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dokifluffs · 3 years

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Upsetting His Pregnant Wife | Ushijima, Sakusa

Pairings: Ushijima X Reader (female), Sakusa X Reader (female)

Genre: soft comfy angst to fluff tehe, mafia!ushi too!

Author’s Note: @ushijimabae suggested this idea to me as a comment on a post tehe and I really liked it so here I am! I hope you guys enjoy!! also LONGG also Boom more sakusa and now, Mafia! Ushijima tehe !

gif from @rivaillerose

Sakusa:

This sinking feeling in your chest

The touch of his skin against yours was so short, so fleeting whenever you sat beside him, reached for his hand, or you just wanted to be with him

You couldn’t tell if maybe this had been normal or if you were just overreacting because of your hormones but whatever it was

You didn’t like this feeling

Especially when you just wanted to be with him

It felt like recently, now that Omi would be home with you for the next few months to take care of you, whenever you wanted to spend some proper time with him, after a few moments of making contact with each other, he would be out of his seat, off to somewhere else to take care of a chore

It had been more or less than two weeks since Omi started staying home instead of going to practices or games from here on out, though he did get in a regular workout from home instead though

It felt like little fireworks were going off inside you the first two nights and days when you got to sleep later at night with him, staying up, and then waking up and finding him still beside you

But as the days went on, this little paradise was short lived as he woke up as his normal time for his morning practices to go out on long runs instead

Leaving you alone at breakfast

Whenever he came home and took a thorough shower, even giving him a hug, a burning and sinking feeling filled your chest when you wrapped your arms around him the best you could with your bump and all

But his hands

You loved him and his hands but not this moment as he subtly and lightly pushed your arms kind of away from him, breaking the hug early

You didn’t mind it since it was only the first thing but you noticed it a few more times after dinner

When you tried to drape your legs across his lap, he would lightly pat your legs, telling you he needed to use the bathroom and come back and sit somewhere else like on a different couch or sit beside you, practically at arms distance

But enough was enough

You didn’t want to directly ask but you also couldn’t just ignore this

But this moment was perfect

The last ounces of light glowed in the summer sky as the temperature slowly dropped as night approached

Fireflies slowly began to shine and float about throughout the neighborhood as their time of the year was here

You could feel the heat through the rubber gloves as you scrubbed the dishes clean, not a plate or utensil left in the drying rack as you dried them off too, returning them to their rightful place back in the cupboards

All the leftover dishes were put away

Floors swept

Table wiped down

Chairs returned to their rightful place

There was nothing he could possibly do in the kitchen that needed to be put away or cleaned or anything

This really would prove whether or not he really was avoiding you and just the thought

The mere idea that he possible could be

It broke your heart

“Omiomi, do you want some tea?” You called from the kitchen as you swirled a spoonful of honey into yours, the metal utensil creating light tinging sounds as the edges tapped the sides of the porcelain cup

“No, thanks,” he responded, his voice monotone as he didn’t even look up, continuing to scroll through his phone

You switched off the kitchen light, emerging from the darkness toward the light in the living room, towards your husband

And now this was the true test

You drank your tea, sitting on the recliner, one of the other available seats, sipping your tea while you watched some tv

But you weren’t really paying attention

You were just mindlessly watching the images and scenes come and go as you peripherally observed Omi

And here it was

After about what you thought were a few minutes, you set down your tea onto the coffee table and put on a warm, loving smile, Omi’s eyes meeting yours, off his phone as your approached

The couch sighed beneath your weight as you sat close to Omi, draping your legs across his lap, cuddling close, resting your head on his shoulder

He was so warm, it seeped into your skim, making your heart flutter just feeling his touch

You nuzzled even closer, making yourself at homes in his arms which felt so natural

He continued to scroll, minding his own as his hand lightly stroked down your leg

Though you were so caught up in just being near him for the first time in awhile that you didn’t even notice his hand was practically hovering over your leg

Kiyoomi sat comfortably in his seat with you at his side, your presence so nice

It was so comforting for the two of you

But there was an itch

Or something

There was just a feeling inside of him and he didn’t know what he needed to do to get rid of it

He could smell your tea from where he sat as the scent wafted toward him

It felt so nice, this feeling that you had been longing for so long

And now you had it and him

The warm aroma of the tea warmed him inside and out, alongside your touch at his side - it was so calming

As you settled in, you felt silly now that you realized that you thought Kiyoomi wouldn’t want to be at your side anymore

He paused in his movements, thinking about the tea as he watched yours on the coffee table

After a few silent moments that you settled in, you felt a light, subtle push from him, your mind telling you that he was telling you to get off of him

“Actually, I will make some tea, I’ll be back..” He walked off stoically, not even sparing you a glance as he made up his mind unbeknownst to you that he wanted tea to drink with you

You couldn’t even begin to describe what the sudden temperature change that happened inside your body, your heart dropping and breaking inside

His body disappeared into the kitchen, grabbing a cup, making his tea, stirring in honey and warm milk, the warm aroma smelled so good, he could almost taste it

The blanket pooled on the floor as it slid off your legs as you made your way up the stairs, your vision blurring, a deep low rumbling in your ears as you held your breath

A heat burning in your throat as it felt like it was being closed off

“Y/N? Where are you going?”

The voice of your husband sounded while you were already halfway up the stairs, his cup of tea in hand and a plate of crackers to go with it but he didn’t miss the sound of your sniffles

“A bath...” you pushed out, trying to sound as normal as possible but he heard the slightest quiver

Also it didn’t make sense to him. You had already showered earlier today and there was no reason for you to clean yourself again

Did you spill your tea on yourself?

No, that wasn’t it since your tea was just as he saw it last before he went to make his own

He set down the platter of crackers, sipping his own tea in silence, waiting to hear the water start to run

But after a few minutes, there was nothing

He went up the dimly lit carpeted stairs to the upper level, still not hearing any water running, no music that you usually played while you showered or bathed

Nothing

But only as he stepped into your guys’ shared bedroom, turning on the light could he hear the faintest thing

Sniffles and sad weeps sounded through the crack beneath the bathroom door

Your cheeks were burning from how your tears made your skin dry, your eyes sore, your throat dry

Now you really wish you had your tea

But you also wished you had your husband with you

It was a dull but deepening ache in your chest as you thought about it more and more and it was all you could think of

Was he losing interest? Now? With the baby on the way?

Did he not love you as much anymore?

It broke your heart, you couldn’t hold in your cries as it seeped out

Omi’s hand hovered over the doorknob before he heard you

He never felt it before in his life but his heart sunk deep inside hearing your cries

Your hands trembled as you buried your mouth into your elbow, muffling the cries as if you were afraid he could hear you all the way downstairs but you didn’t want to get carried away

You would have to return downstairs or see him at some point

Even if it felt like to you that he didn’t want to

Your arms and legs felt cold as you sat on the tiled floor of the bathroom, only the moonlight pooling in from the skylight was your only source of light in the bathroom

You hugged yourself the best you could, your hands rubbing over and around your pregnant belly

At least you weren’t truly alone

“I have you,” you whimpered to yourself in your head, feeling more tears slide down your face, dripping off your chin

This dreadful feeling - it was so unsatisfying

It didn’t feel right at all but there was nothing you could do, at least not that you could think of

It hurt

As you sniffled and cried in the moonlight by yourself in the cold bathroom, you almost didn’t hear the light knock until it was more prominent

The sound itself made you instinctively freeze as if you were hiding

“Y/N?”

Kiyoomi was knelt down on the carpet right outside the bathroom door, no longer standing

For the first time, he was heartbroken just hearing your anguish

He had never really loved someone outside his family or volleyball in his life before until you came in and now here you two were

He never understood how hearing others being sad could make himself sad but he knew now that he was experiencing it

“Please open the door.” He held the doorknob, the metal cool in the palm of his hand as he gripped it, not hesitating to open it as soon as he felt the click of you unlocking it

Before he could even think, his body moved as natural as breathing

“What’re you doing crying in the dark by yourself, honey?” He asked with such a hurt in his voice as the lights came on and your body was enveloped into his

His voluntary touch, his voice

He did his best to hold you even with your large pregnant belly in between the two of you

Your heart beat faster as your legs gave out a bit more despite you already being on the ground

Sad cries were buried into his chest

He practically lifted you off the floor and into his lap even though you were much heavier now that you were pregnant but he could care less about your pregnant weight, even if this was your normal weight

You cried and he comforted you, rubbing his hand down your back slowly, wiping away your tears, letting you let it all out

Nothing more mattered to him than you

“It feels like recently,” you started, your voice weak, your eyes down, watching your hands fiddle with each other with his hand that wiped your tears, pads of his fingers grazing your skin

“It feels like you’re avoiding me or like you don’t want me anymore - like you don’t want to be near me,” you whimpered, feeling a pang in your chest as it dissipated into a warm heat that melted through your body

Your own words made you feel crazy now that you were saying it out loud

“What do you mean?” He asked genuinely curious

“Have I been saying things in a brushing off manner? Did I ignore you?” He asked, assessing the terrain as usual

“Well, whenever we’re downstairs, I wanna cuddle with you but after a few minutes of me being beside you, you get up and go somewhere else,” your voice cracked as all these moments you’ve been observing for the past few weeks ran through your head

“And sometimes you come back and sit somewhere else, so it just feels like you don’t want me or you don’t want to be near me…” It hurt as it felt like your fear was coming through the more you thought about it, the more you said it

You sobbed into his chest, bringing your hands to your mouth to silence your cries but they were just too painful and obvious to hide

Kiyoomi listened to every word you said before he wrapped his arms more securely around you, resting his cheek upon the crown of your head as he rocked ever so slightly with you in his lap

“Have I really been doing that?” He spoke his thoughts, not remembering exactly when he did this but of course he didn’t mean to

You nodded, whimpering as the tears couldn’t be stopped, the sinking feeling now changing and morphing into almost what felt like a cold twist and pull inside, coiling more and more as the mere thought of your husband not wanting you grew

“I’m so sorry, Y/N, I really didn’t mean to do this. And of course I want to be with you.” He rubbed his hands against your arms, squeezing them without bringing you any pain

“I don’t want to make any excuses but it could’ve just been an old part of me that still exists.. With all these germs and diseases in the world, I never thought I would be with anyone at all..” He looked down to you, your face in such a close proximity with his, he just knew that if his high school self could see him now, he probably would have been in such utter disbelief

Words couldn’t even begin to describe the cool yet also warm wave of guilt slowly was over him as disappointment pooled deep within

“But you came into my life.” He reassured, putting his words together carefully. “You’re the one I married and I made a vow to be with til death years ago.” He squeezed with every word, hoping they would help mend your broken pieces back together

“I’m so sorry,” his voice cracked into a whisper, his hand cupping your face, wiping away as many tears as he could in hopes he could see your god sent smile soon

your eyes straining from all the tears you’ve been weeping

And at this point, you couldn’t even tell if they were open or closed anymore

But either way, you were just feeling so much all at once, it was overwhelming

you wanted this moment to freeze so everything could be sorted out

“I’m so sorry,” he repeated, wrapping his arms around you, squeezing you as tightly as he could without hurting you in any way

His tough alone, hearing him, feeling him, his warmth

It was just much for your wounded heart

“I’ll hold you like this whenever you want until it’s time for me to go back and however long you want.” He leaned back into the door, holding you close

His hands and arms never really ceased their movements as he always rubbed or stroked his skin lightly with yours

“I love you,” he spoke into your head, holding you as physically close as he could.

And never in his life did he ever think he would want this with anyone but he never wanted to let you go

gif from @rivaillerose

Ushijima: ft. Tendo

Pregnancy was very much the biggest, newest experience you would be going through for sure

Newest because you never thought you would live in such a lavish home, alongside many others, able to travel to any of them with any of the modes of transportation Wakatoshi provided

You never thought you would be connected to the mafia in any way, let alone be the wife of Wakatoshi, the boss, but the story of how you two met would be a different one to tell another day

Guards stood their post at the entrances, on the terraces, walked the dogs around the perimeter of the property

It felt like the safest place in the world but you knew there were always risks, always factors that weren’t obvious to consider whenever you went somewhere

And now that you were pregnant with your and Wakatoshi’s first child, there were extra precautions - more guards, tighter security around the perimeter and everywhere

He always wanted you safe but he never wanted you to feel trapped or like a dog on a leash

No, that was the last thing you wanted. If he could go back in time and never be involved in this dark life, he would

He would give it all up with no strings attached or any dangers if he could if it meant he could give you a normal life and family that you could call your own with your own husband and kids

Thunder rumbled as rain poured down from the skies

You paused in your steps at a particular loud boom of thunder, clinging onto the arm of the man beside you as you walked around the house since you couldn’t really walk your normal outside route

“You’re scared of thunder?” The somewhat playful voice of Tendou Satori chimed lightly as he peered outside before glancing back to you

“Just a bit..” You understated, doing your best to hide behind the tall, lean man just a bit as you the two of you walked through one part of the estate that you loved whenever the weather was anything but stormy

The windows in this hallway bridge-like area of the house was just so big, it was mesmerizing but whenever the dark storm clouds rolled by, you wanted to be as far away as possible

It was just the daunting fear you had that, somehow, thunder or wind or even lightning would strike the window, blowing the shattered pieces inward and toward you and you would just die like that

“Can we go a little faster? I don’t like being here when it storms..” You reached with your other hand over your belly, grasping his uniform jacket even more

“Hmm hmm, sure thing,” he hummed. “But you’re the one setting the pace, I’ve just been following you, Y/N,” he teased but you knew it was the truth

You wanted to go on your daily walk outside and usually it was either Wakatoshi with you or Tendou but more recently, it had been Tendou and your walk had to be inside because of the weather

“I’m waddling as fast as I can!” You bantered, getting him to laugh

You only started these little strolls since your belly had been growing since it helped relieve and most of the time prevent cramps - though they still came out of nowhere at times

Tendou had been by Wakatoshi’s side since as long as you could remember

He was the top head of the security and both your and Wakatoshi’s first hand man when it came to anything - he knew everyone

You waddled along the carpet, eyes staring off into the distance of the house

There was just a feeling

You couldn’t quite put your finger on it

How long had it been since you got to hold onto your husband’s arm?

How long before you could again?

Turning the corner from the hall, you could hear rain beginning to tap and shower onto the glass of the windows

But of course, you also didn’t miss the flash of thunder, making you squeeze onto Tendou’s arm

“Hm, there there. The storm can’t get in,” he comforted you with his soothing voice, nice to listen to as it wasn’t too harsh or low but quite playful despite his combat abilities that would make others think he was quite intimidating

He led you away, down another hall, turning into a more concealed room that had less windows but there were a lot of things he could distract you with

It was sort of like a library but it wasn’t at the same time - it was weird but it was one of those rooms in the whole estate that could be anything wakatoshi or you wanted

But this was your comfort-play room

It was a tall yet also “small” room where he wakatoshi was able to get you anything you wanted

To the left of the entrance, there were bookshelves of your favorite mangas, graphic novels, book series, photo albums that took up half of a whole wall with a nice wooden table where you could sit and eat or study or anything

Then on the other side of the room, to the right of the entrance, there was a big tv and big plush couch that you could sleep on like a bed or just to lounge back and watch movies

There were gaming consoles and movies that you could always be able to watch or play, with nice led lights that changed based on the ambiance you chose or based off the sound

And quite a unique feature was a fridge disguised as a bookshelf, filled with cool snacks and drinks and water and just a lot more that you also shared with security and others that worked in the house, though toshi would remind you that you didn’t have to

But you insisted, they were humans too with lives and souls

“Are you going tonight?” You sat yourself onto the couch, the plush fabric rubbing against your skin, leaning into the plush back as he stood at the door, holding his hands behind his back

“The gala? No.. I’m staying here with you tonight,” he smiled, popping his hands out to make jazz hands. “To keep you safe~” he chimed. “And company.”

You patted the couch, inviting him over since he never really needed to stand at the door and be super formal with you - plus you knew that he was always on guard no matter how relaxed he truly looked

He had two lives to protect in this room, even if it meant giving up his own for your ensured survival

He was a friend of yours too, someone in the house you could talk to about anything beside toshi if he wasn’t there, who unfortunately wasn’t the most accessible recently

“Is tosh bringing a guest this year?” You pondered

“No, not this year I don’t think.. he seemed a lot busier this morning when I saw him and he talked about how a few others were unhappy but he didn’t seem too bothered. It was just other business stuff I didn’t ask about..”

You nodded before you mindlessly turned on the tv. “Do you want to watch anything?” You turned toward him

“Mm, maybe some horror?” He suggested. “But will you be brave enough?”

“I actually don’t know, I’ve never really watched any horrors, but you’re staying with me tonight anyways.” And with that said, you put on his suggestion of the conjuring

The ambiance of the room shifted, turning dark as it matched the movie, the surround system making you tense even though nothing had really happened yet

But all you could sort of think about was the gala

It was a prestigious event where leaders of the city and mostly those in the higher socioeconomic class gathered, having a luxurious dinner with a ball

Toshi had taken you a few times, though as his power grew, so did the threats - there was a shooting one year where there were fortunately no casualties, though a lot of heavily injured and it was revealed by the police that you were the main target

From then on, security increased and he didn’t let you go as his guest

Instead, a fake guest that was dressed to look like you was invited

Initially, the thought made you feel envious of whoever got to go.. got to spend time with your husband when you didn’t get to but he kept your worries at bay, riding at separate cars, not even offering to dance as he would mainly eat dinner and leave

But even his guests were shot and killed

The movie kept you tense the entire times

The white noise during the silent parts, the sudden base drops and loud booms of doors slamming or jump scares - it was all so much

You curled your legs up, holding one of the large pillows in your lap so you could easily hide away behind it because if you couldn’t see the ghost, the ghost couldn’t see you

“Can I hold your arm?” You looked over to tendo as he enjoyed the movie as you scorched yourself closer to him, already reaching for his limb before he could actually respond

“Sure,” he laughed. “But if you want to stop watching, we can always watch something else.”

“No, cause now I want to know what happens.” You clutched onto his arm, his hand loosely in yours, just resting there

If anything, you were the one squeezing him, making him actually laugh through the movie than scared at the loud noises and jump scares - plus the face he had already seen this series quite a few times but still loved it

As much as you appreciated tendo and loved him as a friend, you wished that you were hugging your husband’s arm instead

To get your mind off of it, you pushed through the conjuring series movie, even the prequels like the nun, only to cling tighter and tighter to tendo through all of them

Before you knew it, it was practically the usual time Wakatoshi would be leaving

“I wanna go see him off!” You paused the movie, instantly turning on the lights and reaching out your hand so tendo could help pull you to your feet. “If he’s not bringing a guest then maybe he can just stay home tonight then?” You wondered to yourself, a fall hope casting a glaze over the truth you didn’t want to admit over yourself

Tendo escorted you down the brightly lit hallway, leading you down the stairs, through the living room, past the kitchen, down a small elevator which led right into the basement, and finally turning the corner into the main garage, right where you caught up to him

He looked stunning in his suit, his olive green hair slicked back

“Toshi!” You waddled the fastest you could over to him beside the open car door, his men watching stoically like statues all around at their posts

Now that you were down here, it was you had a single chance - like you had to trust the other person not to drop the rope or to let go of their hand

“Y/N,” his voice was so clear and strong, sounding over the car, though you could just tell from how he said it, his tone was off - he wasn’t in his bestest mood

Before you could speak, he took a few strides, walking past you, approaching Tendo who stood at the door

Before you could fully turn around, you heard it and it was too late

Tendo’s face looked down and to the side, his cheek turning red as he kept his composure while your husband spoke, clearly upset about something.. angry even

“I told you to keep her inside while I left. Which part of those orders were unclear?” Ushijima spoke, staring into the eyes of tendo who only kept his head down, not daring to say another word. “I specifically instructed you that I didn’t want to see her when I left..”

“What?” Your heart dropped, the heart from your chest suddenly turning cold

It burned your eyes, the prickles of your tears, which felt sharper than ever in your dry eyes as all you could do was stare

Did you hear correctly? Your own husband didn’t want you to see him off? Or to.. see you tonight?

When he turned back around, he made long, clear strides to the car, barely even looking at you

“Bring her back upstairs.” His final orders as he shut the door, the vehicle driving off

Tendo silently approached you, an apologetic look pooling in his eyes as your vision of him blurred before the hot tear trickled down your cheek

He led you in, staying with you

The ride up the elevator felt slower than before when you went down Stepping out, you took his hand, leading him to the counter while others were stationed

“Please leave us,” you could barely speak but with a silent nod from tendo and the others, they left

You grabbed a small ice pack from the freezer, waddling it over to tendo, his cheek rosier than before, and brought the pack up to his face

He kept his eyes down, even raising his hands up so you wouldn’t have to hold it but your hand would only push his away

It was only when he saw the tear drops fall onto the floor did his eyes shoot up

His heart ached for you as he couldn’t even begin to imagine how you must’ve felt

“Y/N-“

“Why didn’t he want to see me?” It only hurt more as you rubbed salt into your own wound, repeating his words. “What did I do wrong?” Your lip quivered as all you could manage to do was stand still, staring off toward the wall as the tears fell as fast as they came, drenching your cheeks and your shirt around your belly with tears and wet stains

It only took a moment before you took deep gasps for air, your face scrunching up as you cried, your legs no longer having the energy to hold you up as you sunk to the cold tiled floor

“Y/N!” Tendo took hold of your arms, trying to help you stand but you just couldn’t

“I just wanted to see him.. I feel like I haven’t seen him in so long cause of his work and- and then..” You couldn’t push yourself anymore as you caught yourself, keeping the dam at bay. “I just wanted to see him, Satori, was that so wrong?” You sobbed, face contorted, lip weak as you broke

There was no point in keeping it in when it hurt so much yet felt so good to let it all out

“I miss him!” You clung onto his arms as he did his best to help you to your feet

The pain you felt - it ached, it burned, it seared itself onto your soul so that every thought, no matter how recent or fresh a thought of your husband was it made sure to make it’s presence known

The pain made sure to hurt and hurt it did with your own husband’s words repeating in your head

Tendo knelt beside you, offering his handkerchief to wipe away your tears although they never showed any signs of stopping

With all his might, he carried you upstairs, walking you to your bedroom where you went in, closing the door immediately on him

Even just looking at the bed, as much as you loved it and wished to sleep away the pain, you knew, you could feel how much your heart ached just seeing his pillow

You mustered up the energy to crawl in, pulling the blanket over you, pillows into your arms and between your legs and you just sobbed

Nothing felt like it mattered and it felt like nothing could be done about this pain

Tendo could hear it all through the door as he stood guarding his post, glancing up at the camera in the corner as he saw the red light blinking and through it, he knew who was watching

On the other side, Ushijima looked Ito the camera’s surveillance, cooled off a bit more

A strange feeling began to pool inside of him as he switched back, hearing your audible distress through the cameras and that he was the cause - guilt

“Turn around.” He commanded to his driver

The longer he stared outside the window and at his phone of the cameras, all he could think about was you and just the shame he felt for having to hurt you

He was completely oblivious to your feelings of wanting him at your side but felt so ignorant for not being at your side in the first place

“I will make things right..” He told himself as the car sped back home

Your nose grew stuffier and your eyes puffier the longer you laid there, just… you didn’t even know what you wanted at this point

The front castes of the state opened and close, allowing his car to slip back into the garage as he sped his way upstairs, right towards you, passed the numerous guards and servants

“Tendo.. I’m sorry.” He apologized as the other bowed his head before he opened the door and slipping himself in, shutting it silently behind him

Hearing your sobs through the cameras were already bringing him enough guilt but to hear it before him, he could hear and practically feel the pain he had caused you

He silently stepped over to you, kneeling beside your bed

“Y/N,” he said, bringing you a strange feeling aside from pain.. How was it that the voice that hurt you not long ago was saying your name with such a softness, that you couldn’t even believe it was the same one that hurt you?

“There’s no physical amount of love I can give you or speak with enough love in my words to make up for my hurtful words. There is no good excuse for what I said. I am sorry.”

You were speechless - you didn’t know what you wanted to do or say? Not respond to him? But that would only open a rift.. respond? Hugging would be nice since that’s just what you’ve been wanting to do for so long but you were so upset about his words, how he treated tendo

He knelt on his knees beside you, silently, patiently waiting for what you had to do or say

You remained still, laid on your side with the damp pillows in your arms as you kept your eyes closed - you wanted this to be a nightmare and maybe you would wake up while watching the movie with tendo back in your other room

But this was the aching reality

“Why.. did you say you didn’t want to see me?” You thought you had the courage as you pushed the words through your closed throat but you were wrong

Your voice lost its strength throughout the sentence as you swallowed, feeling the hard aching lump

“There is no excuse for my temper. I sincerely apologize for taking it out on you. I was angry to begin with because of the business I had to take care of before the gala and not everything went smoothly. I wanted to further ensure your safety in case others attempt an intrusion while I was leaving. I am terribly sorry, Y/N..” He lowered his head upset, feeling like a fool at himself

He should’ve never taken his emotions out on you. Instead, he should have felt the opposite effect

Seeing you before the party should’ve been the best thing, where all his negativity could be changed to something better because you were the best person who had come into his life

Shame and dread mixed and stirred within Wakatoshi beside you

He didn’t feel worthy

Guilt ate at him but to him, he opened his arms to these feelings knowing that this would not be enough punishment for speaking and treating like he did tonight

“If you wish, I will leave you..” He stood, turning to make his leave when he felt a grasp, a force

You pulled onto his hand, the two of you locking eyes as he fell onto the bed, his hands falling on both sides of your legs

And now he could see you so clearly, it hit him all at once

He missed you too

God seeing your eyes, how red they were, how tired - how could he have done this to you

“Stay.. Stay,” was all you could push out, your voice squeaking

This was the last thing he had expected you to say

He didn’t know what to say

He nodded, silently pushing himself off as he slipped out of your fingers to disappear into the closet, changing out of his suit into much comfier, simpler clothes

You wiped your face with your sleeves, feeling the sting at the sudden dryness of your skin

“Please don’t cry…” he wished to say, but obviously if you wanted to, you would’ve - and deep down, it was subconsciously something he wanted to say to make himself feel a bit better about himself but he didn’t

He knew better

Getting into bed beside you, he brought a tissue box, plucking a few as he moved himself to your side, feeling more and more ashamed of himself as he got closer, seeing your anguish

“I’m so sorry..” He wiped your face gently

It felt like there was nothing he could say since he hurt you originally with the words but now it felt like all he could truly to to help was to be with you

It was what you had wanted

You gave him another shock as you reached your arms around him, holding him and for once tonight, the comforting feeling of feeling your husband in your arms actually felt better than the words that broke your heart

This

You were so starved of it and now you could heal

He wrapped his arms around you, rubbing your back as you nuzzled yourself into his chest

“Did you apologize to tendo?” You asked, sniffling as you looked up to him, stern with a small pout on your lips and brows furrowed, ready to be angry

“I did.. I will apologize more sincerely tomorrow, but tonight, you should rest..” He paused, cupping your face, grazing his thumb along your dry cheek

“I will be here and be by your side whenever you wish from now on. This is my promise to you,” he vowed, cherishing the feeling of your body laying in his, pondering what he did that made him able to deserve you in his life, to be by his side in this lifetime

~~~~~ Thanks for reading! Masterlist for more! Please do not repost anywhere else!

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alstroemeriadissonance · 2 years

Text

NXX: Three Men and a Little Lily (Part 1 - Prologue: Operation Waffles)

Vyn and Rosa are whisked away to separate overseas business trips, leaving Marius, Artem, and Luke to watch over their darling little princess, five-year-old Lily.

Hijinks and adventures involving guns, blood, and knives that psychiatrists have no business wielding happen. Oh and there's also prototype snowy owl toys, clandestine motorbike joyrides with a little girl, and video games not meant for five year olds and cake.

NXX Headquarters, Conference Room. Evening

"There has to be a good reason why Vyn called us for a late emergency meeting," grumbled Marius as he spun his swivel chair.

The electronic glass doors swung open; in strode Artem, loosening his tie as he made his way towards the nearest available chair. "Any idea why the emergency meeting?" he asked, voice weary, as he plopped into the leather swivel chair. "It's nine o'clock. Damn it."

"You guys are all acting like working late into the night isn't old hat at this point," mumbled Luke as he tapped his fingers on the conference table. "I'd be asking instead, how FUBAR is the situation that Vyn had to call us to go here in person? He never does this for funsies."

Marius put his foot down on the carpet to stop the spinning of his chair. He pitched forward a little, feeling a bit dizzy from his bored fidgeting. "You mean he never did this before. I'm a little scared actually."

"Mhm."

An uncomfortable, tense silence prevailed over the conference room.

A click was heard and the electronic glass doors swung open once more. In walked Vyn, his strides purposeful and measured, his jaw set.

Marius and Luke glanced at each other. Yep, totally FUBAR.

"Sorry for the short notice, gentlemen," Vyn started, voice brusque and irritated. "Things...came up." He walked to the head of the conference table, but did not bother sitting down.

"We can gather as much, Richter," Artem grumbled from his chair. "Details?"

Vyn took a deep breath, then crossed his arms. "I am called away for an emergency situation in Svart." He grimaced. "It requires me to perform my duties as the hereditary prince of House Haspran.

"I will be departing..." he checked his watch. "...posthaste, at six in the morning tomorrow."

"Oookay..." Marius's eyes narrowed. "Where does the FUBAR--er, emergency come into play?"

"Well--"

The electronic glass doors opened yet again. In walked Rosa, and...

"UNCLE MARIUS!"

A little girl, looking for all the world like a miniature Rosa--only Vyn-colored with her braided silver hair and champagne gold eyes--barreled straight to where Marius sat. "Uncle Marius! I have a story!" Her eyes sparkled, brimming with such excitement that she just has to tell her story. "You have to know! Really!"

"Heeeyyyy if it isn't the tiny Missy!" Marius exclaimed happily, gathering the little girl in his arms and planted her on his lap. "Well? What's the story?"

Vyn cleared his throat. "Marius, Lily, let me speak first, please," he said as he threw Marius a stern glare.

The girl called Lily tugged on Marius's tie. "Uncle Marius," she whispered, loud enough for everyone else in the conference room to hear, "When Daddy looks like that, you really really have to listen." A pause. "Really."

Luke sniggered.

Even Artem had to hide his poorly-concealed laugh with a cough.

Vyn pinched his nose and took another deep breath to calm himself down. "Yes, Lily, you are correct." He flashed her a quick smile, then went back to business.

"The emergency here is that somehow, Rosa here is also called away to Paris to attend to some highly confidential matter involving one of the new high profile clients in Themis Law. Leaving Lily here with no one to care for her."

"Wait," Artem raised his hand. "Which client? Why am I not aware of this, Rosa? This is news to me," he shook his head in disbelief, then looked inquiringly at Rosa who took her seat beside his.

"News to me too," Rosa's brows furrowed. "I got the notice a couple of hours ago, and even Celestine called me about it."

"I have choice words about the matter, believe me," Vyn said, his eyebrow twitching. "But my darling daughter is here and I will not have her be exposed to such language."

Luke stretched his arms and cracked his neck. "It sounds highly suspicious. I can smell something from a mile away, Vyn. Did you run some checks already? Why don't you--"

"Yes I already did, and yes, I shall be sending some names for you to run in your databases after the meeting. Unfortunately all of them still checks out. Everything in place. All in order. Suspiciously in order, but I am afraid it may just be my paternal paranoia talking." Vyn's gaze fell onto his daughter who was having a moment with her favorite Uncle Marius, who teased her by pulling on her silver braid.

"Still, which brings us to the point of this meeting. I will have to ask your help--I do not have anyone else I can trust enough with this burden." Vyn ran his hands through his hair. He was clearly distressed, and everyone in the room except Lily could tell.

"I will need to ask you to look after Lily in my and Rosa's absence."

A hushed silence fell in the conference room. Until Rosa broke it. "Yes. Vyn and I talked it over," she pursed her lips. While yes, Lily does--did--have her nanny..."

"Did? What happened to her?" Artem asked, throwing others a glance. Yes, everything seems suspicious.

"She turned in her resignation earlier. Vyn tried to talk her out of it, since she was so good with Lily, but..."

"She was spooked?" Luke hazarded. Yep. Suspiciouser and suspiciouser.

Rosa nodded. "Yeah. Something bothered her so much, and wouldn't tell us. We had no choice but to let her go."

"Holy shit."

"Luke, language please," sighed Vyn. "You're in the presence of your goddaughter."

"Um, that's okay?" Lily piped up from her comfortable seat on Marius's lap. "I shall not say bad words. That's in the bad word list."

"Eheh, that's a good tiny Missy!" Marius patted Lily's silver-haired head. "We're proud of you."

Lily gave him a toothy grin.

Vyn cleared his throat again. "Anyway, yes. Things are not adding up, and we are forced to leave Lily here. Considering how suspicious things are, Rosa and I are not comfortable with merely leaving Lily to other caregivers. There may be an issue of safety.

"Which is why we turn to your help. Please. I shall make sure everything is provided for, and we will hand over details on how to care for Lily in our absence. This would be the first favor we ask of you, godparents of our daughter."

Vyn made a small bow to the men.

"Er, yeah, no need to go all formal with us, man," Luke said, raising both his eyebrows. "Why don't we treat this as a proper NXX Operation?" He shrugged. "It's been a while since the last, so why not?"

"You mean we tap into NXX resources to babysit Lily?" Artem asked. "Though I am not opposed if there concerns with her safety. This will enable us to take...munitions if required."

"We'd probably best do that. Daddy is a Duke and all," Marius said as he let Lily climb off his lap. "She'd need bodyguards. No better candidates than us, I guess. Well technically Luke is, as I just throw money at problems. And Artem here just knows how to sign papers."

"I know my way with guns, Marius," Artem corrected him.

"Okay, fiiine." Marius said with a hmph.

"An operation it is then," Vyn said. "Any ideas for the name?"

"No idea here. "Operation: Babysitter' sounds boring like ass," Luke muttered. He turned to Marius. "Yo, creative dude. Any suggestions?"

"I'm still thinking about it. I'm not so inspired this late at night," Marius yawned. "How about you, Artem? Though I bet you don't have any ideas either."

"I don't, but why don't we ask Lily here?" Artem turned to Lily, who was draped over Rosa's lap. "Lily, what's your favorite thing?"

Lily clung to Rosa's arm as she peeked intently at Artem. "Um. Uncle Artem..." she looked at him timidly. "Mum said you're a good cook. Like Dad."

"She did?" Artem looked at Rosa, who shrugged, then back at Lily. "Well, yes, but your Dad probably knows what you like better than I do."

"Um." Lily then whispered, once again still loud enough for everyone to hear, "Dad wouldn't make me waffles with chocolate and sprinkles and strawberry jam. Can you?"

Artem blinked. "Waffles with all the sweet things on it, then."

"Yup!" Lily beamed at Artem, then shyly retreated back onto Rosa's lap.

"Er. Well," Artem grinned. "Yes. I can."

Vyn audibly groaned from his end of the table. "Lily..."

Delighted, Lily once again bashfully peeked at her Uncle Artem, but with a toothy grin this time. "Yay! That's my favorite thing." She nodded proudly. "Waffles."

"That settles it, then? 'Operation Waffles?'" Artem said as he straightened in his seat. And to Vyn, "And yes, I will make her those waffles, Richter, and you can't do anything about it."

Vyn sighed.

"Welp, Operation Waffles." Marius turned to Luke and Artem. "So, who gets to have Lily tomorrow morning? Mister Duke Prince here is leaving early tomorrow and I assume the big missy will be leaving tomorrow too?"

"Uhuh," Rosa said. "We'll need to leave Lily in your care starting tomorrow. I'd like to do the handover tonight but," she winced. "There's still a lot of packing to do."

"I'll take care of her tomorrow then," Artem said. "I've done babysitting for my relatives for a bit. Besides," he looked at Lily. "Waffles?"

"Waffles!" Lily exclaimed, then burst into giggles.

"Waffles." Vyn said.

It was going to be a hectic day for the NXX members starting tomorrow, but for Lily, it would be the start of something that she would never, ever forget even as she grows up. Which would go the same for her parents, as well.

#tears of themis fanfic #vyn richter #artem wing #luke pearce #marius von hagen #mo yi #zuo ran #lu jinghe #xia yan

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after-witch · 3 years

Text

Pinned [Yandere Shigaraki x Secretary!Reader]

Title: Pinned [Yandere Shigaraki x Secretary!Reader]

Synopsis: You’ve given him a kink and isn’t that your fault, really? Follow up to “Office Hours.”

For request:

-I can’t stop thinking about your secretary fic, I think it gave me a tickling kink that I never knew I had. I would absolutely love it if you wrote some more of creepy Shigaraki and his captive secretary!]

Word Count: 1334

notes: yandere, kidnapped reader, tickling, just some kink PWP

You’ve given him a kink.

Okay.

A few kinks.

And maybe they were dormant inside him all along but seeing you in your stockings and heels and that fucking blouse when it gets translucent and sweat-soaked underneath his fingers--you complained about the sweat but shit, it can be thrown in a washer if you really care that much--has awakened something in him. An itch that only you can scratch--or rather, an itch that he only wants to scratch with you. And sometimes that scratch is literal, depending on his mood.

Which is why he’s staring at you now. You’re sitting at the desk he’d found on the street, a scratched up ratty thing with a bum leg that someone was throwing out. Your fingers are flying over the keys of the laptop--his laptop, but he’s nice enough to let you use it, WiFi disabled of course--and who knows what you’re typing but what you’re typing isn’t actually important.

As long as as he can focus on the way your back arches in the uncomfortable chair, the way you idly slip a heel off and flex your stockinged foot, the swishing sound your skirt keeps making when you shift against the tattered leather seat. You were trying to drive him crazy, weren’t you? You had to be. Every sound, every movement, designed to make him want you. Need you.

Fuck, you were perfect.

He’s glad more and more that he took you, rescued you, really, from that shitty hero you called a “boss.” Hypocritical asshole. If Tomura hadn’t acted first, that lowlife do-nothing (seriously, you could’ve aimed for a higher caliber of hero) was surely aiming to get you into bed. Maybe he was spiking the orange juice at your boring little brunches. Maybe he would have told you he’d help your career if you “helped him.” What a sicko.

You’ve slipped both of your black heels off entirely and fuck, fuck, fuck. He presses his knuckles to his mouth and groans and your eyes dart to him and away and that’s it, he can’t sit here, half-paying attention to a video game anymore. He sets the controller down and he sees right away that your body is tensing up, wondering what he’s up to; well, you’ll see, won’t you? You were practically begging him to come over there, so you shouldn’t be surprised.

“Tomura--”

Your voice is sweet and he knows you want him to go sit back down, so you can work--”work”--but he just can’t. You’re making it impossible for him to leave you alone. Can he help it if the way you keep glancing at him, pretending you don’t care (but you don’t) what he’s going to do sends a thrill down his stomach?

And you really tense up once he makes up his mind what to do, plopping down on the stained carpet and ducking his head under the desk. You make to tuck your legs behind the chair, but you’re too slow, and he gets a firm grip on one of your feet easily.

“Tomura,” you say again, urgency overpowering the sweetness.

“Quiet,” he tells you. “Just keep working.”

Your foot seems made to fit in his hand, and no matter how you try to pull away, his grip stays firm. He wonders if it ever dawns on you that his hands can do so much worse than tickle. Not to you, though, never to you. Not that he lets you know that--a little threat in the air is needed, particularly when you’re being stubborn. It’s not like he can threaten to dock your pay if you don’t fall in line, right?

“Come on,” you whine, when he brings up his other hand and begins to stroke your foot, up and down, deceptively patient on his part. Your foot curls as much as possible and he can hear your breath, hitching and huffing.

This is his favorite part. When you try to block it out--when you’re surely thinking that maybe this time you can hold out long enough, and he’ll get bored and go back to gaming.

You’re silly.

He’ll never get bored of you.

He also knows that you can never make it that long without giving in. All it takes is a bit of digging, itching into the nylon with a single finger, and there--like always--you break, and your bubbling, beautiful little laugh makes his stomach do flips. Whatever feeble typing you were doing before ceases entirely in favor of your hands banging on the desk, pounding helplessly on the wood.

Fuck.

Do you know what you do to him?

Fuck.

He’s chewing on his bottom lip before he knows it and there’s a bit of blood in his smile as he glances up, almost pensive, not wanting to look straight up your skirt like some kind of perv.

“T-T--Tomura,” you grind out, voice fizzy and light and breathy and laughing. “Please-stop-please-stop,” and he can’t see your face but he bets your eyes are squeezed shut, bets the eye makeup is running a bit, bets your mouth is stretched wide and he wishes he could be up there and down here at the same time so he could kiss you.

He’ll have to get you on the couch if he wants to do that.

A quick glance up, the sight of your nyloned thighs underneath the skirt rubbing together as you squirm on the chair, is all he needs to change positions.

Your sigh in relief when he lets your foot ago, and when he gets out from under the table he can see that he was right--your mouth is still slightly curved in a helpless smile and your makeup’s a bit runny and your breathing in and out, catching your breath underneath that slightly sweaty white blouse. How, how, how did that dipshit hero who hired you not bend you over his desk the first day you walked into the office?

Not that it matters. Not that your former employer matters. Not that anyone should matter to you anymore but Shigaraki Tomura, right?

He feels your muscle tense up, tight and wary, but decides to be gracious and ignore it as he looms behind you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and inhaling your scent. A glance at the laptop screen shows what you were writing--I’mboredI’mboredI’mboredI’mbored, how cute; but he wastes no more time before leaning forward to shut the laptop and pull the chair--and you-- backwards, until the back of the gaming chair rests solidly against his chest.

The sound you make as as gravity pulls you down can only be described (affectionately) as a squawk, and your throat looks smooth and exposed as you stare up at him, probably hoping the chair doesn’t fall out from under you. You’re so damn cute. Hot. Perfect. His.

“Couch or chair?” He asks, and your eyes dart around for a third option that doesn’t exist. You bite on your lip, cherry red smearing a bit on your tooth.

“Couch,” you practically sigh the words out of your mouth. You start to lift yourself out the chair and pause, tentative. “Tomura?”

He hmms, only half paying attention, instead focusing on the way your body looks as you finally slide out of the chair and perch yourself on the couch in anticipation.

“Keep your damn fingers out of my armpits this time.”

He won’t make any promises.

#yandere shigaraki #yandere shigaraki tomura #yandere tomura shigaraki #yandere shigaraki x reader #shigaraki x reader #afterwitch writes #wait do people still use PWP...

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romiantic · 3 years

Note

this is me, slipping into your asks from your friends blog! idk if you saw the request but i’d love a bokuto fic where his s/o is having a rough natural hair day, i am currently ... struggling lol. thank you angel!!!

𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐮𝐭

reading: black!fem!reader

genre: fluff

word count: 1.6k

request: this is me, slipping into your asks from your friends blog! idk if you saw the request but i’d love a bokuto fic where his s/o is having a rough natural hair day, i am currently ... struggling lol. thank you angel!!!

a/n: I’m am SOOOO sorry for the wait sis 😭 but I really do hope you enjoy

Another one. For the past two hours, you’ve managed to break three scrunchies and your rat tail comb. You groaned in huge frustration, trying to figure out why your hair isn’t working out for you. “What the fuck?! Work with me, DAMN!” You harshly combed out your hair and SNAP! You brought back down the wide tooth and saw the comb snapped in half. In fury, you threw the comb across the room.

“This thing acting like I won’t shave it off and call it a day.” You complained out loud while pulling on your hair and trying to figure out what to do.

“Babyyy! Y/N!” What a relief! Your handsome, six foot two, volleyball playing boyfriend came into your shared home, happy to be home with his beautiful girlfriend. Typically you would yell back hello if you were busy or come into his large body and give him a tight hug as he tells you how his day went and give you multiple forehead kisses.

But today you didn’t. You haven’t left your vanity and glued yourself to your seat as out loudly cursed your hair. Seeing that you didn’t welcome him home, he looked around the house to see where you were until he met a frustrated you pulling at your hair. Bokuto was actually used to your bad hair days so he knew how to approach you whenever your hair didn’t feel like cooperating.

He put his bag down next to the couch and quietly crept into your shared bedroom. Instead of greeting you with loudness, he wanted to comfort you and distract you from the thing that was stressing you the most. He walked behind you and snaked his arm around your waist, giving you a soft hug as he softly said, “Hello y/n, did you miss me?”

You got scared at his touch but calmed down at the hearing of his soft voice talking to you. You slightly turned to face your boyfriend and smiled at his golden eyes trying to calm you down. You took a breather from all the stress and answered, “Of course Kotaro, why wouldn’t I miss you? You’ve been gone all day.”

“You seemed frustrated when I came and you didn’t say hello.” He curved a slight downward smile, “You didn’t even give me a hello hug, you always give me a hello hug.”

You sighed and kissed his cheek to reassure him, “I’m fine babe, it’s just that my hair is not working with me at all.” Bokuto looked at your hair then back at you, mentally solving how he can fix your hair problem.

DING! Something hit him and grew happy at his idea. He smiled widely and asked you, “Y/N can I do your hair? Please please pleaseee. The way you style your hair is so pretty and I wanna try it myself.” The man kept begging you until you finally agreed, “Okay okay Bokuto, you can do my hair. But fuck it up and you’re sleeping on the couch for a week.”

“Don’t worry y/n, I got this.” Of course your boyfriend had confidence that he knew exactly what he was doing since he saw you do your hair literally almost every day. For date nights, games, work, any occasion, he would just sit on the bed and watch you work your ways on your hair until it becomes a masterpiece. Always leaving the white/black hair man in awe of what you can do with two hands. One of the great gifts of having a black girlfriend if he does say so himself.

You got off your chair and took a seat on the carpeted floor. While Bokuto went to go shower and put on a change of clothes cause he knows you don’t like having his sweat roaming the room. After, he took a seat at your vanity and looked at your hair supplies spreaded around. He thought about what style he should do on you, there’s so many to choose from and you would look good in all of them but which one?

You looked at him and saw a concerned look on him, you asked, “Something wrong Bo?”

“I don’t know what I wanna do, I mean what I can do to make my baby even prettier than she is now?” You lightly laughed at his compliment, and his thinking face that he had on.

Finally, a style came to mind, one that was simple yet he loved seeing you in it. Before starting, he collected all of the supplies that were needed and got to work on your hair. At first it was silence surrounding the two of you until Bokuto excitedly started talking about how practice went.

“Y/N you should’ve seen me at practice today! The way I was hitting those spikes was literal perfection, I barely missed any. Oh, we had this five-on-five game today and I got to be team captain.”

“It brought back old memories didn’t it?” You smiled at the memory of seeing Bokuto in his high school uniform, fulfilling his captain role, putting a smile on his team's faces for scoring, and being one of the greatest aces in Japan of course.

“Yup! Feels like old times when it would be Akaashi setting the ball for me and the great ace, that’s me, comes flying in, spiking it and getting another score. Now it’s Atsumu setting for me and Hinata cheering me on, I think Sakusa cheered for me too, don’t remember.”

“Last time I remember Sakusa cheered was when Hinata actually didn’t fuck up his quick attack with Atsumu.” You two laughed at the memory of Sakusa being somewhat excited at Hinata for not missing the ball or spiking it too late.

The conversation continued on about practice until Bokuto decided that it was your turn to speak. You spoke about it as Bokuto was all ears, listening to you, even though you were mostly cooped up in this house since it was your day off from work.

You stopped talking to take a peek at what your boyfriend was doing until he firmly pushed you back down on the carpet. He commented that you would ruin the process, he needs to focus, and that he wants you to wait until the end.

“But Bo-”

“Nope y/n, you have to wait.”

You furrowed your brows at him, “It’s my hair Kotaro, why can’t I see?”

“Trust the process y/n! Don’t you always do that with your hair?”

You let a ‘hmph’ and crossed your arms, “At least I get to see what I’m doing.”

Bokuto gave a wide smile to your grouchy face, “You’re gonna love it y/n, I promise.”

You peeped Bokuto grabbing rubber bands, giving you some ideas of what he could be up to. “And I’m holding you to that promise.”

To make time fly by, the two of you had random conversations that led into a whole nother topic than before. One minute you’re talking about getting new furniture then the next, you’re talking about the coral reef. At some point, you guys even had an odd conversation about weird habits that people do.

“Anddd done y/n.” Bokuto scooted back the chair and got up from it, giving you room to get up and take a look at your hair. Your eyes widened and your jaw dropped at the work your boyfriend did. You were honestly caught by surprise that your boyfriend could do something like that with your hair. Styling it a large puff with black and white rubber band style going across.

Meanwhile, Bokuto was chewing his lip and getting nervous, wondering whether or not you liked it. He knew how much you loved your hair and he wouldn’t wanna do anything to mess up your beautiful curls/coils. “Do- do you like it y/n?”

You turned around, seeing your face lit up washed away his nerves and giving him a breath of relief. You immediately jumped on him, which caught him by surprise and made him lean back, landing on the bed with you still on him. You responded,”I love it Kotaro! You did such an amazing job and this style is bomb as hell, where did you learn how to do that?”

“After that failed attempt at doing your hair, your great boyfriend, that’s me, went on Youtube to learn how to do different hairstyles with your hair. I really loved this style and I spent hours learning it, but I say it was worth it.”

You smiled at his answer, it made you giddy inside that your boyfriend takes time out of his day to learn how to do your hair. Your hair! One that was definitely different from his natural spiked up hair. This kind of dedication made you fall in love with him even more than before.

You gave him a large smile and kissed him, “It was definitely worth it Bokuto cause I fucking love it. Plus I think it’s cute that you tried to match with the black and white rubber bands.”

“I’m so happy you love it y/n.”

You kissed his cheek and said, “I’m even more happy that I have a boyfriend like you.”

“Besides, what if we have a kid y/n? I can’t leave it to you to do all the work. I wanna have little daddy-daughter dates and do her hair while I’m showing her volleyball videos.”

You laughed at him, “You’re gonna stuff our future daughter’s brain with volleyball and make them say ‘One touch’ instead of ‘mama’. But I think that’s so sweet of you Bokuto.” You hugged your boyfriend and he hugged you back even tighter, “That and I didn’t like seeing my baby frustrated.”

“Next time my hair doesn’t cooperate, I’ll just call you for help.”

“Call me Bokuto, the great hair superhero!” You two laughed at the superhero name and shared the moment of happiness and content surrounding the two of you. Honestly, you couldn’t ask for a better boyfriend besides Kotaro Bokuto himself.

omg I finally finished it, wow I’m proud of myself

I haven’t written in a superrrr long time but hopefully I can get back and write regularly

bye babes, drink your water, stay hydrated, and remember that you are the baddest bitch on the planet 🥰 no matter what ANYONE says

𝐏𝐬𝐚𝐥𝐦 𝟐𝟕:𝟏𝟒 💗

#bokuto x black!reader #bokuto x black reader #haikyuu x black!reader #haikyuu x black reader #kotaro bokuto #x black reader #black y/n

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some-kindofgnome · 4 years

Text

Kinktober #5: Pretty Please? - Hawks

In which you and Keigo coin a few new petnames for one another.

Characters: Takami Keigo (Hawks) / f!Reader

Warnings: smut (18+ please!), daddy kink, dom!Hawks, vaginal sex, a touch of begging, inappropriate use of gen Z social media apps

Notes: This man is getting dangerously close to the top of my simp list. It’s really becoming an issue. Today’s prompt is ‘Daddy Kink.’ Also, I didn’t come up with ‘kid’ as a nickname that Hawks uses... if u know, u know

Kinktober Masterlist

“How long have you been here?”

Keigo’s voice echoes in the hallway of his little apartment soon after you hear the jingle of his keys in the lock. While it certainly isn’t your first time coming to his place without him, you’re still not quite used to the appearance of that silvery little key dangling from your key ring.

Nor are you used to hanging around the place by yourself. You spent the morning in a coffee shop around the corner, working away- popping by the agency to see Keigo over lunch. He’d told you to come back here if you needed somewhere quiet to work- bonus points, since you’d be here waiting when he got home.

“Came straight after lunch,” you call absently. Your eyes are glued to the screen as you finish your thought, typing out your last email of the day. As soon as you hit send you snap the laptop shut, pushing it gently across the kitchen counter while climbing out of your chair.

“Hi,” you purr, catching up to him in the hallway. You grab his hand and he pauses, leaning in to peck your lips. When he pulls back, he’s got a lazy smirk drawn across his mouth.

“How you been, kid? Sure feels good comin’ home to you at the end of the day.”

“Don’t get used to it,” you tease, pushing your shoulder against his. You lean down and nuzzle his jaw, letting your cheek scrape against his scruff. “I’m a strong, independent woman.”

“Which is exactly why I love you,” he replies. He grabs your chin and pulls your mouth back to his, catching it in a kiss that would have surprised you with its tenderness, if you didn’t know him so well.

When you first met, he played the Cheshire Cat role eagerly. Smirking at you, pulling lines on you, making you think he was the laid-back hero that everybody knew him as. But the more time you spend with him, the more he opens up. The more he lets himself be vulnerable to you. And you him. You’d never meant to let him in so easily, but…

Here you are.

You flop down on the couch together, Keigo leaning against one arm while you keep your head cradled in his lap. He’s happy to fold his wings over the back of the couch and absently stroke your hair while you catch up a little. It’s only been a few hours since you’ve last seen one another, so you settle quickly into comfortable silence.

That’s when you open your phone, idly opening Tik Tok and starting to scroll. Every so often you come across a video related to Hawks. He’s got a lot of fans out there- and a lot of fangirls, too. You don’t mind, though. Sometimes they get a little too personal, however, and you like to scroll.

This time around, you don’t scroll fast enough.

You don’t catch the whole video, but it’s a clip of Keigo that somebody took on their phone. Suddenly, the audio cuts out and it’s interrupted by the sound of a female voice, moaning more obscenely than you could ever hope to.

“Daddy,” it mewls, and you scroll so fast the phone almost topples out of your fingers.

Frozen, you pull your eyes carefully up to meet the gaze of your boyfriend. He definitely heard. And while he knows that Tik Tok can pull up some random videos at times, you can see the flush spreading across his cheeks.

He shifts a little underneath you, hand paused on top of your head. He clears his throat.

“What was that?”

You consider your next words carefully.

“…A video.”

He swallows hard and licks his lips.

“What kind of video?”

Suddenly, it hits you. You have the reins. You realize exactly what’s going through his head. And the next time you look up at him, it’s with a wicked smirk stretching your lips.

“Why do you want to know?” You ask, and your voice has taken on the low sort of drawl that makes him shift again underneath you. “Don’t tell me you like the sound of that… Daddy.”

You feel the barest vibration in his chest as a tiny groan escapes him. He doesn’t move, but you can see the way his wings bristle, the joints stiffening a little as his feathers spread. Your stomach jolts excitedly.

“Don’t call me that,” he grunts, but you know he doesn’t mean it.

The two of you are far from vanilla most nights. You’re definitely up for a little experimentation. And pet names flow between you like water. But this feels… different. This feels controversial.

Oh, fuck. You’re into it, too.

“You do.” You scramble into a sitting position, swinging one knee over his thighs. He looks up at you with a pair of lidded tawny eyes, his jaw drawn slack in an expression that spells sheer arousal to you. You know that face well, and it makes your body ache.

“Do you want me to call you Daddy from now on?” You’re not letting up, and as you lean forward, his hands find your hips. They squeeze. Hard. His wings fan a gentle breeze over your face, and you love the way his breath hitches in your ear.

“Fuck, stop,” he groans. It’s more desperate this time, and as his hips keen against yours you can tell just how hard this is hitting him. He’s half-hard already, straining against the thick denim between you.

“Maybe now’s the time to tell you,” you whisper, “how bad I’ve wanted you all day, Daddy. I couldn’t stop thinking about you all afternoon. I even thought about ducking into your room before-”

That breaks him, and he snatches your hips and stands abruptly. He’s strong enough to carry you easily, and he lifts your thighs securely around his hips before beelining for the bedroom.

When you get there, instead of being spread on your back like the pillow princess he’ll normally let you pretend to be, he pushes you face-down into the pillows, letting your hips hang off the edge of his wide bed. He bends close, his chest brushing the column of your spine as his jaw brushes your ear.

“You brought this on yourself, kid,” he gruffs. He’s already working your sweater up your back. You lift your torso enough for him to wedge it off of you, but he doesn’t wait for you to do the same before he’s peeling your leggings down your thighs and taking your thong with it. The second your ass is bare he brings his palm down across it with a resounding snap.

“Kei-” you start to gasp, but he quickly silences you with another spank that draws a yelp from your throat.

“You started this,” he grunts, “you’re gonna finish it. What’s that you were gonna call me?”

You suck in a shaky breath and let your eyes flutter shut. You deserve this. You want it. All you have to do is take the plunge. The rest will follow. That breath you drew before gets held for a moment. And then you jump.

“Daddy,” you whimper, throwing an extra edge of desperation into it, “don’t tease me.”

“Shit, kid,” he grunts. His belt jingles as he gets his pants undone, and you hear them hit the floor. A breeze from his wings and another pile of fabric hitting the carpet determines that he’s naked now. He’s left your leggings partially on, though, keeping your legs pressed tightly together at the knees.

He knows what he’s doing.

When he steps up behind you again it’s with the warm presence of his bare skin on yours, and you feel the brush of his hand against the back of your thigh, gentle and rhythmic. He’s stroking his cock and you want more than anything to turn your head and sneak a peek, but you know that doesn’t fit into the game you’re playing.

“You ready for me, sweetness?”

He slips a hand between your legs, drawing his thumb along your slit and making you shiver. You could use a little more time, but you’re wet already. He drags his slick thumb down to the swell of your clit and circles it. The tender nerves are already pinched between your thighs, and the sensation is enough to make your hips buck harshly back against him.

Your ass connects with his thighs and he steps back a little, chuckling as he lays one hand in the small of your back to steady you.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you wanted something,” he drawls, continuing to circle your clit with that lazy thumb. It’s making your toes curl against the wood floor as stars explode behind your eyelids.

He leans in close. “Why don’t you tell me what it is?”

“You know what it is,” you choke, because it won’t be any fun at all if you fold right away.

“I know,” he quips, and you can hear the smirk in his voice. “I just wanna hear you say it.” He draws his thumb across your clit in a sudden swipe, making your whole body jump. You squeeze your eyes shut and brace yourself.

“Fuck me, Daddy,” you plead, and he chuckles so low and feral it sends vibrations up your spine. He shifts forward again, hand still pushing you into the mattress. His thumb leaves your clit, but it’s soon replaced by the head of his cock, pressing flush against your slick pussy. You can feel it now that he’s touching you- you’re soaked.

“Now how am I s’posed to say no, baby, when you ask so- ah- nicely?”

His voice breaks as he pushes in, and your whine comes in sync with it. You’re always amazed at how perfectly the two of you seem to fit together. There’s a stretch, but no pain. There’s never been pain. And on top of that, the thirsty Twitter accounts are right.

Your man knows how to fuck.

He bottoms out inside you, sliding a palm to your ass, and lets out a breathy groan. But he’s grinning. You can tell. It’s been a long day for both of you.

For a man who talks so much during foreplay he’s relatively quiet- or, wordless, at least. There’s nothing quiet about the way he grunts as he draws himself back and pumps slowly into you again. He’s testing the waters, but with your thighs pressed together the way they are you’re even tighter than usual.

“Not gonna last long,” he warns headily, and that’s the last thing you hear before he starts to fuck you properly and all your senses go haywire.

When you swim back to the surface, the only sounds in the room are your mingled, laboured breathing, and the rhythmic slap slap slap of his thighs against your ass. There’s something about the angle he’s taking you from- he’s hitting you just right, and you squirm in front of him with a desperate mewl.

“Daddy,” you whine, taking the game and running with it, “daddy, please, I wanna cum.”

“Don’t you worry, sweetness,” he growls behind you, breathless and feral. “Daddy’s not gonna leave you hangin’.”

It sounds different coming out of his mouth. The appeal was already there- anything that turns him on turns you on, too, almost as a direct result. But when you hear it coming from him, it flips your stomach in a way that you could get used to.

He slides an arm beneath your waist and hauls you off the bed, pulling you back against his chest as he continues to fuck up into you. His right hand dances down your hip and between your legs, finding the swollen nub of your clit. He strums it deftly, making you squeal.

“Yeah,” you whimper, letting your head fall back against his shoulder as he holds you close. “Fuck, I’m getting there.”

“Me too, kid,” he pants into your ear. “So damned tight. Fuck, you’re suckin’ the life outta me.”

In another half-dozen thrusts you’re dangling precariously on the edge. He’s still going, hitting you just right and pushing you there one inch at a time. Suddenly he re-centers his grip on you and comes back with renewed ferocity. His rhythm doubles.

You fall.

Your orgasm is particularly spectacular this time around. Your spine goes concave as your legs go fluid. You reach back and grab at his hips as you keen and twitch and rock through the pleasure. Your pussy convulses around his cock and his hips stutter. He grabs you hard, holding you up as he explodes, warm and liquid inside you.

When it’s over, you both collapse onto the mattress. Outside, the sun is painting brilliant streaks of apricot across the sky. A gentle autumn breeze flutters the curtains. You finally catch your breath.

“So,” you sigh, turning your head where it’s cradled on his chest. His body is beautiful, and now that you’ve finally got the chance to look you don’t take it for granted. He’s all long lines and clean muscle, dusted over with tawny hair and the last kisses of the summer sun.

He’s kissing your shoulder as you speak up, one scarlet wing folded neatly at his shoulder, the other fanned out across the bed.

“It’s gonna be Daddy, then, is it?”

He snorts, smirking against your skin.

“Sure didn’t sound like you had a problem with it two minutes ago.”

“I don’t,” you quip, tracing a finger down his sternum. “I liked it. I…” You trail off, and your ears warm. “I liked it.”

He pulls back from your shoulder and rests his head against the pillow beneath him, his eyes casting over your face. Warm and loving and heartbreakingly genuine despite the… sensitive nature of your conversation.

“So did I,” he purrs, and you fall silent for another few minutes. Decompressing. Basking, he’ll say later on. Inevitably, the needs of the evening step in, and as the last rays of light fade from the city you lift your head.

“Dinner?”

His eyes were closed, but they slide slowly open again at the sound of your voice. In the dim like this, they’re the colour of almonds, always soft when they’re looking you over. You fall a little more in love with him every time he looks at you like that.

Then he shoots you a near-boyish crooked grin and your heart warms all over again.

“Whatever you want, kid.”

#hawks x reader #hawks/reader #hawks/you #takami keigo/reader #takami keigo smut #my hero academia #kinktober #jbbKinktober2020 #mha fanfiction #bnha #bnha fanfiction #reader insert #female reader

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thefallenbibliophilequote · 3 years

Text

How You Get The Girl

Loki x Reader

1989, chapter 10

"Then one day he came back"

Summary: It's hard to find the one, but even if you do find him it's always going to be a daily struggle to make it work. Can you even make it work after he broke your heart? The answer to that is complicated, but it all started when you found each other again in the stark tower- and that's where our story begins.

Word count: 3,586

Warnings: violence, a badly written mission, blood.

A/N: I really hope you like this one! Thank you so much @peterbenjiparker for helping me organize this mess and make sense of the outline! Christy aka @chrissquares made these dividers! and thank you @nacho-bucky for beta reading this!

No one is allowed to repost my writing or steal or copy my work! Reblog on tumblr is fine.

Series masterlist

Song on Spotify and YouTube

Loki listened to the sound of the heavy rain that surrounded the quinjet as they flew towards where you were.

It was too slow for his liking, he didn't want to imagine what they could be doing to you. It was his fault that they took you in the first place, he didn't know why he didn't recognize your Asgardian powers before.

The powers were so protective of you just as he was. Now he hoped it will be enough to protect you from your captives.

He absentmindedly twirled a dagger in his hand, his mind lost with thoughts of you. He could think of a million spells that could have protected you without giving you these powers, but in a state of panic he didn't think and used the oldest most powerful one. With the raging emotions he had he was certain he messed it up somehow and caused you harm.

All he ever tried to do was protect you. You were supposed to be protected after he left you, but instead you got dragged into this dangerous life and it led you here.

He didn't turn around when he felt the heavy hand on his shoulder, Thor's presence beside him was known.

"It's not your fault, you know."

"How can it not be? It was my mistake."

"You were trying to protect her, you couldn't have known."

"I should have known better, I could have done so much better." Loki's voice was as sharp as his blade, but he didn't push Thor away. He must have lost his mind, well in all fairness he is losing his mind thinking about you. "I thought it was the best way to keep her safe when I was gone. Then I left and I didn't take care of the spell well enough."

"Forgive me for asking brother, but if you loved her so much why leave her?" Loki was beyond denying Thor's specific choice of words.

"I left just before your coronation, when it all started. I couldn't drag her into this- and then I fell and years went by and I couldn't come back to her."

Silence took over and the seconds seemed to last an eternity.

"I think she would've accepted you, no matter what you did." Thor replied after a thought, he remembered the way you looked at his brother, he remembered the way you stood up to him and defended Loki against his father in the briefing room. There was no doubt in his mind that you would've stayed for Loki.

Steve leaned his head back against the wall as he sat on the bench of the quinjet; his supersoldier hearing gave his mind things to think about while the Asgardians' conversation died down.

•

Blue.

The tears on your face were cold as they stained your cheeks. Your mind was still foggy.

Five.

You now heard the voice say, it was clearer as your mind woke up.

Airplane.

You felt the pain as they inserted yet another shot of liquid into your body, your mind started to buzz.

"Rusted."

Another shot of electricity went through your body, you felt metallic taste on your tongue and yet you felt your mind relax with each word he uttered.

"Ice."

With every jolt of pain your mind drifted more and more even when you screamed.

"Nineteen."

"No, I don't want this. Stop." You whimpered. It was a method you learned from Tony- in your head you started naming all of your loved ones, thinking about each of them.

There was Tony, and also Natasha, and Wanda, Pietro and Bruce, Bucky, Steve, and now Loki- you let out a scream and opened your eyes again at the pain.

Folklore.

Your voice did no longer make a sound. You were distanced from your own body.

Longing.

You tried shaking your head but you only watched as your body stood still.

Furnace.

Your mind grew foggy as you saw your surroundings. You wanted to break out of it, you had to.

Red.

"Ready to-" you grunted and leaned forward from the chair you were strapped to as much as you could. "No!"

Your eyes flashed purple and you looked straight at the doctor, you saw the moment the pain hit him but before you could really harm him with your powers you felt the spasms of electricity pulling you back.

They stopped after a minute or so, the metallic taste came back.

"You want to play games? We will teach you to listen," he took your chin in his hand and made you look at him. "We will make you a perfect little soldier. Take her to her room."

He commanded and your eyes widened.

"No, please don't put me there, don't do it again." You started crying without noticing the tears.

"You should get a taste of your own medicine, understand what your powers are really for." He chuckled darkly as you got taken into the room.

The minute the door shut behind you the sensations began, you fell to the ground as the energies were sent to you until your eyes were foggy and you fell down into your own brain.

You saw the worst in there, and you couldn't get out of it.

You were tormented by your own powers.

•

Iyllir waited with her parents at the table until Odin arrived without his two sons and sat at the head of the table, she furrowed her brows, "Where are Thor and Loki? Will they not be joining us?"

"No, my dear, they had to go." Odin simply replied before the maids and servants began to serve their food.

"Did something happen?" Iyllir's mother asked.

"I'm afraid that Midgard is causing some problems." Odin sighed and leaned to talk to her parents more while she nibbled on the food that was served, keeping her ears open to the information the Allfather was giving her. "A wicked organization there got their hands on Asgardian technology, and now they got their hands on a girl with Asgardian powers. Of course then, you understand that I couldn't let them use the girl as their weapon- it would be dangerous, so I hope you forgive my sons for being absent as they are trying to find her."

Odin then looked at Iyllir.

"Lady Iyllir, I am certain Prince Loki will be back soon and all will be well." He sent her a smile and she returned it.

Focusing back on her food she felt her blood boiling, she had ordered for them to take it and kill the girl- and they betrayed her. That kind of humiliation will not go unpunished.

Excusing herself, she went back to her room. Some things she will have to do herself.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, she said an incantation and a box appeared next to her. Opening it, she took out the old weapon and held onto the hilt of it, feeling the power of the Dainsleif she strutted forward.

She would kill the girl herself if she had to; nothing would be able to stop her now.

•

Steve walked through the quinjet, Thor promised that he isn't causing the weather but it didn't make him less annoyed at the delay the weather provided in landing as they got closer and closer.

He caught the eye of the younger Asgardian who stood at the edge or the vehicle, he remembered putting him seated there when he first fought him in Germany.

He lowered his head and with a breath he started to walk over. Loki studied him as he did, and Steve let him. They stood there in silence until Loki looked back outwards.

"Thank you, for helping me find her. I don't know what I would've done if I couldn't find her."

"I didn't help you find her, I found her- you were no part of it, you actually didn't help at all." Loki replied, before adding, "I did it for me. I cannot bear the idea of her being hurt." He remembered how it used to be.

"Darling?" Loki opened the door with the key you gave him. He was dripping on your carpet but when he saw you he quickly dried himself, magic is always so helpful.

"Are you insane, Loki?" He shrugged. "There is a huge storm outside!"

"It would be ironic if I got struck by lightning, now wouldn't it?" he joked before coming to you, giving you a peck on the lips and then to your forehead to calm down the worried crease that formed there.

"I guess so… from what you told me I wouldn’t be surprised if it was on purpose." You cracked a smile at him.

"Now, what are you doing?" you blushed when he looked behind you to the desk and to the marker you now had in your hands.

"I just… brought a permanent marker from my room." You nodded to him and cringed to yourself when he laughed and moved around you and walked to the table.

"You can't lie to the god of mischief, my love."

"It wasn't a lie!"

"No, but it wasn't the whole truth either." He pointed to the frames on the table.

Your cheeks got warmer by the minute, and so did his amusement.

He picked up a photo and a small smile lit up his face.

It was a picture you took of the two of you, he kissed your cheek as the fairy lights of the fair, which was right by the beach, lit up your surroundings and the water. It was a treasured memory, the view of you glowing in the lights.

You walked to him and took the picture.

"Why did you get it out of your phone?" he asked.

"I want it framed, so I can always see it- you, all around the house when you're not here."

He saw you write down the date it was taken behind the photo before you picked up a gold frame and put it in there.

"That is beautiful, my love." He went and picked up other photos that were scattered on the table. "Can you make one for me too?"

His eyes were soft as he looked at the pictures.

"You have illusions, why would you need a photo?" You questioned.

"I want you, the real you, with me wherever I go. I want more than just an illusion of you."

You walked to him and wrapped your arms around his neck.

"You know exactly what to say to get the girl, don't you?" You leaned up to kiss him.

"I only want to get you."

"You have me." You whispered before he captured your lips in a soft kiss again.

He will get you back.

"We will find her." Loki was somewhat comforted by the conviction in Steve's voice. "Together."

And so they stuck together, the god of mischief and the righteous captain America. The team separated when they went through the vast grey warehouse.

No one cared about the body count, this wasn't just another mission and all of them knew that.

So with the gunshot sounds and yells- the god, the captain, and the sergeant made their way forward in search of you.

•

She paid no attention to the wild sounds coming from just outside the door. All Iyllir cared about was her one mission in the room she entered from the shadows.

The agents in the room were focused on transferring the girl who sat on the chair into the room she last saw her in.

"Gather all the stuff up, put her under fast! That will make sure they won't get to her." Doctor Zazu stood next to Commander Iago who was shouting orders.

The doctor organized his work, uncaring of your shaking body that moved as they lifted the seat of the chair to get you out of it.

The commander leaned in and the Lady could hear his whisper.

"I told you your little friends won't get you."

"Fuck you, parrot." You replied and got a harsh slap to your cheek even though you could barely move your head in the metallic chair.

Iyllir stepped forward in the room, her eyes like daggers as she focused on you and the commander.

The agents in the room turned around when they noticed her, guns raised and eyes afraid when they understood who they were pointing at.

"Lady Iyllir-" the commander started to stutter and moved forward, wearing a shaky smile. "We were just-"

"I heard you were building a weapon. We did not agree on that, commander." She awaited his lie.

"She could be very useful- and don't worry, he will not be able to get her. It's a good compromise, we can work it out!"

"Oh mortals are so amusing, betraying me was not a smart move-" she grabbed the hilt and pulled it out. She felt the weight of the power, of the need that was growing inside her. "I'm afraid that we can't back out now."

It was as if the sword acted on its own, seeking blood, and she let it find it.

The sharp edge first pierced the commander's stomach; she pulled out the bloody blade and turned around when she felt other agents try to fight her.

Looking up from the body- she saw you, you were wide awake and aware now, it might have been the power of the sword or her own hatred but she won't let anything stop her from getting what she wanted. You will not be the one to ruin her future, and she was on a time limit when she heard the fighting outside getting closer and closer.

•

Loki threw his daggers at the guy who tried to sneak up on the captain. After he did, he admired the knife throwing skill the sergeant had too before continuing on to find wherever it was that they held you in.

Before long the three located the room they thought you'd be in, Loki used his magic and threw open the two heavy metallic doors and then he saw you, being put inside a see through room. Then he took in the scene in front of him.

Bodies bloody on the floor, almost making a path to where his eyes rested at now.

The Asgardian redhead who he had spent so much time with the past few months stood there stalking towards a man in a lab coat, her royal dress had blood all over it as some still dripped from the sword he now recognized.

"Iyllir?" he called out, confused at the scene. Steve and Bucky came beside him, feeling the tension they stopped and assessed the way to you- down the stairs and through the guards in the big room and into the cell you were trapped in which was in the middle of the room.

"Loki," he saw her eyes widen and for the first time, she didn't look as innocent anymore. "I am so glad you're here-"

He couldn't even hear her when he heard your voice coming through the glass, the tears in your eyes and the half relieved half scared look in your eyes as you shook your head at him, yelling at him to not listen to her.

"The two of you go get her. I will deal with the girl."

He went towards the left then and the two supersoldiers went to the right, agents came their way but Steve knew nothing will stop him from getting to you.

The doctor took his chance to complete his work once Iyllir was occupied with Loki. He spoke in a loud voice at Y/N.

"Blue."

"No!" You screamed but her voice was hoarse.

"Five."

Bucky heard the chant and his eyes focused on the girl behind the glass and the doctor who held a notebook.

"No, this isn't happening again." He decided, knowing the effect of the words. In a silent conversation with Steve, he went in a different way

"Airplane."

Loki stepped up to Iyllir, trying to assess her.

"What are you doing here?" he watched her smile at him. "Do not lie."

His voice was dark now. He didn't know why she was here, but he trusted you, and more so the fear in your voice.

Iyllir studied the man in front of her for a moment before replying.

"Tell me Loki, did you ever feel that the throne of Asgard should be yours? I know that you did." She advanced towards him, still with a smile. "We can do so much you and I, we are very much alike. Why abandon that dream of yours? We can still make it happen.

Why abandon that dream when you know you'll make a great king, and I a queen?"

"Rusted." You shut your eyes and shook your head.

"That's not my dream anymore. This is wrong, Iyllir did you do this?" he saw his wand lying on the table just a few feet behind her.

"This is right Loki!" she swung her hand up in the air alongside the sword. "We had fun you and I, you can't deny it. So forget about her, think about your future- don't you want everyone to see how great you could be? I am your way forward, I'm your future, and I can get you that."

"Ice." You didn't pound on the glass anymore, your mind was hazy.

"I do not need that, I don't want that-" he raised his own daggers. "And I do not want you."

Her eyes shifted then when he started attacking forward.

•

"Nineteen."

Bucky shot another agent, moving forward and he saw Steve trying to get to the room.

"Folklore."

Steve looked at you, heaving your breath, still standing. You refused to meet his stare, you were so strong before, never bowing down to any outside influences, and now here you were.

"Longing."

The doctor's voice was shaking as Loki let his magic loose, Bucky rattled on the stairs he descended to get a good shot at the doctor. Your mind heard the word clearly though.

Loki held a dagger in one hand, and in the other he conjured spells. A green energy blast was shot towards Iyllir, she dodged it and sizzles and sparks flew when it hit a machine instead. Getting closer, she aimed the sword at him again.

"We could've been so powerful."

"You're not powerful, the weapon in your hand is. Do not be mistaken." He tilted his head and summoned a longer spear out of thin air.

"Furnace."

Bucky aimed his shot once he was in the clear. The room shook again, thunder booming outside, as he fired a shot, and then the doctor fell down to the ground.

Steve knocked the guy that came from his left with his shield, effectively clearing his path to the door of the strange room you were held in. He saw your hazed form falling to the floor. You tried to get up to Steve, but you almost fell. You pointed backwards but he paid no attention where you were pointing to.

With his shield he broke the handle and took down the entire door.

Once he was inside, he felt ringing in his ears and a light pressure fell upon him. He couldn't imagine what they were doing to you inside it.

You kept pointing backwards but he just pulled you up and carried you out of there.

"Steve, it's the-" you fought to stay up and aware.

"It's okay, you're safe now." He assured you but you shook your head.

"They are using the-" You couldn't finish your sentence as Steve took you up the stairs.

"Red." You heard the voice loudly and then as you felt waves of hurt crash into you, your mind sunk deeper and deeper and you fell to the ground with a scream, Steve catching you just in time.

The doctor held the wand in his hand, still bleeding out.

"Hail Hydra!" he sneered at Bucky, who turned to him and raised a new gun.

"Hail this," Bucky shot a magazine of bullets at him, his anger leaving no room for remorse. Bucky ran back to where you were with Steve.

Loki watched as you fell to the ground, his heart thudded in fright at the scream you let out. In a momentary of shock, he heard Iyllir laugh and he let out a small huff as the sword pierced through his side.

"See Loki, she wasn't worth it, now she's gone for good." Her smile was sickly. Loki noticed his wand on the floor next to the dead doctor.

His rage resumed as he fell to the ground reaching for it. Once the staff was once again in his grasp after all this time, the room shone with green light as he aimed the wand at Iyllir. The shot of magic he let out in the air hit her and left her breathless. She could feel pain in every cell in her body, she shook a bit before her skin turned as grey as ash and she fell to the ground.

Loki used the staff to get up and he rushed over to you, forgetting the wound in his stomach, you lay down against Steve, who was the only thing holding you up.

His hand was shaky as he cupped your cheek.

"Y/N?" he called to you but all he saw were your glazed eyes, a single tear escaped from them, running down your cheek.

And he knew- you were not with them anymore.

•

Tags: @ayybtch @buckys-other-punk @chaoticpete @madcrazy50 @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @the-departed-potato @rogerrhqpsody @onceupona-happilyeverafter-love @percabethismyotp14

85 notes · View notes

beelsnack · 3 years

Note

I know this happens to plenty of people. You work in fast food or retail and your just trying to make a living. Whether your saving to get out of a crappy household ASAP, no matter the job, paying for college, or any other reason and you WILL have shitty jerk customers (At my first job and first day, I was asked if I spoke English because I couldn’t understand him with the mask and there’s a glass in front of the food. Buddy, shush. Didn’t help that I’m sensitive, ended up crying the moment I got home. These jobs are ones where you learn to really respect these workers cause of the crap they go through when you have it as a job)

In this request, the boys visit MC in the human world when they have the chance. So, my request is how would the brothers and Diavolo (the limit was 8 right?) react to coming to the human world one night to visit MC and they see them just crying and just frustrated in general due to shitty asshole customers from work?

I feel it's necessary to let you know that I actually started working on this request while on my break at my retail job.

I'm sorry you had to deal with that, friend. Pour one out for the retail workers out here busting ass during a global pandemic.

Thanks for being patient with me, friend, I know I don't really have a consistent upload schedule.

-----

Lucifer: In hindsight. he could have planned this out better.

Perhaps his own pride was to blame. He had planned to surprise the human by showing up unannounced after their shift, but he had gotten so caught up in the thought of them jumping into his arms out of sheer joy that he never considered that it might not be a good time.

"Hush now, my dear," Lucifer sat down next to where they had slumped against the wall of their living room. The carpet was slightly stained and part of him wanted to recoil, but there were more important things to worry about. "Those wretches aren't worth your tears."

He brought his arm around their shoulders, tugging them against his side and letting his cloak drape over them like a blanket. They snuggled into him almost instinctively, and he couldn't help but preen a little bit.

"I know," they hiccupped, burying their face in the crook on his neck. "It's just...sometimes it's hard not to focus on it, y'know?"

Lucifer didn't, but that didn't mean he lacked sympathy. The demon placed two gloved fingers beneath their chin and tilted their head upwards.

"Then how about you focus on me instead?"

Mammon: Turns out every Realm had its Karens. Who knew?

When Mammon had first popped into the human's place and seen them face-down on the kitchen table sobbing, his initial reaction had been violence. He wanted to find whoever made his human cry and wring the reason why out of their throat. But, after the initial bloodlust subsided, he realized that he had something way more important to worry about.

He sat down on the chair next to them, taking one of their hands and gently running his thumb over the bumps of their knuckles as they choked out what had happened. Mammon had worked his fair share of part time jobs, he was no stranger to the specific torture that was retail. So hearing that his human had to go through that made his heart break a tiny bit.

Not that he would show it, of course.

"A'ight, human, the Great Mammon is here to help." he grinned, standing up. "I know just what you need."

He strode over to their kitchen like he lived there, flung open the fridge and pulled out a bottle of alcohol.

"Mammon," the human rubbed at the dried tear tracks on their cheeks. "Not that I don't appreciate it, but...how did you know where I keep my liquor?"

"Minor details, human!"

Leviathan: His first instinct was to panic.

The human was flopped face first onto their couch when Levi showed up, and his specialty had always been jumping to conclusions. He almost took himself out on their coffee table in his haste to make sure they were breathing.

And then the human almost took him out because the logical reaction to someone suddenly bursting into your home and getting right up in your face was to a) scream and b) punch.

After the comedy of errors skit was over, the two of them were sitting upright on the couch. The human looked exhausted, both emotionally and physically, as they filled him in on their day from Hell.

(Except not because their actual days in Hell were a lot better than working retail, but that was beside the point.)

"...so not only did I have to interact with people, which is already more than enough, I got screamed at because this old lady didn't like the price of something! Yes, Helen, I personally made the prices higher just to piss you off, you've figured out my master plan!"

"Ew, no, do not want." Levi winced in sympathy. "My personal remedy is playing beat-em-ups."

"Your solution to everything is video games, Levi."

"Shh, no thoughts, only Smash Brothers."

Satan: He had so many questions.

What happened? How long had the human been sitting there stewing in their own misery? Where was he going to hide the body?

Satan was a pro at suppressing rage. So even though he wanted to go rip out the vocal chords of every soccer mom with a let-me-speak-to-the-manager haircut within a five mile radius, he reigned it in enough to settle himself down on the couch next to the distraught human and rub soothing circles on their back while they tried to tell him what happened through their sobs.

"Next time, summon me and I'll kill them for you."

"I don't think corporate would appreciate me summoning a demon in the middle of a department store."

"I don't appreciate corporate telling you that you have to stand there and be verbally abused by a wrinkly old hag who couldn't figure out what the word 'expires' meant." he huffed. The human let themselves flop heavily against his side, and when he looked down at them he noticed that the corner of their mouth had twitched up in the barest hint of a smile.

"She was, like, thirty, Satan."

"She was a wrinkly old hag in spirit."

Asmodeus: "Oh, darling, what happened?"

Usually Asmo preferred to be on his knees for a different reason, but the human was refusing to look up, so kneeling in front of them was his only option to be able to see their face. He reached up to cup their cheeks, wiping away a few tears with his thumbs. "Shh, it's alright, I'm here, darling. Tell me what happened."

They sniffled, a few fresh tears spilling over when they blinked. "I-I'm sorry, Asmo, I - "

"No need to apologize, darling." he moved some of their hair behind their ear. "Just let it all out. Bottling up all of those negative emotions will make you break out."

After a few more minutes, they finally calmed down enough to recount the torture that had been their retail shift.

"Ugh, honestly," Asmo shook his head. "Hearing those kind of stories just makes you wonder. How do people get so entitled like that?"

He stood from his kneeling position, reaching down to hold their hands. "I refuse to let any of those awful people contaminate your beauty, darling. You," he let go of one of their hands to boop them affectionately on the nose. "Need a spa night."

"A spa night?"

"Mm-hm!" Asmo hummed, already on his way to the bathroom. "You let Nurse Asmo was all of those icky feelings away."

Beelzebub: They hadn't even made it fully into the living room.

When Beel stepped through the portal into the human's apartment and saw them curled into a ball near the doorway, he was immediately on high alert and checking for danger. Only after he realized that he didn't smell blood and had made sure to inspect all of the places for danger to hide did he lower his hackles.

The human was watching him through watery eyes, and Beel realized belatedly that he hadn't even greeted them. Well, bit too late for that. He crossed the living room in a few long strides and crouched down in front of them, lifting their hair out of the way to check for injuries.

Satisfied that there was no immediate danger, he scooped them up into his arms and deposited them on the couch. "Do you want to talk about it?"

They shrugged, wiping furiously at their eyes. "Just...people at work were being jerks, is all. I'm probably just being a big baby about it."

"No you aren't," Beel sat down next to them. "You're allowed to be upset if people are being hurtful."

That only brought on a fresh wave of tears, and Beel felt a little guilty. He pulled them closer until they were practically in his lap and tucked them underneath his chin like he could physically shield them from all of the awful things in the Three Realms.

"I'll make us some dinner. Everything's worse when you're hungry."

Bephegor: They started nap time without him.

Well, that's what it looked like when Belphie first popped through the portal. But, upon closer inspection, he noticed that the lump under the blankets that was the human was definitely not sleeping. Their breathing was quick and staccato, interrupted here and there by low, hiccupping whines.

They were crying.

Well that wouldn't do. Crying yourself to sleep just gave you a headache.

"Hey," he peeled back the protective layer of blanket to look at the human. Eyes red-rimmed and puffy, with a little wet spot on the pillow where their tears had landed. They sniffled, trying to shrink back into their blanket burrito, but Belphie held first. "Let me in."

He wiggled his way into the cocoon until they two of them were snuggled together, with their head against his collarbone. "Wanna tell me what happened?"

"Humans suck."

"Didn't we solve this issue already?" Belphie snickered when they pushed weakly against his chest. "Why in particular do humans suck?"

With a shuddering sigh, they recounted the events of the day. How they had been screamed at by customers, then scolded by their boss when said customers complained, then treated like actual garbage by their coworkers when the boss took their anger out on their employees.

"...Yeah, humans suck." Belphie tugged them in a little closer, burying his face in their hair. "But you've got your favorite demonic nap buddy here, so you don't have to worry about humans, okay?"

Diavolo: He felt powerless.

It was not a feeling Diavolo experienced often as the Crown Prince of the Devildom, and the few times he did experience it, he didn't like it.

If they had been in the Devildom, he would simply order whoever had made the human upset to be tortured for a decade or two - well, actually, he would have them brutally killed, revived, and then killed again, but the human was a merciful soul and likely wouldn't let him. But this was the Human Realm, where the only influence he had was the intimidation factor of his height and size. So all he could do was hold the human as they sobbed against his chest.

"This isn't fair to you," he mumbled into their hair as they sat on the couch. "You should be in the Devildom, treated like the noble you are. You shouldn't have to deal with these ingrates who think they're better because you're on the clock at that particular moment."

They whimpered softly as Diavolo murmured sweet things to them. Even if it was merely a fantasy, it was nice to think of a world where they wouldn't have to put up with all of the bullshit of retail.

Maybe one day they would take Diavolo up on his offer.

#shall we date obey me #obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me levi #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me asmo #obey me beelzebub #obey me beel #obey me belphegor #obey me belphie #obey me diavolo

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fruitcoops · 3 years

Note

Have you ever seen where they get kids to ask the players tough questions and there all dress up and have fake beards and stuff. Maybe you could do that with Jules and Katie asking the team all these really hard questions?????

Thank you for giving me an excuse to spend an hour and a half watching adorable kids ask questions and melt the hearts of celebrities. You’re my hero. There are no fake beards here, but I hope you enjoy it anyway! Sweater Weather characters belong to the incredible @lumosinlove!

“These chairs are so small,” James said as he scooted closer to the table. He nearly knocked Talker over with his elbow as the four of them squeezed in; the two kids on the other side shared a look.

“Ready, everyone?” Dorcas asked. When she received six thumbs up, she turned to the camera with a cheerful smile. “Hello, Lions fans, and welcome to Lion Pride! We have a couple of very special guests today to do the introductions.”

“Hello! I’m Katie and I’m six!” She held up six fingers and all four hockey players melted a little bit.

“I’m Julian, and I’m ten.” He waved, a little shy.

Dorcas smiled. “And how are you two related to our favorite Lions?”

Katie lit up and pointed behind the camera. “That’s my dad!”

There was a chuckle in the background. “Can you tell them my name, mon chou?”

“Pascal Dumais, but everyone calls you Dumo.” She swung her legs and her tulle skirt fluffed out.

“Remus Lupin is my older brother,” Jules said with a grin. “But Finn thought he was my dad.”

“It was an honest mistake!” Finn protested around a laugh. “Cut me some slack, Little Loops!”

“Do you want to do the intros for the guys, too?” Dorcas asked. Katie tugged on Jules’ sleeve.

“Can I go first?” she whispered. When he nodded, she hopped out of her chair and ran to the other side of the table, tapping each player on the shoulder. “This is Pots, Talker, Harzy, and Sirius.”

“Aw, man, I didn’t get to do any of them,” Jules pouted.

“You can ask the first question,” Dorcas said, hiding her smile behind her clipboard. “A quick reminder for our Lions: if you refuse to answer any of these, it means you hate children. Take it away, Jules!”

“Okay.” He cleared his throat and looked across the table with a solemn expression. “How many sticks have each of you broken?”

“Oh, that’s a tough one,” James mused. “A lot, but not always on purpose.”

“I haven’t broken that many,” Talker said. “I’ve forgotten to return quite a few to the rink after games, though. I think I have about five in my trunk that I keep meaning to put back.”

“Maybe…ten? Fifteen?” Finn rested his chin on his hand. “I should start a tally board.”

“Too many,” Sirius laughed. “I need to be more careful.”

Katie wiggled in her seat as she picked up the question card. “Why do you swear so much?”

Matching expressions of shock painted all four players’ faces. “Have we sworn in front of you?” Finn asked in a small voice.

“Yeah.”

“Mon dieu, I’m the worst person on earth,” Sirius murmured as Talker leaned his forehead on the table.

James opened and closed his mouth a couple times before answering. “Uh. Well. I don’t know, Katie. Instead of answering, I’m going to take this time to personally apologize to you and your dad, who is laughing his a—his rear end off in the back, as well as promising to form better habits.”

“If you could be any superhero, who would it be?” Jules asked, seemingly unfazed by the previous question. Wordlessly, Sirius gestured to his Captain America t-shirt.

“Spiderman,” Finn said without hesitation. “He’s the coolest.”

James unzipped his jacket to reveal a Superman shirt. “We didn’t coordinate this,” he said, tilting his head toward Sirius. “But yeah, Superman’s the best.”

Talker thought for a moment. “I really like Hawkeye. Are we talking Marvel or DC here?”

“Anything.”

“Anything? Hmm. I’m going to go with the Flash, then.”

“Nice.” Jules reached over to give him a high-five.

“I got Jules’ approval, everyone else can go home.”

“What’s your greatest fear?” Katie asked, still swinging her legs.

The table went silent. Sirius turned to Dorcas. “Is this the plan? Get us rolling with fun stuff and then give the hard ones to the five-year-old in a princess dress?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“Cool. Well, munchkin, I don’t like bugs and I’m not a huge fan of the dark.”

“Vegetables,” Finn said sagely, which sent both kids into a fit of giggles and made all the adults break into sunny smiles. “God, you guys are cute.”

“Pomeranians freak me out,” Talker answered once they had calmed down a bit. “They have those tiny little eyes and sharp teeth.”

James shrugged. “I’m not a fan of heights.”

“I thought you wanted to be Superman?” Jules frowned. “He flies all the time.”

“I think I’d be less afraid of heights if I knew I could fly.”

“So you’re afraid of falling, not heights.”

James looked to the camera. “And now I’m getting psychoanalyzed by a ten-year-old. Uh, yeah buddy, I guess so.”

“Hmm.” Jules looked back to the question card. “Who would win in a fight, you or our moms?”

“Your moms,” Talker said immediately as the others nodded. “No contest.”

“How would we even get in that situation?” Sirius asked. “What the did we do to make the nicest women in the world that mad?”

“Stole brownies,” Katie said with great gravity for one so young. “Mom says you four are the worst about it.”

“Mom wouldn’t even have to fight you.” Jules cocked his head to the side. “I feel like she could just give you a disappointed look and that would be enough. Katie, your turn.”

“Yay!” She brightened again. “What is your favorite cereal?”

Sirius smiled. “Fruit Loops.”

“Cheerios,” Talker said. “They’re good for you physically and emotionally.”

“I’m with Talkie on this one,” James agreed.

Finn gave them all disappointed looks. “You’re so old. Mine’s Lucky Charms.”

“Okay, Leprechaun Boy,” James snorted. Finn reached over and smacked the back of his head. “Hey!”

“Do you ever play hockey at home?” Jules asked. “I feel like Sirius doesn’t have to answer this one since it’s so obvious.”

Finn laughed. “Does tapping a puck around on the carpet with brooms counts?”

“Yeah, that counts.”

“Then yeah, sometimes.”

“I have no space in my apartment to play hockey,” Talker said. “Though I plan on moving someday and then the answer will be yes.”

“I made a rink in my backyard.” James smiled slightly. “Lily likes to skate sometimes while I run drills.”

“My turn, my turn!” Katie scooted her chair closer. “Okay. Out of everyone on the team, what two people would you take with you on a dessert island?”

“Desert,” Jules corrected quietly.

“Desert island. Are there deserts on islands?”

“I think they mean like super sandy beaches with no people on them.”

“Oooooohhh.”

James mouthed a thank you to Dorcas, who gave him a thumbs-up in return. The other three looked at the kids with unbearable softness. “Well, I’d feel awful if I took your dad with me, so I think I’m going to go with Finn and maybe Kasey. We’d have a blast.”

“Nice, dude.” Finn fist-bumped him. “Unfortunately for you, my choices are going to be Leo and Logan, since I already know we could live together without starting a war on the third day.”

Sirius thought for a second. “I think Nado would actually be able to survive on a desert island, so I’ll bring him along, and for the second one…maybe Kasey? Yeah, Kasey’s cool.”

In the ensuing silence, Jules gave him a significant look. “Aren’t you forgetting someone?”

“You’re not on the t—” The realization hit him like a truck; his eyes went wide and he slumped in his seat as the others burst out laughing. “Oh no. Oh, no, no, no.”

“Your own fiancé.”

“Please don’t tell him.”

“He’s gonna laugh so hard,” Jules cackled, leaning back in his chair. Even the camera crew was losing it in the background. Dorcas had to step out of frame. “You’re never going to live it down.”

“Well, the first person I would bring with me is Remus Lupin, because he’s read a lot of books and definitely knows how to survive on a desert island,” Talker said around his snickering. “And then I’d bring Cap, because God knows that would get entertaining after Loops finds out about this. The sarcasm would be off the charts.”

“Okay, next question.” Dorcas came back into view, still grinning. “Jules, go for it.”

“Can I ask Katie’s question again so Sirius can give a better answer?” he asked gleefully. Dorcas hesitated, then shook her head. “Bummer. What was cool when you were young that isn’t cool now?”

“When?” Finn looked scandalized. “I’m 24!”

“Yeah, and?”

“Ugh. Um, maybe Furbies? People were really into Furbies when I was in high school, though I can’t say I’m sorry to see them go out of style.”

James bit his lip in thought. “Tamagotchis.”

“I loved those things!” Talker said excitedly. “My sisters and I used to go nuts with those things!”

Sirius smiled. “Lite Brites.”

Finn’s eyes went wide. “I forgot about those!”

“Regulus and I each had one and we loved them. That was the only thing we agreed on and we used to sit—” He paused for a second to laugh. “—we used to sit in the middle of the ice rink in the backyard, still in our skates and everything, and do Lite Brites for literal hours.”

“That’s so cute, oh my god.” Talker shook his head. “What a nostalgia trip.”

Katie knelt on her seat and rested her arms on the table. “Who skates faster, you or me?”

“You,” all four answered in unison.

Jules rolled his eyes, but he was clearly hiding a smile. “How many push ups can you do?”

“How many can you do?” James countered. A flash of competition lit on Jules’ face and all the guys grinned. “Uh-oh, there’s the Lupin glare.”

“How about we have a little competition?” Dorcas suggested. “See how many everyone can do in thirty seconds?”

“Absolutely,” Finn said. The four of them had a little bit of trouble getting their knees out from under the kid-sized table, but eventually they succeeded and gathered in the middle of the room. “Katie, are you joining us?”

She smiled innocently. “No, I know I’d win.”

“Get ready.” Dorcas pulled her phone out as they knelt. “On your marks, get set, go!”

The guys went easy on Jules from the outset, but they made it look like those pushups were the hardest exercise they had ever done in their lives. Talker took a second to dramatically wipe his forehead and James’ wheezing was almost comical; Jules, however, was giving it his best shot. When the timer finally went off, Finn collapsed with a groan. “I forfeit.”

“Did I win?” Jules panted, pushing his hair out of his eyes.

“You did, congratulations!” Dorcas put her timer away and winked at the camera as they headed back to the table. “Great job, everyone. Katie, your turn.”

“Do you live in a mansion?”

“I live in an apartment,” Finn said.

“Same.”

Sirius shook his head. “My house might be big, but it’s not a mansion.”

“Does a two-story house count as a mansion?” James asked. “No? Then no, I don’t.”

“Who is your least favorite person on the team and why?” Jules turned to Sirius with raised eyebrows. “Are we going to have another desert island problem?”

Sirius threw his hands in the air, speechless, as the other three cracked up. “Jules, can I adopt you?” James begged around his laughter. “Please?”

“You’ll have to fight my mom for that, I think.”

“My least favorite person on the team is James Potter,” Sirius sighed. “Not the person I’m getting married to.”

“We could get married. Lily might mind, though.”

“Full offense, but I know way too much about you to ever consider that.”

James ruffled his hair and turned back to the kids. “My least favorite person on the team is Remus Lupin, because he ran me over in practice the other day.”

Finn side-eyed him. “Didn’t you trip him after he stole the puck from you?”

“He ran me over.”

“Sure, Pots. Um, my least favorite is Kasey Winter. He threw ice at me while we were in the ice baths.”

“Logan took my Gatorade last week and hid it all over the rink,” Talker said. “I’ll never forgive him for such a crime.”

“Oh, I like this one!” Katie exclaimed as she looked at her card. “What’s the best birthday party you’ve ever had?”

“My tenth birthday was at Red Robin and I got a Power Ranger outfit.” Talker grinned. “I was the coolest kid on the block.”

“My eighteenth birthday was pretty fun,” Finn said. “There was a bouncy house and Alex almost broke it because we were jumping too hard.”

“Does it have to be my birthday?” James asked. “Because my son’s first birthday party was awesome.”

“Why?”

“He threw cake in Sirius’ face and a food fight broke out in the backyard.”

“That was a pretty great day,” Sirius agreed. “My last birthday party was my favorite.”

“You spent the night with us!” Katie said happily.

“I did, yeah,” he laughed. “And I had a really good time.”

Jules perked up when he read the next question. “I love this one! Do you have a lucky pair of underwear?”

“Yes.”

“Yeah, totally.”

“Of course I do.”

“Is there a superstition I don’t have?”

Jules looked especially pleased with those answers as Katie picked up her card. “This is the last one,” she warned. “And it’s super important and super hard. What kind of dog would you be and why? You can take your time, I don’t mind.”

“Thank you, Katie, we’ll need it,” Talker said as he desperately tried to contain his smile. “I’ll go first, if nobody minds. I would be a border collie because one, I love them; two, they have a lot of energy; and three, they love making friends.”

“That’s a good one,” she said seriously. “They’re also very soft.”

“Yes, they are.”

Once Finn managed to suppress his quiet laughter, he raised his hand. “Can I go next?” Katie nodded. “I’d be an Irish setter. They have red hair and they’re really affectionate. Plus, I met one the other day at the park and haven’t stopped thinking about him.”

“This was a tough question, Katie, but I think I’m going to go with a golden retriever,” James said after a moment. “They’re good family dogs and they like to be on the ice with those big ol’ paws.”

“That’s what I was going to say!” She beamed at him. “Sirius, you don’t have to go. I already know what you’d be.”

He raised his eyebrows, looking highly amused. “Do you now? Can everyone else know, too?”

“Well, it’s obvious,” she said. “You’d be Hattie. She looks just like you and she gives the best hugs.”

A small puff of air left Sirius’ lungs and he blinked as James reached over and patted his shoulder. “Oh. Okay.”

“That wraps us up,” Dorcas said, looking between them with a soft smile. “Any closing statements from our guest stars?”

“Ready?” Jules muttered to Katie, who nodded rapidly. “On three. One, two, three!”

“Go Lions!” they shouted in unison with matching grins. The camera crew cheered and the players applauded, all laughing.

“Thank you for tuning in, everyone! Remember to like and subscribe for more content.”

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thepixelelf · 4 years

Text

Bluff and Nonsense

SKZ VERSION

Genres: romance, angst, some fluff, university au, not a fake dating au

Pairing: Reader & Hyunjin (Stray Kids)

Words: 17.0k (01:08)

Warnings: cursing, alcohol

Notes: This is the skz version of another fic of mine by the same name so it's not plagiarism pls. If you want to read the original, it’s here.

“Hyunjin? Yeah I know him, you should too. He’s on the uni’s dance crew, and ever since he joined them, their popularity’s skyrocketed. I’ve met him a few times, great guy — got a tendency to run his mouth but hey, no one’s perfect. He’s smart anyways, probably knows how to deal with the consequences, right?”

Hyunjin never thought one bluff could lead to so much nonsense.

Hwang Hyunjin is a man of many talents. He’s the guy who never lost a game of egg roulette, the guy who always knew how to make the social studies teacher talk about his divorce instead of the world wars, and the guy who slammed a lemon-meringue pie in his high school principal’s face. He’s also co-choreographer for the university’s dance crew — you barely knew there was a dance crew until Jisung started raving all about them — as well as a totally well-rounded fine arts major. Seriously, who takes a calculus course in fine arts? Hwang Hyunjin, apparently.

Of his many talents though, lying is not one of them.

Which is why, when asked if he likes anyone, Hyunjin says your name instead of simply saying “no” (a much better option in hindsight). He actually likes a girl on his dance crew. Cute, funny; has those eyes you can just get lost in — lord knows Hyunjin has. But, at this relatively quiet party, with half the guests crowded on Chan’s couch and the other half on the disgusting carpeted floor of his apartment, Hyunjin can’t admit his real crush because she’s sitting just a few feet away.

It wouldn’t be such a bad lie if you weren’t also sitting a few feet away.

You’re on your phone when he says your name in his quickened heartbeat-induced panic, but you look up at the sound of it, as does Jisung, who was also looking at your phone from the beanbag chair you’re both sitting in.

A chorus of low, teasing ‘ooh’s rises throughout the room, almost like it’s eighth grade again and Hyunjin just got called down to the office. Except now, he might actually be in trouble. He gets a few claps on the back from his friends close enough to reach, commending him on his bravado even though he doesn’t deserve it. Really, the whole situation only dawns on Hyunjin after a few seconds, which is a bit too long considering he made the situation in the first place. Blood rushes to his cheeks, not because of the alcohol in his red cup he’s yet to drink, but because you’re looking right at him, and he has no idea what to do.

Hyunjin doesn’t know you very well. In fact, he’d almost say he doesn’t know you at all.

You’re Jisung’s friend from one of his classes — english, if Hyunjin remembers correctly, but he’s not totally confident. The only reason you came tonight is because of Jisung. You don’t know anyone else.

With a tilt of your head, your face scrunches with question, and you look to Jisung for help. You know Hyunjin said your name, but you missed hearing the context. It looks like Jisung missed it too, seeing as the conversation you two have only makes your brow furrow more as the chatter in the room picks back up. Everyone else is already over Hyunjin’s sudden confession when Chan starts talking about something else.

Except Hyunjin’s friends, of course. That would be too easy.

Felix turns to him with a stupidly wide smile, his cheeks red from both the free opportunity to tease his friend and the light beer he’s been sipping and pretending to get buzzed on all night. He nudges Hyunjin with his shoulder where they sit on the floor, leaning in to speak under the conversations surrounding them. “You didn’t tell me you like them,” he says, the jesting tone in his voice clearer than water.

“Yeah…” Hyunjin doesn’t know why he doesn’t just retract his confession. It’s not like Jisung is close to you or anything — he’d understand. But then again, he’s bad at lying, and the girl he likes is still sitting on the couch. He scratches the back of his neck. “It’s sort of a recent thing.”

Felix’s smile only widens further at Hyunjin’s response, his eyes turning to slits with the rise of his cheeks. “Jinnie’s in looove~!”

And Hyunjin doesn’t know what to say. Nothing like this has ever happened to him before, not exactly like this, anyways. So he just looks down; scratches the back of his neck again; looks at one of his dance crew friends when she calls his name.

He doesn’t dare glance your way for the rest of the night.

Turns out you do know someone else other than Jisung. Once most of the guests have cleared out, leaving only half the boys to clean up, Jeongin approaches Hyunjin as he scrubs the sink of whatever that weird green stuff is.

He asks how Hyunjin knows you and says off-handedly that he’s never seen the two of you talk. (Which is right.) He says these things shouldn’t be joked about; that you’re a person with feelings, and Hyunjin should leave you alone if he’s just doing this for comedy’s sake.

Hyunjin thinks he’s never seen Jeongin so serious.

It’s probably fine. You haven’t said anything (good or bad), and other than the occasional tease from his friends, no one has taken anything too far. Maybe you’ll forget about it tomorrow. Maybe he’ll forget about it tomorrow, and it will all be okay.

Besides, it’s not like he actually likes you. His real secret is still safe and sound.

•

Of Hyunjin’s many talents, making people sad is also not one of them.

It’s not that he actively tries to cause misery only to fail, it’s that he can’t stand upsetting anyone. He’s a people-pleaser by nature, that’s just how it is.

So he doesn’t say no when you ask him out for coffee.

And he smiles at you when you try to make conversation, even though it’s awkward and hesitant despite having a mutual friend like Jisung. It’s not so bad, he thinks. You’re trying, at least, and when you ask him about his interests, you actually listen, which isn’t common when he tends to over-explain his love for dance and performance. He has a coffee in his hand too, extra sweet just the way he likes it, so that’s a plus.

You ask him if what he said at the party was true, and something in your eyes makes him say yes.

•

There are a few more coffee dates after that. It’s nothing official, and Hyunjin is hesitant to call the meetups “dates” because he’s not interested in dating you. But it’s a little late for that.

You seem brighter, though, every time he sees you again; he can’t bring himself to take that away, to cut the cord, to clean this mess he made.

Something about the way you two talk is nice, at least. Hyunjin can’t quite put his finger on it, and he tells himself that’s what’s drawing him back every time — not the guilt he feels sunken in his ribcage whenever you smile his way. It’s not that deep, he repeats to himself whenever you wave to him on campus, making him feel obligated to walk you to class. It’s not that deep.

He’s in the library one day when he spots you at one of the tables, books open and spread out as you scribble down notes, a pair of earbuds dangling from your ears. You haven’t seen him, so he doesn’t approach, just ducks back behind the bookshelf he’s been exploring. His hand is on a book he could use for class when a voice stops him.

“You know you’re an idiot, right?”

Minho leans against the opposite bookshelf, his arms crossed, locked and loaded for judgement. Hyunjin looks around, but of course he’s talking to him, they’re the only ones in the row.

“How… how do you want me to answer that?” he asks, unsure of exactly what Minho’s talking about. Yeah, he knows he’s a bit dense sometimes, but not all the time.

Minho rolls his eyes, a smirk on his face. “I know you like Sojung. You haven’t stopped laughing like an idiot at her bad jokes.” He nods his chin outwards, gesturing over Hyunjin’s shoulder and through the bookshelves towards where you’re sitting. “What are you doing messing with Jisung’s friend?”

It’s not too surprising that Minho knows — he’s an intuitive guy, but Hyunjin is still caught off guard. He asks first, under his breath, “Does anyone else know?”

Minho laughs quietly, looking down for a second. “If you mean dumb and dumber, then no,” he says when he looks back up. The dimple in his cheek deepens at the thought of his dance crew mates. “Felix is way too focused on dancing to notice your dumbassery, and Chan is about as observant as a fishcake when it comes to feelings.”

Hyunjin’s shoulder fall in relief, though he didn’t even realize they’d tensed up.

Minho’s smirk vanishes.

“But that’s not the problem here. Why are you playing around with them if you’re into Sojung?”

“I’m not—” Hyunjin pauses, thoughts deliberate, “—I’m not playing around, okay? I just… I don’t know. You were all looking at me, and I couldn’t just say Sojung’s name, she was right there!”

Minho cocks an eyebrow at that. “But you could say theirs?”

“It was a moment of weakness.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“I’m aware.”

Hyunjin groans quietly — he’s still in a library after all. He covers his face with both hands, not wanting to look at Minho nor have Minho look at him. For a second, it’s blissful, awkward silence, which Hyunjin would take over Minho’s scolding any day. But of course, no haven lasts forever.

“You’re gonna have to tell them,” Minho says, and he’s probably right. No, he is right, Hyunjin just doesn’t want him to be.

“I can’t do that! I already said I like them — twice!”

“Twice?”

“Twice!”

Minho only drops his head again, scoffing at the whole situation. Hyunjin wishes he could do that too; just laugh it off because it’s someone else’s problem.

“Well, you’re going to have to say something sooner or later.” Meeting his eyes, Hyunjin realizes Minho might actually be worried. About you, or him, or something else, he’s not sure, but past his external nature, the subtle fold of Minho’s eyelids tells Hyunjin this is about more than just calling out idiocy. “And I think sooner will hurt less.”

Hyunjin knows he’s right. But he doesn’t like it.

Before he can come up with a rebuttal, though, Minho’s hands are on Hyunjin’s shoulders, and he’s pushing him out of the row of bookshelves, straight towards your table.

“Just rip the band-aid while you still can,” he whispers in Hyunjin’s ear right before on last push at his back.

Hyunjin stumbles a bit, but once he regains his footing, Minho’s already gone and you’ve already noticed the ruckus. You pull one earbud out with a bright smile. It’s so jovial that Hyunjin almost forgets why he’s here.

“Hi Hyunjin, I didn’t see you come in,” you say, and there’s no way you’re this energized just from studying in a library.

“Uh… hi.”

“You’ve actually got the perfect timing.” Waiving to him, you gesture for him to sit next to you, and he does. You pull out some sort of planner, opening it to a few months from now. “I wanted to ask when exactly your showcase is? Jisung’s no help at all because he only cares about his concerts and stuff. Honestly. There aren’t that many…”

You’re going to have to say something sooner or later.

Hyunjin picks later.

•

“So when are you going to ask them out?”

Seungmin stands in front of the stove, watching his hot water simmer, a bag of dry ramen in one hand and long cooking chopsticks in the other. It’s Hyunjin’s turn to make dinner tonight, but since he says he isn’t hungry, Seungmin’s scrounging it out himself.

Hyunjin, on the other hand, sits at their tiny dinner table, his forehead pressed to the cool surface, arms hanging limp at his sides. He mumbles something of a response, but it’s nothing more than a questioning grunt, if anything at all.

“Oh, you know.” Even when Seungmin says your name, Hyunjin stays still. “Only the person you’ve been on several “dates” with ever since you confessed to them at Chan’s party. When are you going to ask them on a real date?”

Tired, Hyunjin groans. “When the time is right, I guess.”

•

You work on campus. It’s some part-time job you don’t care about enough to even complain over, despite the fact that you have to deal with annoying university kids every day. Hyunjin finds this out when he has coffee with Minho in one of the buildings he doesn’t normally frequent, and only goes to today since Minho has a class nearby in the next hour.

The coffee is bitter, and it’s too expensive, but Hyunjin drinks it anyways. He much prefers the cafe he goes to with you. Because the coffee is better. Obviously.

He hears your voice first, words indiscernible with distance and overshadowed by a much louder, angrier one, but still. Minho sees you first, though, and he points past Hyunjin to the student printing center, where you’re standing behind the counter and arguing with some guy. You don’t seem too riled, but Hyunjin can tell you want to be anywhere but there, especially when the angry guy’s voice keeps getting louder and louder.

Hyunjin’s feet bring him over before his brain can register what to do. You haven’t seen him yet, he could just walk away, but he doesn’t. Your voice becomes clearer as he approaches.

“Listen, the printing center is for education, art, or business. I can’t print this for you.”

The guy goes off about personal freedoms or whatever, Hyunjin isn’t really listening.

“No, I get that this is a student printing center, but I really don’t think your big tiddie anime gf poster has anything to do with education, art, or business.”

And that’s when the guy grabs your arm. Which results in Hyunjin grabbing his arm. Which results in the accusatory question, “What are you, their boyfriend or something?”

Now, in a perfect story, this would be the first time Hyunjin meets you. Or maybe you’ve been close friends for a while. And this would be when Hyunjin says that, yes, he is your boyfriend, and he would save the day. Except you’d be all “why would you do that?” which would result in you both having to fake date to keep that guy off your back. In this perfect story, there would be no Sojung to like and no Minho to judge, just you and Hyunjin fake dating. Eventually, you’d both catch real feelings instead of fake ones, and then boom, happily ever after.

But this isn’t a perfect story.

Hyunjin still says yes, and the guy still backs off. In reality though, because Hyunjin never thinks before he lies, you duck behind the counter and bring a hand up to your face to cover your ever-brightening smile. In reality, Sojung still exists at the forefront of his mind every dance practice, even though you’re the one he just promptly claimed to be the boyfriend of. In reality, Minho watches from a little ways away, sipping his coffee and shaking his head in what can only be called disappointment.

Hyunjin’s never been good at lying. One would think he’d stop by now.

•

So, it’s official.

You’ve put a heart next to his contact name. He’s put one next to yours — red, because he doesn’t know your favourite colour. Jisung’s done the whole if you break my friend’s heart I break you spiel and Hyunjin finally realizes he’s in too deep.

It's almost too natural, how easily you bring him into your life and how easily he finds himself fitting. It's all so wrong.

Hyunjin feels like an imposter, like there's someone meant to be by your side, but it's not him.

You pluck up the courage one day to hold his hand, and he can't pull away because the lies tying him to you are too strong. The small bluffs he's spun have weaved themselves into a net he's tangled himself in.

His dance crew congratulates him when Chan spills the news. It's all mundane, really — dating in university isn't all that uncommon. Mostly, Hyunjin gets casual "you go, dude" comments or the like, but then Sojung says nothing. She smiles, and it has to be one of the most tragically beautiful things Hyunjin's ever seen. His heart fractures, just a little, and he doesn't know if he'll ever be able to fix it.

He smiles it off. Tries to, anyways.

Felix complains that Hyunjin's too harsh that day.

•

Seungmin likes you.

Not in a "Mister Steal Yo' Girl" way, but he laughed at one of your jokes the first time you came over to Hyunjin's apartment, and ever since then, he's been convinced.

"You must feel like the luckiest guy on earth with them around," Seungmin says once you leave for the night.

Hyunjin has no idea how to tell him he's felt nothing but unlucky these past few weeks, so he doesn't.

•

He polishes up on his acting. As awful as it is to think, Hyunjin has gotten really, really good.

His smile looks genuine. It has to — he shows it to Minho, who says it's "adequate," which basically means perfect to the lowly humans beneath him.

He's gotten good at responding to you too, copying how the boys do it in dramas and movies. It's sort of easy.

He hates how easy it is.

Soon enough, you try befriending the whole group. Being Jisung’s friend, you've always wanted to, but apparently this is the push you needed. The boys are quick to warm up to you because, as Hyunjin's new partner, you're now a new teasing target besides Jeongin. The youngest was always the brunt until you came along.

You say you don't mind — that his friends are amazing despite all the jokes and chaos. He believes you.

Minho keeps his distance, saying he doesn't want to get himself involved. He's still the only one to know the truth, and his judging stare only grows worse as the days pass. Hyunjin wants so badly to make it go away, but he knows the only way to do that would be to tell you the truth, and he's just not ready.

Hyunjin's never broken a heart before. He's never planned on it.

Sometimes life makes its own plans.

"My shift was moved to tomorrow," you tell him when he picks you up from class, one hand in his and the other in your pocket. He knows it means something, but he doesn't know what. Your lips purse into a line as you stare at your shoes. “I was thinking... could I come watch your dance practice? If that’s okay?”

Now, Hyunjin loves dancing. He loves dance. He loves to dance. Performing sends an unparalleled thrill rushing through his veins like the solar system hurtling through the universe, and it’s something he’s never felt doing anything else. Dancing with others is a beautiful connection, an emission of silent truths communicated through the body. Practice, however, is the dirty version of dance. It has to be built up first — polished. Which is why Hyunjin says what he says. He doesn’t even think it over.

“No.”

It’s what he says every time someone asks. He doesn’t invite people to practices — never has. Even after his prompt refusal, he doesn’t register his mistake until the light in your eyes wavers. It doesn't disappear — just ripples. Comes back weaker than before.

"Oh," you say. The word should sound dejected but it doesn't. There's a smile at your lips, and Hyunjin can't help but think it looks kind of like his. "That's— that's okay! I was just — I don't know, I guess I just thought... I wanted to..."

Meeting his gaze, you look at him with shaking eyes, almost as if it takes great strength to keep them on his. He tries to backpedal, but you continue.

"I'll be going home then. I've got an assignment due soon anyways, so..." You pull your hand from his grip and, from where you two were walking toward the fine arts building, turn the opposite way. Your dorm is on the other side of campus. "See you tomorrow, Hyunjin. Have fun at practice."

Something about your smile haunts him.

It's hollow; feels empty when you flash it at him before going. He thinks fake smiles all look like that — insincere. His smiles at you must be the same way.

For an awful moment, he's hopeful. Maybe this will be the trigger. Maybe you'll end this tonight — whatever "this" is that Hyunjin has with you. Maybe he won't have to tell any harsh truths at all.

He turns and walks to practice.

The routine feels lighter tonight, though Hyunjin can’t pinpoint why. His body almost floats, and while that sounds good, it’s not. The rhythm is off. He’s not landing when he should be.

His crew notices, especially Felix, who complains that Hyunjin’s too much of a cocksure choreographer to be making repeated mistakes like this. They tell him maybe everyone should take a break. He agrees, but only because he’s frustrated, and he shouldn’t channel his anger into dance. Not this one, at least.

Everyone spreads throughout the studios to the edges, where they lean their bodies on the walls and slide down, water bottles in hand. The room reeks of sweat and feet, but Hyunjin’s used to it by now. He guzzles down half of his water in one go and pulls out his phone.

[❤] Sorry about earlier, I didn’t mean to react all... cold? Jisung told me you never invite anyone to practice, so it makes total sense why you said no

[❤] If I’m ever crossing any boundaries, let me know, okay?

Of course you’d be understanding. Hyunjin wouldn’t be that lucky.

He tosses his phone haphazardly in his bag, groaning and throwing his head back so it hits the wall with a dampened thud. The pain is dull compared to the thoughts top-spinning in his mind.

Across the studio, Minho clears his throat, raising an eyebrow at Hyunjin when he opens his eyes to look at him. It only takes two reluctant nods for Minho to understand the source of Hyunjin’s groans, and he does nothing to react but look away. Hyunjin thinks that’s almost worse than the judging eyes and smug grin. At least at that point Minho thought he was something other than a lost cause.

He doesn’t text you back. By the time he thinks of something a boyfriend would say, the time to say it has passed.

•

How much longer is he going to let this go on?

Hyunjin wonders that to himself as he sits, returned to Chan's apartment for another one of his "getties" as people are so apt to call them. He's never understood the difference between a getty and a party, and he's always been too stubborn to ask, knowing he'd be mercilessly made fun of for not knowing something apparently all university students knew.

This one isn't so different from the last. More or less the same crowd, the same atmosphere as the night goes on. Only this time, when everyone's settled down in what can hardly be called a circle, Hyunjin's on the couch, sunken into the too-old cushions with an arm wrapped around your shoulders. You're far from your last claimed spot with Jisung on that ratty old beanbag chair, sitting comfortably under Hyunjin's arm with a plastic cup of whatever Chan concocted for you — which you've yet to drink much of.

Sojung sits across from you both while she laughs at something Felix says. You laugh too, but Hyunjin barely notices, eyes glued to the girl they've been stuck on since she joined his dance crew over a year ago. He wants to tell her how beautiful she is when she smiles, even under the light of Chan's dingy apartment, but he can't. He wants to tell her how he's felt for months, but you're next to him. He wants to have a fucking drink but all he has in his cup is fucking iced green tea because he knows if he drinks he'll fuck up again.

Just like last time.

"You okay?" you whisper in his ear at one point.

He turns to see your concerned expression, and it only makes Hyunjin hate this even more. He doesn't deserve your concern.

"I'm fine."

But he's not fine.

He doesn't participate in much conversation — only speaks when spoken to, and even then with few words. You seem to become tense next to him, but he does nothing to try and fix it. Just tonight, he's going to let himself be tired.

Three times, you offer to leave, and all three he refuses. You give up eventually, though he can tell you know something's off. God, if he were drunk, he wouldn't even have to think about you for a whole night.

Somehow the topic of discussion turns to couples, and suddenly, an entire room of eyes is on you and Hyunjin. He barely catches the question before you're already pondering your answer.

What do the two lovebirds love most about each other?

You look at him. At him, at him. He feels your stare in the dip of his throat because he can't seem to swallow anymore. It's like his soul is being scanned for viruses.

"Hmm..." You let your chin fall into your palm with a smile. It's real. Too real. "I like his resolve," you finally say. "If he wants to do something, he does it." With a loud exhale through your nose, you tilt your head, still meeting his eyes with your own. Hyunjin's mouth slightly parts, slack with something he can't name. "I could learn a thing or two from him."

The room bristles with your answer, various responses piping up around. Hyunjin sort of registers Jeongin saying, "That's cute. I wanna vomit," but he's too busy thinking about you, about how you've come to like something about him as deep as that when all he's done is pretend to even like you at all.

And even when his mind swims with that, Sojung asks again,

"Then Hyunjin, what do you like about them?"

It sort of hurts. Hyunjin's not afraid to admit to himself that hearing Sojung ask what he likes about you sends pain straight through his ears to his heart. There's an awkward pause and everyone's looking at him expectantly and god he wishes he stole your drink when he had the chance.

"I..." His throat goes dry. His lips part, but there aren't any words to slip past them. "I, um..." He looks to you, and your eyes speak volumes. Everyone else in this room has a sort of... hungry look. They want to know Hyunjin's answer for one reason or another, maybe to tease with or to ridicule or even wish for themselves. But you, your eyes meet his and he knows you're not expecting anything. That hurts too. He doesn't know why. But even then, he can't think of the words. Any words. He steals a glance at Sojung, whose expression is curious, doe eyes slightly giddy from alcohol. She's pretty.

"I like their laugh," he says. It's not about you. "Whenever they laugh, I think to myself, 'What I wouldn't give to see them laugh again'."

Your eyes move to the plastic cup you've got gripped between two hands in your lap, and Changbin points out your flustered smile to the entire room despite the fact everyone can see it as long as they've got working eyes. You purse your lips together to contain the smile, but it doesn't work. Even Hyunjin can see that.

He needs a drink.

Having to go to the bathroom is a lousy excuse, and Hyunjin knows it, but he whispers that in your ear anyways and retracts his arm from your shoulder before escaping. He does go to the bathroom, a small thing with a shower and no bath, but all he does in there is stare at himself in the mirror. And when that becomes too much, his feet.

Someone else eventually has to use the bathroom for its actual purpose, so he opens it to the banging fist outside and slides past the person back into the hallway. He pauses before walking all the way back. You're caught up in some other conversation now, laughing and dramatically waving your hands as you deny some crazy embarrassing story Jisung’s trying to spill about you. Seems you've already integrated yourself with his friends more than he thought.

Since your attention is occupied, Hyunjin instead ducks into the half-kitchen — not necessarily out of sight, but no one's really paying attention anyways. He knows he shouldn't take any chances, but he really, really wants to let go. He's been wearing a facade ever since he said your name that night.

"I wouldn't, if I were you."

Minho's voice has Hyunjin jerking up and banging his head on the door of the open fridge he was rummaging through. He winces in pain, kneading his fingers into his scalp as if that will do anything.

"Wouldn't what?" he snaps.

Minho tilts his head, and it's almost infuriating how nonchalant he is. "Do something you might regret."

He takes the yet unopened bottle from Hyunjin's hands, reaching beyond him to put it back in place. There's no point in fighting against him since he's undeniably right, but Hyunjin grumbles anyways. His eyes glance every few seconds to you on the couch. If you happen to hear anything...

Well, he doesn't know exactly. But he doesn't want to find out.

"You have to end it."

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"I just—" Hyunjin takes in a breath, too loud for his liking. He lowers his voice. "I can't, okay? I don't want to hurt them."

"So you're just going to date them based on a lie just because you're too much of a coward to admit your mistakes?" Minho places his palms flat on the counter.

Hyunjin takes a deep breath through his nose, lips twisting in frustration. "Yeah, okay? Yeah," he whispers. "That's exactly what I'm gonna do."

A second passes. Minho's brow furrows.

"And quite frankly," Hyunjin continues, "I'd rather you keep your nosy ass out of my business from now on."

He nearly storms off right then with the last word, but Minho's fingers around his elbow stop him.

"You're going to get yourself hurt," Minho warns through his teeth. He nods towards you. "And them in the process."

"We'll see about that."

Hyunjin has acted on impulse before. It happened with the lemon meringue pie, it happened with your name, and it's happening right now. Nothing is compelling him other than the absolute need to prove Minho wrong, and even then, he doesn't know why.

He sits back down next to you, his spot saved by some miracle considering the surrounding company. The look on your face is happy, jovial. You must be having a right old time. His nerves strike with a feeling he's never quite experienced before.

When you study his face, no doubt not nearly as cheerful as yours, the expression you held falters to worry.

"You okay?" is once again the question on your lips, quiet, meant for his ears only.

Impulse is a scary thing. Hyunjin hates it almost as much as lying.

He leans in, crashing his lips on yours with his eyes half closed. His lips move and yours don't. Hyunjin can't even be sure you've closed your eyes, but at this very moment, he doesn't care. All he knows is he's angry and Minho is watching.

This isn’t your first kiss — he knows because you’ve talked to him about this very topic. This is, however, to your understanding, the first “real” relationship you’ve ever been in. You told him yourself that you don’t really count that past kiss as your first, that you felt a bit... violated when it happened.

Hyunjin thinks this isn’t all too different.

He steals your second first kiss, and later, staring at the water-stained stucco ceiling of his bedroom, he kicks himself so hard it hurts.

•

You show up to movie night. Apparently Seungmin invited you — explained it like this:

“You won’t have to be so clingy with me if they’re here.”

At first, Hyunjin thinks Seungmin just wants to drop their roommate movie nights because he’s always complained about them, but Seungmin sticks around during Anastasia; sings along with you during Once Upon a December despite the fact that neither of you really know the words. He sits right in front of you two on the couch, cross-legged on the floor with a bowl of popcorn in his lap, that of which he only offers to you twice and Hyunjin once.

Whatever. You’re a better cuddler than Seungmin anyway.

Somehow it doesn’t feel forced when you lean your head on Hyunjin’s shoulder, or when he wraps his arm around your waist to get comfortable. He blames it on how tired he is, how he always gets on movie night after a week of classes and practices and too much work for one person to handle. Seungmin complains all the time that he’s too touchy when tired.

You absentmindedly play with his fingers for most of the movie. He doesn’t mind.

It’s been about a month now.

Hyunjin doesn’t kiss you again after the first time. Doesn’t stop you, either, but you’re more of an on-the-cheek kind of person. He thinks you think he wants to take this slow, even though he initiated the first big step (as convoluted as it was). He lets you think what you want.

Nasty business, it is.

Cleaning a bowl that once held popcorn. All the grease that sticks to the side because Seungmin likes to use too much butter. All the grains of salt that get underneath Hyunjin’s fingernails. He’s washing, Seungmin’s drying. It’s an arrangement of sorts.

You’ve already left for the night, gone back to your dorm since it’s only a five minute walk or so through campus. Seungmin insisted on Hyunjin escorting you, but you only smiled sweetly and refused. Maybe Hyunjin should’ve argued harder against you. He didn’t though. That’s why he’s scrubbing a bit too harshly now — he doesn’t like messing up.

Seems that’s all he’s good for lately.

“You’re unhappy.”

Hyunjin stops scrubbing. The only noise in the whole apartment is the slow gurgle of the sink because even with a plug, such an old thing just lets the hot water seep away as the seconds go by. Seungmin’s gaze is on the pan he’s drying, but Hyunjin knows his heart is in the question. It always is.

“I’m not,” he tries to deny, but it’s difficult to fool a person like Seungmin. (Especially since Hyunjin can’t even convince himself.)

The non-stick pan from yesterday’s dinner clangs against an older one when Seungmin puts it away. He looks at Hyunjin, but by then he’s turned back to washing the popcorn bowl, so their eyes don’t end up meeting.

“I’ve known you since tenth grade. You think I can’t tell when you’re upset?”

Hyunjin finds it hard to read Seungmin’s feelings most of the time. He didn’t realize he was such an open book the other way around.

Sighing, he continues to scrub the bowl, which has probably been clean for a minute already. “I’m just... stressed.”

“About?”

Minho already knows; already thinks lowly of Hyunjin for it. If Seungmin knew... Hyunjin doesn’t know if he can take that.

So he lies. Again.

“Just the dance showcase.”

It isn’t a whole lie, not really, but he can’t call it the truth either.

Seungmin takes the bowl from Hyunjin’s grasp and rinses it under the tap. Since that’s the last dish, Hyunjin is stuck with nothing for his hands to do. They rest on the edge of the sink, but his fingers ache for a task.

Seungmin, the friend that he is, says, “That’s not for three months, though. I’m sure you’ll be perfect by then.”

“I don’t know...”

“Well I do.” Eyes meet eyes, a pair determined, a pair apprehensive. “Everything will work out.”

“...Okay.”

•

Hyunjin measures time in terms of you now.

When he last texted you. When he last saw you. When he last spoke to you.

It’s all a very elaborate calculation — how much time he’s spent on you versus how much time he should spend on you. No relationship is quite like this one, he thinks, and it’s quite the romantic notion out of context. The fact remains, every interaction he has with you only pulls him further and deeper into his lie.

Hyunjin’s time moves a bit slower now.

Faster, sometimes, but only when he doesn’t want it to.

•

You tell him you might be in love with him.

He says he might be in love with you.

He’s never hated lying more.

•

Seungmin is cleaning out the fridge when the buzzer goes off, so since he’s close by, he picks up the old corded phone attached to the wall. From his spot on the couch, Hyunjin looks up from his phone to see Seungmin cover the receiver and mouth your name. Seungmin makes some sort of gesture with his hands, and somehow Hyunjin understands that as: were you expecting them?

His eyes widen as it settles in that no, he’s not expecting you. The apartment is a mess.

Seungmin buzzes you in, hangs up, and immediately moves from the fridge to the coffee table, throwing the laundry he was planning on folding back in the plastic hamper and shoving the pile in Hyunjin’s lap.

“Take care of this,” he says. “I’ll clear up the kitchen.”

Right. Can’t have you thinking your boyfriend and his roommate are slobs.

Hyunjin reacts quickly, standing from his spot on the couch with the laundry basket in hand. He dashes to his room, where he plans to stuff the laundry in his closet and save that problem for later, but once he gets there, he realizes his room is even worse. There are dirty clothes dispersed all over his bed and old coffee cups littering his desk. Scrambling to shove the new laundry in his closet, the dirty clothes in the now empty hamper, and gather all the paper cups in his arms, Hyunjin’s breath starts to catch.

When he emerges from his room with two armfuls of garbage, he finds you at the door with Seungmin, your face hidden in his shoulder and your arms wrapped tight around his waist. Seungmin’s arms are up, almost like he’s being held at gunpoint, and his eyes widen even further when he catches sight of Hyunjin.

“Uhh... it’s for you.”

Hyunjin can hear your quiet hiccups even though they’re muffled in Seungmin’s shirt. He can’t bear it when people cry.

Yeah, maybe he’s been pretending to like you for a long time now, but he’s not a monster.

Right?

He likes you as a person. As a friend. And there’s no way he’s letting his friend go through pain like this.

Hyunjin swiftly discards his trash into the garbage bin and approaches you and Seungmin. At the commotion, you lift your head from Seungmin’s shoulder, and it's clear on your face how much you've been crying. Your lips press together, emotions nearly bursting at the seams, but they finally break out when Hyunjin opens his arms wide.

“C’mere.”

You practically flail into his embrace, arms wrapping around his torso in a vice grip as you hide your face again. He doesn’t ask if you’re okay — he knows you’re not.

Seungmin stands in the doorway for a few seconds, just looking at you and Hyunjin clutching at each other in the middle of the apartment before he shuts the front door and clears his throat.

“I’ll just, uh, I’ll be — um. Mhm. Yup.”

He escapes to his room.

Hyunjin squishes his cheek to your temple as you both stay there. You’re shaking, and his arms squeeze tighter. If only he could make it stop. He doesn’t know what to say or do to make you feel better.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks, though quiet and hesitant.

You shake your head, mumbling something he can’t quite make out. He pulls back a bit, just enough to see your face and gently cup your cheeks in his palms. His thumbs rub at your wet cheeks, smoothing any stray tears across your skin.

“What’s that?”

“Just...” Your eyes glisten. His heart beats. “Could you please just hold me?”

And he does.

Decidedly, his bed is much more comfortable than standing in the living room, so he sways, rocking side to side with small steps that force you to walk backwards. His smile, though, is reassuring, and you follow his guidance without much complaint. He sits you down on his bed, thankful that he cleaned up beforehand, and slowly leans you down so you’re both on your sides, facing each other. Pulling you closer, he lets you rest your head on his chest. Your hand lies flat on top of him, but eventually your fingers curl, clutching a bit of Hyunjin’s shirt between them. Silent tears fall from your eyes to his chest, but he doesn’t care.

His arm underneath you wraps around, hand landing on your back so his thumb can rub soothing circles.

It’s quiet.

Funny. Hyunjin used to dislike silence with you — always felt the need to fill it with conversation or jokes or laughter. He wonders when it was last since he felt that way.

Hyunjin doesn’t know how much time passes. His eyes stick to his bedroom ceiling as he holds you close, thoughts on everything and nothing all at once. Are you asleep? Your tears stopped some time ago.

His question is answered when your voice, small and unsure, breaks the long-standing silence.

“Hyunjin?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I tell you about it?”

He cranes his neck to look at you, but it doesn’t really work. “Of course,” he says. “Why wouldn’t you be able to?”

You sigh. “I don’t know. I just... I don’t want to be a burden.”

“You’re not.”

“I know, but—”

“You’re not.”

You look up at him finally, and seeing your smile sends warmth through his blood. Your cheeks are still stained with tears, but your smile pushes all that out of the way.

“Thank you,” comes past your lips in a whisper. Then, after a moment of waiting, you say, “It’s just that... I... this — ugh.” You hide your face in his shirt again. “This is so embarrassing. I don’t even know why I got so worked up.”

Hyunjin doesn’t respond to that, just pats your back a few times and encourages you to keep going. You toy with the fabric of his shirt.

“This guy I used to know — I thought I’d never see him again, but he showed up today. Ran into him when I was walking back from the convenience store.” You bite the inside of your lip. “I haven’t thought about him in a long time, but, I don’t know, I guess seeing him just brought all these memories back all at once.”

“Bad ones?”

A breathy laugh escapes you. “Sure, you could say that.”

The silence comes back, and your brows furrow, almost like you’re trying to solve the problem all on your own. But you don’t have to. Hyunjin is here.

“Do you remember when I told you about my first kiss? Like, my real first kiss?”

Hyunjin hums. Of course he remembers.

“Back in high school, I used to have this friend. Sammy. She was — god, she was beautiful. And kind, and smart, and just... amazing. I miss her a lot. She’s abroad these days, travelling the world with her sister. I think she’s in Peru now.” You chuckle at the mention of your old friend, but soon your smile twists into a frown. “This guy... I don’t like saying his name, but he liked Sammy. Everyone did, I don’t blame him for that, honestly. He was pretty popular back then — one of those sports boys, you know? Thinking about it now, he could’ve easily gotten with Sammy if he hadn’t been so conniving.”

“Conniving?”

“Yeah, he was... I don’t know how he got the idea in his head, but he came to me first. He kept hanging out with me, taking me on these... dates? But they weren’t really dates, all we did was talk about Sammy — what she liked, what she didn’t like. I knew he was using me, but I just... let him, I guess. Maybe back then I was just so caught up in being needed that I didn’t really mind being used.”

Hyunjin hugs you tighter.

“I guess he felt sorry, maybe? Right before he went to go ask Sammy out, he just... laid one on me. It was stupid. Like a pity kiss for my service or whatever. I wasn’t in love with the guy or anything, but it felt so... degrading. Like all I deserved was some action from a conventionally good-looking guy."

Your tears come back, brimming at the edge of your eyelids.

“I don’t know, it just — it just made me feel so...”

You take a breath. Exhale.

“...worthless.”

Hyunjin doesn’t fail to see the irony here, at least, but he feels slightly lifted. Whoever this guy is, Hyunjin’s a million times better.

“You’re not worthless,” he says — because he knows it’s true.

“I know.” You readjust yourself curled around him, wiping away the tears which haven’t fallen. “I mean, I know now.” Sighing, you wrap your arm around his waist, somehow pulling him closer than he already was. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For being here. For being you. For letting me be me.”

“It is my absolute pleasure to serve you, your majesty.”

You wack him with the sleeve of your sweater. “You’re such a dork!”

Your laugh is nice. Hyunjin hopes to hear it again soon.

“You know,” you say, eyes closed as you lie there with him on his bed. “Normally I would’ve gone to Jisung with my problems, but tonight...”

“Tonight?”

“You make me feel safe, Hyunjin. Thank you.”

His eyes close. “Really?”

“Yeah,” you breathe out, “that, and if I told Jisung, he would’ve found the guy and beat him to a pulp.”

“Why can I see that?”

“Because it’s true.”

You stay the night.

•

With a group of friends as big as Hyunjin’s, it’s about once every blue moon that the boys find a time that works for everyone, especially coming up on finals season. They all have their own worries around this time: the dance showcase, the big play, last-minute assessments, and — of course — finals.

So when they’re all free for barbecue one night, everyone’s ecstatic. Reservations are made, gratuities are calculated, and the group chat blows up every few hours with various changes to plans. (Mostly from Changbin, who’s eager to show off his grilling skills.)

But of course, university is university, and it’s inevitable that someone has to bail out. That someone being Hyunjin.

The dance showcase creeps up a bit faster than anyone likes, and now Hyunjin’s professor is forcing him to choreograph an entire song for some freshmen only a month before the whole thing goes onstage.

First of all, who signs up for a showcase only four weeks before the performance? Who lets them sign up?

And second of all, doesn’t his professor realize Hyunjin has a life? He’s got other dances to work on, other classes to study for, friends to have barbecue with. How is he supposed to cram an entire choreography — not to mention the time it’ll take to teach the freshmen — into his already hectic lifestyle?

But Hyunjin is a people-pleaser. He doesn’t say no.

Instead, he regretfully messages the group chat, saying he can’t hang out tonight in favour of attempting to choreograph at least a quarter of the song in one sitting. He gets the usual whining, but they all know they can’t change his mind, so it fades out fast.

What he doesn’t expect is for them to invite you instead.

“It’s an eight person reservation,” Chan reasons. “Besides, they’re basically one of us by now.”

Hyunjin can’t exactly argue with that.

So, you go to the restaurant with them while Hyunjin heads to the studio. Minho picks you up along with Jeongin and Felix, which sends an anxious bit of worry down Hyunjin’s spine, but he does nothing about it. If Minho wanted to tell you, he would’ve by now.

You send him a good luck text.

[🍥] Don’t let those kids work you into the ground!

He stares at your words for a bit, distracted from finding the song he’s supposed to use. Your contact name is different now — one of those naruto fishcakes because of that time you took him out for ramen. That night had been full of laughter and loud, borderline obnoxious slurping, ending with the beautiful finale of Hyunjin throwing a fishcake straight into your open mouth.

You were the one that sweet-talked you both out of getting banned.

Hyunjin finally opens his music app and finds the song the freshmen requested (a rather boring one, if you ask him) which he sets to max volume. He doesn’t bother plugging his phone into the speaker system, not when he’s the only one in the studio.

Maybe he can do this.

•

“The trick is to add eggs and use less water,” you say as you scoop more batter onto the waffle iron.

Seungmin snorts from where he sits at the table, still shoveling more whipped cream and strawberry-smothered waffle in his mouth. “Are you sure the trick isn’t to just not be Hyunjin?”

“Hey!” Hyunjin pauses his own eating just to pout. “My waffles are good!”

“Sure, you keep telling yourself that.”

Both of you laugh at Hyunjin’s expense, only further accentuating the pout on his face. You and Seungmin are too alike in that aspect. Well, actually, Hyunjin knows you’d never laugh at him, but he still can’t be sure about Seungmin. One time, back in high school, Hyunjin tripped over (what he thought was) a dead bird, and Seungmin laughed for hours — though Hyunjin always exaggerates the story into him laughing for days.

You sit down next to him with your own plate of waffles. There’s flour dusted on your arms, but you don’t seem to mind.

“You’ve got a little...” You point a finger at the corner of your mouth.

He knows. Hyunjin can feel the cool whipped cream right where you say it is.

He smiles wide. “I’m saving it for later.”

“Hmm...”

You say nothing, just smile as you lean in, kissing the corner of his lips. It’s quick, chaste, and barely a real kiss, but Hyunjin’s heart bounces in his chest. He’s never been kissed like that before.

He wonders if this is what it’s like to be loved.

That thought, though, he pushes back for another time.

“Gross. You guys made me lose my appetite,” Seungmin says. He keeps eating.

•

With eyes drooping shut every few seconds, Hyunjin decides it’s time to call it quits on the calculus homework. It’s nearly one in the morning, anyways. He flips his textbooks shut and gathers up all his notes, putting them all in a haphazard pile that he’ll worry about in the morning. Swivelling in his chair, his eyes land on you.

Oh. He forgot you’re here.

You’re snuggled up on top of his covers, one arm wrapped around the pillow your head should be on, eyes closed as even, slow breaths come past your slightly parted lips. One of his hoodies is draped over your legs like a blanket. He wonders why you didn’t just get under the covers.

Well, he has been walking you home ever since he hadn’t some time ago. Maybe you were waiting.

He feels a bit guilty as he brushes his teeth and washes his face, but not too bad since you only have afternoon classes tomorrow. Maybe he can treat you to something in the morning to make up for it.

After he tucks you under a fluffy throw blanket, he crawls into bed and lies on his side, facing you.

Your other hand is lax, palm up and fingers curled, almost like you’re holding something invisible.

His hand would fit perfectly.

The tips of his fingers graze over the lines on your palm. Slow. Trepidatious.

You shift, fingers unconsciously curling around Hyunjin’s hand.

He closes his eyes.

•

The moves aren’t working.

The moves aren’t working and the music isn’t working and the dance isn’t working and nothing is working.

Hyunjin groans in frustration, almost screaming with his fingers threaded through his damp hair as he messes up yet another landing. He’s drenched in sweat, and it’s only been so many hours since the rest of the crew left for the night, not that he’s kept track.

It’s less than a week until the showcase. Six days, as Felix is apt to remind everyone with his stupid holiday countdown app.

That freshmen choreography is already over and done with — Hyunjin’s made it, he’s taught it to those over-eager nuisances, and if they need anything more, that’s on them. They’re no longer his responsibility.

That’s not what has him in such a state right now.

His solo — the one he’s been planning for the entire semester — it just doesn’t... feel right. He’s been slaving over it for days now, reworking the steps, figuring out what to take out and what to replace. But the more he fixes it, the more it feels wrong.

He can’t get the steps right. He can’t get anything right.

What is wrong with him?

He starts the music again at exactly one minute, thirty-eight seconds. The moves are clear in his mind. One step. Two steps. Sweep. Spin. Jump—

He falls.

The music goes on.

Hyunjin slams his fist onto the softwood floor, cursing at his ineptitude. He stays like that for a moment, eyes screwed shut and fists clenched so tight his nails dig into his palms. The song ends, only to restart again, but Hyunjin barely notices.

Screw the music. He stands; positions himself; tries again.

Again.

He falls.

He yells out at the floor, at his feet, at whatever is holding him back.

His reflection in the mirror stares back at him.

Mind blank, he sits there, legs stretched out in front of him as he hunches over, eyes closed to the world around. His breaths come out shaky and uneven, but even though every moment sitting still feels like eternity, his lungs fail to calm.

Someone knocks on the door, and for a second, Hyunjin thinks it’s Jisung coming to tell him to go home for the night. He doesn’t want to, so he doesn’t look up.

The door opens, he can hear the quiet shuffling of hesitant feet that have removed their shoes just because the sign on the door told them to.

“Hyunjin?”

Your voice is clear — like a single drop of water coalescing into a whole — and it cuts through the sound of blood rushing past Hyunjin’s ears.

He looks up to see you standing a good length away, almost like you’re scared to approach. You’re wearing pyjamas, a thick sweater pulled over your shoulders and fuzzy socks donning your feet. Something bulges from the pocket of your sweater.

“What are you...”

“Minho called me.”

In the back of his mind, a small part of Hyunjin wonders exactly when you and Minho have gotten close enough to call each other, but the thought doesn’t stay for long. It can’t, really, not when you’re in front of him.

When Hyunjin says nothing more, you take another step forward. “What’s wrong?”

To anyone else, he might say nothing. Absolutely nothing is wrong.

His voice breaks when he tries to laugh.

“Everything.”

Your eyes soften, a small smile tugging at your lips. It’s not one of those pitiful smiles, he can tell, but it’s not fake, either. You bring your hands together in front of you, fiddling with the tips of your fingers as your eyes move from them to his gaze again. “I’m coming over. Is that okay?”

He nods.

First, you find his phone and turn down the music until it’s gone. You sit right behind him, legs spread on either side of his body, and you wrap your arms around his waist, pressing flush to his back and resting your cheek between his shoulder blades. He squirms a bit.

“I’m all sweaty,” he tries to argue, but you only squeeze him tighter.

“Yeah, you are.”

He stops resisting. It’s much too hot, what with his hours of constant exercise and your thick layers, but he can’t complain.

“Do you want to talk about it?” This time it’s your turn to ask.

“...Just hold me?”

And you do.

You press a kiss to the back of his neck. Slow, soft, and when your lips leave his searing skin, your forehead replaces them.

That’s when the dam breaks.

Hot, fat tears roll from Hyunjin’s eyes down his cheeks as sobs rack through his chest. The vibrations shake him and you all at once, but your hold never falters. He can’t see anything, only a blur of what should be his legs and your arms wrapped around his stomach. His hands go to clutch at your arms, desperate to hold onto something; to not let him sink.

It’s ugly, the way he cries, but you let it happen. You hold him.

This is what it’s like.

Eventually, his desperate hands find yours, his arms crossed so his right is over your right, his left over your left. His fingers roam over the smooth backs of your hands until they reach your fingers and interlock. The palms of your hands are warm compared to his fingertips.

You’ve locked onto his body language by now — you’re fluent, so you know to continue pressing reassuring, slow kisses into his skin. You know to whisper little words that should mean nothing, but coming from your lips, mean everything.

He’s going to be okay.

For some reason, coming from you, he believes it.

You hold him until the hiccuping stops, until the tears are just dry streaks on his face, until his breath comes out in long streams instead of bursts.

His eyes stay shut as he feels you shift. One of your hands slips out of his grasp, your arm reaching back, and Hyunjin almost whines until he feels its return.

“Look,” you whisper.

It itches to open his eyes, but when he does, he sees what’s in your hand, right in front of him. A small stuffed llama sits in your palm, a velvet heart hanging off one side of a saddle like it’s carrying precious cargo. Upon the heart, stitched white letters read:

It’s no prob-llama!

You chuckle lightly, repositioning yourself so your chin hooks over his shoulder. “An awful pun, I know. I just found it the other day, and I was going to give it to you the day of the showcase, but I think you could use it right about now.”

Gingerly, Hyunjin lifts his hands together, and you place the plush in his awaiting palms.

His voice is slow to restart, but he manages to say, “Thank you.”

Hands now free, you wrap yourself around his waist again. “Anything for you.”

Such a simple sentence, that, and yet the confession sends blood to Hyunjin’s ears in the form of an awfully embarrassing blush. He runs his thumbs over the fluffy fabric of the llama plush.

“Hyunjin?”

“Hm?”

You press your lips to the crook of his shoulder, voice muffled in the fabric of his shirt. “I won’t force you to stop practicing. I know this is important to you.” Hyunjin feels your breath fan over his skin. “But I also want you to rest — you shouldn’t overwork yourself.”

One of your hands rises to his chin, guiding it up so he looks forward at the studio mirror and meets your gaze in the reflection.

“Whaddya say we do, hm?” You tilt your head, and Hyunjin thinks his pupils may be heart-shaped. “Do you want to practice more? Or can I take you home?”

“Just...” He swallows what’s left in his dry mouth. “Just once more.”

You smile. “Okay.”

As you get up, you run your hands up to Hyunjin’s shoulder and down to his hand, where you playfully pretend to pull him up with you. He laughs, hiding his face behind the llama plush for a second before he stands, tugging your hands as he does so you fall into him when he rights himself. Both your hands are squeezed between him and you, while his unoccupied arm finds its way to your side.

Another smile tugs at your lips at the proximity. You shift your hands up so they wrap over his shoulders, linking behind his head. Leaning closer, your eyes gleam under the fluorescent lights. To the sound of silence, you sway together, waltzing in the dead of night.

“I’ll be outside, okay?”

Hyunjin’s expression tightens, eyebrows shifting in confusion. “Why?”

“Well,” you say, “I know how you feel about audiences during practice.”

Something about your smile right now makes Hyunjin feel so undeniably safe. You understand him. Never once have you questioned him over why he doesn’t invite you to practices, never once did you pressure him to change that.

“Do you know how I feel about you?”

“Hmm, do I?”

Do you?

“Stay.”

And you do.

•

Here’s the thing about dance showcases:

They’re big, they’re flashy, they take the entire year to plan, and they’re over in one night.

Hyunjin stands in the wings, breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth, hopefully not loud enough for anyone to hear. He watches as the group performing before his solo finishes up their dance, though he knows there is at least a minute before he’ll have to go on.

A tap on his shoulder makes him turn his head, and he sees Sojung’s smiling face.

“Nervous?” she asks, her voice hidden beneath the music.

She’s all dolled up, dressed in her costume with a sleek leather jacket to bring everything together. Her eyes glimmer just as much as her eyelids.

“You have no idea,” Hyunjin jokes, but his heart isn’t really in it.

Sojung tilts her head; blinks a few times. “You’ll do amazing. You always do.”

For what it’s worth, Hyunjin hasn’t forgotten his attraction. Sojung’s words soothe him to some extent, pump him up, even. It’s slightly terrifying — how much she still affects him even now.

You’re in the audience tonight, third row from the front, somewhere in the middle. Your seat is between Jisung’s and Seungmin’s, whereas the other two came (almost) too late and had to find seats elsewhere.

The music ends, applause erupts, and Hyunjin knows it’s his turn. He waits for the group to exit on the opposite side, and when the resounding claps quiet down, he takes the first step onstage.

Something Hyunjin has almost always known: stage lights are blinding. If they’re set up right, anyone onstage will have a damn hard time seeing anyone in the audience. He can’t see you — couldn’t during his previous performance with the crew, either. The only reason he knows you’re there is the million assuring texts you sent him before you had to turn off your phone for the show.

But he knows you’re there. He knows you’re watching.

Hyunjin stands with his left foot on the spike mark, right where he’s practiced time and time again ever since they transitioned into the space. Music floods his veins, and the world is gone.

He wouldn’t call it an escape. Hyunjin doesn’t use dance to get away, it’s not like that. This world he creates with dance — this other space where nothing exists except him and the music and the floor and the feeling — he chooses to go there. Euphoria, he thinks it might be called. Euphoric.

The space takes him. He lets it.

And then it’s over.

Hyunjin’s breath leaves him in bursts, his shoulders heaving despite how hard he fights to keep them still in his final pose. His back faces the audience, his right arm stretched out and up, fingers curling around nothing. Stars dance before his eyes — which he fails to catch with his outstretched hand.

He thinks he can faintly hear applause, but it’s nothing compared to the heart beating in his chest. Your voice plays in his ears, yet he knows it’s simply his imagination — his recollection.

I like your dance, you’d said that night. I’m no expert, no judge, but I like it. I love it, honestly. Your dancing... I don’t know. I wish I had the words. It’s like... a little box.

A little box?

You’ve got a little box in your hand. Brown, maybe the size of your palm. You open it and there’s no bottom, no sides, no shape, just an expanse of universe in blues and pinks and purples and whatever colours we don’t know exist. You look inside and reach your hand in, somehow fitting in the tiny yet infinite space. Your fingers brush through starlight like strands of silk, like the rays are minnows you’ve met during a summer dip. Like that. A little box.

I thought you said you didn’t have the words?

I don’t. Not enough.

Hyunjin vaguely registers the lights going black, the way his feet drift him offstage, the music of the seniors’ finale.

At some point, the lights are back on. Not the stage lights, but the harsh fluorescents once the audience has fully filtered out into the lobby. Most of them will leave, but the family and friends of performers are sure to stay, waiting there to congratulate and fawn over the dancers as soon as they’re let go for the night. Somewhere in his mind, Hyunjin knows his friends are outside waiting for him — him, Minho, and Felix.

Roses are passed around. He’s never seen a blue rose before, but some dancers walk around with them as they change out of costume and gather their things. He points out a yellow rose from the bunch presented to him, but it turns out to be a bouquet for him specifically, and he takes the whole thing with his jaw slightly hanging. Everything’s a bit... slow. Hyunjin feels like he’s wading through water.

He hasn’t changed yet, simply standing in his costume as he watches people go back and forth. Other performers move from dressing room to dressing room, cleaning up what they have to while simultaneously patting each other’s backs. Techs go around making sure everything’s in order, nothing lost or forgotten. They put away the MC’s microphones and bother the dancers for not taking proper care of props even though it’s only been one night.

Another tap on his shoulder; it’s Sojung again.

“Can I talk to you?” she asks.

He follows her to a corner of the stage, where the curtains hang and hide the two — for the most part.

She turns almost too abruptly, causing Hyunjin to stumble over his own two feet to avoid bumping into her.

“This is really hard for me to say,” she starts. “But I have to get it out.”

Hyunjin nods, maybe saying something close to a confirmation, but he can’t really tell. He’s a little lightheaded. Sojung has changed out of her leather, instead now in a pair of grey sweatpants and a simple t-shirt. That’s the thing about Sojung, though, she has that unnamed sort of... effortless beauty. Even with her stage makeup wiped off, she glows.

“This might be one of the last times I ever work with you, you know? Next year, my parents are making me quit dancing so I can focus on my major. It sucks, yeah, but they’re right. I need to focus if I want to succeed. You know that too, don’t you? The need to succeed?” She takes a breath; laughs bitterly. “Sorry, I’m getting off track... I just — I wanted to tell you this because if I don’t tonight, I might never get the chance again.”

Maybe Hyunjin has dreamed of this moment. He can’t be sure, not yet, so he let’s her continue.

“I like you, Hyunjin. I have for a while. But things happened, and you got together with...” her voice trails off. “And you seemed happy, after a while. I thought maybe I could just keep it hidden but, I don’t know, I think I need to tell you, to get closure because I'm not sure if I can go on without at least—”

Choices. Hyunjin — and everyone else in the world — has only made it through life with decisions. He’s made good ones. Bad ones. He’s had regrets and he’s had none. This, though, this choice is intensely apparent.

Apparent in the way he knows it will affect much more than he wishes.

He kisses her.

God, this is what he wanted, right? What he’s wanted for so long. He used to toss and turn at night over the thought of Sojung’s eyes; her smile; her lips.

And on his, they were heaven. Plump and soft just like the romance novels say, moving at the exact pace of his heartbeat.

The hand holding his bouquet drops to his side as the other goes to cup Sojung’s cheek. Faintly, the sound of paper fluttering to the ground reaches his ears, but nothing can distract him from this moment.

Until, of course, it ends.

Sojung pulls away. “We can’t— I don’t—”

Someone clears their throat.

Hyunjin turns, finding Minho standing just off from the curtains, arms crossed and face contorted in thinly-veiled anger.

And you.

You’re standing next to Minho, obviously shocked — over being seen or what you’ve seen, Hyunjin doesn’t know. Hands fisted and held close to your chest, your eyes widen as they meet Hyunjin’s.

It’s not so dramatic as the movies.

Hyunjin stares at you, tongue unmoving with nothing to say. You stare back, almost frozen, until Minho gently takes you by your shoulders, forcing you to turn and leave the way you must’ve come. Nothing happens in the time it takes. Hyunjin simply watches.

He’s never been good at reading lips, but he thinks he knows exactly what Minho whispers in your ear.

There’s something you should know.

Sojung mutters, “Sorry,” and leaves. She looks guilt-ridden as she does, but even in his half-frozen state, Hyunjin knows all of this is on him.

He stands alone in that corner of the stage, the only noise being the hum of fluorescent lights and the distant sound of the last stragglers in the dressing rooms. His hands clench, and the brown paper of the bouquet crumples. He looks at it then, at the yellow roses and baby’s breath, at the beige note that’s fallen to the floor.

Slowly, he crouches, picking up the note with his thumb and forefinger.

Congratulations Hyunjin!! I know how hard you’ve worked for this night, which is why I ordered these to be delivered. Chan told me yellow roses represent happiness, or something. Pretty, right? You deserve every happiness, so I decided to start with flowers. Tonight may be over, but who knows, maybe we’ll find happiness in tomorrow, too.

It’s stupid. It’s not a love letter. It’s laced with love, though, and he hates that he recognizes your handwriting.

Time moves heavily as Hyunjin turns to the backstage door. He’s the only one left now, his station in the second boy’s dressing room is messy, unlike everyone else’s. His reflection stares back at him while he sits in front of the mirror, motions halved in speed as he wipes off his eye makeup.

It’s over.

When was the last time he thought about how it would end?

He changes out of costume, arms growing stiff, and stuffs everything in his bag without much care for how. His regular clothes itch; he longs to scratch at his skin, but he doesn’t.

He leaves your bouquet on the counter.

His friends stand in a circle in the lobby, brows furrowed and voices hushed as they discuss... something. Hyunjin has a bad feeling he knows exactly the topic. Minho isn’t there. Nor are you.

Seungmin isn’t around, either, but Hyunjin remembers he had to leave immediately after the performance. Something about an essay. It doesn’t really matter now, not compared to this.

When he approaches his friends, they quiet down further. Half of them look his way with a frown, while the other half choose to avert their eyes. What do they know?

Jisung stands out the most. His arms are crossed, his lips are pressed together in a thin line, and anger radiates from his very being. Of course he’s mad. You’re his friend.

The silence consumes Hyunjin as he nearly shrivels under his friends’ gazes. He must have taken his time, the lobby is empty except for them.

“Where’s Minho?” he asks.

Jisung lurches forward, but both Chan and Changbin bring up their arms to hold him back.

“Where’s Minho? Where’s Minho?” he seethes. He jabs an accusatory finger in Hyunjin’s face. “You just kissed some girl and broke my best friend’s heart and you’re asking about Minho?!”

So they don’t know. Not really.

Hyunjin endures the scolding. The looks. The questions. The noise.

No answers are really given.

The great thing about having best friends is that they know not to pamper you when you’ve done wrong. That’s also the worst thing about having best friends.

Jisung would go on and on, surely, but soon enough the boys notice how little Hyunjin is reacting — how his face and expression is slack and dull.

Jeongin holds up a finger to quiet down the ones still complaining, then gestures towards the front entrance.

“Minho left with them a while ago.” The look on his face is one of pity. Hyunjin hates it.

He nods; stuffs his hands in his pockets as he turns to the door.

“Wait! I’m not done—!” Jisung struggles against Chan and Changbin, but he’s no match.

Hyunjin doesn’t stick around long enough to hear what happens next.

He has no sense of what to do when he walks out that door. Go home, maybe.

The night breeze hits him with more force than it should, making his eyes go dry and his lips tremble. Outside, everything is almost too loud. There’s traffic on all sides, surrounding the lot of the theatre; the sound of humming engines and honking horns assaults his senses.

He walks — though it feels like wandering — to the parking lot, where he plans to look around for a bus stop.

You’re there.

A mirage, he thinks at first, but you’re really there, sitting on one of those concrete barriers, legs outstretched and ankles crossed. You have your head lowered as you sit, hands braced on the cold concrete.

His held breath escapes him, and you look up.

“You’re here,” you say. The smile on your lips, ever so slight and ever so bitter, causes a ringing in his ears. “I almost thought you forgot about me.”

“I...”

“It’s a lie, right?” Your eyes glisten, but no tears fall. “You wouldn’t— I’m not— I’m not that naive, am I?”

Hyunjin’s lips part, but nothing moves past them. His hands itch to leave his pockets, but with nothing to reach for, they stay still.

“...I see.”

You drop your head again, bringing your hands together to fiddle with your fingernails. He hears your breath, shaky as it is, and his lungs constrict.

“God, it felt so real. I thought— I guess I don’t know what I thought, huh?” A shiver runs through you. “Was any of it real?” you ask the ground.

Hyunjin longs to answer. That’s the thing, though.

He doesn’t know.

Can any of it be real?

You laugh. Before, your laugh was spring strawberries; summer warblers; winter snowdrops. Now, your dry laughter echoes in Hyunjin’s mind like a pebble in a failed attempt of skipping stones.

“Guess not.”

You hop off the concrete barrier, wiping off your pants of dust and dirt. Still, you don’t meet his eyes.

Hyunjin’s heart beats in a way he knows isn’t natural. Guilt seeps through every orifice. “You’re not... you’re not yelling at me. You’re not crying — you’re not angry,” he stumbles through. “Why?”

It’s then, when you meet his eyes, he notices how your eyes are bloodshot, how tracks of tears gone by shine on your cheeks. You have been crying, just in the time it took for him to come across you.

“I’m just disappointed in myself, Hyunjin,” you say. “I’m the one who fell for it so easily. I’m the one that was tricked. I’m the one who—” a breath “—who loved someone that didn’t love me back.” You step closer, arms limp at your side. “Once I get home, sure, I’ll cry my eyes out. Is that what you want to hear? I’ll curse myself for being so... so stupid.”

“It’s not your fault—”

“No, it’s not. This is not my fault. All I did was believe the words you said to me. All I did was hand myself to you on a silver platter.” Unshed tears brim at your eyelids, but it seems you refuse to let them fall. “But you know the worst part, Hyunjin?”

Everything?

“The worst part is I can’t yell at you. I’m not angry because I fell in love with someone who doesn’t love me back and it hurts and I can’t bring myself to hate you despite being told you’ve never thought about me the way I think about you.”

A breathy gasp escapes you, and you turn on a dime, the sight of your back an icy reminder to Hyunjin of what he’s yet to learn. You take a deep breath to gather yourself, shoulders rising and falling.

“I’ll be going now. I’ve got a lot to think about.”

Hyunjin doesn’t move from his spot when you walk away, or when you get into Minho’s car, which pulls away after a moment of sitting there in its parking spot. His feet are stuck in stiff mud, unable to shift, even.

Perhaps he stands there for too long. It’s not until he’s staring down the front of his apartment that he realizes one of his friends must have dropped him off.

•

He hasn’t heard from you in a few days. He hasn’t heard from anyone in just as long.

Seungmin already knew (not everything, but enough) by the time Hyunjin rolled out of bed the day after. He hasn’t said anything about it, but Hyunjin can tell this silence isn’t the same as usual. They rarely eat meals together anymore. Last movie night, Seungmin didn’t even pretend to be busy, instead saying he simply wasn’t in the mood.

Jisung hasn’t left your side ever since... that happened. If Hyunjin happens to see you on campus, which is almost never, he backs out of approaching you because of the sheer force that is Jisung’s glare. Besides, he wouldn’t know what to say even if he did find the courage to face you.

Classes go by in blurs. Not quickly, like scenery past a car window, but so slow that once Hyunjin leaves, he remembers nothing but hours upon hours of staring at his empty notebook, even if the lecture was only fifty minutes long. Days are kind of like that too.

•

Sojung apologizes. She shouldn’t, but she does.

Hyunjin didn’t really hate what he did at first. He liked her, after all.

But when Sojung chokes on her own words, pleading to whoever will listen that she’s not that kind of girl, Hyunjin regrets kissing her more than he ever wanted to kiss her in the first place.

•

please let me explain

I’m sorry

it’s been a while, but still

I’m sorry

[🍥] Explain what?

[🍥] ...

[🍥] Hyunjin?

sorry I just

I wasn’t expecting you to answer

[🍥] Maybe I shouldn’t have

wait

I’m sorry

[🍥] So I’ve heard

I just want you to know why what happened, happened

[🍥] But I already know why

it’s not that simple

[🍥] You lied because you suck at lying. Because you knew Sojung was there that night and panicked. I was just collateral damage

[🍥] ...

[🍥] No answer, huh?

[🍥] So it really is that simple

please wait

I’m just trying to figure myself out

[🍥] Let me help you

[🍥] You want my forgiveness because you feel guilty. Maybe you don’t know it yet, but you want me to say I forgive you just so you won’t have to carry this around for the rest of your life

[🍥] I know this isn’t some romcom. I know you’re not here to get me back

[🍥] So just let it go

[🍥] Let’s just forget about this. About what happened

what if I can’t

[🍥] I don’t know

[🍥] Figure it out, I guess

[🍥] But do it on your own

•

Hyunjin doesn’t measure his time anymore.

He wakes up. He eats. He goes to class. He skips lunch. He goes home. He eats. He falls asleep.

When was the last time he went out with someone? When was the last time he had a real conversation?

He doesn’t know.

•

[Minho] You should tell everyone else

why

[Minho] Would you rather they think you’re a cheater or just an idiot?

I don’t know

[Minho] I think they deserve an explanation

[Minho] Want me to do it for you?

does it even matter anymore

[Minho] It’s your choice

[Minho] You just have to make it

then tell them

I don’t care

[Minho] Are you sure?

tell them

•

These days, Hyunjin stays late at the studio. No one really practices there anymore, not since the showcase finished and finals have rolled around. Actually, Hyunjin should be studying too, but he can’t find the motivation. He thinks it might be the guilt.

You were right. He doesn’t want to carry this around.

The thing is, despite spending entire evenings in the studio, he can’t remember anything as he walks home. It must be hours spent in there, and yet, when he walks out, he can’t recall a thing. Like he was never there at all.

Where does the time go?

With his luck, the elevator is broken when he returns to the apartment building, so he has to take the stairs. Normally that wouldn’t be a big deal, but after hours of mindless, sloppy dancing, he’s much too tired. He fumbles with his keys when he tries to open the door, and he rests his forehead on the cool wood for a moment, sighing before he tries again.

The door creaks open. Though it’s late, the lights are still on, which Hyunjin frowns at when he realizes. Lately, Seungmin is never up when Hyunjin comes home. But there he is, sitting at the table right next to the kitchen with his eyes on his hands and his feet tucked under the chair.

Hyunjin freezes after shutting the door behind him, not wholly sure what to make of the scene before him.

After a moment of silence, Seungmin looks up from his fingers and meets Hyunjin’s gaze.

“Minho called me today,” he says.

Hyunjin gulps, but doesn’t respond — doesn’t know how to.

“I didn’t want to believe it at first, you know.” His voice is slow, croaky; tired. “But it sort of makes sense, doesn’t it. I don’t know how I didn’t see from the start.”

Slowly, Hyunjin slips off his shoes and steps further into the apartment. “So you know. I’m really not in the mood for a lecture right now.”

“I just have a question.”

Hyunjin pauses, halfway through the apartment and only a few meters from his bedroom door. He turns to face Seungmin, sighing through his nose and digging his palms into his eye sockets. “Fine,” he concedes. “What?”

“If you never loved — never liked them, why are you acting like this now?”

“Acting like what?”

“Like a dead man walking.”

Hyunjin scoffs, a dry, empty sound as he looks away for a moment before meeting Seungmin’s gaze again. “You’re kidding, right?” he asks. “I lied to someone for months. I pretended to love someone I didn’t. I used them because of my own stupidity and pride, and then I used Sojung, too—” Pausing, he closes his eyes; takes a breath. “Isn’t it obvious? It’s guilt. I feel guilty for... for everything.”

“That’s the only reason?”

“Excuse me?”

Seungmin rhythmically taps the pads of his fingers on the table. It’s not loud enough to be heard, but Hyunjin’s eyes train to the sight. “It’s only the guilt?”

“What else would it be?”

This time, it’s Seungmin who sighs. He looks at his hands again for a second. “Do me a favour,” he says without looking up.

“Look, I already—”

“Just do what I say.”

Hyunjin groans, but he knows he can’t argue with Seungmin and win — not now at least. He rubs his eyes, shoulders rising and falling as he takes in a deep breath. Mumbling under his breath, he says, “Fine.”

Seungmin stands from his chair, and in such stagnant silence, the sound of the legs squeaking on the floor is profound. He points to the middle of the apartment, the large bit of floor-space that’s too big to be considered part of the kitchen but too small to house any furniture.

“Stand right there.”

“...What?”

Without answering, Seungmin simply points at the floor again, and Hyunjin can only groan in defiance as he moves to stand in that spot. Grabbing a throw pillow from the couch, Seungmin steps a few feet away, facing Hyunjin with the pillow held in one hand at his side. He seems to consider something for a moment.

“Hey, um, sorry in advance.”

Hyunjin has never been unable to read Seungmin this much, so he asks, “What is this all about—”

Seungmin screams. Not a high-pitched screech, but a guttural battle cry, and Hyunjin’s eyes widen. Faster than he can comprehend, Seungmin runs towards him and tackles him to the ground. Hyunjin’s legs crumble as he falls, and he feels the throw pillow pressing onto his face.

This is it, he thinks. This is how he dies.

“Seungmin!” he cries, but his protest is muffled by the pillow. “What the fuck are you—!”

“You idiot! You don’t know shit!”

“I know that!” Hyunjin thrashes to get the pillow off, but Seungmin already has the advantage he needs.

“You miss them you fucking buffoon! You’re all in your doom and gloom because you had a good thing going and had to go fuck it up!”

“I don’t!”

“Don’t try to argue with me, fucker, I know you better than anyone. Now scream!”

The pillows squishes further down, and while Hyunjin can still breathe, it’s far from comfortable. He continues to struggle even though he knows it’s useless.

“What?!”

“Scream into the pillow! You’re mad at yourself and you should be! Let it all out!”

“I—”

“Scream!”

And he does. He lets out a loud bellow that’s nothing but sound roaring from his lungs. He does it mostly to appease Seungmin — so that maybe he’ll finally get off.

But it feels good.

No, not good, really. It feels awful. Everything feels awful. Yet, something about screaming makes him want to do it again. He yells once more into the pillow, the sound muffled in the fabric and yet intensely remarkable. He screams and he screams and he screams until he can’t scream anymore and his voice is raw and there’s no more sound aside from the fractured gasps of his sobs. Tears soak into rough fabric, and he doesn’t even notice that Seungmin isn’t holding the pillow anymore — he’s pressing it to his face himself. His body shakes under Seungmin. Hyunjin feels pathetic, but he can’t stop.

He tries again to scream into the pillow, but his voice cracks and all he knows is to cry.

This is what it’s like.

Quietly, Seungmin maneuvers himself so he sits by Hyunjin’s head. He slowly lifts a corner of the pillow and peeks at Hyunjin’s red face. “So,” he whispers, voice soft and full of care, “what are you going to do now?”

Hyunjin wraps his arms around the pillow, hiding his face again.

“I don’t know,” he says. He’s never felt less sure of anything. “I don’t know.”

•

That night, Hyunjin cleans his room. He doesn’t reorganize or anything, just picks discarded clothes up off the ground and throws them in a hamper, spreads his blankets so his bed actually looks bed-like, and takes his overflowing garbage bin out to the door, where he’ll take it out tomorrow morning. As he stretches his arm between his bed and the wall, his fingers close around the sweater he’s trying to reach and... something else. When he brings his hand back up, a small llama plush stares back at him.

It’s no prob-llama!

He stares at the words for a moment, sitting up on his bed and leaning his back against the wall. The plush feels frail in his hands, almost like the velvet heart held on the llama’s back could crumble at any moment. Maybe it will.

Hyunjin settles down above the covers that night, and the llama sits on his other pillow.

The one that still smells like you.

•

He cries. (For the second time since you left.)

•

After everything that’s happened, one would think it would take a miracle to fix what’s been broken. Hyunjin thinks it will take more than that, but still; he’s no miracle worker. He thinks it will take magic to just see you again.

Turns out, it takes a coffee.

Seungmin forces Hyunjin to join him in visiting one of the campus cafes. He doesn’t think about it too much, just believes Seungmin’s trying to keep him alive with a little kick of caffeine. That thought is pushed away when Seungmin blocks him from sitting at the little table, pointing instead across the space to the student printing center.

You’re talking to a customer at the front counter, forearms rested on the white faux marble. A smile is on your lips as you say whatever it is you’re saying to the girl, and Hyunjin finds it almost impossible to tear his eyes away. But he does. He scans the rest of the building for a second. Jisung is nowhere to be seen, and neither is Minho.

He turns to Seungmin, a question on the tip of his tongue.

“They told the bodyguards to back off,” Seungmin explains without needing to be asked. “It’s been a few days.” He nods his chin towards you. “Go on. Talk to them.”

Hyunjin shakes his head, gulping down the words he can’t yet think of. “I don’t... I’m not... ready.”

“If you back out now, you’re going to keep backing out until it’s too late.”

Seungmin’s eyes blaze with an unfitting determination for such a setting. He looks stupid, like some self-made, all-knowing relationship guru. Still, he’s right.

Hyunjin licks his dry lips and looks at you again. You’ve sat down, relaxed after having helped that customer and now conversing with one of the other students working there. He misses the way you looked when you were happy — when you were happy with him.

What will it take to see that again?

What will it take to hold you again?

His feet move before his doubts can stop him, and the scene feels awfully familiar. This time though, Hyunjin can’t help but feel like the bad guy.

You don’t notice him until he’s right in front of you, and he doesn’t know what hurts more: the immediate frown, or the fake smile you use to cover it up.

“Hi, what can I do for you today?”

If Hyunjin had to define heartache, he might use this moment. Feigning to forget rather than acknowledging the past... it’s effective, but it hurts.

“Can...” He hesitates and curses himself for it. “Can we talk?”

“About printing, yes. About anything else? I really would rather we didn’t,” you say under your breath. It’s hushed, and you don’t shy away when Hyunjin leans closer to hear. That has to mean something, doesn’t it?

“But there’s something I need to say.”

“I don’t think I want to hear anymore apologies, Hyunjin.”

“It’s not that,” he argues.

Your eyebrows scrunch together. “It’s not an apology?”

“No— I mean, well, yes I want to apologize. I don’t think I’ll ever stop apologizing, but— but that’s not what I—”

“Hyunjin.”

He stops at your word, knowing that speaking will only get him further into trouble. Around you, his words keep failing. Instead, he meets your eyes, which under more inspection, seem hardened.

Have eyes ever looked so hardened when brimmed with tears?

“I don’t know if you know this, but seeing you makes me hate myself.” By now, your coworker has walked to the back, probably to respect your privacy. Your voice almost cracks. “I’ve felt worthless before, but Hyunjin, do you even realize what that — what you did to me?”

He barely breathes before saying, “What if I... what if I said I fell in love with you? Somewhere along the way?” A pause. Your eyes waver, but steady themselves. “What if I said I love you?”

“Hyunjin,” you say after a second.

“Yes?”

“It wouldn’t be the first time.”

•

[🍥] Give me a reason to give you a chance

this is real right?

[🍥] It’s not a dream if that’s what you’re asking

all of a sudden??

[🍥] Minho and Seungmin said I should

[🍥] And I think I should too

[🍥] But it’s hard

[🍥] What you said yesterday... I don’t know if I can believe it just yet

will you meet me?

I want to see you

[🍥] Can you give me some time?

yes

all the time you need

but will you?

will you meet me?

[🍥] I don’t want to

[🍥] But then again, I do

[🍥] Just give me some time

•

A strange thing, time. It passes by much too quickly when you want it to last, and it drags on when all you want is to be there. There; right then; right now.

Hyunjin stays up late turning on and off his phone, waiting and waiting and waiting and waiting.

It’s only been two days.

Seungmin thinks he’s crazy, though he hasn’t said it out loud — Hyunjin can tell.

He also thinks he might be a little crazy, but that’s okay. If it means he’ll get the chance to make it up to you... maybe he’s fine with being crazy.

At some point, Seungmin barges into his room and takes away Hyunjin’s phone, snatching it straight out of his hands like the little thief he is. He keeps it out of reach, preaching bullshit like, “You need to calm down and act like a normal person!”

Fine, whatever.

Hyunjin goes out for some air. And instant ramen.

There’s a twenty-four hour convenience store right on the edge of campus, manned by a single tired university student that everyone is aware of, yet no one really seems to know his name. It’s one of those spots where time doesn’t exist; maybe names don’t, either.

Compared to the blackness of night, the blanch white convenience store sticks out like a sore thumb, especially with all the bright posters and fluorescent tube-lights. Hyunjin feels just as out of place in a place with no people just outside the store, but really, it’s to be expected at a time like two in the morning.

He’s right at the door when it chimes and slides open. And so are you.

Both of you freeze where you are, you in the doorway and he just in front. His jaw slacks slightly as he takes you in.

You’re in casual clothes again, a thick sweater and presumably pyjama pants. This version of you comes with good memories — for some reason he likes it more than he cares to admit. Maybe he liked that you could share a more vulnerable side to him, and he to you in return. Although, you’ve shown this side to even the unnamed convenience store guy.

It’s your voice that breaks him from his reverie.

“Hyunjin,” you say, and it’s softer than before. Maybe your voice is lighter from the fact that it’s two in the morning, maybe just because you’re tired, but a small part of Hyunjin wishes that it’s something else — that you sound softer because you’ve missed him too.

He hopes it isn’t just hope.

He says your name, the sound beautiful and battered on his tongue. A small smile passes your lips, so fast that he almost misses it, but he doesn’t. That’s one thing he knows about you: how much you care. Even if someone hurts you, you always take the time to hear them out. You give them chances. Hyunjin should thank his lucky stars that you’ve done the same for him.

“Hi.”

You smile again, and it reaches your eyes, however sad.

“Is it time?” he asks.

“It can be.” The plastic bag in your hand crinkles as you sway it back and forth. “Do you want it to be?”

“Yeah.” His voice comes out like a breath. “Please.”

“Then that’s what we’ll make it.”

You gesture to the ground, where the curb meets the asphalt, but Hyunjin is still a little shocked that he’s even met you here in the first place, so he watches, dazed, as you sit down on the curb before joining in. He stays silent as you pull out an ice cream cup and hand it to him. He stays silent as you procure a second one and peel open the plastic lid, digging into it with the wooden stick spoon-wannabe that comes with the package. He stays silent as you look at him, the wooden stick hanging from your mouth.

“So,” you say, scraping the side of the paper cup. Meeting his eyes, you sport a sly smile. “I hear you’re in love with me.”

The ice cream stays unopened in his hands. He finds it so easy to smile back.

“Yeah. I think I am.”

“You think you are?”

“I’ve never loved someone like this before,” he tries to explain, though the words are slow to his tongue. “I can only think.”

“I guess so.”

“But—” he looks at his fingers, fiddling with the plastic lid of the cup, and a small laugh escapes “—I’m thinking really, really hard.”

You laugh too; his heart blooms.

“Is that so?” you tease, smiling around the wooden spoon. “It’s gonna take more than that.”

“I think I can do it.”

“You think?”

“I think really hard.”

Hyunjin might be in love with every part of you, even if he never realized. Your laugh, your smile, your tells, your habits. He wishes he knew sooner, that this laugh could’ve been his forever long before now.

You scrape the last drops of ice cream out of the paper cup and leave the stick in your mouth, a bit chewed up. Your shoes tap against the asphalt, the rhythm something that draws both his and your eyes.

“You know...” you say, turning your head to meet his gaze once more. “You know you hurt me, right? You know this won’t be easy?”

“None of what we had was easy.”

A scoff runs past your lips. You bump your shoulder against his. “Speak for yourself. I fell hard and fast for you, asshole.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah. I know.” You take the still unopened ice cream from his hands and stuff it right back in the bag it came from. “Say it again, though.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Hmmm... maybe it’ll take a few more times.”

“I’m—”

“But not tonight,” you say. “Tonight...”

Your hand beside him closes the distance, grazing over his and pulling it over to your lap.

“...just hold me?”

And he does.

Bonus Part: Huff and Protest

#stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines #stray kids x reader #hwang hyunjin x reader #hyunjin x reader #stray kids oneshot #skz scenarios #skz imagines #skz oneshot #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines #kpop oneshot #yeah so this happened #.100 #.200 #.300 #.400 #.500 #.600

651 notes · View notes

mourntheantagonist · 3 years

Note

El goes over to Steve’s to get out of the cabin for a little bit and they have pizza and board games and stuff.. so Steve’s house is a little messy so Steve’s dad comes home earlier then expected he freaks bc he can’t see el here so he goes upstairs and puts her in his room and his dad is pissed at the mess so basically el overhears how much of an ass his dad is :,)

tear my heart in half why don’t you?

ok but seriously, could I have just written a short and sweet ficlet on this gorgeous headcanon? yeah. do I have self control? no.

that is why instead I present to you a 6.3k deep dive

also on ao3

****

It’s just a little thing the two of them have going for them. El hated being left alone in the empty cabin when Hopper was on duty and would often sneak out to the Wheeler’s for some company. Usually it was fine. Mike would let her in through the basement door and she’d always made sure to be back before Hop. Usually hitching a ride on the back of Mike’s bike. It was a pretty perfect system. Hopper never found out and she got to get away from the lonely woods for at least a couple hours.

Until one time they weren’t home and Mike wasn’t answering on the walkie. it was cold out and dark and she wasn’t prepared to make the long walk back to the cabin. But she did anyway. Shivering as she tried to forget that her powers still weren’t working quite right. Trying to forget the fact that she was defenseless.

That’s when Steve had pulled up beside her in the beemer. Headlights bright in her eyes, only recognizing him once the lights went out and she could see him through the windshield.

Steve was safe. One of the few people she was told she could trust, despite Mike showing his own disdain for the guy. But she was told that was only because he dated Nancy, and he didn’t like Jonathan either for that very reason. So she trusted Steve. Felt a wave of relief wash over her when he pulled up beside her from where she was walking on Randolph Way.

He rolled down his window with the crank and stuck his head outside. The quick change from hot to cold biting his nose, making it run.

“It’s past nine, El. What are you doing out here? How did you get out here?”

El shrugged her shoulders. Rubbing her hands against her arms to generate some heat to combat the cold from the Indiana night air. “Walked. Came to see Mike.” She said. The words coming out with a breath that was visualized by a misty cloud as vapor froze.

“He wasn’t home?”

She shook her head. Arms still crossed over her chest, hands now tightly gripping the flannel she stole from Hopper’s closet. A calming mechanism she’d use when she felt like she was in trouble. A way of protecting her palms from her sharp and jagged fingernails because she had a habit of biting them when she was scared, which came more often now that her powers were only functioning at a ten percent capacity.

Steve didn’t have to think for very long before telling her to get in, and that he’d take her home.

He turned the heat up to the highest setting, and pulled out a blanket he had stored underneath his seat. Handed it over to her because he could see her lips had begun to turn to a bluish color. Steve spared her the talk about how she needed to be more careful. He wasn’t her Dad or her babysitter, even though he kind of was at times. But she was just a teenager who wanted to see her boyfriend, he did the same thing when he was her age, and still does it now. He figured he could leave that conversation up to her Dad, even if he suspected it wouldn’t do much to curb said behavior.

Instead they said nothing to each other the whole drive to the cabin, aside from words of direction since he had never navigated the path in the dark before. El never talked much in most situations, so it wasn’t weird.

When he pulled up, he noticed Hopper’s Blazer was unmistakably missing from the premises, and there was no light indicating anyone lived there other than the singular bulb hanging from their front porch that looked to be only days away from burning out. He waited for El to get out of his car and head inside, but she didn’t. She just sat there in his passenger seat with the blanket pulled up high enough so it covered her nose and mouth. Still and unmoving, staring at the front door that was illuminated by the dying light source with a pained expression evident in her light brown eyes.

“Everything okay?” Steve asks, with hesitation clear in the way his voice cracks with a whispered tone. The dead silence of the empty forest creating an unnerving tension that made them both feel like just the sound of a pin dropping to the floor could set something off.

She heaved a sigh, the shakiness clear. “Could you stay? Until Hop gets home?”

She didn’t have to explain it to Steve. Just looking at the Cabin gave him the same feeling that looking at his own house did. Empty and abandoned and lonely. That’s why he was out driving that night. He had no destination other than anywhere but his house. He hated the way the floorboards creaked so loud in the silence and echoed around the house. Didn’t like the way he could hear the sounds of water droplets dripping from the bathroom sink from all the way upstairs. Didn’t like the solitary feeling of it all. Not even a ghostly presence to keep him company. Just him and his thoughts. Never a good combination.

So he agreed. Turning the key and shutting off the car, flipping off the headlights and following her inside. He liked El, and it was much better than going back to his vacant home on the outskirts of Hawkins.

He’d never been inside before. The only times he’d ever come by was to drop off Dustin and the rest of the party when El was still on probation from leaving the Cabin. For those he’d never leave the comfort of his drivers seat.

El flipped on the lights and he was greeted by a sight juxtaposed from the outside’s appearance. The outside looked abandoned. Rusted and worn. Moss growing on the roof, breaks in the wooden steps leading up to the porch, unmanicured ground covered in rotting leaves from the previous Fall. The inside, however, was lively. Sure, it still looked a little run down and had the rustic feel to it, but it looked like a home. Warm and cozy, messy with different books strewn across the floor, clothes hung on the backs of chairs, vinyl records stacked haphazardly next to the turntable. The sink was full of dishes that needed to be done, a laundry basket full of clothes that needed to be folded. It was clear that someone lived here. Like really lived here. Not like his house which was always kept clean and proper. Fancy decorations cluttered the halls, carpets were vacuumed and floors were swept. Steve never got behind on doing his dishes or laundry because there was never much for him to do with it only being the product of one person. And what else was he supposed to do to occupy his time? He preferred the sound of the running water or the rattle of the laundry machine or the loud hum of the vacuum cleaner as it picked up debris over the echoes of his own thoughts. He had to keep it clean anyway because his parents always came home without warning, and always expected the house to look just as pristine as they left it. So the house always looked more like a museum filled with expensive art and less like a home with dirty dishes and crumbs on the floor that indicated proper use.

He felt a warm feeling inside the cabin. Feeling the coziness radiate through him as he sat down on the couch. Rips in the upholstery, beer stained cushions. Comfortable. Like sitting on a cloud.

El was in the kitchen, rummaging through the freezer, he assumed she was just hungry. Maybe she had been expecting to eat at Mike’s house. He always did save her some leftovers just in case. He’d done so for all three hundred fifty two days she was “missing” and continued even after she was found.

He looked through the books that were scattered all over the floor as she did her thing. Noticing books his parents used to read him when he was little. Many of them by Dr. Suess. The Lorax, Green eggs and Ham. Some “I Can Read” books that looked to be well below her level, and several books he didn’t recognize at all like “Alexander the Magical Mouse”. She must have liked that one a lot considering the spine had been creased and torn and the edges were folding in.

He was pulled from his thoughts by the sudden sound of the pop of the toaster oven. Hearing the slight sizzle of whatever had been cooking.

He turned around to see Eleven carrying two plates with Eggos on them. Already coated in butter and syrup, holding one out to him.

“I made you some.” It’s the first thing she’s said since they’d walked through the door. She wasn’t shy, she just didn’t talk a lot, having only ever been allowed to speak if she had something important to say, often going hours or even days without even having anyone to say those things to. It was no wonder she didn’t want to be alone in that cabin.

He took a seat with her at their little table. Big enough for just two people, perfect for just El and Hopper, and perfect for just the two of them now. He could tell the seat he was sitting in was typically the seat Hopper sat at. The table had cigarette burns on only that side, and he knew those didn’t come from El. Her side of the table had clear indication of someone who used a lot of syrup. Dried maple drops stuck to the wood. He dug into his waffles, which looked to have been cooked to perfection. Golden brown with a nice crunch as he cut off a piece with the side of his fork. She looked up at him and smiled before shoving a large bite into her mouth. Nearly half a waffle’s worth. Syrup escaped past her lips as she closed her mouth around the fork, sticking to the outside of her cheeks.

“You got a little.” He gestured to his own cheek, tapping it twice.

She stifled a laugh with her mouth full and wiped away at it with her sleeve.

It was nice seeing her laugh. El had a smile that brightened up a whole room. The one thing about her that not many people had, you know, aside from the whole ‘having powers’ thing, was that she said what she meant, and she meant what she said. You never had to worry about her faking a smile for your benefit, or worry about her lying to you. She was honest even if that sometimes got her into trouble. So when she smiled at him and laughed, he knew she was happy. Happy he was there, and so was he.

Before she stuffed a second bite into her mouth, still chewing the remnants of the first, they could hear the roar of a familiar engine. Headlights beginning to peek through the gaps in the curtains. El didn’t seem nearly as on edge as he was that Hopper was home. Steve was in his house. Uninvited. Okay he was invited by El, but not by Hopper and that’s what mattered more, right?

Steve wasn’t necessarily scared of Hopper per se. But he definitely tried to avoid being on his bad side at all costs.

But hey, it’s not like Steve had done anything wrong. On the contrary. He kind of rescued her, not that she really needed it. She survived months during Hawkins winter out on her own in the woods. But the point was, he should thank him.

At least Hopper should recognize Steve’s beemer out front so when he opens the door to his house Steve’s presence isn’t a total surprise. Like he won’t walk in guns blazing at the intruder who’s in his house with his daughter.

Okay should he be worried?

Luckily for Steve, Hopper walks through the door with his gun securely in his holster and sans a look of rage. More so a look of confusion.

“What are you doing here kid?”

El gives him a pointed look. Almost like she’s trying to use her mind powers on him. Get him to not tell Hopper that she was out by herself after nine at night in the cold… to see her boyfriend.

But here’s the thing. Steve likes El. He really does. But he’s far more terrified of what Hopper might do to him if he lies to his face about Eleven’s whereabouts.

He gives her a look back. An apologetic one.

“She was out wandering in the cold so I brought her back home. Decided to stay until you arrived.” Steve decided to leave out the part about her going to Mike’s house. Figured that’s better left unsaid.

Hopper pursed his lips. Nodding his head with his arms crossed, clearly trying to keep himself from yelling. He’s gotten better about that lately.

El is once again gripping the cloth of the flannel she is wearing tightly. Bowing her head and squeezing her eyes shut tight.

“Why did you go out El?” Hopper asks. His voice was a strained kind of calm. A calm that if you pushed slightly too far could easily go away.

“I don’t like being here alone. Not after everything.”

Oh yeah. Everything.

Everything being Starcourt. Those painful couple of days when she didn’t even know where he was while the rest of the world was falling apart in front of her. Those several hours before he finally emerged from under the Russian base below the mall. Hours without hearing from him, not even a confirmation that he was alive. And no way to confirm it for herself with her powers completely drained. All she could get was a black void. She couldn’t see anything at all.

Steve got a similar feeling. He’d experienced loneliness before. But nothing like when he was trapped in that room with those Russian guards. Beating the ever living shit out of him and no matter what he did or said, it wouldn’t stop until he was completely unconscious. The unconsciousness coming much later than he’d hoped it would. He could still sometimes feel his eye twitch with phantom pains from the damage done that night. He recognized it very distinctly from the memories of previous black eyes he’s received in the somehow two fights he’s lost. He also understands the feeling of dread that she felt when she didn’t know where Hopper was. He had that same feeling with Erica and Dustin. Not knowing whether they made it out alive. Had the same dread with Robin. Feeling her back pressed up against his as they were tied up in chairs and threatened with torture, knowing he was the one who brought her into all of this. Knowing that whatever happens to her is blood on his hands. That point where he had to make a quick decision and slam his car into the side of Billy.

Billy.

Feeling the shockwaves pass through him. His head jerk forward upon impact. Watching as the Camaro burst into flames in a blinding blaze. That moment of not knowing whether or not he survived the crash, not knowing if that was a good or bad thing, and not even having the time to even think about it before he’s piling into the back of the Wheeler’s station wagon and driving away from the mall.

So yeah, Steve got it.

Hopper’s face fell into a frown and he decided not to press the issue further.

“We’ll talk about it later. Finish up your waffles and get ready for bed. I’ll walk Steve out.” Hopper said. Wiping at his nose and taking off his hat and hanging it on the hook by the door.

El finished her waffles rather quickly. She practically inhaled the contents of her plate. Not sparing a moment of time before shoving another piece into her mouth. Messy enough making it clear that the syrup stains on the table were most definitely her doing. Steve finished up his own and promptly followed Hopper out onto the porch after putting his dirtied plate into the sink of dirty dishes.

“Thanks for bringing her home, son. I really appreciate it.”

“It’s no problem, chief.”

“You wanna smoke?” Hopper asks, pulling a pack and lighter out from his shirt pocket and pulling one out, offering it up for Steve to take.

This was definitely weird. Smoking with adults. Hopper nonetheless. Sure he was of age, but that didn’t make it any less weird.

He accepted the cigarette anyway, because it was cold and god he could really use one right about now. He let Hopper light it up for him and he took a long drag, letting the smoke fill his lungs creating a burning sensation he grew to enjoy. It almost functioned as proof that he was a living human being. Feeling as the damage was done to his internal organs, reminder that he was alive. Not lost to the void he felt like he drifted into so often.

“So what are you doing right now? You graduated right?”

“Yup.” Steve replied. Popping the ‘p’. As if basically scraping by the G.P.A. decent enough to walk across that podium was something to celebrate. His father most certainly didn’t think so.

“College?”

And that was the reason why. He couldn’t get an acceptance letter from anywhere. Not even the schools that supposedly accepted everyone and didn’t even send out rejection letters. Steve was living breathing proof that they did.

“No. Working mornings at Family Video.” He tried to say it with at least a little pride. Like, hey, at least he wasn’t a total bum living off his parents dime. At least he was doing something with his life. Even if that something was a dead end job in a dead end town.

“It’s honest work, kid. Good for you. College ain’t for everyone. I most certainly wasn’t cut out for it.” Hopper tightly gripped his shoulder and shook him a bit. In a way that seemed fatherly while also being a way his own father never interacted with him.

And god that statement felt good to hear. That acknowledgment and validation that Steve wasn’t just wasting his life away at that job. Validation for his hard work and attempt at bettering himself. Felt good, especially coming from someone so accomplished as him. Steve could only smile, unable to come up with any worthy response to that.

“So mornings. What’s your availability like in the evenings?”

“Typically free. Sometimes I get called out to cover for the night shift, but that doesn’t happen often. Why?”

Hopper put out his cigarette in the ashtray sitting on the porch ledge.

“Well, it would be nice having someone watch El when I’m patrolling at night. I don’t like leaving her here alone, and now I know she doesn’t like it either. And I’d rather her spend that time with you than Mike.” The way he says the name like it’s a slur almost has Steve laughing.

Okay look. Steve didn’t really tell the whole truth right there. His house isn’t always empty. He’s not always free. But it’s best he didn’t divulge that information to a man with a gun in the middle of the woods.

Instead he said yes. Because he wasn’t her babysitter, but he might as well be.

And he also had no idea how to say no to Hopper. Another thing you wouldn’t want to say to a man with a gun in the middle of the woods.

That was how it started. Hopper randomly calling up his house and calling him over to the cabin. Sometimes just choosing to drop her off at his house instead because he didn’t have the time to circle back. Luckily those times he didn’t have the company of a very recognizable blue Camaro parked in his driveway. And eventually everything became routine. Figuring out the patterns of Hopper’s work schedule so he was better prepared for those surprise visits. Eventually telling Hop to just keep bringing her over to his because it was on the way to the station and safer for the rest of the kids to travel to for the occasional hangouts he begrudgingly chaperoned.

Hopper did eventually catch them red handed. Or more accurately, with his pants down. He didn’t hear the phone ring and it was instead the honk of his horn that pulled the two from their current distraction. No point in trying to hide what they were doing with an elaborate lie as soon as Hopper yelled from outside “Harrington. Hargrove. Pull your damn pants up and get out here!”

They couldn’t be that loud. Could they?

Steve didn’t even want to entertain that thought.

When they did the walk of shame out the front door, heads bowed and arms crossed over themselves, Hopper was standing there with his hands on his hips. A stance that looked almost ridiculous on him, but also struck enough fear in the two of them that it silenced their laughs.

“Sorry.” Is all Steve could say. Unable to even look him in the eyes. Focusing his attention on El who sat in the passenger seat of the Blazer. Looking entirely confused. Good. She should be.

“No. No. My fault. I should have called. Uh, you still up for watching El tonight?” Hopper’s eyes darted between the two boys. They were all very uncomfortable in this current situation, and they were all equally desperate for the conversation to come to an end.

Billy looked over at Steve, both faces matching with the same kind of confusion. Distinctly different confusion than the look that washed over El’s face.

“Uh. Yeah I can go home, he can watch her.” Billy said, already moving his feet to leave.

“You don’t have to go. Hell, it’d be nice having someone who has actually won a fight around her.”

“Hey! I’ve won a fight.” Steve interjects, earning a small chuckle out of Billy.

“I didn’t see it. Doesn’t count.” Steve scoffs at the reply. “Anyway, point is, he can stay if he wants. Just no funny business if you don’t mind.”

Billy and Steve both blush simultaneously and nod their heads a little too aggressively. “Yes sir.” Says Billy.

Hopper tips his hat at the boys who are both just standing there stunned and trying to figure out if they just had a near death experience or not. Not before long El is getting out of the car and Hopper’s pulling out of the driveway and suddenly his house feels 300% fuller.

Billy stays sometimes for her visits now, but they don’t make too much of a habit of it. Still concerned about how the nature of their relationship looks to have a young girl in their presence. It’s wrong and stupid, but most people were nowadays. Despite Hopper’s insistence on being okay with it, they couldn’t put that much trust in people.

Except for maybe El. That girl he would trust with his life. No questions asked.

It took awhile for her to actually get what was going on. Not that they were together in the first place, that part she deduced pretty quickly. It was more so the reason that they were so private about it that she didn’t get. She didn’t get why she couldn’t tell Max or the party or anyone else for that matter. They’d constantly brush it off with an “it’s complicated” because they didn’t find joy in telling this sweet and innocent girl how terrible the world could be. But to El it was perfectly simple. Billy and Steve love each other like El and Mike love each other. Easy, straightforward. When they finally explained it to her, how “stupid people don’t think two men should be able to love each other” they could see the anger clear on her face. Veins popping out on her forehead and a red tint forming beneath the skin on her face. They explained how people might go as far as to hurt them if they found out. Her face only got redder and the clench of her fists only grew tighter.

“Bad people.” She called them.

They would just nod their heads in agreement.

“Does that mean Max and Mike and everyone else are bad people? Because I can’t tell them?”

That was a hard question to answer. A question that they tried to avoid thinking about yet always seemed to be at the back of their minds. Because they might be. And that was scary to think about. Steve liked to think that Dustin wouldn’t look at him any differently, the same with Billy about Max. They thought highly enough of them that they never liked to entertain the thought that they could potentially be “bad people.” But there was always the potential that they could.

Still they answered with a no. Because even if they did end up being “bad people” they weren’t bad people. “I don’t think they are,” Steve started. “But the more people that find out, the higher the chance some really bad people might find out. It’s safer to keep the bubble small. Is that okay?”

El nodded in agreement, and the three of them quickly went back to what they were doing like they didn’t just have a really deep conversation. It was scrabble. Thought it might be a more fun way of teaching El new words instead of just shoving a book into her face. She seemed to enjoy it, and was able to come up with some surprisingly long words. A huge grin popped onto her face when she was able to spell out the word “compromise.”

“Hop taught me that one.”

Eighteen points.

Nobody expected it to be Billy who was trying to pass off made up words.

But for the most time, it was just Steve and El. No party get together’s. No Billy. Just the two of them, pizza delivery, board games and movies. And it was honestly a blast.

Steve never thought it would be so much fun to make a mess like this. Paper plates scattered across the floor along with loose puzzle pieces and an array of VHS tapes strewn in front of the TV so they were easier to look through. Usually when something was out of place, Steve felt an overwhelming need to put it back. To keep things clean, neat, and tidy. That’s how he was raised. Vases dusted, dishes cleaned, laundry folded and put away. But he was behind on laundry and the only reason his sink wasn’t full was because he’d been eating off disposables since El wandered into his every day. Which reminded him. The trash needed to be taken out yesterday.

Usually the chaos would have him losing his mind. Like the way it did when he first snuck into Billy’s bedroom and was met with dozens of beer cans everywhere the eye could see. Hamper piled high with dirty laundry, and that was just what made it into the basket. And god it reeked of smoke and teenage boy. Like the combination of a wrestling mat and a casino. He had actual car parts sitting in his closet that he’d stolen from the junkyard. His room was a junkyard. But he’d never tell him that. Just kindly suggest that perhaps he wipe down some surfaces with disinfecting wipes because there are definitely some eradicated diseases living freely underneath his bed where he could see a large collection of socks. Yeah. He knew what those were.

But this was a mess he could handle. It wasn’t a hotel for rats like Billy’s room was. It was more like how he described Hopper’s cabin. Lived in. Proof that there were people having a good time and living there. Finally getting the living room to live up to its title. When he looked out across the mess of food and games and the fallen down fort they attempted to build, the word home started to feel like an apt word to describe the place. It felt like it was his and not like just some place he slept at night or the place he parked his car and had his paycheck sent to.

He’d be regretting letting it get so messy when he heard the familiar purr of a car outside. Distinctly not the roar of the Camaro or the rumble of the Blazer. No it was the purr of his father’s Buick.

He looked out once again over the mess in his living room.

He was going to be pissed.

El noticed the way his face fell when the sound had echoed outside. And then Steve noticed El.

He couldn’t see her here. She was allowed to be out in public but it was still slow going as far as who she was and how she was the chief's daughter. He didn’t want to take any risks.

“El. I’m going to need you to hide in my room. My Dad can’t see you. He won’t go in there.” Steve’s trying to stay calm so he doesn’t alarm her, but reading people’s emotions is something she’s really good at. Not sure if it’s a feature of her powers or just her, but she can always tell if you’re faking a smile and she can feel the emotions that lurk beneath the surface like an empath. So naturally she started to grow fearful as well.

“What’s going on?” She’s still sitting on the floor but appears to at least be shifting her legs to raise herself up. But it’s like everything is moving through molasses but his father’s footsteps don’t seem to be slowing at all.

“My Dad’s home. Take the back steps upstairs and lock yourself in my room. I promise I won’t be long, okay?”

She nods her head, she can see the urgency in his voice so she takes no time at all before sprinting up the stairs and finding Steve’s bedroom.

When she walks inside she realizes she’s never actually been in there before. Only knowing of its location after seeing Steve walk in and out of it from the base of the stairs. It’s not quite what she was expecting.

It was boring. Flannel wallpaper with a perfectly made bed. Shelves organized containing nothing of significance upon them. It looked like one of those bedrooms she saw in furniture catalogs. Steve wasn’t boring. He had a fun and bright personality. He screamed bright blues and bright reds, not the dull greens, grays, and browns that decorated his room.

Then there was an unexpected noise coming from down the steps. The walls were thin, she could hear everything so clearly.

“What the hell is all of this, Steven?” The voice was low and thunderous. Resonating through the entire house. It kind of reminded her of Hopper’s voice, but the underlying tone was distinctly different. There was a condescension to it that she rarely heard out of him. Almost like he was talking down to him. “You’re expected to keep this house clean, and you can’t even do that? How did I get stuck with such a stupid fuck up for a son?” The swears and insults rolled off his tongue like second nature and it made El’s blood boil.

She pressed her ear to the door to get a clearer picture, Steve talked in a very quiet voice in comparison to the fortissimo of Mr. Harrington’s.

“I was just getting ready to clean it up. I had a couple of friends over and they just left. I didn’t know you’d be home, I’m sorry.”

“I don’t let you live under my roof for you to be throwing parties Steven! You should be spending that time actually making something of yourself so I don’t have to explain to my friends what an embarrassment you’ve become.”

“I work full time Dad!”

“Don’t you raise your voice at me.” Steve had barely even gotten louder. “What? You think a career at Family Video is some kind of achievement?”

El could feel the tension in the room as it fell silent. She wanted to burst from that room and fling him through a wall. Break his arm.

Mouthbreather.

“Your mother will be home in a few hours, she stopped to see a friend. You will have this mess cleaned up before she gets home and you will help her with her luggage. Understand?”

“Understand.” Steve’s voice sounded broken. Cracking with an inconsistent tone.

“I’ll be in my office. Don’t disturb me.”

The only sounds that follow that line are the sounds of shuffling feet and a slam of a door downstairs. She’s startled when she hears the gentle knock against Steve’s bedroom door.

“You can unlock the door now.” He says.

She does so quietly. Slowly turning the lock so not to make sound that Mr. Harrington could potentially hear.

When she gets the door open she’s met with a Steve that she’s never seen before. He’s squeezing the bridge of his nose and his eyes are red and glossy. His cheeks are pink from wiping abrasively against tears that fell upon them.

“I need to get you home, okay? I can um… I can call Hop or someone to stay with you if you need. I’m sorry.”

El just doesn’t know what to say to him. Doesn’t know how to make things better without her powers.

So she just hugs him. Wraps her arms around his waist tight and lets her head rest where it meets his chest. Squeezing gently just waiting for him to return the gesture.

Which he does, albeit, hesitantly and guarded. Barely letting his own hands come in contact with her shoulders. She’s so small, and if he didn’t already know the strength she was capable of he’d be worried he could break her.

“Bad man.” She whispers.

Steve fights off the tears and squeezes her tighter.

“I’m sorry you had to hear that.” Is all he can say.

The two of them quietly sneak out the front door. Steve knows his Dad wouldn’t care if he left so long as he did what he was asked. He’d picked up the mess and took the trash with him on the way out.

The two pile into the Beemer and Steve quickly turns on the music to distract himself from the words rattling around in his head. Letting the sounds of Metallica play over his speakers. Billy was always doing that. Shoving one of the tapes he made for Steve into the stereo when he wasn’t looking.

Look, a successful distraction!

But they barely made it a mile down the road before El was turning the knob to the left and the car quickly fell silent. She doesn’t look over at him when she says it. Just looks out the window at passing trees and street lights. Watching as power lines appear to move like ocean waves. Up and down, up and down. Fiddling with the cuffs of her shirt like she’s fearful of the words that were to come out of her mouth.

“Is your Dad like Papa?”

She wasn’t afraid of the question, but she was afraid of the answer. Steve knew who Papa was. They all did and were explicitly instructed to avoid that topic at all costs. But she was the one bringing him up.

“No he’s not like Papa.”

“But he’s a bad man.” She says matter of factly.

“Sometimes he is. Yes.”

“Is your Dad like Billy’s Dad?”

That one stung a little too sharply. Not at the premise of his father potentially being like that, but the reminder of Billy. That he was still there under that damn roof with that poor excuse of a man. And that he wouldn’t let Steve protect him no matter how hard he tried and how far he pushed.

That was another thing El knew that most people didn’t know. Another secret she was forced to keep. One she chose to keep on her own, recognizing it wouldn’t be fair to share the things she learned from entering into his mind without giving him a choice in the matter.

Steve was sometimes grateful for that. The fact that El respected Billy and showed him nothing but kindness. But so often he’d wish she’d just spill it all to Hopper. Do the thing Steve didn’t have the strength to do himself.

“No. He’s not like Billy’s Dad.”

“But that doesn’t make it okay.” She looks at him this time. Reaching over the center console to place a hand gently on top of one of his outstretched hands that tightly gripped the steering wheel.

He lets a tear fall. “You’re right. It doesn’t.”

The rest of the drive is silent. The only sounds are the purr of the engine and the tires rolling over rough asphalt.

Pulling up to the cabin with El in the passenger seat felt a lot like that first time he took her home. That same painful silence and that same hesitation as they sat in front of the cabin from the comfort of the cabin. Staring out at the porch. The lightbulb that looked almost dead last time now replaced with a brand new one that shined bright and illuminated the whole front of the house.

He was half hoping she would ask for him to stay. Not wanting to go back to that house alone with his Dad. He wanted to go to Billy. Crawl in through his window and curl up next to him in his bed. Make himself feel safe by making Billy feel safe. He’d accept crashing on Hopper’s couch if that was all he could get.

But he knew he couldn’t. Knew he had to get home despite having every reason not to.

“Steve?” She said, grabbing his attention.

“Yeah?”

She opened the car door and stepped out, looking at him intensely through the open door.

“You’re not stupid.”

That right there made him smile much more than her asking him to stay ever would.

#harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #stranger things #eleven #jim hopper #mandi writes tresh #fanfic

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