chuckled. “I didn’t think you would, Miss Sanchez!” He began writing on his whiteboard. “Now, we already have our Prince Snow White, our Princess Charming, and our Evil Queen.” He nodded at Paulina as he wrote the roles on the board. “Now, we need our seven dwarves—”

“Ghosts!”

“Excuse me, yes, ghosts. Thank you, Mr. Baxter. Our Huntsman—”

“Or woman!”

“Yes, thank you, Miss Thunder,” said Mr. Lancer. “Huntsman, or Huntswoman. And… Let’s see… Snow White’s parents, for the prologue, Princess Charming’s retinue, and… I think that’s it. Alright, let’s start with the ghosts.”

“Shouldn’t they have names?” asked Mia.

“Well, sure,” said Mr. Lancer. “But we can’t use the Disney names. You’ll have to come up with your own.”

“Phantom!” screamed Paulina.

“Here we go,” said Danny, burying his head in his hands.

“You want to bet that we’re going to wind up with your whole rogue’s gallery?” asked Tucker.

“If you need money, Tucker,” said Sam, “you just have to ask. Rates on my loans are very reasonable.”

“Isn’t usury against your religion?” asked Tucker.

“Nope,” said Sam. “Not at all.”

“I am incredibly against this development,” said Danny. “The cults are going to have a field day.”

“Ember! Ember! Ember!” Chanted the punk goth crowd, which had split off from the larger goth subgroup.

“I am somehow even more against this development,” muttered Danny. “Mr. Lancer! I don’t think it’s a good idea to include a ghost who gets power from people saying her name!”

“Shut up, Fentonnage, what do you know about ghosts?”

“My parents study them. I know a lot. More than I ever even—”

Danny narrowly dodged the workbook Dash flung at him.

“Mr. Baxter!” scolded Mr. Lancer.

Sadly, when everything shook out, Danny did not get his way. One of the seven ghosts was named Ember and was going to be played by Star. Because why not?

“At least the Box Ghost and the Lunch Lady aren’t on the list,” said Sam.

“But ‘Hamlet, father of Hamlet,’ is,” said Danny. “Why does that bother me more than Ember?”

“Because you hate Shakespeare?”

“No, I don’t,” protested Danny. “Shakespeare is a perfectly nice person. I just don’t like how his writing is taught in schools.”

“You’re going to break Mr. Lancer’s heart saying stuff like that,” said Tucker.

“He wrote love poems to boys. Why do they skim over that?”

“Excellent point, Mr. Fenton!” exclaimed Mr. Lancer, who had somehow materialized behind them. “Shakespeare was definitely bisexual. I wi—” The teacher stopped. “Nope, can’t use that word. It would be nice if the state let me teach it like that. Along with the crossdressing. School board won’t let me.” He shook his head. “Dale Baxter. Someday, someday he’ll lose an election. Eventually.” He took a deep breath. “Next time we meet, we’ll be doing auditions, okay? I want you all to think about what parts you would like! And, Miss Gray, I’d like to have a word with you about your role in our production, alright?”

#Danny Phantom #snow and song #fic #my fic #phanfic

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medeafive · 3 years

Note

i’d love if you could write anything about the early days when buck was still the winter soldier and nat was in the red room and him flinching and being on edge as she breaks through his mind control, i feel like it would be soft to see how gentle and careful and slow she would be with him and how unknowingly rough he’d be at first because he’s not used his body for anything other than violence for so long

Hey, sooo funny story... I started writing something in response to this and then it started getting loooong so I started writing something shorter (so you would at least have something) that's now winding up quite long, too.... So I'll post snippets of both here and post the whole stories when they're ready (you'll have to keep your eyes open for that, sorry).

Both are Red Room era fics. The first snippet is the start of the first fic, so that should be self-explanatory, and the second story is them getting snowed in in a cabin during a mission (classic) - so the punishment they'll refer to in the snippet below is for their targets getting away, they're not having an affair (yet).

Snippet 1 (Breaking)

The Winter Soldier has a weakness and Natasha Romanoff knows it.

It must seem like a small thing to the untrained eye, to the idiots behind the cameras in the training hall, but she knows better. She knows exactly how he flinched when her fingertips touched the inside of his right wrist, the human one, between the glove and the jacket sleeve, bare skin. A vulnerable spot. A soft spot. An intimate spot. It must have looked like she had somehow hurt him, through the cameras, but all she did was softly touch his skin.

And then she punched him in the face.

It's not a place for softness, the Red Room, not a place for flinching. It may seem small but it is a big thing, the biggest thing, the biggest possible weakness. He's human. Deep down, he's human. And she's going to break him.

She's not so sure about her own humanity anymore. She's been here for over a decade and this place has formed every part of her being. She is the last one, the strongest one, and they're not going to break her anymore but she worries sometimes about what they've already made her, what she has become.

Futile, of course. She needs to focus on what's ahead of her. The Winter Soldier is not allowed to kill her, she knows that, he's not even allowed to severely injure her. They didn't tell her the latter about him. She knows they did something to him, made him stronger, faster, more enduring, though they don't seem to quite understand it. He is all that but she can tell, while he's highly trained, he's not as highly trained as her. Worst of all, he's still somewhat human. He reminds her of herself a couple of years ago, when there were still some of the others around, when she didn't have that implacable façade yet. She almost feels bad for him.

The Red Room has changed a lot over the years but there is still only one locker room next to the training hall, and it still very purposefully has no cameras. Bad shit happened in here, again and again. But the Soldier doesn't even look at her when he takes his gear off and changes. She likes that about him. At first, she thought it was one of his inhuman traits, having no interest in seeing her naked, but maybe it's actually a human trait, not wanting to victimize her. She'll have to find out. She waits for the right opportunity and one day when she's late, he's already warming up, she doesn't take the opposite locker, she takes one on his side, not too far from his.

He trains her or she trains him or they both train each other, under the watchful camera eyes, and she's too busy dodging to touch him again. Plus, she really wants to see his reaction up close, without cameras. He's barely in the locker room before he discards his jacket and rips his shirt off, muscles glistening with sweat, she always admires the scars on his shoulder because she knows how painful that must have been, and she decides now is the time. She telegraphs her movement before she steps into his space, arms raised defensively, and he doesn't flinch but tenses, not looking at her. "You got a lash there," she says.

He doesn't say anything, only his eyes twitch, and she reaches out slowly, very slowly, she can tell he's breathing faster, and just when her fingertips touch his cheekbone, the one she punched a couple of days ago but is already fully healed, he flinches, hard. She pulls her hand back, pretending to look at her finger. "Oh. Lost it."

He meets her eyes and he clearly knows, knows he just showed an opening in his defenses he can never close, knows that she saw it, intended it, knows that she's the kind of person who'll dig her claws in and rip him apart. She takes a step back, holding his gaze, then pulls her shirt overhead. His eyes drop immediately, he clears his throat, focusing on his own stuff. She changes quietly, efficiently. He takes very long with his pants.

She leaves with an "until tomorrow," and they both know it's a threat.

Snippet 2 (Only Us And The Snow)

"What do you think they'll do to us?" she asks.

He shrugs with his right shoulder. "I don't know what they'll do to you."

"So you know what they'll do to you?"

His fingers tighten around the bowl, just the right ones. It would probably burst otherwise. "Yes."

She doesn't want to make him relive it. The skin on his knuckles still doesn't look good. "Do you want more ointment?"

He breathes out, perturbing the streams of steam. "Yes."

She gets up and gets the tube. He's already holding his hand out to her. He clearly likes this, even though he still flinches at times. Likes being touched. "Anything I can do?" she asks quietly, caressing his knuckles.

He gives her a confused look. Of course. "About your punishment," she specifies.

He shakes his head slowly, watching her fingers work. "About anything else?" she tries.

He breathes out, not taking his eyes off her hands. Maybe he'd like to be touched more. He won't tell her, though. She tries to think of more excuses but can't come up with any right now. "Your hands are warm," he says slowly.

His is cold, even if she rubs it. She nods, waiting for him to say more, but he doesn't. "I'm used to the cold."

"I hate it," he says.

She dips between his knuckles. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." He flinches. "I- I hate it."

"Then you should take the second blanket," she replies. "I don't really need it."

He nods. She lets go of his hand but he doesn't drop it, so she takes it again, now inspecting the back of his hand. "Is it cold? Where you are from in America?"

He looks at her with confusion. "Where I am from?"

"You must be from somewhere," she points out.

He shakes his head. "I don't know."

She presses both of her hands around his. "Would you like me to tell you? Where I'm from?"

"Yes," he says, somewhat too fast.

"Mhm." She takes her right hand off his to grab the tea bowl and take a sip. "Well. I was born in Volgograd, back when it was called Stalingrad. You know it?"

"Yeah," he says. "It's not that cold."

"Haven't been there in a long time," she admits. "I remember it basically in ruins. Everywhere I trained was much colder, at least in my memory.”

“And where were you next?” he asks.

“Everywhere,” she replies, stilling the movement of her hands. “Everywhere.”

“Yeah,” he agrees. “Me too.”

She chuckles. “It’s almost poetic. Now Stalingrad is Volgograd and I am now… this, and you don’t even know what you were before.”

“I was never anything else,” he says.

“Are you sure of that?” she questions.

He flinches, pulling his hand back. She doesn’t push it, instead getting up to put the checkers board back in the pantry. He stares out of the window. The snow is not really getting any less thick. She throws a few small logs into the fire so it won't die. She's used to waiting, too. Waiting in the cold.

"What were you?" he asks tensely. "Before?"

"A dancer," she says, not caring whether it's true. She has developed her doubts over the years. "Long ago."

He frowns, staring at the dancing snowflakes. Maybe he's trying to picture it. "Really?"

"I'm not sure," she admits. "No way to know."

"So you don't- you don't really know you ever were- anything else," he states.

"No, I know that," she replies. "I feel it. In my bones."

"I don't feel it," he admits.

"I do," she says. "I feel it in you."

He flinches hard. It scares him. "I thought you're not scared of me," she remarks.

He breathes out, doesn't reply. She shrugs, poking around in the fire, stirring it up. "Fine. Don't talk to me."

"I'm not scared of you," he insists.

"What are you scared of, then?" she questions.

"Feeling," he says. "Punishment."

She dissolves her braid. "Only us and the snow."

#buckynat #my writing #fanfic #sorry for the wait #and the incomplete snippets #feel free to ask anything about those #I'll continue working on them albeit slowly

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annabethy · 4 years

Text

under the mistletoe, watching the fire glow day 7: wrapping presents

Character can’t wrap gifts to save their life. Character B is their neighbor and can help,, percabeth

Percy should have known what went into being a single dad. He thought he did well enough, all things considered. By no means was he perfect, but he loves his daughter more than anything, and he always does his best.

Still, he did not ever thing that his biggest struggle as a parent would be wrapping presents for Christmas.

The pile of gifts he bought for his daughter sit in front of him, staring right into his soul. It’s embarrassing, because in his twenty-six years of life, he really hadn’t learned to wrap a present. It’s not like it’s a difficult concept — he is just severely incapable of making anything look pretty with wrapping paper.

Percy sighs and leans back, defeated. He tosses the tape dispenser recklessly in front of himself, rubbing his eyes tiredly. When he looks at the clock, he is both confused and personally offended that it could possibly be three in the morning on Christmas and he still has nothing done. It’s no one’s fault but his own, because he had time to get it done but decided to wait until approximately three hours before he knew his kid would be awake to attempt and fail miserably at wrapping presents.

He considers just giving up and not wrapping them at all — it’s not like she would really care — but then he remembers the pure excitement he would get as a child while peeling the paper off the presents, and he can’t bear to take that away from her.

He tries to think of a solution, but nothing comes to mind. He’s ready to just accept that he’s screwed up, but then it comes like a whisper in the back of his mind. He knows for a fact that his neighbor is a goddess at wrapping presents because he saw her hauling them in from the car earlier for her own daughter. He tries to tell himself to absolutely not wake her up at three in the morning, but the thought of sitting here struggling any longer makes him cave, and he finds himself standing on her porch minutes later in the freezing New York air.

He hesitates, then knocks lightly. It feels like forever awaiting a response, and he’s just about to give up and turn around when he hears the lock click open, and he is met with the sight of his neighbor looking thoroughly concerned.

“It’s three in the morning,” is the first thing she says.

Percy can’t help but stare at her for a good second. He doesn’t think they’ve talked more than once or twice since she moved in a few years ago, but maybe they should have because then maybe he would’ve known how pretty she actually was. Even on the brink of sleep, she managed to look put-together in her plain black leggings and oversized knitted sweater. Her hair was loose down her back, falling in cute ruffled ringlets, and he wants to reach out to smooth them down like he’s always done for his daughter.

Percy shifts nervously. “I know. I just – there’s an emergency?”

Annabeth blinks. Her hand is resting on the door handle like she’s about to slam it shut at any second. “Is everything okay?”

“No, yeah, everything’s fine.”

“Okay…” She looks around behind him, peering into the darkness like she expects there to be a hidden camera crew. “Are you going to tell me what the emergency is, or…?”

“You’re going to think it’s stupid.”

“You’re standing on my porch in the middle of the night on Christmas. I already think this is stupid.”

Percy scratches his neck, a heat slowly rising to his cheeks. “I got my daughter a ton of presents. And I also have a ton of wrapping paper. I just can’t seem to put two and two together and actually wrap the presents.”

“You haven’t wrapped any presents?”

“No.”

Annabeth looks thoroughly appalled by his statement. He can’t be too surprised. From the few times they have interacted, he’s always had the impression that she has her shit together. It’s part of the thing that’s always held him at a distance from her. He hated the way thinking of her felt.

Right now, he decides, he hates this feeling of uselessness even more.

“Can you help me wrap presents?”

Annabeth chokes on a laugh, wrapping her arms around herself. “What?”

“I really need help wrapping presents. Like, it’s bad. My living room is a mess, and I’m pretty sure my daughter is going to be awake in less than three hours.

“Hold on,” she says, holding up a hand. She looks more amused than anything now, which brings his nerves down. “You mean to tell me that you left your three-year-old daughter home alone so that you can come to my house at three in the morning on Christmas to ask for help wrapping presents?”

“Yes.”

“Oh my god, Percy.”

“Listen.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Just be happy I didn’t show up with cookies and milk,” he says.

“The only thing that would make this better is if you did bring cookies and milk,” she replies.

Percy runs his fingers through his hair. “Can you help me or not?”

She rolls her eyes, but there’s a subtle smile splayed on her face. “Give me a minute.”

She goes back inside for a moment, and Percy just stands there waiting for her until she reappears. When she does, she’s holding a pack of stickers that he recognizes as those fancy Christmas labels.

“Assuming you don’t have any of these?” she asks, stepping past him.

“Now you’re just insulting me,” he says playfully, following her back along the sidewalk to his house. He opens his front door for her to step inside, and she does so for what she thinks is the first time.

Annabeth stops at the sight of his living room. “What happened!?”

“Wrapping paper and I are not friends.”

“I can see that,” she comments, setting her stuff down in the center of the room. She turns towards him while reaching up to tie her hair in a low bun. She cracks her knuckles dramatically, and she says, “Let’s get to work.”

Percy tries to help at first, but at some point, she swats his hand after using almost an entire roll of wrapping paper on just one present. He ends up sitting next to her as moral support, simply commenting on everything his delirious mind has to offer.

She looks… like a princess, is the best that Percy can come up with. She’s his own personal superhero, saving his ass on Christmas day, and she looks great doing it too. So warm and cute and small, the perfect size for holding in his arms, for cuddling, and kissing, and — what was he saying?

“Are you sure you don’t want me to help?” he asks.

“No!” She snatches away the scissors, waving them in his face. “I know you said you were bad at wrapping presents, but this is just…”

Percy smiles and leans his weight back on his hands. “Can I at least get you something to drink?”

“Coffee would be great.”

“Coming right up,” he says, getting to his feet. “Anything specific?”

“Whatever’s fine,” she says.

From the kitchen, he can see her working. She’s sprawled out on the floor taping a piece of wrapping paper with snowflakes on it onto a pink scooter. She looks so concentrated, her tongue sticking out through her lips as she focuses, and he is compelled to kiss away the scrunch on her forehead. It’s weird, because he’s never had a true conversation with her, but he finds himself wishing that he had sooner.

The coffee finishes brewing, and he brings it back to her side, holding it in front of her face. She hums in appreciation, dropping what’s in her hands to grasp the sides of the mug. As she takes a sip, she sighs and gives him a soft grin.

“Nothing like the taste of coffee in the middle of the night,” she says, setting it down. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” And as he sits down next to her again, he notices that the presents are all nearly wrapped. “This means a lot to me, Annabeth. I don’t know what else I would have done.”

“Don’t worry about it. Wrapping presents is my passion.”

He smirks. “So you’re that type of mom.”

“What’s that supposed to mean, Jackson?” She raises a brow. “I’d like to remind you that that type of mom is currently doing your parenting for you.”

“It’s not a bad thing!” he insists. “It’s cute that you like wrapping presents.”

“Wrapping presents is not cute. It is a serious competitive sport. Cutthroat competition.”

“See? Cute.”

Annabeth laughs, shoving his knee with her socked foot. She takes the mug of coffee back in her hands and takes a long sip. “Look who’s talking.”

“Oh?” he teases. “I’m cute?”

“Sure,” she says, shrugging and nodding towards a small barbie box. “How could I not find it adorable that you are physically incapable of wrapping a square box?”

“So by cute, you mean easy to bully?” he asks, sniffing.

“Yeah, but you’re also just really cute in general.”

“How nice of you,” he says sarcastically.

“I’m serious, though. How have we never had a conversation before?”

“Because you’re you and I’m me.”

“Am I supposed to know what that means?”

“It means that you know what you’re doing, and I don’t.”

She laughs in his face. “I do not know what I’m doing in the slightest.”

“At least you can wrap presents.”

“You just have to practice,” she says. “Come here. I’ll help you do the last one.”

As Percy slides in next to her, she puts the scissors into his hands and scoots in even closer. He can feel her body heat radiating against his chest as she leans into him. She points out where for him to cut, and he follows her directions. He’s distracted by the way she smells. It’s dizzying, feeling her those close. She guides his hands with the paper, carefully tucking the paper into perfect creases, taping the wrapping taught.

It’s hands-down the best present he’s ever wrapped, though it was still Annabeth doing most of the work.

“There you go,” she says, smiling. “And now you know how to wrap a present.”

Instead of responding, he looks around the room. The sun is just beginning to rise in the skyline, the black space around them hinting at dawn. When he looks at the time, he realizes that it’s a little bit past six. It doesn’t feel like that much time has passed, but somehow it has.

Annabeth helps him clean up quickly and shove the presents underneath the tree. She comments on a few of the homemade ornaments, mentioning how much she loves the ones with the little handprints made with patchy glitter.

She’s looking at the tree, but Percy, he notices, is looking right at her, and he can’t bring himself to look away. She turns around again, shoots him a smile, and makes her way to the door. Percy follows her to walk her out. As he opens the door, she steps outside, and with the snowy background, he’s never seen a more perfect picture.

“Thank you so much,” he says. “I really do appreciate it.”

“Of course. It was surprisingly fun.” They stare at each other, unsure of what they’re supposed to say next, but then she says, “I should get back. She’s going to be waking up soon.”

“Was she home alone?”

Annabeth shakes her head, biting her lip in a smile. “A friend was home.”

Percy nods, and then he thinks he wants to see her again. “Do you have anything to do later today? After opening presents and stuff?”

She pretends to think, a subtle glow to her skin. “I can’t say that I do.”

“You’re welcome to come over,” he offers. “The girls could play together, and you could try my Christmas cookies.”

“I hope they’re better than your wrapping,” she teases.

“You’ll have to come over and find out.”

“Hm. I guess I will.” Annabeth steps away but seems to think better of it as she moves closer again. She smiles at him, lifts onto her toes, and kisses him once. It’s short and sweet but leaves him wanting to pull her closer to him when she pulls away. She doesn’t say anything as she turns on her heel back to her house, leaving Percy melting in a puddle behind her.

Maybe, he thinks, it was a good thing that he didn’t know how to wrap presents. And if she was going to make him learn anyways, which he quickly learns she would, well…

Percy certainly doesn’t mind one bit.

#percy jackson #annabeth chase #percabeth #pjo #Percy Jackson and the Olympians #my writing

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generallybarzy · 4 years

Text

hey there, stranger. viii

one, two, three, four, five, six, seven an: merry christmas to those of you who celebrate!!! I meant to get this out on Christmas eve but I worked until our store closed last night so I literally just finished this right now! chapter nine will be out tomorrow, I just decided to break it into 2 parts, christmas eve and christmas day, so that you could read it without having to wait too long! This chapter and the next are really sweet, with a liiiiiiittle hint of foreshadowing here and there. Hope you enjoy! word count: 2.9k

Christmas approached faster than you expected.

You had made up your mind earlier that Christmas Eve into Christmas morning would be the day you spent in Mat’s bed and finally stayed with him. You couldn’t be more overjoyed that Mat had decided to stay in New York over Christmas. You honestly didn’t know what you would do without him. Every second that you didn’t spend in class or babysitting for the Seidenberg’s- whose children were very interesting in your dating life now- you were with Mat. Out on dates, or just at home with him, resting. Things felt right with him. Almost too right.

It was Christmas Eve, it was chilly and all you wanted was to cuddle under some blankets and watch TV with him, so when you saw him come to the living room with your shoes and jacket in hand, your face dropped.

“We’re not going out, are we?”

He laughed at your instant reaction and nodded. “Just for a bit. But I have an early Christmas gift for you first.” He moved from the hallway to where you were on the couch, stopping by the tree to pick up the biggest of the very few presents you had set there for each other.

“Mat, this better not be something expensive.”

“Well-”

“I thought we agreed to keep our Christmas shopping light?”

“It’s not expensive! It’s not too expensive, I promise.” He handed you the box, wrapped haphazardly in red paper and held together with what looked like a whole roll of tape. You couldn’t help but laugh softly at it again like the first time you saw it.

The first thing you noticed when you stepped into Mat’s apartment was the two boxes under the tree the two of you had put up the other night. After you had agreed to spend Christmas with him, he immediately pulled you out to a tree farm and hauled it up the stairs to his apartment, claiming that you would decorate it so pretty and fill the house with presents. They were wrapped almost grotesque, in a way that you knew Mat had never wrapped a gift before, and you couldn’t help but laugh at them.

“What?” Mat mocked an offended look as you stood in his living room, laughing at his work.

“Have you never wrapped a gift before?”

“Hey, it has character!”

“It sure does have character. You sure you want me to open it and ruin this masterpiece?” You said now, taking the box in your lap. Mat just smiled and nudged you playfully, urging you to open it. You tore apart the paper, your heart soaring at Mat’s eyes watching you gently as you finally opened up the box under the paper. “Oh my God, Mat.” There, settled in the box, was a pair of brand new, clean white skates.

Mat smiled at your reaction. “Sooo, we’re going skating tonight.”

“What? I- I can’t skate?”

“Yeah, I figured.” The smirk on his face lit up a fire deep inside you. “I can teach you. I think it’d be a fun date, yeah?”

As nervous as you were to skate with him, you couldn’t help the smile spread across your face. “So you think a good date idea is me humiliating myself?”

“Yeah!” He laughed. That loud cackle that made your heart glow. “C’mon, get your coat, it’s chilly.”

“Rockefeller?”

“Absolutely.”

The walk from Mat’s apartment to the subway was chilly, but as you snuggled into his side while sitting on the subway train, your arm tucked under his black plaid coat, tight around his hoodie-clad waist, and his arm heavy across your shoulders, you knew there was no where else you’d rather be. He held your hand and laughed as you jumped out the subway doors the second they opened and dashed for the stairs. Mat couldn’t take his eyes off of you as you climbed the stairs back into the city and gazed around, the Christmas lights making your eyes gleam in wonder. It was a type of beauty he hadn’t seen before. A beauty not in physical appearance- even though you had plenty of that- but a beauty in how wonderful you were, how the city lights hit the joy in your eyes, and the way Mat’s heart pounded and his face warmed up when he saw you.

I want you so bad right now.

When the Christmas tree came into view after the short walk, Mat could feel the way your arm tightened around him, squeezing to get his attention. “Mat, look at the tree!” It was cute, almost childlike how excited you were. He chuckled at your outburst, and you punched his side slightly. “Shut up, this is my first Christmas here.”

“No, no, it’s cute.”

What did I do right to be with you right now?

You didn’t see his pink face.

You didn’t feel nervous about falling on your ass and making a fool of yourself, not until you were sitting at the edge of the rink at the Rockefeller Center, with Mat kneeling in front of you and tying your laces. You watched his big hands move skillfully, as if tying skates was second nature to him at this point.

“All done.” He stood with ease, his own skates making him appear so, so much taller than he already was, not even bothered by the fact that he was balancing on blades, but you had a little more trouble, your legs shaking the moment you stood up. “Hey, hey, I got you.” Mat smiled, a little bit, teasingly, his hands finding your waist. “We’re not even on the ice, babe.”

“I don’t think I’m gonna make it.”

He laughed, boisterous and loud. “I promise, you will. Trust me?” His hands found yours and pulled, urging you towards the ice. “I’ll take care of you. I’m good at this.”

Like a fool, you smiled.

“Alright, I trust you.”

Mat’s first step onto the ice was easy, it was habit, like the ice was like a home to him at this point, as if he was even more comfortable gliding over the ice than walking on land. You, on the other hand, were much less graceful. Mat held his hands out to you, and you took them carefully after almost falling immediately after stepping into the rink. “I hope you’re excited to see me fall.”

He smiled. “I’ve never been more excited.”

The first lap around the rink took five long, giggly minutes, Mat’s hands big and warm and holding yours tight, skating ever so gracefully backwards and glancing back to make sure he wasn’t about to run into anyone while also making sure you weren’t about to fall. "C'mon, babe." He smiled as you stumbled for the hundredth time that night.

"Sorry I'm not a professional like you, Mat."

"No, I like you like this. It's cute." You were about to blush, to tell Mat that he was so cheesy and soft, when he continued on. "Cute like… endearing, like how we laugh at a really clumsy deer learning to walk"

"Ouch, Mat!" You couldn't help but laugh as you faked annoyance and smacked his arm lightly. He stopped skating abruptly and let you glide into his chest.

"What? It's the truth, Bambi."

His hand fell to the small of your back, pulling you closer to him and pressing your hips to his. It was nothing but a simple, helpful act to keep you from slipping to the ground, but something in how close you were pressed into his hard body made your tummy flip and turn. Your hands slid up his chest and to his face, cupping his cheeks in your gloved hands and pulling him down to give him a quick peck. For a moment, the rest of the world disappeared. It was just you, Mat, the ice, and the sparkling Christmas Tree towering over you. There was nobody else around. For that second.

“Let’s keep going, Mat.”

He smiled, his cheeks pink and warm from the kiss. “You sure? A few minutes ago you were begging me to get you off.”

“I trust you. Don’t let me fall.”

“Of course not.”

He moved to your side, his arm around your waist, and helped guide you to move your feet, and soon, with his help, you were moving along. Mat couldn’t take his eyes off of you, simple as that. The little concentrated look on your face as you focused on making your feet move the right way looked so adorable. He couldn’t believe he was lucky enough to call you his.

And he didn’t notice the groups of girls with their phone’s camera aimed at you or the whispers they made to their friends.

He pecked your cheek again. “Are you having a nice Christmas Eve?”

“Are you kidding?” You looked up at him, your arm tightening under his jacket, around his hoodie-clad waist subconsciously to steady yourself. “This is amazing. You know what would make it better?”

“What?”

“If it would snow.”

“Hmm.” Mat motioned up to the sky, “Like that?” You turned your face to the sky, where snowflakes had started to come down lightly, sparkling in the lights.

“Oh my god.” You whispered in awe, your cheeks warm.

"All the best things happen softly." Mat repeated your words from a few weeks ago, his voice soft and eyes in awe of your beauty as the snow began to lay, sparkling, in your hair. You turned towards him, cheeks pink and eyes warm, and leaned up to beg for a kiss.

"You're amazing, Mat."

"Not as amazing as you."

"C'mere."

He sunk into your kiss, leaning the two of you against the edge of the rink so that others could skate around you. You smiled against each other's lips, absolutely giddy and chilly and craving your lover's warmth. Mat's hand glided from yours up to the curve of your neck, his chilly fingers dipping under your hair and making you giggle. The way your lips were curving up against his made him giddy, and he mirrored you, and soon you two were nothing but a giggly mess, surrounded by snowflakes and twinkling Christmas lights.

And the rumors you didn’t hear yet.

"Damn." Mat broke away first.

"I'll never get over kissing you, Mat."

"Same here."

"You're a good kisser."

"Not as good as you." He smirked, rubbing his thumb across your bottom lip. "So, I had planned to go window shopping along the avenue, but if you're too cold or your feet hurt, we can just go home and cuddle?"

"Hmm." Your feet did hurt, now that you thought about it, but the idea of being out in the city with Mat longer was tempting. "Well, I do like being out here with you. But nothing beats cuddles." Mat nodded, just absolutely gleaming that you had finally warmed up to that type of closeness. "Anyway, we have next Christmas to go window shopping, right?"

"Next Christmas?"

"Yeah, next Christmas."

So you were implying that you'd be here at least all year. Maybe more. And Mat couldn't handle that. His heart pounded in his chest.

"So I haven't scared you off yet?"

You laughed. "No, the opposite, really."

"That's good."

You stood in each other’s arms in comfortable silence for a few more moments, just enjoying each other. He hadn’t scared you away. He had made you more and more sure that he was gonna be worth it. He was here for the long run, and there was very little he could do to scare you away- that, you knew.

"Wanna head home, baby?"

"As much as I love skating with you, yeah. I'm getting chilly."

“Cuddles it is, then.”

------

You stumbled into Mat’s apartment, giggling and rubbing your hands together, shaking the snow off your clothes. Mat pulled off his wet jacket and shoes and rushed to the thermostat, turning the central air system as warm and cozy as it could get. You kicked off your shoes and dropped your jacket and skates by his door, following him into his bedroom and snickering at how he was already changed into sweats and was pulling a thick crew neck over his head.

He looked up, his hair still a wreck from pulling on the sweater, to see you in the doorway, still shivering through your giggles. He pulled you close and wrapped his arms around you, swallowing you in his warmth. "C’mon, we can’t have you cold. Go through my drawers, babe. Take any clothes you want, and find me in the living room, alright?"

"Okay."

It didn’t take you long to decide on something of his to wear. Easily your favorite article of clothing of his, the soft light gray hoodie was lying on his bed, just calling for you to grab. You slipped it over your head and grabbed a pair of his sweats, pulling the strings tight around your waist and rolling up the ankles. After grabbing some of his large socks from the drawer, you caught sight of yourself in his mirror. So, this was you now, huh? Cuddling up in your boyfriend’s oversized clothes, in his apartment, about to go snuggle on his couch. You were almost dizzy with emotion, and you couldn’t stop smiling at yourself as you looked at yourself in his clothes. You were someone’s girlfriend, someone’s favorite person. Again. And this time you felt safe in his arms. You felt loved.

“(Y/N)?” Mat called from the living room.

You took another deep breath and opened the door. Mat was standing by the couch, in big, fuzzy socks and sweatpants and his fluffy sweater, holding two steaming mugs.

“Hey, Maty.”

“Hey, baby.” He laughed through the word, his eyes running up and down your figure. Your figure was hidden behind his baggy clothes, but he had never loved you more than at this moment. You were wearing his clothes. You were in his clothes. There was something about seeing you like this that was so much more beautiful than anything else. More beautiful than the first time he saw you, than when you babysat together, than when you cuddled for the very first time. There was something beautifully intimate about seeing you in his clothes. As if in a way the two of you were becoming more and more intertwined every date. He finally realized he’d been staring and sucked in a breath. “Thought you jumped out the window and ran away or something.”

You laughed. “No, never.”

He grinned and held out the mugs as you moved towards him. “I made us hot chocolate.”

“Is it good? I know you’re not very good at cooking.” You took the mug anyway, giving him teasing eyes.

“Ouch!” Mat laughed and took a sip of his own chocolate. “Hey, c’mon, it’s pretty good!” He watched with a proud, gleaming smile as you took a sip, and you could barely taste it when he continued. “Right? Isn’t it so good?”

“It is, baby.”

“Wanna, maybe, watch some Netflix before going to bed?”

“That sounds perfect.”

Mat’s couch was large, large enough for him to stretch his long, six-foot body out on, and stretch out he did, pulling you down beside him. He tucked you back against his chest, his thick arms around your waist and his big feet nudging at yours under the blanket. As the night dragged on, the snow coming down heavier against the windows, you could feel his breath against your neck, you could feel it getting softer and softer as he fell asleep. “Baby,” You turned towards him, lifting his face between your hands. He hummed in response, his eyes opening and his lips smiling. “Let’s go to bed. You look sleepy.”

“I am.”

“So am I.”

“Let’s go.” Mat rolled off the couch sleepily and lifted you.

“Mat, you don’t have to carry me, bubs. Looks like you’re gonna fall over.”

“I wanna.”

You laughed when he hoisted you up in his arms and reached for the remote to turn off the TV. He stumbled towards the bedroom, giggling and nearly falling over, before shutting off the lights and dropping you onto the bed, crawling up next to you and making the bed bounce as he flopped his heavy body down.

“Mat.” You pulled his face up from the pillow to look at you. “C’mere, I wanna hold you like the other night.”

“Oh, for sure.”

Mat had never felt more comfortable in his life than when he had his head resting on your chest, your fingers tangled in his hair and your arm around his shoulders. And you’d never felt more safe than when his arms were around you, his lips against your skin and his weight heavy on top of you. You’d never felt this safe with any other man in your life, and Mat was so, so gentle and amazing to you.

“Did you have a nice night?”

“It was amazing.”

“Mmm.” Mat squeezed you in his arms. “I’m so happy you’re warming up to me now. I’m so happy we’re clicking so well. I was afraid you wouldn’t...”

“I am. I’m comfortable. We click so well, baby. I’m sorry it was a little difficult at first.”

“‘It’s my fault too.” His voice was sleepy and soft as his hand found your cheek in the dark, his thumb rubbing circles on your skin. “Will you stay in the morning?”

This time, you weren’t unsure. This time, you knew how you felt. This time, you wouldn’t run.

“Of course, bubs.”

#mat barzal #mathew barzal #mat barzal x reader #mat barzal fanfiction #mat barzal fic #nhl fanfiction #nhl fic #fic #mathew barzal x reader #op

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descendantofthesparrow · 3 years

Text

Remember your past - Prince! Harry Hook x Knight! Reader - Part 20 - The adventure begins

Hours later and Purah had finally let the two of you go, keeping Terrako for the night as so test for any possible clues to what had happened in the last 500 years and to make sure the little guardian wasn’t damaged in any way.

You were stopped just before you started making your way back down the hill, and Purah helped activate the transportation seal in front of the laboratory. Harry mentally celebrated in relief of not having to climb all the way back up the hill to come in the morning at Purah’s request.

You swiped through the tablets inventory slots, humming to yourself as you tapped on some of the new items that had been added to it. You skimmed through the description and looked up as Harry tossed himself over on his inn bed and his eyes burned into your side. “wha?” you whispered, shutting off the tablet and stuffing it in your bag, hiding it with your cloak.

“it's still hard ta believe this is all real…I still think I’ll wake up back at Auradon not even knowing this place exists…yet every morning I wake up to us on a quest to fuckin save it from a red goop demon” he whispered, grinning as you snickered from his description of the “dark one”.

“yeah…I’m still getting ahold of the fact that I’m technically over 500 years old and I was a personal knight to a prince that had some sort of locked magic and I was badly injured and yeeted into a healing shrine for 500 fucking years” Harry buried his face into the pillow and let out a small scream. “I can't tell if you're just reacting to what I said or everything in general.” He lifted his head out of the pillow and scrunched his nose (quite adorably you might add) as he laughed.

“yeeted into a healing shrine” he quoted, laying back down on the pillow and continuing to laugh. You rolled your eyes and tossed your extra pillow at him, smirking as he quietly yelped.

“Go to bed, we have a long day ahead of us tomorrow” one of his eyes peeked at you from below the pillow before it disappeared, his body shuffling around until he found a comfy spot. “goodnight harry”

“g’night (y/n)”

Uma tapped her fingers harshly against her arm, her leg tapping rapidly as Ben conversed with the stable owner, asking if he had seen Harry or (y/n). “we got a lot of people comin’ in ‘an out of these stables son, if they were here, I don’t remember ‘em. Might do you better ta ask the riverside stable”

Ben sighed and nodded, walking back towards the rest of the group who were waiting anxiously “any luck?” Phillip asked, curling his arm tighter around Audrey who buried herself into his side.

“No, they haven't seen them, said we might have more luck at the riverside stable, which I think” he took out a map from his saddlebag and unfolded it “is over on this side of the peaks, we’d make our way back to the plateau then take a right just after the bridge”

“Are we sure this is a good idea?” Mal butt in, stepping closer to Ben and looking over the map “I mean, Regina asked us to stay within the village because of how dangerous it is here, and it is (y/n) and Harry but, it could be more of a risk to go out and find them than to just wait for them back at the village. We don’t know what's out there”

“that’s exactly why we are going to go look for them Mal” Ben stressed, closing the map and putting it back in the saddlebag “We don’t know what's out there and they probably don’t either, I can't sit by while they go out and risk their lives if anything we might be able to help them do whatever they are doing.”

Mal sighed and nodded, while she didn’t want anyone to get hurt out in this land that was completely unknown to them, it would be hard to sleep at night knowing she had willingly left (y/n) and Harry to travel it alone and possibly get hurt “Alright then, let's get some supplies and then we'll go to Riverside stable, then we’ll go from there”

Uma let out a small huff and climbed onto her horse, glaring down at the rest of the group “What are we waiting for? Let's go”

Ben stopped Mal from starting an argument, deciding that they would get supplies at the other stable and head out now.

“Anand there we go! All runes upgraded and ready to use~!” Purah handed you back the tablet “I also tried to look through Terrako’s old files but the only thing that was there was stuff I had seen forever ago, so!” she clapped her hands then held them out towards you and Harry “everything Is ready to go! And I set up the sheikah sensor plus as well so if you need to find something specific, just take a picture with it, go into the compendium that’s within the same section as the map, and select that item and it'll lead you to it” you slowly nodded, messing around with the tablet until the rune screen popped up.

“um,” you started, showing Purah the screen “how do we use the runes?” she smiled fondly and took the tablet, tapping one of the icons and turning to Symin. The two nodded at each other and Symin threw a small teacup at Purah, Purah trusted the tablet at the cup and it froze mid-air, a glowing yellow filter surrounding the cup as it did.

“Stasis!” Purah exclaimed as Symin walked in front of the cup and wrapped his hands around it, waiting for the quiet noise of a ticking clock to stop as Purah turned to the tablet towards you and Harry “Time stopping rune, you just have to aim the tablet at the item or thing you want to freeze in time, then you can add kinetic energy by hitting it and the item or thing will fly in the direction you hit it! Easy!”

You and Harry nodded, Terrako jumping up between the tablet and you in an attempt to see the screen “Then there’s magnesis, which allows you to control any type of metal object” Purah demonstrated with the tablet, lifting a spoon into the air, a beam of red, blue, and yellow stringing the spoon and tablet. “Like that, and there's no limit of size or weight of the metal object” Purah released the spoon and switched to the next rune.

“then there are the bombs” you and Harry jumped back as Purah held up her hand and a round blue glowing bomb appeared in her hand “Remote activated as well, come along!” Purah skipped out of the lab with you and Harry following behind her, Terrako scuttling after you.

Purah tossed the bomb over the side of the mountain and gestured for you to watch the tablet as it bounced down the mountain “To activate, you just” Purah trust the tablet forward, a large blue glowing exploding where the bomb was “And that’s the bombs! These two bombs as well, the round one and the square one” Purah summoned the box-shaped one, holding it in her hand for you and Harry to see before she closed her hand, the bomb disappearing as she did. “to send ‘em back into the tablet, you just close your fist, easy peasy~!”

Purah led you back inside the lab and showed you the tablet again, the rune symbol now showing a snowflake “This is the cryonis rune, with it you can create a pillar of ice from any water surface. I can’t demonstrate this one so we’ll just move on” Purah swiped to the next run, now showing a camera symbol

“The camera, we already figured out that one” you muttered, Purah smiled and nodded, handing the tablet back to you.

“Good! There is a hidden rune on there but I've never been able to figure it out, maybe you will! But!” Purah clapped her hands, you and Harry flinching a bit at the sudden action “you two have somewhere to go don’t you~ now remember; stop at the places where the eleven pictures show to see if you can regain any memories, get the towers for the map, and free the divine beasts! Good luck! Goodbye Terrako!” the little guardian chirped and followed after you and Harry as you walked back outside. The lab doors closed behind you as you and Harry looked at each other.

“Well” Harry muttered, rubbing the back of his head as he looked around the mountain top you were on “tha’ was….an experience” you laughed a bit and nodded, pulling up the map and scrolling around, tapping on the shrine that was down in the village.

“yep” in a flash of blue light you, Harry, and Terrako were now outside the shrine, it’s orange/blue glow blinding you a bit. “let's get a couple more supplies and then well head for the nearest beast, which I think is past storybrooke, we kinda went the opposite way but there's another road to Lanayru, we’re in Necluda and we just need to take this path down this way, there is a way directly to the Lanayru tower but it crosses through storybrooke and I don’t think either of us want to risk a run through with everyone?” Harry shook his head, grabbing your arm to guide you back to the horses as you continued to look down at the map “yeah there's a path down this way that should lead to the Lanayru tower, so we’ll head down that way.” You closed the tablet and hooked it on your hip, moving to step beside your horse and leading her backward out of the stall, Harry doing the same with his horse.

“let's head out” Harry nodded, looking down at Terrako who chirped.

“uh, do yeh want a ride or do yeh jus’ want ta’ follow?” the little guardian just chirped and walked back and forth “im guessing that’s walk?” Terrako nodded its body and Harry nodded back “All right then, let's go” Harry swung up onto his horse and followed after you as the three of you rode out of Hateno and down to Lanayru.

Uma sighed and rubbed her face, they had just left the riverside stable, and while the workers there had seen (y/n) and Harry, along with the little guardian, they had no idea where the three went. so once again the trail went cold after a moment of hope. “How are we ever going to find them?” Gil whimpered, crossing his arms and looking off in the distance, scared for his two friends. “This kingdom is huge; they could already be…I don’t know halfway across the map by now who knows?”

Ben sighed and shrugged, climbing back on his horse and taking out the map “I don’t know Gil, we just have to hope for the best to find them before they do anything stupid”

“they could be heading for one of those divine beast things (y/n) told us about” Phillip hummed, scratching his chin as Audrey cuddled into his side “though she failed to mention where they were” Ben sighed again, looking down at his map.

“Yeah, we really have no clue where they are, and who knows, they might avoid us if they find us first. You heard what Regina said, they are dead set on saving the kingdom, from something their past lives had failed in.” Ben folded the map and placed it in his saddlebag, helping Mal climb up behind him and grabbing the reigns “Lets head for Faron, we might get lucky if they headed that way” the group nodded and mounted their horses, Ben leading the charge as Harriet and CJ rode in the back, Harriet's jaw clenched as flashes of the past flew past her on the road.

Regina had told her and CJ that they might have been reincarnated as well, as there were two princesses named Harriet and Calista Jane. And it seemed she was right, the longer they were in Saorsa the more “memories” returned to them, they were hard to understand and distinguish, but it was clear that along with Harry they had been reincarnated into their present selves.

“What are we gonna do Harriet?” CJ whispered, leaning over to her sister and giving Harriet a worried look “are we gonna-“ Harriet gave CJ a look.

“We are, tomorrow night when everyone's asleep, we’ll split off and look for Harry and (y/n) ourselves, and im going to drag Harry back to Auradon by his ear if it kills me” CJ looked relieved to hear Harriet’s ‘threat’ towards Harry, it was good to know Harriet wasn’t as shaken up as her so at least one of them would have a calm head on their shoulders.

“okay” CJ hummed, snapping the reins of her horse and catching up with the rest of the group.

By nightfall you were about halfway to Lanayru, thankfully there was a stable right next to where you and Harry had called it for the night so you let your horses into the stalls for the night and rented two beds till the morning.

You pulled up the map and hummed, from here you could see Storybrooke village was just past the wetlands and up the hill. And the Lanayru tower, you looked up from the map, seeing the orange glowing tower in the distance, shrouded by rain clouds that never seemed to disappear, was just ahead, maybe a half days travel from the stable.

“we almost there?” Harry softly asked, stepping so close to you-you could feel the warmth radiating off him.

“yeah” you talked in a hushed tone, turning to him and holding up the map “can't see it on the map but the tower is here, I marked it” Harry leaned in to look, glancing between the tower and the diamond marker you had placed. He nodded and stood straight, watching you turn off the tablet and hook it on your hip.

You took and deep breath and looked at him, giving a tired smile “come on, it's been a long day, let's turn in and we’ll head out first thing after breakfast” Harry returned the smile and nodded.

“aye, see yeh in the morning”

“see you in the morning”

-end-

yep, part 20 after 5 (almost six) months, not a single person asked for this so...yeah...i request validation pls.

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alj4890 · 3 years

Text

And Then I Left You

(Thomas Hunt x oc*Amanda) in a “what if” version to the RCD/TRR fan fic And Then I Met You Series

@krsnlove @my-heart-beats-for-ya @aworldoffandoms @flyawayboo @trappedinfanfiction @everythingmarvelsherlockspn @sophxwithers @kate-mckenzie @twinkleallnight

Masterlist

Chapter 7 Seeking Warmth

The next few days in Lythikos seemed to drag by. Olivia, after a great deal of arguing, relented and offered to help Amanda and Thomas in not only keeping their relationship a secret, but in finding ways they could be together in private. The only hitch to the couple's plans was this suitor business.

Amanda had thought she wouldn't be under such scrutiny once Liam told her that the King and Queen were remaining at the palace so that they could prepare for the Regatta. She soon realized that she had attracted some unwanted attention from the one lady who missed nothing.

Madeleine.

The countess had begun to watch every move the ladies made, especially those that had become her biggest threats to her winning the crown.

The press had focused on Riley being an unknown delight. The people adored her already for her wit and obvious affection for Liam. Olivia had both the strength and intelligence that many thought were needed in their future queen. Her years of friendship with Liam had also caused several to place bets that she would end up the prince's choice.

Amanda, much to her own frustration, had somehow become a favorite. Her book along with it becoming a movie had brought her not only fame, but also a great deal of praise from the Royal family. The people of Cordonia had only known her as a quiet, steadfast duchess and friend to the crown prince. Now she had become one that the public wanted to know more about.

It was enough to irritate anyone, especially one who had no desire for the attention nor a real chance of ending up Liam's choice.

The first evening, Amanda had planned on sneaking downstairs for a moment alone with her director. Thinking she was secretly meeting with Liam, Madeleine intercepted her in the hallway.

Amanda was forced to give the excuse of going downstairs to the kitchen with Madeleine following along and giving her reasons why she herself should be Liam's choice.

Every secret rendezvous was interrupted by either Madeleine or someone else.

The parlor that the couple decided to meet in the next evening had Hana appearing to play the piano. The two had been forced to remain hidden behind a set of drapes throughout the entire performance.

The third night had Tariq bumping into Thomas and inviting him for a drink. Unable to think of a way out of it, he had been forced to wave Amanda back while he joined the fastidious noble for a glass of brandy and a long discussion of shoes.

It seemed hopeless.

Amanda and Thomas were back to longing glances and brushes past one another.

Or so they thought...

By the fifth day, Olivia reminded Amanda of something that only a handful of people knew about.

While Amanda was pulling her snow boots on for another long day of pretending to want Liam's attention, she was startled by the wall next to her bed opening up.

"You could have knocked." Amanda teased once over her surprise.

"Where's the fun in that?" Olivia smirked. "I thought you might like to use the hidden passageway to have your clandestine affair."

Amanda's expression brightened at that suggestion. She bounded over and squeezed Olivia in a brief hug.

"I completely forgot about this!"

"It has been over a decade since we trained in them."

"Played." Amanda corrected.

"How was our practicing to be Cordonian spies playing?" Olivia asked.

"I thought we were playing."

"This is why I should have kept up with your training. You never took it seriously."

"We were seven, Olivia." Amanda reminded her. "I was also pretending to have the ability to be able to find snow fairies in the woods near your home."

"I was too easy on you." Olivia grumbled. "I should have pushed you harder during our exercises."

She waved Amanda through the opening.

"I've marked the pathway from your room to Hunt's." She led her through the twisted labyrinth of hallways hidden behind unassuming walls, pointing out the arrows and such. "Just make certain to keep your bedrooms doors locked and be as quiet as you can walking through here."

They paused outside Thomas's hidden door.

"Well?" Olivia prodded. "Aren't you going to surprise him?"

"I think I better forewarn him before using it." Amanda whispered. "He could be changing clothes or--"

"What kind of affair are you having?" Olivia chuckled at the blush forming on Amanda's cheeks. "Maybe it is a good thing you never became a spy. You never could have hidden that blush."

Amanda smothered her laughter while turning back to her room. "True. I would have failed miserably."

Once back in Amanda's room, the two finished pulling their coats on and headed out to join the rest of the court.

******************

"Here." Drake offered his flask. "You look like you need this more than I do."

Thomas took it, silently toasting in thanks before taking a swallow. His attention remained on the ladies ice skating with some of the men from court while the whiskey burned down his throat.

Amanda was being forced to listen to Madeleine as they skated around the frozen pond. Her eyes met his each time she came near to where he was seated. He could see the worry in her eyes when she noticed the flask in his hand.

He knew he could not have all her time, but he should be able to speak to her without everyone suspecting something. They were collaborators for goodness’s sake! There should be nothing suspicious them walking off on their own or being left alone in a room together.

"No luck, huh?" Drake asked.

He shook his head. "Last night it was both Kiara and Tariq." He snorted softly. "I'm sure if we had tried to go somewhere else then Madeleine would have arrived with a few others in tow."

Drake scratched his chin as he tried to think of where the two could enjoy some time alone. "Can't you come up with something to do with movie or something? Something only Amanda can help with?"

"That's what I have been doing each time I pull her away for a private conversation. Most of the time she and I are stuck with you and Maxwell and Nadia." Thomas handed the flask back. "This suitors' business is more difficult to get around than I thought."

"You sound like you're ready to give up." Drake's eyes narrowed at how much that would hurt Amanda.

"I'm far from even thinking of giving up." Thomas snapped. "I am merely stalled."

Frustrated not only with their current situation but also at Drake thinking he wasn't even going to try, he took off for a walk along the duchy's grounds.

***************

Thomas had been gone no more than fifteen minutes when he heard the sound of someone rushing up from behind.

"Thomas! Wait!" Amanda called out.

He turned around in surprise.

"I thought you had to spend the day chasing Liam."

"I did." Her eyes sparkled with mischief. "But the ladies heard me complain about it being too cold out."

"But you love the snow."

"Yes, but they don't know that." She slipped her arm within his and tugged him further along. "I think we have managed to get at least an hour alone before some of them escape the cold."

He placed his hand over hers, squeezing it in gratitude for her quick thinking.

"I also thought of a way we can get a few more hours alone each day. I don't suppose you are against taking a few dance lessons?"

"Dance lessons?" He lifted an eyebrow. "I know the basics of ballroom dancing."

"But not the Cordonian Waltz." She smiled up at him. "I've seen the music Olivia has planned for her ball. There will be multiple Cordonian Waltzes through the night."

"Is it so different from a regular waltz?"

"It is and you learning it will help you decide how you wish to film that particular waltz in The Earl's Undoing."

"If it gets me time alone with you, then I am all for it." He paused once they were in the woods.

Checking to make sure no one could see them, he guided her back against a large tree and kissed her. He could feel her smile form before she actively participated. She slipped her arms around his waist, pressing him even closer, as their kiss heated up.

"I don't know why the court has to come to this godforsaken patch of frozen wasteland year after year."

The couple froze when they heard voices close by.

"We wouldn't if Olivia didn't insist on it." Another suitor grumbled.

"She's keeping Liam all to herself." A third muttered. "Like he would ever pick her when there are so many better options. Even that American would be better choice."

The group laughed as they walked past the path into the woods.

"We should probably go inside." Amanda barely whispered. "There's a side door to the kitchen around the corner. Olivia's butler, Harris, will take our coats and sneak us through the servants’ hallways to an empty room."

Thomas reluctantly nodded. He took her hand and did as she said.

"When will we begin the dance lessons?"

"This evening." She decided to keep the hidden passageway a surprise for him. "After dinner, wait in your room for my signal to join me."

******************

The rest of the day, Thomas forced himself to work. While Amanda sipped hot chocolate and took part in talking to Liam, he found a quiet room with a desk and continued to outline his notes for each scene. He would occasionally find himself lost in thought as he watched snowflakes fall from the window. Most of his thoughts centered around a certain duchess while the others tried to think of ways to get her alone without any interruption.

As he worked, he wondered if he could demand she show him the different locations the scenes had taken place in. She had shown him the pictures, but to actually go and see if they would work on camera...

He got to his feet and decided that before he got his hopes up, he should probably ask the one who would know whether or not that would be a problem.

He found Liam trying to escape an overly eager suitor along Olivia's portrait gallery. Clearing his throat, he got the pair's attention.

The lady glared daggers at Thomas while Liam didn't bother to hide his relief.

"I apologize for the interruption," Thomas began, ignoring the lady's huff of irritation, "but I need to ask about permits for filming on location around Cordonia."

Liam twisted his arm out of the lady's firm grasp. "Yes, of course." He bowed to the fuming woman. "Excuse me, Lady Sandra."

Before she could argue, Liam walked off, already discussing the film with Thomas.

Once they were out of earshot, the prince whispered his thanks. "We were part of the group Olivia was leading through the older areas of her home, but Lady Sandra somehow pinned me between a painting of a former king and herself. She asked questions about whether or not I thought his reign had been successful." Liam shook his head in exasperation. "Once the group was gone, she then latched onto me."

"It must be frustrating not being able to choose who you get to spend time with." Thomas said. "I think the list of suitors would diminish quickly if left up to you."

Liam's lips turned up in a half smile. "It would, which might not be what is best for Cordonia."

"Wouldn't it be best for Cordonia if their future king was in a happy, loving relationship with his wife?" Thomas prodded.

Liam hesitated in answering in the negative. "That is something I had not considered as an argument for a suitor."

"Perhaps you should."

"Perhaps." Liam found an empty parlor and motioned for Thomas to precede him. He closed the door to give them privacy. "Now then, what did you need to talk about since Amanda already got every possible permit you would need months ago."

"I had a thought of how to spend a few days with Amanda without interruption." Thomas explained having her be his guide around the Cordonian countryside. "Would that cause problems for her? And you possibly with the press and your family?"

Liam sat down while considering his suggestion. "I can't see that it would as long as she was through with it by the time the court goes to Applewood. That would only be the time when my parents would take offense. You both could leave after Olivia's ball and have about a week or so to yourselves. You'd miss the Regatta and beach party, but Amanda has never enjoyed either of those."

Thomas's curiosity over that last part was greater in his elation at finally finding some time. "Do you know why she doesn't?"

Liam's eyebrows lifted. "Yes, of course. That particular dock that we hold the regatta was where her parents kept their sailboat."

"Amanda went sailing while in California with some friends of mine. She seemed to enjoy herself."

"She loves it." Liam added. "But she won't sail from that particular point or go out into that part of the ocean." His countenance turned sad. "Her parents died on their last sailing trip."

Thomas sat down in surprise. "She never told me how they died. I didn't want to make her explain."

Liam nodded. "An unexpected storm caught them. Before our coastguard could get out there in time, they had perished. Amanda's uncle, Lord Nicholas, had to identify their bodies." He cleared his throat. "Her parents were beloved by all of us. We were around twelve years old when they died and Amanda swore she wouldn't go there for any type of activity. She has kept true to that all these years." He once more focused on Thomas. "Therefore, you finding a way to keep her from having to relive the memory of their death and giving it for why she would miss the event is perfect."

Thomas felt even more determined to take her away from something that would hurt her.

"We'll tell her this evening during dinner." Liam decided. "That way the nosier ladies will know and spread the word for us."

"Thank you." Thomas cocked his head to the side as another thought struck. "The Cordonian Waltz? Is it a difficult dance?"

Liam chuckled. "Depends on whether or not you have the right partner."

"It does?"

"Let's just say that the wrong one makes it a most regrettable dance." Liam left him alone.

Thomas pondered his words before leaving to prepare for an evening hopefully ending with some time with Amanda.

*****************

"I would love to show you around Cordonia." Amanda replied when Liam and Thomas casually brought up the plan.

"Excellent." Liam winked at her. "I'll give your excuses for your absence at the next few events."

"Thank you." Thomas softly smiled at Amanda. "Her grace has piqued my curiosity with her descriptions."

"I suppose her novel has shown the world a tiny piece of Cordonia's impressive history." Madeleine added. "But if you truly want to see Cordonia's finest then you should visit to either my home or Lady Kiara's." She cast a pitying glance toward Amanda. "The dukes and duchesses of St Orella have sadly done nothing noteworthy during their rule."

Amanda's knuckles turned white as her fingers tightened around her glass.

"Nothing noteworthy?" Olivia quickly interjected. "They've only been one of the most loyal to both crown and country." Her smirk held an evil edge. "If I recall, I believe one of the Karlingtons tried to overthrow Queen Charlotte. That is your father's side, is it not?"

Madeleine glared daggers at Olivia. "My family for the most part has been extremely loyal to every monarchy they have served, unlike some Nevarkis members."

Olivia shrugged dismissively. "King Luther Nevarkis was doing what many during his time tried. He was expanding his kingdom."

"He tried to kill Queen Kenna." Madeleine reminded her.

"He had already killed other rulers." Olivia added. "He would have appeared weak if he hadn't at least tried to eliminate the last one."

"So, you excuse his behavior?" Madeleine exclaimed in surprise.

"I've read why he did what he did." Olivia explained. "I understand why he thought he had to while disagreeing with his methods." Her own eyes narrowed in anger. "The Nevarkis line that followed shows how loyal we are to the rightful rulers of Cordonia."

Madeleine sniffed dismissively. "Still, Mr. Hunt, you will be quite bored if you delve too much into St Orella's history. It is nothing but romantic gibberish followed by a few that married into the Royal family."

"And fought in every single war Cordonia went through." Amanda added in a bitter tone. "I don't recall seeing many of yours, Countess, being among the list of heroes."

Madeleine stiffened. "My people were better suited for their intelligence than brute strength on the battlefield."

"So brave of them to fight mentally behind a cushy desk." Olivia taunted.

"Amanda's family history is what interests me." Thomas interrupted before Madeleine could snap back. "The more I read about them, the more I want to discover even more." He cocked an eyebrow at the blonde. "Generation after generation of someone in an advisory capacity sounds dull."

Madeleine stuck her nose up in the air. "I wouldn't expect an American to understand the nuance of Cordonia's nobility."

"Yeah, we Americans have never been involved with something like that." Riley spoke up. She winked at Thomas. "It's a shame we have never dealt with a king or assisted any countries with their own problems."

Liam chuckled. "Well Lady Olivia, I knew once we journeyed here that conversations would never be dull, but I honestly did not expect us to focus on our nation's history so much."

"You should know by now, Liam, to expect the unexpected in Lythikos." Olivia raised her glass in a silent toast to him.

****************

Around eleven that night, Thomas paced the confines of his room while waiting on Amanda's signal. He expected her to call or text to meet her in the ballroom and was surprised that she had yet to do so. After the spirited dinner they had taken part in, he wondered if she was upset. Unable to easily speak to her afterwards, he had only been able to whisper his concern with her shaking her head while whispering she was fine.

A brisk knock at his door caused him to pause. When he opened it, he was even more surprised to see Olivia's butler holding a silver tray with a bottle of wine and two crystal goblets.

"Sir, her grace thought you might enjoy this particular vintage." Harris said. When he noticed the confusion on Thomas's face, he lowered his voice. "It is a favorite of Lady Amanda's."

"Thank you." Thomas took the tray from him. "Please express my gratitude to Lady Olivia for thinking of me."

Harris nodded in approval.

Thomas shut his door and locked it as he wondered how on earth, he would be able to share a bottle of wine with Amanda. He couldn't get more than a few minutes here and there with her alone. How much more difficult would it be sneaking around while carrying wine?

Setting the tray down, he sat down on the small sofa near the fireplace while he waited.

"Is that for us?"

He jumped from his seat and spun toward Amanda's voice. His eyes went to his locked door then back to her.

"How did you get in here?"

With a mischievous smile she walked over to a wall near his bed and twisted a decorative sconce to the left. A portion of the wall slid silently open, revealing the secret passageways hidden within Lythikos.

"Olivia reminded me of these today and even marked the route from my room to yours." She explained. "Now we can spend our evenings together without anyone disturbing us."

He stepped out and marveled at the rough stone hallways. "This is incredible."

"A lot of the older manors have hidden passageways." She explained.

Thomas cocked an eyebrow. "Does yours?"

Her smile grew flirty. "Maybe."

He chuckled and followed her back into his room. Once the wall closed, he took her in his arms.

Thomas simply enjoyed a moment of holding her without worry that someone would catch them. He leaned down and captured her lips in a slow, deep kiss.

"What was that for?" She asked.

"For finding a way for us to be together without interruption." He murmured, kissing her again.

"Remind me to always find a way for us to be alone." Her laughter was muffled when he growled against her neck.

He walked her back to the couch he had been sitting on, collapsing on it with her in his arms.

Her smile caught his attention. "What are you thinking?"

"This was one of my daydreams." Her eyes met his. "You and I in front of a crackling fire. Snow falling outside." She pressed a kiss to his neck. "The two of us finding ways to keep warm."

His fingers threaded in her hair as he met her lips. "I would love to hear more about these daydreams."

She laughed softly. "Then I will make certain to share them each time we are together."

She eased away. "First though, we must teach you the Cordonian Waltz."

Amanda thought he looked adorably befuddled sprawled on the couch. His hair was missed and the slight frown at her leaving his arms made her want to return to his embrace.

"I thought the dance lesson was a ruse to be able to spend time together."

"I want to dance with you at the ball." She explained. A slight blush colored her cheeks. "I always wanted to with a man that I was in love with and who just so happened to be in love with me too."

His expression softened with understanding. He ran his fingers through his hair as he stood up. "Then let's begin."

Thomas felt his heartbeat quicken at the delight on her face when she took his hands. He tried to focus on her instruction, but he kept getting distracted by having her so close.

"Thomas!" She stumbled over his feet when he kissed her. She failed in trying to appear stern. "Pay attention, please."

He kissed along her neck, up to her ear. "I am paying attention."

"To the dance steps." She bit down on her lip, tilting her head so he could continue his path back down her neck.

He lifted his head with a sigh. "If you insist."

She mentally shook her head to clear it. With a few tries, they were actually waltzing around the room. When he twirled her into his arms, their eyes met.

"I now see why Reginald and Arthur hated watching the other dance this with Elizabeth." He brushed his lips to Amanda's. "This dance is nothing but temptation."

"Now you know why it was such a pivotal moment in their relationship." She mumbled.

"I don't think I could comfortably watch you dance this with anyone." He admitted.

"I know I wouldn't be able to stand you dancing with another either."

Thomas kept her in his arms instead of twirling her back into the next position. Their swaying slowly stilled.

"Amanda," he began only to be cut off by her kiss.

She looked up at him. "I think we've practiced enough, don't you?"

His lips curved. "Yes, I do."

*****************

The days leading up to the ball went easier than either anticipated. Being able to spend their evenings together helped them not be on edge in searching for a stolen moment or two. They both were noticeably more pleasant than they had been when they first arrived at Lythikos.

Perhaps they seemed a little too happy.

"You might want to bring it down a notch or two." Drake told Thomas as they walked downstairs to Olivia's ballroom. "People have been talking about the change in both you and Amanda."

"I didn't realize I was doing anything different." Thomas tried to stop thinking of going to Amanda's room earlier for one last waltz practice.

He had been struck speechless with how she looked in her royal blue ballgown. The one bare shoulder tempted him as he twirled her in his arms. And just like every practice they had, it was cut short with a kiss.

"These ladies vying for Liam notice everything." Drake muttered when he caught sight of a few entering the ballroom. "I wouldn't put it past some go them for exploiting anything to make their competition look bad."

Thomas tried to smooth his features into a less pleased one. It was difficult to maintain when his gaze immediately found Amanda talking to a Maxwell, Nadia, Riley, and Hana.

He then allowed his artistic eye to take in the beauty of Olivia's ballroom. A wall of windows revealed the snowy landscape with majestic mountains in the distance. Snowflakes glistened in the soft candlelight that adorned each table. Sparkling crystal chandeliers twinkled with their own low light, causing flickers on the dance floor.

Drake whistled. "Olivia went all out for this."

Thomas glanced at him when he heard a hint of irritation in his tone. "Does she not normally do this?"

"She does. Just not this," Drake gestured around the room.

"Romantic?" Thomas offered.

"Yeah." Drake grimaced. "I'm going to find my seat."

Thomas watched him walk off. He wondered if there was more to Drake's response to Olivia's efforts.

"Welcome Mr. Hunt."

He turned to find his hostess. "Your grace."

Olivia nodded in approval. "I hope you have enjoyed your stay here."

"I have." His frown eased. "And I know I have you to thank for it."

Her proud smirk flashed. "You're welcome." She cocked her head to the table at the front of the ballroom. "I decided to seat you at my table, even if you are a commoner."

He snorted and followed her over. "Any particular reason?"

Her gaze cut to where Amanda was. "A few actually." She waved toward his chair. "Make yourself comfortable. I must wait on Liam to join us."

Thomas pulled his chair out and continued his study of the room and its occupants. His mind drifted to the ballroom scene he would be filming soon. Studying the groupings of people, he began to think which actors he wanted where while considering camera angles.

"I see someone is lost in his work again." Amanda teased.

He quickly got to his feet. "And how do you know that?"

"I did work with you for months." She reminded him before lowering her voice. "And I might have stared at you during some of those long nights with the screenplay."

He chuckled at that. "Then I'm lucky you didn't catch me doing the same."

Her eyes dropped while her smile grew.

"Where did Olivia seat you?" He asked.

"Here." She pointed at the chair across from him.

He followed her around the table and held her chair out for her.

Leaning down as if to whisper in her ear, he brushed a soft kiss against her cheek. "I was hoping you wouldn't be too far away."

He straightened before she could respond or before anyone noticed his action.

Olivia soon returned with Liam, Maxwell, and Nadia. Another noble joined them that Thomas was introduced to.

"Rashad is not only the heir to Duchy Domvallier but he is also a partner in Sloan Industries." Amanda explained of the handsome young Lord. Her smile was warm as she continued. "His business expertise is something we have all been grateful for."

Rashad grinned at that before engaging Thomas in a conversation about producing a movie. "William and I were approached not too long ago about investing in a film, but we were leery of jumping into something we don't know much about."

Amanda left them to their discussion and focused on her other friends. Maxwell and Nadia were talking about the regatta coming up while Olivia and Liam added their own opinions.

Not wanting to participate in anything to do with that particular event, she instead picked at her salad while gazing out at the rest of the ballroom. She found Drake at the very back with Riley and Hana. The three seemed to be a little irritated as they tried to get a waiter's attention.

Her lips curved in a rueful grin as she thought of why Olivia had stuck him in the back. It seemed he would forever be paying for his childhood torment to the redhead for a long time. She was curious though why Olivia had placed Riley and Hana back there. What could they have possibly done to incur her wrath?

Course after course was enjoyed while the conversations flowed around her.

When dessert was being brought around, Olivia signaled the musicians to begin.

Liam offered his hand to her and the two went to the dance floor.

"Ready to dance, babe?" Maxwell asked Nadia.

"Yes, I mean NO! You need to get Riley out there first." She explained. With a quick kiss, she sent him after their friend.

Thomas met Amanda's eyes. He set his napkin on the table and came around to her side to the table.

"May I have this dance?"

His hand rested on her bare shoulder. His thumb brushed against her skin as he waited on her answer.

"I'd love to." She managed to say.

He helped her pull her chair back and placed her hand in the bend of his arm.

Rashad asked Nadia and followed the couple to the floor.

In whirl of color from the ladies' ballgowns, the dance began.

While the first few steps began, Liam chuckled when he saw Drake. "I see you put him in the back again."

Olivia's smirk held an edge. "It's his own fault. He reminded me of the one time I lost to him in a snowball fight."

"And Lady Riley and Lady Hana?" Liam prodded.

"That was not meant as a slight." Olivia explained. "You know how prickly everyone gets if their rank is not recognized by their seating arrangement." She grimaced when she saw Riley with Maxwell. "Neither of them has a title."

Liam nodded in understanding. "We do associate with snobs."

"That and how would it look if I put two more competitors at our table? At least Amanda's rank and my own friendship with her was understood by all why she was placed there. Maxwell acting in Bertrand's stead and Rashad about to be the new Duke of Domvallier also explained my seating arrangement."

"And Thomas?" Liam asked.

"You did personally invite him to take part in everything." She reminded him. "How could I not give him every courtesy?" A softer smile than she usually had formed. "Plus, he has impressed me with his unfailing pursuit of Amanda."

He nodded over to where the two danced. "He has impressed me too."

Olivia studied them. Her brow furrowed when she noticed that though the two were not doing anything improper, but there was a very definite spark between them that drew attention.

And there were several ladies noticing, especially when Amanda was twirled within his arms.

Whispers began to be hissed at the sexual tension between the pair.

"We have to do something." Olivia said.

"What can we do?" Liam asked.

Knowing of only one thing that would draw every ladies' eye, Olivia closed the distance between her and Liam and kissed him.

She felt his jolt of surprise and hoped that what they were doing would cause everyone to ignore Amanda.

If the gasps of outrage and shock were any indication, then her sudden plan had worked.

Liam cleared his throat when she broke away. "We should go somewhere and talk." He lowered his voice so no one near could hear his next sentence. "And that was a brilliant way to divert their attention."

She fought a proud grin as they stepped out of the ballroom to pretend to talk over their kiss.

******************

The next morning, Thomas and Amanda departed from Olivia's before most of the court guests awakened. Those closest to them stood outside to see them off.

"Enjoy yourselves." Liam shook Thomas's hand. "Just make certain you're back at Applewood in time." He hugged Amanda goodbye.

"We will." She replied.

Olivia hugged her next. "Keep your eye out for the press. I don't think they will follow you with the regatta and all coming up but you never know."

"We'll make certain they don't capture any image that could damage Amanda's reputation." Thomas promised.

Maxwell and Nadia squeezed them both in a group hug. "Don't do anything we wouldn't do."

Nadia giggled. "That leaves open a lot of options."

Drake rolled his eyes as he said his goodbyes. "Leave before they go into detail."

Thomas slipped his arm around Amanda as they walked over to the waiting car. He opened the driver's side for her before settling into the passenger seat. Her hand found his as she pulled out of the drive.

"Well Mr. Hunt, it looks like you are stuck with only me for company these next ten days."

He lifted her hand to his lips. "If that's the case then I am a very lucky man."

As their car disappeared around a bend, there was one person watching the departure from her window. Madeleine's brow was furrowed in thought. The more she had observed Thomas and Amanda, the more confused she was to the true nature of their relationship. She would have to pay more attention next time in case Amanda was doing anything that could possibly harm Liam’s choices for Cordonia’s next queen..

#and then i left you #thomas hunt x oc #thomas hunt x amanda #and then I met you #liam x riley #choices the royal romance #choices red carpet diaries #Thomas Hunt #rcd thomas hunt #rcd #trr #drake walker #olivia nevrakis #hana lee #trr rashad #maxwell x nadia #choices perfect match #pm nadia park

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livia-dovehallow · 4 years

Text

kiss you each morning - Gabrily

based on the song “Blueberry Eyes” by MAX (feat. SUGA of BTS) [English Translation Lyrics] || @tsccreatorsnet || also read on AO3

Well, damn, you look so good / Laying there wearing nothing but my t-shirt / Your body's a neighborhood / Wanna drive my lips all around it

Gabriel Lightwood had never given marriage much thought. He supposed, growing up, that he would marry some day of course, in order to please his father and continue the Lightwood bloodline. It was not until he met Cecily Herondale, however, that Gabriel ever considered the possibility that he wanted to marry purely for love. And love did not even begin to describe the way Gabriel felt about Cecily Herondale. “Are you cold?” he asked her that night, shrugging off his coat before she’d even had a chance to respond. Snow fell in a gentle swirl of wind around them, slowly blanketing the London ground. Snowflakes dotted Cecily’s dark hair, dampening it as they melted, and more snowflakes took their place. She turned her head to face him and smiled. Her smile rivaled the beauty of the snow around them, Gabriel thought to himself, losing his train of thought for a moment.

“I have my own coat, you know,” said Cecily with amusement. Gabriel ignored this and draped his coat around her shoulders, admiring the way she nearly disappeared into it. He was left only with his suit jacket, but as long as Cecily was happy and warm, he’d endure the Arctic tundra. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” she asked, her head tilted back to face the gray skies. “It is so peaceful when it snows, as if all the sounds in the world just fade away in it. I can’t ever get enough.”

Gabriel did not answer immediately. Instead, he watched the way her eyelashes fluttered with the weight of the snowflakes landing across her face, and the gentle curve of her pink lips into a content smile. His heart pounded against his chest, both in adoration and anticipation. His body felt alight with electricity with her near him, a feeling that brought both peace and excitement into his life and he had yet to figure out how someone could feel both at once. A smile broke out across his own face. “It is,” he answered finally, his voice soft. Cecily closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, unbothered by the winter chill going into her lungs. If only he had a camera; he wanted to remember her like this; engulfed in his winter coat, her raven hair standing out against the white snow, moments before he would do perhaps the most fearsome thing he’d ever do. Gabriel lowered himself onto one knee. “Cecy,” he whispered. She turned and quickly flickered her eyes in surprise, expecting to look up at him instead of down. Her lovely blue eyes went wide. “Will you marry me?”

'Cause I'm holding my breath / Wondering when / You're gonna wake up in my arms / Head on my chest / My heart's beating / I can't wait to

There had never been so many meetings and parties in the London Institute in all of Gabriel Lightwood’s nearly twenty years on earth. This night was just like the others; full of important people wearing important clothes discussing important things and refusing to hear his or any other of the Institute inhabitants’ opinions on any matter while only begrudgingly heeded Will’s solely on the fact that he was now the head of the London Enclave.

Gabriel sat along the wall of the library, slumped against an old wooden bench that made him distantly consider the possibility of splinters in his backside. He listened to the conversations happening around him, waiting for his chance to put in his opinion on a matter and hope his brother would support him. Gideon sat at the important table, beside Will, with Tessa and Sophie on either side of him. Perhaps when he was married, like his brother was, he would have a place at the table. Taken seriously, welcomed, and heeded, as marriage was for men; not boys. The bench shifted beside him and Gabriel tore his gaze away to look. Cecily sat straight, brushing her hands along her skirt until it bellowed out like a lady before her. She wore no gloves tonight, as the Institute was her home, and it allowed for Gabriel’s eyes to follow the gentle curve of her fingers until they landed on the silver band she wore, engraved with a flame, and worn with pride. “Why haven’t you said anything yet?” she asked in a hushed tone. Gabriel looked up at her and immediately found himself lost in her eyes. “Said what?” he heard himself ask distantly. Cecily clicked her tongue in mock annoyance, but her eyes sparkled. “You are a member of the Enclave. You have a voice here. Why don’t you use it?” “They don’t seem to like the sound of my voice, I’m afraid.” She smiled, mischief slyly hidden in the gentle curve of the corners of her mouth. “Pity. I rather like the sound of your voice.” Cecily Herondale was not an adult member of the Enclave, yet. But, after several incidents involving one fearless girl and several broken floorboards, Will declared that his sister was to be an honorary attendee at Enclave meetings, if not for anything else, because she was his ward and he couldn’t possibly keep an eye on her if he was stuck in meetings all day. Gabriel wondered if anyone else had figured out that Cecily’s incidents were deliberate. He smiled back at her. “It’s late. Aren’t you tired?” She shrugged. “A bit, I suppose. But it is just so riveting in here. All this talk of weaponry reports and building remodels really makes a girl feel alive.” Gabriel glanced at the meeting continuing before them, then back at Cecily, who had been in the middle of a yawn and seemed quite determined to pretend she hadn’t been. Thirty minutes later, while considering declaring this meeting nonsense and demanding that everyone be sent to bed instead, Gabriel felt a weight against his shoulder. He turned his chin toward Cecily, whose head was slumped with her cheek pressed against the top of his shoulder, her eyes closed and lips parted slightly. His heart jumped as he flicked his eyes back and forth from the Enclave at the table and his fiancé beside him. No one paid them any attention at their spot along the wall. He watched Cecily instead, now, as her chest rose and fell with soft breaths. She was beautiful, Gabriel thought, and incredible. To go from stubbornly refusing to go to bed to asleep on his shoulder; that was his fiancé. He wouldn’t trade her for the world. Gently, and ever so quietly, Gabriel sank lower and adjusted her head so that it fit within the dip of his neck and shoulder rather than pressed along the sharp, bony end of his shoulder blade. Any business thoughts that had been in his mind were gone now, replaced with the wishful images of him and Cecily, married, in which he would one day soon be able to fall asleep with her curled up in his arms, her head on his chest. He would tell himself it was for her, to make her feel safe, but he knew deep down that it was mostly for him; to remind himself that he can be loved, and that by some divine intervention, he’d finally married the perfect girl for him. Then, as if life couldn’t get any better, he would wake up every morning and look into beautiful blue eyes.

Kiss you each morning / With strawberry skies / 'Cause I get so lost in / Your blueberry eyes / I'm running through my dreams to / See you in the light / 'Cause I get so lost in / Your blueberry eyes

Sunlight streamed into Gabriel’s eyes from the windows, waking him from a deep sleep. He blinked, momentarily unaware of where he was or what he was doing. He prepared himself to sit up and orient himself but stopped short when he realized there was a weight on his chest. Still blinking through his sleepiness, he recognized the pool of black hair and pale skin curled against his body. Memories of the day before flooded Gabriel’s mind; of wedding vows and dancing, gold skirts and wedding runes. Wedding runes. Gabriel turned his head and looked at his left forearm. A new, glistening black rune stared back at him, one he’d never thought he’d wear and had yet to get used to. His eyes trailed up toward his chest beside Cecily’s head, where the other wedded union rune had been carefully placed the night before. Blankets were tangled around them, soft golden curtains strewn closed around the bed in a secluded paradise. Finally, aware of his surroundings, Gabriel turned back to his wife in his arms. He slowly trailed his fingers along her bare back, admiring her in sleep. Her body fit so perfectly against his that he had begun to believe the stories of soulmates, and of missing puzzle pieces. Her soft pink lips were parted in content sleep; her hair spilled around her face like a painting. Scars from faded Marks dotted her skin, but Gabriel’s eyes were drawn to the edges of the matching rune to his against her collarbone. “How long do you plan to stare?” Cecily mumbled against his skin, stirring awake. Gabriel only smiled fondly at her. “For the rest of my life, I think.” A soft smile grew on her face. Her eyelashes fluttered before she opened her eyes. She looked up at him, blinking sleepy blue eyes, her chin planted in the dip of his shoulder. Gabriel’s fingers froze against her back, losing himself in her eyes, before she laughed and pressed her lips against his shoulder. “Earth to Gabriel,” she said. “What are you thinking?” “That I must still be dreaming,” he whispered. Cecily paused for a moment before she slowly lifted her arm and trailed her fingers against the rune over his heart. “You’re not dreaming.” She pressed another kiss against his shoulder, beginning a trail of kisses up his neck and against his jaw. Gabriel’s eyes fluttered shut, wanting to remember the feeling. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten last night already,” she added with a tease. His eyes flew open again, scanning over their tangled sheets and bodies. “Absolutely not,” he replied, meeting her eyes once more. Gabriel was unsure what happened then, but the moment he met her eyes again, he could see the rest of his life before him. Patrolling and adventuring together, without a chaperone, making the perfect team. Seeing Cecily’s face supporting him in Clave meetings, and the pride in his chest watching her prove her superiority to every other Shadowhunter in Idris and London. Even the sound of the patter of little feet across Lightwood Manor belonging not only to their nieces but their own children and grandchildren.

A ray of light cutting through my shadow / You flipped my life that had been dark / Maybe I'm nothing / Before I met you, I was nobody / I used to mean so little / My life before you was / Only hurrying through the day, yeah / Our days, our nights, okay, our lives / U-A-R-E-M-Y light, friends who support each other, each other’s anchor

“Listen, this is a great idea,” Cecily declared as she dangled from the side of Westminster Abbey from only a thin rope tied loosely around her waist. Gabriel looked up at her hesitantly from the ground, holding with a tight grip the other end of the rope after it wrapped a turret to do whatever he could to prevent her from hurtling to the ground. “I only have great ideas.” “You have dangerous ideas,” Gabriel said under his breath. “I am in a perpetual state of heart attacks.” “I heard that,” she called back, smirking, with a gesture to her enhanced hearing rune. “You always said life with me was exciting. I aim to deliver.” He shook his head, half in resignation and half in fondness for the fearless girl he married. This was not to say he did not enjoy patrolling with Cecily; quite the contrary. Hours alone together meant they could steal kisses without hearing the loud complaints of his now brother-in-law. But patrol was patrol, they were Nephilim, and when Cecily’s pendant lit up as they approached the heart of Parliament Square, it was now purely business. “I’m up,” Cecily called, breaking through Gabriel’s thoughts. “It’s clear, for now. Hurry!” Gabriel did just that, climbing swiftly up after her until his feet were once again planted firmly on even flooring on the roof of the church. The soft red glow of Cecily’s pendant provided just enough light to see her face; determined and fearless as always. Hunting demons with Cecily was starkly different than any other hunting mission or patrol he’d ever done. Will was all jokes and insults; Gideon a man on a mission and someone Gabriel had always trusted without thinking about it. But with Cecily, she was more than a partner. She was his wife and his best friend. There was so much at stake for him now on these patrols, something he’d never considered before. Before her, there was only Shadowhunting. To give his life to the Nephilim young was something he’d always expected. But now, following a demon through the narrow corridors of Westminster Abbey in the dead of night, unseen to any mundane, Gabriel had found a light in his life: someone who made the day worth living, too. Cecily had always been a natural Shadowhunter, but her thrill for the hunt reminded him of why he loved being a Shadowhunter in the first place. They spilled outside, covered in dirt and scratches, but alive with the thrill of another successful hunt. “Do you think they’ll notice that we knocked a plaque off the wall?” Cecily asked, laughing, as she drew her stele from her belt. Gabriel shook his head, chuckling quietly. “With the thousands of other plaques plastered across this building? I think it may be a while.” They were both perfectly capable of drawing iratzes on themselves, but it was their silent expression of love and duty to one another to draw the other’s healing runes. The Wedded Union rune was purely symbolic, but they both liked to believe that their runes were stronger when the other drew it. Cecily drew his first, against his neck. He drew his stele next, lifting his hand to cup her face in his palm to tilt her head and place an iratze on her own neck. He stopped as his skin touched hers. “Are you feeling all right?” he asked, concern flooding his voice as he applied the rune. “You feel warm. Are you flush?” Gabriel looked back into her eyes after finishing the rune, looking closely at her appearance to find any signs of sickness. She only smiled at him and nodded. “I feel fine, bach,” she replied. “You needn’t worry.” He furrowed his eyebrows and brushed his thumb across her cheek. “Are you sure?” “Perfectly,” she breathed. Then: “I’m pregnant.” Gabriel blinked. “You’re pregnant?” he whispered, failing to restrain the hope in his tone. Cecily smiled brightly, her blue eyes shining in the moonlight. “Yes”—she bunched the fabric of his gear jacket in her fist and brought her face close to his— “I’m pregnant, Gabriel. With a baby. Our baby.” He pressed his lips against hers and held her body close to his, pouring every ounce of gratefulness and love into the gesture that he could. They smiled against each other before he finally pulled back and leaned his forehead against hers, staring deep into those blue eyes. There was a time when Gabriel Lightwood had once thought he was incapable of love, receiving or giving. Then came along Cecily Herondale, now Cecily Lightwood, with her name written all over his heart in permanent ink until there was no space left. But there was always more room for love. And Gabriel Lightwood’s heart made room that night for another name.

Kiss you each morning / With strawberry skies / I get so lost in / Your blueberry eyes / I'm running through my dreams to / See you in the light / 'Cause I get so lost in / Your blueberry eyes

Gabriel Lightwood knew before ever opening his eyes what was about to greet him. Soft giggles grew closer to the bed he shared with Cecily accompanied by bursts of little feet pattering across the floor. A quiet “shh” sounded from Gabriel’s side of the bed. He forced himself to withhold his smile, not wanting to spoil his children’s fun. Against him, he felt Cecily shaking gently with concealed laughter. This was not the first time they were to be woken this way, but they’d never complained. In fact, Gabriel hoped he would be woken like this for as long as possible. The next moment, small bodies landed on top of them, giggling and squirming. “Mama! Papa! Time to wake up!” came a loud, small voice. “Wake up!” echoed another voice, followed by more laughter. Little bodies continued to crawl and squirm across the bed and his body. It was growing harder and harder for Gabriel to hide his joy. “Papa!” came the first voice again, right above his face. Gabriel’s eyes flew open and he shot forward, grabbing his daughter and hugging her close, peppering her face with kisses. “Anna!” he shouted back as he did so, fighting playfully against her squirming as she laughed and laughed.

Cecily shot up beside him and caught their son in her arms. He shouted in surprise but did not fight against his mother’s embrace. Instead, he melted into her arms and grinned happily. “Mornin’ Mama,” he said. “Good morning, Christopher, my love,” Cecily answered, pressing a kiss to the top of his head full of brown curls.

Anna continued to squirm against Gabriel’s grip, being more energetic at five years old than her brother. “Mama, Papa, may we play in the park today? Please?” Gabriel smiled at his daughter and son, who pleaded with him with wide eyes and chubby cheeks. He looked up at Cecily, who wore the same face as their children. “I have a meeting with your uncles this morning, but how about a picnic for lunch? You may play after you eat. Does that sound like fun?” Anna and Christopher immediately nodded and flashed toothy smiles. Cecily reached across Gabriel to pull Anna into her arms so that she held both their children in her grasp. “And that, my loves, gives us plenty of time to get into trouble, doesn’t it?” she schemed, squishing her face against theirs. It was then, in the midst of their scheming, that Gabriel caught all three of their mischievous eyes, crinkled up in amusement and excitement as they cuddled together beside him.

He could only smile, and smile, and smile at them; his wife, his daughter, and his son. His family. And Gabriel Lightwood would always get lost in their blueberry eyes.

#gabrily #gabriel lightwood #cecily herondale #gabriel lightwood x cecily herondale #gabriel x cecily #tid #tsc #tlh #anna lightwood #christopher lightwood #the infernal devices #the last hours #the shadowhunter chronicles #cecily lightwood #tsccreatersnet

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