#how much water should a teen drink a day | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

imaginesmai · 7 months

Text

Missed target - Azriel

Here it is! So many people asked to be tagged on this I got OVERWHELMED. Thanks for the love!I'm thinking about a second part where Azriel decides to repeat all the missed efforts and treat you like the queen you are. Let me know what you think.

Plot: Azriel is convinced Elain was made for him. Three sisters for three brothers, and no one can make him change his mind. But someone or something is determinated to change the course of fate on his behalf. No matter how hard he tries.

The Suriel 1

The Suriel watched the shadowsinger sharpen his blades in the forest, oblivious to his presence. Not even his shadows could detect the ancient creature, and he was proud of that. Of all the beings that he had seen, all the people that had summoned him, Azriel was who drew his curiosity.

Maybe the male in front of him didn’t remember, or maybe he did but had decided not to tell a soul about it. The Suriel did remember, and he had been observing since that night where a young, scarred and devasted Azriel had summoned him.

“What is wrong with me? Why does nobody love me? I want to know – I want to know if someone will love me, please”

The child didn’t understand what a Suriel was, or what type of questions he could answer. Still, the Suriel held the sobbing kid for one night, just one night, and let himself wonder what would it be to feel, to dream, like fae and humans did.

Something changed in the male’s stance, a muscle twitching in his left wing, and the Suriel knew he didn’t have much time left before he was noticed. He risked another glance at the unmoving figure, shadows surrounding the clearing where he stood.

As he vanished from the sight, the Suriel smiled briefly, oddly happy that that kid’s broken questions were about to be answered.

Missed date

Azriel liked Elain, more than he should. He liked her innocence, the way her hair fell over her shoulder, her full lips and thin waist. He liked the dresses she wore and the flowers she grew, even the way her voice sounded when she said his name. He liked liked her, and felt like a foolish teen when she was around.

Rhysand had warned him against it, and the Archeron sister had a mate – but still, Azriel hoped Elain would like him back. Even though he had been with plenty of women before, that time it felt different, and he didn’t know why.

Ignoring the signs against his desires, he had decided to act on his feelings.

Azriel had invited Elain to have dinner with him that night, in a lovely restaurant in Velaris. Sure, he might have said Cassian and Nesta were coming, and then proceeded to invite the couple knowing they wouldn’t even make it out of the bedroom with their clothes on. The plan had gone just fine – Cassian and Nesta had talked about it during lunch time, giving the impression it was just a friendly dinner, and then proceeded to lock themselves in their room for the rest of the day. Elain had smiled and asked about the hour, and Azriel had chosen his best shirt.

But the Cauldron musth have had other plans, because another minute passed by and he was sitting by himself in the restaurant, getting strange looks from the staff.

“Are you ready to order?”

He looked up to the waiter, with a tight smile on his face. Azriel guessed they were debating if kicking him out was worth angering the spymaster of the court.

“Still waiting” he grumbled, looking to the closed doors. “What time is it?”

“Nine thirty, sir. Would you like to… drink something?”

“Water is fine”

They had agreed to meet at nine, and part of him refused to think he had been stood up. That sweet, charming Elain who blushed under his gaze wouldn’t show up. He tried to come up with a reason behind her absence, and was sure there was a reasonable one, but he felt his excitement die as the clock ticked away.

Azriel pursed his lips when the waiter didn’t leave, not meeting his eyes. He would leave, but he would wait a little longer. For her sake, he would wait until the sun came up. The male cleared his throat and Azriel stared at the plants decorating the entrance.

It was a nice plant.

“Is the person you’re waiting for coming soon?”

“If she was, I wouldn’t be waiting here” his words were bitter, not towards the waiter, but at the situation.

“Maybe you could move to the counter and wait there, sir? I… there are customers waiting and – “

Before the man could dig his own grave further, Azriel pushed his chair back and walked towards said counter with his jacket on his arm. He refused to look at the waiter and let him know just how embarrassed he was, how disappointed in himself and in her.

The restaurant had a small counter where some couples shared their food and friends drank loudly. He damned his luck for choosing the busiest day to be stood up. Scanning the crowd, he found an empty seat at the corner and sat on a stool, ordering a beer.

Alcohol would only make it worse, but he guessed he was already done for. Ten more minutes, he promised himself. If Elain didn’t walk through those doors in the next ten minutes, he would leave and apologize to Rhys for his stubbornness.

Two minutes passed by, and he grew sick of watching the couple in front of him giggling in secrets.

Another three, and he counted each plant that decorated the restaurant. There were twenty-five without the artificial ones.

Seven minutes after his first beer, the waiter asked him if he wanted anything else and he just growled back.

His fingers were clenching painfully around the hem of his jacket when the ten minutes passed by. He was ready to get up when something sweet and floral hit his nose, leaving his mind blank for a second. Azriel blinked surprised at the smell, distinct from the elegant ones in the restaurant. With half smile, he turned to his right hoping to see Elain, pleasantly surprised with her choice of perfume.

Only that the woman who sat next to him wasn’t Elain, but another fae woman with a similar smell. Azriel scanned her outfit before you noticed him, before he could reprimand himself for checking you out.

You were wearing a loose blue and bright skirt with an elegant top, that left part of your collarbone visible. He felt something rush to his chest up to his cheeks while he stared at the smooth skin, and he willed himself to look up to your face.

“Guess this is where they discard the stood up, hm?” you looked at him and he blinked surprised. “I’ve been sitting next to the window for an hour now. I don’t think he’s showing up”

“Who?” Azriel asked dumbly, not thinking anything better.

“My friend set me up on a blind date, but he didn’t show up. At least the bread was good” you shrugged, finally looking away from Azriel. “Hi. Can I get a soda?”

Azriel felt his previous resolution of leaving the restaurant dissolve. You smelt just like her, but so different at the same time. Your voice still reverberated on his chest as you waited for your drink, stealing glances at the silent male at your side. It was strange for him to have his throat swallowing back the words that he wanted to say, have his mind blank of any comeback.

But as he stared at you, he wondered if you were a witch and had casted a spell on him.

“Are you… my date?” you finally asked when your soda came back, looking him up and down. “I’ve seen you standing here for a while”

“I’m Azriel”

“I don’t know the name of my date” you stated, and Azriel just prayed that you wouldn’t notice the shadows he couldn’t control revolving around your feet. “I’m Y/N”

“No”

He begged himself to say something else, to break the awkward silence or leave. After all, he had gone to that restaurant to meet Elain, not a stranger who had been stood up. But all the wit and intelligence that had won him the title of Shadowsinger and Spymaster seemed to seep away through his pores, and he couldn’t get back any of it.

You smiled at him tightly and turned to look around, finally breaking eye contact. Azriel got up without saying anything else and walked towards the doors, leaving a generous amount of money on the counter. You didn’t say goodbye and he didn’t bother looking back, his body stiff with your awkward encounter.

When he arrived to the house, he found a very regretful and very sick Elain who had been in bed all afternoon. She apologized again and again until he forced her back in bed and tucked her in. They agreed they would repeat again, sometime, but Azriel found himself less excited than that morning. He didn’t blame her – he couldn’t, when he had seen how her knees trembled with coughs and had heard her stuffy voice.

As he laid down that night in this enormous bed, his shadows didn’t whisper about Elain or brought back her smell, that most nights didn’t let him sleep. They caressed his hands in silence, with the memory of a sweet, floral smell that didn’t belong to the girl he liked.

The market

Rhysand and Cassian were away for a week, and while Azriel usually missed his brothers, that time he was beyond himself. Not only he wouldn’t be hearing Nesta and Cassian’s late-night activities, but he would be alone with his favorite Archeron sister, since Feyre and Nesta had decided to leave too.

There were plans for them, big ideas that he had crafted the previous night as he laid awake in the dark. The first one, most important, would be to find an excuse to talk to Elain.

She had left for the market as Azriel completed his morning training, and the male didn’t miss how she blushed at his presence. She had explained briefly her plans to him and had left in a rush. Azriel, who religiously trained each day, decided to postpone his activities and refill the house’s pantry.

It took him a while to come up with something to buy, even longer to gather the courage to follow his plan. By the time he was walking through the lively market-street, he was certain Elain would be leaving.

But he was lucky, because he spotted the familiar head a few stands away. Azriel felt the usual acceleration of his heart rhythm, the blood rushing to his head. His wings fluttered and he walked with little decision to where Elain was buying some fruits.

It seemed, with so little decision, that she moved away before he could reach him.

The game of cat and mouse continued for what felt like forever, Azriel only sniffling her before she left to a new stand. The street seemed endless, and the buyers too talkative and pushy. They bumped against his wings, apologized, and proceeded to block his way in awe for five to ten seconds.

When he saw Elain holding enough bags to cause him a backpain, he decided pushing people in return was worthy and walked faster.

Before she could complain, he picked up her bags from her arms carefully, resisting the urge of flinching at how heavy they were.

“Here, let me” Azriel extended his free arm, watching without looking up as it filled slowly with more bags. “These are heavy. What do we need so much food for?”

“Are you planning to eat it with me?”

Azriel looked up and stared into a pair of bright eyes that certainly weren’t Elain’s. Nor was your hair pulled back in a ribbon, or the worn-out cape hanging from your frame. His shadows helpfully recognized you from the missed date and awkward encounter, and he blinked surprised.

He opened and closed his mouth. Proudly, he could argue that only few times someone managed to make him speechless. But he didn’t find anything to say as he held half of your bags, looking a caught thief.

Your smile lowered at his surprise. Surely, you expected a kind stranger helping you with your heavy groceries, not him. Just as he didn’t expect you.

“Can I… have that back?” you asked when he didn’t move, only stared at you. “Please?”

The standard, cordial reaction would have been to apologize and carry the bags for you. If Azriel’s brain hadn’t stopped functioning, he would have explained he had confused you with someone else and would be on his merry way to find Elain.

But his heart wouldn’t stop beating stubbornly against his chest, loudly on his ears. His shadows, that you had noticed by now, were tangling themselves between your knees, holding part of the weight themselves.

He tried not to make it too obvious when he inhaled your essence, so characteristically nice. Instead of doing any of the rational things, he dropped your bags to the ground with a loud crack and a wet splash and turned around, disappearing into the crowd.

The flowers

Feyre had given him the directions, and he had quickly written them on a piece of paper as his high-lady prepared Nyx’s bottle, cradled the fussy baby and ate her own breakfast.

He was extremely thankful for her help, because she had also had the idea to give Elain a bouquet of flowers. Azriel felt bad about ignoring her for the two days they were alone, too busy trying to regain what was left of his dignity after the market. So, he had prepared the flowers and put them together with a blue ribbon, and had asked Feyre where Elain was staying.

He had walked through the streets of Velaris with a content smile, humming to himself in silence. His shadows were active that morning, dancing between his feet and knees, and tangling themselves in the flowers. He couldn’t explain the sudden urge of joy if not for the imminent encounter with Elain, who had been on his mind for two days straight.

The rays of sun warmed his cheeks, and he felt extremely lucky.

It only took him ten minutes to reach his destination, a busy street in the center of the town. People sneaked glances at him and whispered, as if he wouldn’t hear them. Azriel stopped in front of a white wooden door. It looked old and worn, and matched the pots with flowers on the window. It was a cozy house, exactly what Azriel had imagined Elain’s house to be.

She had moved out a few months ago, claiming she needed her own space. And he had yet to visit her place – which, once he realized he was about to do it for the first time, made him kind of nervous.

Azriel stood in front of the door, his frame covering the whole space. Between his shoulders and wings he shadowed it, and he felt weirdly insecure. Something fell to the ground inside, probably a bag, and even though he knew Elain would be inside, Azriel recoiled back.

In a pathetic attempt to make his intention known, he raised his fist.

Knock, give her the flowers, apologize, leave.

Don’t throw them on her like a burning pot.

Knock, give her the flowers, apologize, leave.

Try to smile without looking creepy.

Knock, give her the flowers, apologize, leave.

He heard soft humming from the inside, and the fact that it was the exact same melody he had been humming on his way there threatened to give him a heart attack. Before he could think better, he quickly searched his pocket for a pen while trashing for the tag of the bouquet.

In the meantime, he heard the humming coming closer and closer to the door. It was a sweet melody, one he had loved since he was a kid, that brought a selfish smile to his face. Who was the world to tell him they weren’t meant to be, if their minds aligned like that?

Azriel found the pen and, leaning against the brick wall, scribbled down a quick note on the tag. His handwritten was shaky, not neat nor perfect, and he felt a bead of sweat rolling down the corner of his neck.

Once he was finished, he tucked the tag between the stems and placed the bouquet delicately on the ground. He mentally kicked himself at his stupidity, and when he rose back, he crossed his arms in front of his chest.

He was the shadowsinger. The spymaster. People feared him, respected him, and he had had enough women in his bed to know he could get them. They liked him, men and women, and he had never had an issue before. And there he was, leaving a bouquet of flowers like a coward because he couldn’t knock.

All because of the stupid melody.

His impulsive thoughts won again and he crouched to write down his name at the bottom of the note. Only having his good luck ran out and knock his head against a pot when he rose back up. Azriel cursed under his breath at the sharp pain, but wasn’t fast enough to catch the pot.

He didn’t know what worried him most – that he was sad because the humming stopped, or that it stopped. Azriel didn’t need his fae hearing or shadows to hear the approaching steps, and he quickly retreated into the darkness. Just as he appeared in the other corner of the streets, hidden from the public’s eye, the door opened.

“Hello?”

Azriel let his lips part in surprise when Elain didn’t peer at the street, but you. The stranger with a memorizing smell that had been stood up. The girl whose bags he had dropped in the middle of the street.

You were wearing a stained apron, and had been clearly cooking. Azriel felt the sudden need to know what. What you were doing that made you look like that, that made Azriel’s rebellious heart jump.

He watched as you looked to both sides of the street, smiling to acquittances and finally noticing the bouquet. Your eyebrows almost rose to your hairline and an adorable shade of pink covered your chest. You quickly covered your mouth, but Azriel’s bones reverberated at the sound of your giggle. He found himself wondering if you were curling your toes in your shoes.

Leaning down, you picked the flowers and Azriel’s stupid smile, that had no right to be on his face, dropped.

He had signed it.

Your eyes scanned the tag and read through his words at a sickening speed. Sorry about last week, hope I wasn’t too much of a dick. Yours, Azriel

His shadows swallowed him before he could ask the Cauldron to dig a hole and swallowed him, but he could still see your content smile and have the utter and complete realization that your smile shadowed Elain’s.

The dance

“When have you ever cleaned up so nice?” Cassian asked him as he invaded his room, with no warning.

“Whenever you’re not around to see it” he answered back, not tearing his eyes away from his tie’s knot on the mirror. “So I don’t eclipse you”

Cassian scoffed and threw himself on the perfectly made bed. Azriel didn’t bother asking him to move, because while any other time he would have kicked him out, his bed was the farthest point from his work desk. Where, between patrol reports and court’s correspondence, were a month’s worth of letters between you two.

His hands trembled even more at the thought of his brother finding about it. He was already nervous enough at the premise of dancing with Elain tonight, at the thought of her wearing the bracelet he had sent her that matched his tie. Azriel didn’t need to think about the pointless, certainly not important letters that he shared with you.

“Nesta has kicked me out of our room” the male proclaimed. “She’s determinated to get to the ball on time. As if me not seeing her now would change our early departure”

“You’re disgusting” Azriel met his brother’s stare through the mirror.

“And you’re jealous. When was the last time you got laid?” Cassian raised her eyebrows suggestibly. “Anyone in mind for this particularly night?”

“Nesta, if you leave her unsatisfied”

“Can it be me if I’m unsatisfied?”

Cassian’s laugh boomed through the room and took Azriel’s mind out of the last hours’ frenzy. He had wanted to be excited, had been thinking about Feyre’s birthday ball for months now. Thinking about how Elain and him would dance, proving Rhysand that they were a match and should be together.

Indeed, Azriel had been excited about it until a month ago. When he found himself cutting his encounters with Elain short when a note came through, falling asleep with thoughts of a different woman on his mind.

He hadn’t seen you since the incident of the flowers, and his intention was to never see you again. But then, he had found a note on his training room, delivered by Nuala. I’m glad we both agree you were a dick that day, but if my forgiveness has you loosing nights of sleep, I forgive you. Although, for the next time, don’t be disappearing from a crime scene – those flowers were expensive.

Azriel had found it and had scoffed a laugh, a sound foreign to his ears. He had replied and had sent Nuala back to your house, with an apologetic smile.

Seems that I keep encountering you when I don’t mean to. Those flowers were for someone else, but I’m happy to hear that I will be sleeping soundly from now on. Sorry for your pot. If it makes you feel better, fate was my witness and gifted me with a nasty bump.

Two notes evolved to another two, then to four more, and suddenly, Azriel found himself sending you noted almost every day, sharing stupid facts and reading about your day.

“Is it because Elain?”

The mood was broken and shattered at the word of the fae, and Azriel finished his knot to turn and look at Cassian.

“Don’t judge me. I’m not Rhys ‘don’t you dare to touch my sis-in-law’ or Mor ‘bad choices are made’” Cassian lifted his arms slightly. “I’m just curious”

“Am I cleaning up nice for my high-lady and friend’s birthday ball? Yes, unlike you, I do care about having a clean presence” he looked down to his jacket. “Your shirt is stained with Nesta’s lipstick”

“Oh, I plan to let her stain more than my shirt” he chuckled.

Azriel rolled his eyes and turned towards the door without saying anything else.

He walked with Cassian through the long hallways until they reached the main hall, talking about training and pointless topics. The usual knot on his stomach loosened a bit when he was with him, even if he wouldn’t say it out loud. He knew Cassian only looked for him in those social events for his sake – because he knew how much Azriel struggled with the attention, with the looks.

For the first minutes, he stood by his side silently as Cassian greeted different people that Azriel didn’t want to talk with. He engaged short conversations with his family, laughed softly at Mor’s attempt of escaping with the wine, and entertained Nyx briefly.

He kept looking at the main doors, waiting for Elain to walk through so he could regain that excitement, that want, that seemed to seep through his fingers lately.

When the first dance started, Rhysand took Feyre’s hand and dragged her through the floor, looking like a regius couple. Mor took a giggling Nyx in her arms and danced in the corner, and Cassian used the opportunity to sneak with Nesta.

Azriel quickly found himself in the middle of dancing couples, and he swore the knot of his tie got tighter. He looked around for Elain, tried to identify her sweet smell or long hair, but he didn’t find her.

“She’s not coming, you know?” Amren’s voice appeared to her right, and he turned to find her leaning against a wall.

“Who’s not coming?”

“Elain” she explained. “She left yesterday with Lucien to get to know his court. Thought you, of all people, should know”

Had he been so out of it that he hadn’t notice it? Had he tried so hard to think about her that he hadn’t talked to her? He tried to think of a conversation where Elain told him that she wouldn’t be assisting, but he realized that he hadn’t talked to her in the last few days.

Actually, he had just sent the bracelet and guessed she would wear it. Part of his excitement wore down at the news, and he regretted agreeing to the ball.

Amren raised a brow at his fallen expression.

“Are you still after her, boy? Knowing she has a mate?” she inquired. “Thought you were smarter than that”

“You don’t understand. None of you do” he said, trying to sound angry. Trying to sound convinced, as convinced as he had been when he met her, but his voice sounded deflected.

“Maybe we don’t, but don’t fool yourself thinking the Cauldron makes mistakes. You’re not above its power”

Azriel scoffed at the answer he had heard before too many times, and faced away from Amren. She could try to convince him all she wanted, but his mind was up. As he walked out of the room, evading dancing couples, he forced the disappointment down his chest, where most of his feelings lay forgotten.

Of course she wouldn’t come. Of course, all those glances meant she was nervous around him, not reciprocated feelings. Of course, someone like Azriel wouldn’t end up with someone like her.

He loosened his tie briefly as he exited the ball, only to stop close to the entrance. He looked back at his family, dancing happily in the main floor. Even Amren, who didn’t dance, talked with a content half-smile to Varian, who had attended in behalf of his court.

Through all his centuries, all he had wanted was to have someone to dance with. To hold while the world fell apart, not to endure it on his own. Azriel felt a rebel knot climb to his throat, making the sight in front of him blurry.

Like a fool, he had thought Elain would be that person. After Mor, he thought he had found his person. Azriel looked once more to the ball before hastily turning around and colliding full force with a person entering the ball.

“Damnit!”

“Careful – “

Azriel didn’t get to stop the body falling to the ground, and he almost fell right above it. He gathered his footing back before he could cause more damage, and looked down to the incomer.

Something in his chest cracked when he saw the color of the dress pooling in the ground, the same one he wore on his loosened tie. The exact same color in the bracelet now forgotten in Elain’s room, that he had chosen so carefully and thoughtfully. He blinked past the initial shock and muttered an apologetic smile, offering his hand.

His eyes traveled up the wrinkled but beautiful dress to an exposed cleavage adorned with a simple blue gem. He didn’t register the similarities with his own siphons when his eyes met yours, both widened at the same time.

Centuries of waiting, of uncertainty, were suddenly nothing when the bond snapped loud in his soul. It rattled his bones and threatened to send him to the ground too.

“Y/N” he whispered, the room around him quietened. It was the first time he said your name out loud, and it felt divine on his lips. “What…?”

“Hm, Feyre’s birthday” you accepted his hand and let him pull you up, and he almost sent you crashing against his chest. “She invited me”

“That’s good”

Your eyes didn’t leave his for a while, as the bond settled for the two of you. Something had called you when you saw that dress, hanging beautifully in the window’s shop. You never wore that color, never attended to those parties. But the premise of seeing the owner of the notes you had been receiving lately, who your friends were tired of hearing about, was too appealing.

Somehow, buying that dress, coming late to the ball because of pointless delays, felt like a trick of fate.

“The bond” Azriel supplied uselessly, and you nodded for moral support way too enthusiastically.

“Yeah. It’s… here” you pressed your free hand against your chest, squeezing the one trapped in Azriel’s warm grip. “I didn’t think it would feel like this”

“It feels right”

Azriel couldn’t explain what had been missing until now. A void that had lived for so long in a place he couldn’t reach that now pulsated loudly where he needed it. He expected to be nervous, to be overjoyed, but above all of that, Azriel felt calm. At peace with himself as he stared into your eyes.

Time didn’t exist and the rest of the world was insignificant, only you mattered. And he could have spent an eternity looking at you if you hadn’t taken the first step and hugged him. If he thought the snapping bond was intense, your body against him robbed his breath.

His hand moved by itself to the back of your head, fingers tangling between your locks and pressing your face closer to him. The other arm rounded your waist, until you both belonged together like one soul.

The song ended and you looked up from his arms. With a small smile, you looked down at the loosened tie.

“Would you like to dance?”

Azriel nodded quickly and turned his back to the exit, your hand in his. People stared, his family looked at him, but all he could see was how blind he had been not to notice you were what was missing.

The Suriel 2

In the busy morning, few people stopped to see what lurked in the shadows of Velaris. They walked and rushed to their meeting points, talked with friends and families in the corners, and enjoyed the sunny day in the square. They all held interesting stories, futures that the Suriel fed on.

But he didn’t look at any of them. Only at the male standing a few feet away from him. He was sure his shadows had noticed him by now, that they knew his scent and presence, but decided not to warn his master. After all, he was no threat, just a mere spectator of fate.

The shadowsinger seemed to doubt between two books from a stand. He was oblivious to the world around him, but the Suriel knew. He noticed how he had changed in just five months, how not only his scent screamed a mating bond but also his soul. The way he stood, walked, talked.

As if the world didn’t own him anything else, as if he was finally the main character of his story.

The tall, dangerous male picked up the thicker book and paid for it with a small smile. He asked the woman in charge of the stand for a blue ribbon and tied the bag with it. Azriel turned around and distanced himself from the Suriel, not noticing his looming presence. But as he got farther and farther away from him, the Suriel was pleasantly surprised to notice shadows gathering at his feet, curious but not aggressive.

He showed them a terrifying smile, all teeth and cruelty – and still, they only brushed the torn parts of his cape in silent gratitude.

Want to read more? Check out my side blog @imaginesmaimasterlists, where I keep all the masterlists! Feedback is always appreciated

Let me know if you want me to do an Azriel taglist!

Azriel taglist:

@boygeniuses10 , @tothestarsandwhateverend

Missed target taglist (will be added if I make a second part)

@kayjayjwrites , @phoenix666stuff , @lupinswolfsbanes , @bionic-donut , @tothestarsandwhateverend , @favsrachz , @dwlyniii , @mischiefmanagers , @sassybluebird , @saltedcoffeescotch , @andrewgarfield2022 , @leeknows-wife , @marscardigan , @celear , @sstrohma , @pricklepearbloom , @blackgirlmagicforever , @emiliasdump , @erencvlt , @that-one-little-soybean , @meshellexplosionmurder , @atrxidxs , @feyretopia , @sidthedollface2 , @littlelunatica , @historygeekqueen, @ash-mcj , @haileycannotcometothephonern , @thesunloveschips , @meritxellao , @impossibelle , @kalulakunundrum , @nebarious , @cullenswife , @emryb , @sandramalikstyles-blog

1K notes · View notes

medusapelagia · 3 months

Text

Love at first sight

written for @corrodedcoffinfest (Prompt 6: HEARD IT IN A LOVE SONG) and @steddie-week (Day 6, Prompt: Dizzy / drunken confessions) Rating: Teen and Up Relationship: Steve/Eddie TW: none Words: 997

The music pumps in his ears and Steve might have drunk a little bit too much. Not enough to run to the bathroom but enough that he feels dizzy and happy for no reason, so he slams his glass on the bar counter and moves toward the dance floor.

The people are dancing around him like a human tide and all he wants is to go adrift. Someone grinds against his ass but he doesn’t even turn. Steve needs this, a little bit of human contact, the feeling that he’s wanted even if his parents just sent him their last check with a letter saying that from now on he’s on his own.

He should have told Robin, but she was on a date with the pretty barista she had a crush on since forever so he just crumpled the letter and threw it in his drawer, took his keys, and got to his favorite gay bar and started to drink the last money his parents gave him. No better way to spend it after all.

Someone bumps into him too hard and Steve loses his equilibrium. Trying not to fall on the ground he grabs the first thing he can, which apparently it’s a leather jacket.

Fuck.

Leather jackets mean bikers or metal heads, usually closeted ones that will get really angry.

“I’m sorry…” he slurs, “I tripped and…” Steve starts to apologize, but the man that’s looking at him is the most beautiful man he has ever seen. Long curly dark hair, deep dark eyes, and a mischievous smile painted on his face.

“You ok, sweetheart?” He tells him, holding Steve up, “Too many drinks, huh? It happens to the best of us.”

The man chuckles, making sure Steve is stable enough on his feet before turning toward his group of friends, but Steve’s hand is still holding tight on his leather jacket.

“If you could let go of me we could go back to our friends, sweetness,” the man smiles, prying Steve’s hand open.

“No.”

“No? Don’t you want to have fun with your friends?”

“No friends.” Steve tries to explain, and the man frowns.

“You here alone?”

Steve nods, but the sudden movement makes him feel dizzy again. Luckily the other man grabs his arm and stabilizes him once more.

“Sorry… my head is spinning.” Steve apologized, hiding his face behind his free hand.

“Why don’t we sit for a moment, huh?”

“Eddie, come on! This round is on you!” Someone yells next to them, and Steve notices at that moment that he’s not in the middle of the dance floor anymore, but close to the bar counter.

The man grabs his wallet from his back pocket, one hand still holding Steve’s arm tight, “Need to get back to the table. Take what you need.”

“But how can I bring all the beers back?”

“I’ll ask Jeff to help you, don’t whine!”

Steve looks at the dark-haired man and asks, “Eddie?”

“Yeah. That’s me. What’s your name, sugar?”

“Steve.”

“Nice to meet you, Steve. Why don’t you sit with me and my friends for a moment?” he proposes, dragging him toward the bar's private area, “We’re celebrating. We just signed our first contract with a musica label.” Eddie winks, “What about you? Something to celebrate?”

“My parents officially disowned me. And I’m drinking the last money they sent me.”

Eddie hums with a sad smile, “I know a thing or two about shitty parents. But maybe getting drunk in a bar alone isn’t the best choice to deal with things like that. People could take advantage of your state.”

“Are you going to take advantage of me?” Steve asks innocently, “I would let you if you wanted to.”

Eddie snorts, “Thank you for the offer but I’m the kind of guy who prefers full consent to drunk consent. Hey guys! This is Steve! He’s having a bit of a hard day so he’s staying with us until he feels a little bit better and we can send him home safely.”

“Hi Steve, I’m Jeff. Would you like a glass of water?”

“That’s a great idea. Why don’t you get one for him while helping Gareth with the beers? I gave him my wallet.”

“You gave your wallet to Gar?” another man asks, ginning, “He’s going to spend all your money. I bet twenty dollars he will come back with the most expensive bottle he can find.”

“Not my problem, Freak. You know I don’t really care about money.” Eddie shrugs, sitting next to the tall boy who keeps grinning.

“So you found another stray, Eddie?” Freak asks, scooting over to let them sit.

“I can't tell one from another. Did I find you or you find me?” Eddie replies, turning toward Steve who stares at him in confusion, “It’s a line I heard in a love song, always wanted to use it, never got the occasion. Till now.”

“Maybe wait for him to be sober before hitting on him, huh? Don’t worry. Eddie is dramatic like that, but he’s a good guy.”

“I think I love him,” Steve whispers to Freak way too loudly, and the big man chuckles.

“Look at you, Eddie! You just signed your first contract and already found yourself a groupie!”

Eddie reaches out for the glass of water that Jeff is holding and gives it to Steve, “Drink it all like a good boy.”

“I do.” Steve insists, taking Eddie’s hand and putting it over his chest, “Can’t you feel my love for you? It’s like you said. We were meant to find each other.”

If Steve wasn’t drunk he would feel ashamed of himself, but what he said it’s true. He never believed in love at first sight, but now he would swear by it.

“Ok. Ok. Now drink your water and if tomorrow morning you’ll feel still in love with me,” Eddie says, fishing a chewed pen and writing a number on a napkin “call me.”

Now with a second part

273 notes · View notes

love-anddeepression · 1 year

Text

Father Mine- 2. Miguel O’Hara x teen!spider!reader

Just note- this and father mine aren’t in the canon of Miguel’s and mini Miguel’s story line<3 also this is absolute crap and I’m so sorry it has a lot more plot and less of Miguel and mini Miguel interaction. Though whatever they do have is pain. (ALSO THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR YOUR LOVE I LOVE ALL OF YOU) please comment and reblog if you liked it :DD

Warnings: angst. FATHER MINE PART 1 Part 3

“Where is she?” He asks Jess.

“She didn’t follow.” Is what the woman replies and that’s that.

A spark of worry shoots through him but he ignores it. Now is not the time to worry about anything but the anomaly.

He scans his surroundings and tries to look for wherever the kid may be.

A part of his mind still screams he’s just a kid.

That weak thinking, letting things slide mindset was ahat got Gabriella killed. It was what killed an entire universe. He couldn’t let more people be killed for the sake of the life of one man.

“Split up. Look for him.” He orders Ben and Jess and they leave promptly.

Not now. Not now. He’d check up on you after.

——————

“Miles!” You whisper-shout at the boy.

He almost shouts but you cover his mouth with your hand, “you’re in the wrong universe, you’re on earth-42.” His eyes widen, “I’m here to help you.”

“Why should I trust you?” His eyes narrow at you.

“I don’t know.” You look down, “But I’m asking you to trust me anyways.”

After a beat of silence he talks, “how did you know I was in the wrong universe?”

“You were bit by a spider that was from here. It’s venom altered your dna to this universe. And the go home machine scanned your dna, which was this universes and sent you here, I’m running out of breath and I can hear your mom from this univers walking here so let’s please just go.” You pull him out through the window just as the door opens and Rio steps in.

You and Miles drop down into an abandoned alleyway, and you hide a wince because of the pain in your leg. He turns invisible and you open a portal. Just as he walks through, Ben comes into view and sees you.

“Mini Miguel! You’re here! You know your dad was pretty worried you didn’t show! I’ll tell him you’re here wait- I” you web his mouth and eyes and as he flails about you launch yourself upwards and unhook his watch.

“I’m sorry, Ben.” You apologise to his mumbling form as his hands thrash around to remove the webs.

You jump into the portal and it closes.

“We’re in Miguel’s APARTMENT?” Miles’s all but shrieks and you wince.

“Jeez, bro. Don’t worry. He won’t look here.” You hand him a bottle of water from the minibar.

He drinks it all in one go and breathes deeply. You calm him down, “this is just for a few hours. Then I’ll shift you to your own universe.”

“Why not now?” He asks.

“You need to eat, and you’ll be fine. No one’s going to be named Captain tonight right? You can’t help anyone if you’re half dead.”

He clenches his jaw and sits down as you go to the kitchen and get a leftover pizza from the fridge. It was from that family night you had with Miguel and Lyla the day before Miles’s arrival.

You head to the living room after heating his food and his eyes are transfixed on a photo frame in his hand.

It’s a photo of you and him that Lyla had managed to sneak and Jess had printed for your birthday.

“He seems nice. When he’s not trying to kill me.” The boy scoffs.

You don’t answer, just handing him his food.

He eats in silence and you take the time to clean the house. Even if you did hate him just a bit, it didn’t mean he deserved to live in a messy house because he was too busy working.

“You really love him, huh?” Miles piped up and you look up from fluffing a cushion.

“Hmm.” You hum in response, “I don’t know.”

“If you didn’t you wouldn’t be here fluffing up his cushions and cleaning his home. Or should I say your home as well.” He raises an eyebrow.

You throw the cushion, “his home. Come on, we need to get to his office so I know what universe you’re from.”

He follows you to the window and has to swallow a gasp when you walk through it and float like you’re walking on air.

You chuckle, “it’s an illusion, sort of like that Indiana Jones movie.”

“The thing with the grail?” His voice is shaky as his foot comes to rest onto the platform connecting the window to the opposite balcony.

“Yeah, I got it made to fuck with Miguel.”

He huffs out a laugh, “I bet he would have freaked out?”

“You have no idea.” You smile a little at the memory as you jump of the platform and land lightly on the terrace.

Every few minutes you usher Miles into the few dark alleyways in the futuristic city of Nueva York to use the hidden pathways that are used by the underground thug gangs that you had managed to sniff out.

It takes about half an hour to reach the tower, and Miles turns invisible, “you couldn’t have done that before?” You raise an eyebrow.

He just looks sheepish and you try not to roll your eyes, “come on.”

He follows you through the entire area, sees them all wave and smile at you as you walk to where spider-byte may be.

——-

“Ben, come in.” Miguel speaks, “Ben!”

With a groan, he phones Lyla. She picks up immediately and her voice is frantic, “you need to get back. Now.”

“What? Why?”

“It’s Miles.” She informs him, “mini you is with him.”

His eyes widen under the mask and without a word he opens a portal to go home, “Jess. We’re going back to base.”

————————

“1610. Earth 1610.” You recite as you make a portal.

As soon as it opens, the door to the room swings open.

It’s a sort of déjà vu if you think about it.

The same room, the same scenario. But this time it’s you he’s after.

Your blood runs cold and you push Miles inside, “save your dad.” Are the last words you say to him as the portal closes in time just as Miguel pounces through air.

He looks at you and you freeze. His eyes are red and his fangs are out.

As he stands to his feet, your breathing becomes uneven.

Fuck you’re panicking. And it’s weird, because you’ve faced evil villains before. You’ve fought people that make Miguel look like a shortie.

So.. why the fuck are you so scared? Or were you always just a coward?

“You’re hurt.” He says in an eerily calm voice.

“Why-why do you care?” You huff out and his eyebrows furrow.

“What do you mean?” He raises his hand and you flinch. You notice the way his eyes widen and the hurt that floods the pools of his eyes.

He takes another step forward and you back away, “Stay the fuck away from me.” Your hand shoots forward. Only widening the chasm between the both of you.

“What. Happened? Who hurt you? Was it Miles? Did he force you to help him?” He snarls.

You stare at him dumbfounded, “Who hurt me? Are you serious?”

“I’ve never been more serious in my life.”

You scoff, “I helped him of my own accord.”

It’s then that he takes a deep breath and a step back.

“That’s right. I helped him get away!”

“….how could you do this to us? To me?” He points to himself.

“What are you going to do now? Try and kill me like you did him?”

“I would never. I am your father-”

“You are a selfish monster.” You say and his breath hitches. The look on his face breaks your own heart and all you want to do is hug him.

“Don’t say that.” He points at you, “you don’t mean it.”

“I meant every damn word.” You scowl and reply, “you are not my father. I am not your daughter.”

He schools the hurt on his face, “So be it.” He webs your watch and breaks it into tiny pieces in a matter of moments, “it’s cute that you thought you could one up me. Really.” He chuckles, “You are relieved of your duties effective immediately. You will never be allowed into Earth-928 or any other dimension hereafter.”

He webs you closer to him as he opens a portal into some obscure universe, one you’ve never heard of, and just before he pushes you in, you glimpse the tears in his eyes, your own running down your cheek as you scream profanities at him.

The last thing you see is his face before you’re thrown into complete darkness.

#miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara x you #mini miguel<33 #atsv #atsv x reader

2K notes · View notes

forgetme-eternally-blissfully · 25 days

Text

“So, babysitting?”

Alberu follows after the delinquent. From the record the vice-principal gave him access to, Cale frequently drinks alcohol, he often gets himself into a lot of fights, and he barely passed his classes at the end of the grading period. The teachers never call on him in class, girls and boys avoid him alike, and he is- supposedly- completely intolerable.

Which is why Alberu Crossman, who’s only a little older yet infinitely more mature has been assigned by the principal (his father) to get the troublemaker under thumb. Cale's father is quite wealthy, actually, and since there isn't much known about the successor to the Henituse family... it'd be bad if he had to be expelled.

Cale scowled. “Yes, babysitting, your highness. Please, leave if you must,” He jeers at Alberu, but internally he thinks, 'No, really. Please leave.' Otherwise, he might get caught in the act.

Of not actually being Cale.

Roksu aims a sour expression at Alberu, who returns it with a more flowery one. Acting as his twin for the day had been easy enough, mainly because being trash is great!- until Alberu Crossman strolled into his lunch period and introduced himself.

He is even following him out of the school to his job. Well, this job is Roksu’s and not Cale’s, but because he can’t ditch work nor can he get glib-tongued Alberu off his tail-

Well shit.

Thankfully, the kids call him hyung. Except Raon, who calls him human. Hopefully Alberu doesn’t look into it too much. If everything goes right, Alberu Crossman will be Cale's problem to deal with tomorrow. As it should have been.

“I didn’t know you liked kids, Cale,” Alberu smiles charmingly, walking side by side with Roksu. “Can you introduce me?” Roksu struggles to not put on his own disarming smile out of spite, instead plastering on a classic Cale Sneer™. It fits on his face perfectly, like he’s playing a character in a play.

They enter the building and ‘Cale’ guides Alberu to a colorful playroom, decked out in toys and a fountain of running water as the centerpiece (A gift from his father, who is still upset that Roksu doesn't visit more often). There’s a tray of fruits and oatmeal on the small table in the corner of the room, except not a soul to be seen. Picking up a bowl of oatmeal and finding the ceramic to still be hot, Roksu almost smiles.

Alberu frowns. Where are the kids he's supposed to babysit?

Roksu tells the empty air, "Come on out."

Three children appear out of nowhere in front of them.

“Hyung!”

“Human! You’re back!”

“Hyung, nya.” On examines Alberu some more.

All of the kids had been revealed the moment that Roksu spoke, as Raon unveiled the invisibility on them.

Raon runs up and grabs Roksu’s hand, who places it on his head, rubbing the black hair comfortingly. “Mm.” Raon beams at the affection.

“Raon, On, Hong,” they each look up at him at the call of their names. “This is Alberu Crossman, he is doing a report on my trashy behavior. Don’t be rude."

All three children become hostile immediately. “He isn't trash!”

On observes Alberu with an intense glare. Raon shifts under Roksu’s hand, his deep blue eyes glinting with magic. Roksu positions him away from the older teen’s view. Raon grips onto Roksu’s pant leg with a vengeance. Hong stares openly, offensive.

Alberu smiles at them.

"I'm visiting with Cale Hyung for today, nice to meet you."

Hong gasps suddenly.

“He-!” On gives her brother a look, and he clamps his hands over his mouth. Alberu feels a deep curiosity, as if something isn’t quite as it seems.

Roksu sighs. It’s going to be a long hour.

At the midway point, Alberu has easily disarmed the children. They look fascinated at the magic he shows them, while Roksu can only rub a palm over Raon’s shoulder as a warning to keep his dragon magic under control. He's still just a child that wants to brag. Everything is going well.

Bang!

“Hey Roksu! How was-“ Cale bursts through the door, bright red hair equipped with a shit-eating grin, wearing clothes far less fancy than his usual. He tenses up, frozen in place when he spots Alberu on the floor, politely sitting "crisscross applesauce" with the children. Roksu narrows a withering glare at his twin.

“… Roksu?”

Alberu looks at ‘Cale,’ sitting next to him, the one he's spent the entire day with, who is trying to send what must be the real Cale into the sun with his eyes.

“Ha… ha?” Cale winces. Roksu wipes his expression from his face.

“Cale-hyung, run! That’s the human’s bad look!” Alberu’s eyes widen as he watches the confirmed real Cale bolt back into the hallway and out of the front door. Alberu whips his head back toward the stranger behind him, who is a perfect replica of the Cale who ran like Hell. Cale has an identical twin?? Since when? Why doesn't he go to school?

Roksu levels an emotionless gaze at Alberu. “Hello, your highness. Don’t mind me.”

Alberu can only watch in astonishment as this stranger walks out of the playroom, with a smooth and deadly gait as he hunts down his twin like a predator would to prey. He recalls the look 'Roksu' gave him and it sends a shiver down the principal’s son’s spine. That gaze held secrets.

Something about this stranger is even more interesting than the sudden appearance of a twin.

On walks up to him, sitting down in his lap and looking into his eyes. “Roksu-hyung will be back soon, nya!” Hong bounds over and sits next to his sister, grinning widely. Raon huffs and looks at the door. He wants his human to come back.

#Roksu is Cale's lost twin who reunited with the Henituse family at 16. he went to a charter school and speedran his education #which is why he doesn't go to high school with Cale #Roksu didn't want attention from the public so his existence is kept secret from most everyone outside of the family and tight-lipped staff #Cale wanted to skip school that day (he heard Albert would be coming to monitor) and tricked Roksu into dealing with it for him #not that Roksu didn't receive something in return for pretending to be Cale... but now he's going to 'negotiate' a better deal with his twi #anyway that's all I remember about this #hong was going to say 'He thinks Roksu hyung is Cale hyung!' but stopped himself from revealing it in time #kim rok soo #kim roksu #cale henituse #og cale henituse #lcf #lotcf #lout of the counts family #tcf #totcf #trash of the counts family #fic #ughhh I'm not as diligent with my tags as I used to be #tcf raon miru #lcf ohn #tcf hong #yayay #posting old writing so it doesn't rot in my notes app any longer #if I was smarter I would post it on ao3 but I don't really write enough words to bother doing that #not a reblog #alberu crossman #alver crossman #alcale #I put the ship tag but not because it's a ship thing. I just think the shippers would appreciate this

201 notes · View notes

russellsppttemplates · 7 months

Note

How about Charles with teen daughter or son sneaking out and coming home drunk

Cw: drunkenness

Charles said he would wait for your two sons to get home from the party, wanting to be awake in case they needed him to pick them up from somewhere. Hervé texted him saying that they were heading home already and that he could go to bed as they were fine walking back. Still, Charles stayed in the living room, catching up on one of the shows you didn't enjoy so much so he often watched it on his own.

The struggle to put the key on the door and the whisper-shouts gave them away as Charles was straight by the back door as Hervé and Thomas walked inside, "you have to be quiet, Thomas", Hervé scolded as his brother turned on the lights, "Oh, hi papa", they both straightened up.

"I thought you'd gone to bed already", Thomas blurted, "I wanted to see for myself that you'd get home alright", Charles squinted as the Hervé seemed to be holding his brother up.

"You have to keep quiet guys, mama has been asleep for a while and she didn't have an easy day, she should get all the rest she can", Charles warned as they walked up the stairs, Thomas' stumble and drunkenness evident every step he took.

"Goodnight, sleep well", Hervé said before he walked into his bedroom like Charles asked him to.

"Now, me and you", Charles snickered, "how much did you drink?", he asked Thomas as he got some water for him.

"How do you know?", Thomas sighed, "please, only Amélie got your mother's resistance to alcohol and her disguising abilities. You are stumbling, you nearly tripped on the flat flooring and you kept hugging Hervé, you haven't been like that since you were a kid", he chuckled as he caught his son.

"I had many shots", he recalled, "here's your water, and paracetamol", Charles said as he patted his back, enjoying his suffering just a little, "also, have a shower - or two, just to be safe - before you go near mama in the morning", he winked as Thomas layed in bed, too tired and foggy to recognise what had just happened.

(Thank you for submitting an ask ✨️)

#charles leclerc blurb #inês writes blurbs #f1 blurb #f1 x reader

395 notes · View notes

etherealstar-writes · 3 months

Text

ORDINARY LIFE | ARSENAL WFC X TEEN AVENGER OC | PT 2

pairings: arsenal women x teen avenger oc (platonic)

summary: in which three close calls occur but thankfully everyone was oblivious.

part two: close calls

part one here

✦ ——— ✦ ——— ✦

Weeks had passed since Ameris had joined the club, and she had settled in quite well. Her laid-back personality and easygoing nature quickly made her a favourite among her new teammates.

She had hit it off particularly well with Kyra Cooney-Cross, another new signing and a few years older than her. The two quickly became a chaotic yet dangerous duo on and off the field. Kyra's hyper, trouble-causing tendencies were balanced by Ameris' calm demeanour, though Ameris often found herself tagging along with Kyra's antics, subtly keeping her in check.

One crisp morning before training, Ameris strolled towards the benches near the field with Leah and Steph, their hands warmed by steaming cups of coffee while she herself had a hot chocolate.

"So, how are you finding London so far?" Steph asked, taking a sip of her drink.

"It's great," Ameris replied with a smile. "I’m really starting to feel at home here."

"Glad to hear it," Leah chimed in. "We need to introduce you to the best spots around here."

As they chatted, a sudden movement caught Ameris' eye. Out of the corner of her vision, she saw Kyra accidentally launch a football their way instead of towards Teyah and Katie, who were playing nearby. Without a second thought, Ameris's reflexes kicked in. She skilfully caught the ball with her free hand, saving both Leah and Steph from spilling their drinks.

"Whoa!" Steph exclaimed, her eyes wide in surprise. "Nice catch!"

“That was insane,” Leah agreed with a matching surprised reaction. "Maybe we should get you in goal with reflexes like that, give Manu a run for her money."

"Just lucky, I guess." Ameris chuckled, trying to brush off the attention. She tossed the ball back to Kyra, Teyah, and Katie, who were staring at her in awe. Kyra was also relieved that she got saved from another scolding.

"Seriously, Adarlan," Katie called out, laughing. "You’ve got skills!"

Ameris gave a nonchalant shrug and a playful grin. "Just trying to keep you on your toes."

Internally, she scolded herself for not being more lowkey. She had worked so hard to blend in and avoid drawing attention to her extraordinary abilities. But seeing everyone laugh and continue with their activities, she felt a wave of relief.

No one suspected anything, passing it off as pure luck.

And then it happened once again after a few days.

One afternoon after a particularly tiring training session, the team had gathered in the cafeteria for a much-needed break. The room was filled with laughter and the clatter of dishes as everyone helped themselves to the spread of food laid out for them.

Ameris was walking with Vic and Kyra, who was in the middle of an animated story about a prank she had pulled on Katie earlier that day.

"And then, just as Katie was about to sit down, the chair was gone! You should have seen her face!" Kyra finished, her laughter infectious.

Ameris and Vic both chuckled, shaking their heads. "You're seriously going to get yourself into trouble one of these days, Kyra."

"Hey, it hasn’t happened yet," Kyra replied with a wink.

As their conversation continued and they walked back towards their table, Ameris noticed Alessia and Leah engaged in a playful argument in front of them. And Lessi, gesturing wildly, didn't see the glass of water teetering on the edge of the table next to them, accidentally knocking it over.

In a split second, Ameris's hand shot out, catching it mid-air and placing it safely back on the table.

"Careful, Less," she said with a smile, trying to make it seem like a coincidence. "You don't want to flood the cafeteria."

Alessia blinked, surprised but grateful. "Thanks, Ameris. I didn't even see that. Sorry."

"No problem," Ameris replied, giving a light shrug.

Leah raised an eyebrow, clearly impressed. "You've seriously got some quick reflexes, Ameris."

Ameris laughed it off. "Just lucky timing, I guess."

Vic playfully punched her shoulder. “You’re like a superhero with those skills.”

Ameris's heart skipped a beat, but she quickly masked her surprise with another laugh. "Haha, I would be a sick superhero."

“Nahhh,” Kyra playfully disagreed. “I’d probably be better than her.”

“Sure you would.” Ameris rolled her eyes. “You'd probably be like a side-kick or a henchman.”

Kyra scoffed in mock offence. "Side-kick?!"

While they continued bantering, Ameris was still grateful they all remained blissfully unaware. Maybe she had to act a bit clumsy to balance it out.

A few months had passed since another close call occurred this time.

She had settled into her new life as a football player, making friends and honing her skills on the pitch. The team had become her second family, and she relished the sense of normalcy it brought her.

That was until the day Emily Fox was signed to Arsenal. As everyone gathered around to welcome her, Ameris felt a surge of panic. She remembered watching one of USA's games two years ago with Tony Stark and a few of the Avengers. She had met several of the players, including Emily.

Keeping her composure, Ameris joined the line of her teammates to greet the new arrival.

When it was her turn, she extended her hand with a calm smile. "Hey there, I'm Ameris. Welcome to Arsenal."

Emily knew she recognised her from somewhere, but couldn’t exactly place it until she remembered her name. "Ameris? Hey, I do remember you. Didn't you come to watch one of our games a couple of years ago with Tony Stark?"

Ameris's heart skipped a beat. She could feel Kyra's curiosity flare up beside her.

"Hold on. Tony Stark?! Like Iron Man himself? What?" Kyra's exclamation drew the attention of several teammates, including Leah, Alessia, Katie, and Steph.

Ameris quickly composed herself, forcing a casual laugh. "Yeah, something like that. My family kinda knew Tony from work, and we ended up sitting together at the game. It was a great experience."

Leah raised an eyebrow, intrigued but not pressing further. "Sounds like quite the connection."

Katie nudged Ameris playfully. "Yeah, you never told us you had such interesting family friends."

Ameris shrugged, keeping her tone light. "It didn't seem that important. Plus, I didn't want to brag."

Steph, seemingly perceptive, gave Ameris a reassuring smile. "Well, it's a cool story. And welcome again, Emily. We're glad to have you."

With the attention diverted back to Emily and the team's excitement over their new signing, Ameris let out an internal sigh of relief, sending Steph a thankful look who smiled warmly in return.

The defender had been keeping an eye on the teenager since she’d joined the club with Kyra, and was seemingly the only one that had noticed Ameris’ constant vigilance which was masked skilfully by her laid-back persona.

While everyone seemed to gloss over all these hints, Steph was slowly beginning to suspect that there was more to the young striker than she was letting on, but kept it to herself for now.

As they all moved to the training pitch, Kyra slid next to Ameris, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Meeting the Avengers, damn! You sure know how to keep secrets, don't you?"

Ameris chuckled, grateful for Kyra's lightheartedness. "You have no idea."

✦ ——— ✦ ——— ✦

hey everyone! sorry i almost completely forgot i had this account lol but here's another chapter! i love reading all your comments and they really motivate me to continue writing so pls feel free to comment your thoughts <33

#arsenal x reader #arsenal wfc x reader #arsenal women x reader #arsenal wfc imagine #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso #arsenal wfc #leah williamson x reader #kyra cooney cross x reader #steph catley x reader #katie mccabe x reader #alessia russo x reader #woso x marvel

188 notes · View notes

milkzoro · 11 months

Text

should i save her? i wnna be saaaaved

🎬✧ portgas d ace x fem!reader

was it a coincidence? or were you soulmates? interesting how the two of you always manage to end up together… fireman!ace saves your panties from a house fire. unfortunately there’s no smut in this, crazy i know. mostly fluff and ace being a cutieeeee. i love him lots & don’t think he would fuck you for the first time being intoxicated… that being said, fic contains// drinking, a lil smooch, cuddles, ace being a lil tease, all that…

☁️ 𐙚 . ˙ 𖧧 ₊ ˚ 🐇

“shit shit shit!” you panicked, trying to put out the burning fire with a measly cup water you had on hand, unfortunately, that only seemed to cause it to burn brighter. the water evaporated almost immediately, and with every passing second, it got worse. the clothes that were messily piled up on your dresser were now fully inflamed, and the wood took on enough heat to finally catch fire.

“oh my fucking god? where’s my goddamn phone!” there was no reason to try and put out the fire yourself, you’d only end up getting hurt. ‘cursed candle’ you scoffed while scurrying around your smokey room looking for your phone. even if it was your favorite scent, you knew you should have thrown out that stupid candle your ex got for you.

after flipping through the blankets on your bed, you found it, immediately you dialed the fire department. “hello? hello! yes! please there’s a fire at my house my address is. . .” you’d hope they’d make it there soon, the smoke stared to suffocate you to the point where you didn’t know if you could make it out, chemicals filled your lungs and it was getting harder to breathe. . .

. . .

you felt strong arms carrying you, woodsy musk and smoke filled your senses. the man placed you down in the back of the fire truck with plenty of water before rushing back into your fire-filled house to see if there were any more casualties to look out for. luckily enough, you lived alone.

shortly after, he came back to you. he tore off his headset and revealed his soft, freckled face. you were taken aback, he might as well be your knight in shining armor for saving you, he had stains of soot covering his cheeks but still looked so pretty. . .

“i couldn’t save them all but. . . i managed to get a few.”

he held up a couple pairs of your cute lacy panties, blood rushed to your face once you noticed what they were. you were quick to snatch them away—your face fell hot with embarrassment. it really didn’t help that the man was attractive, you couldn’t even look at him. “oh! it’s fine, thank you…” the tension was thick and awkward, the man starred at you trying to comfort you on your losses.

“we managed to put out the fire, miss. your room is pretty much fine, but the dresser didn’t quite make it. . . i saved what i could.” he sighed—holding up some more of your lounge wear. he seemed sad he couldn’t save everything but you were grateful nonetheless that he did everything he could.

“do you have somewhere you can stay while we get everything cleaned up?” he peered at you, cute freckled face and dark eyes held your gaze.

“uhmm yea, i do. thank you.”

“the pleasures all mine, get some rest and please, no more candles.” he let out a hefty laugh before giving you back your delicates. yea, definitely no more candles.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

it’s a couple days later and you’re back in the comforts of your now, fire-free home. living alone was super easy, you got to do whatever you wanted whenever you wanted. if you didn’t wanna do something, that’s perfectly fine. movies and snacks all day, and that’s usually how it always went but today you had something planned.

about a week ago you had made an appointment to get your ears pierced, you favorite tattoo shop was having a flash sale on all lobe piercings so you thought it would be best to schedule ahead.

the studio was surprisingly quiet for a weekend, a few teens who were there for the flash sale and one other person, but he was faced down and getting a tattoo stenciled on across his very sculpted back.

“oh hey! i know you.” his head perked up once he heard the chime of the studio door, he watched as you stepped inside.

‘please god, tell me it isn’t him. fuck, it’s totally him.’ he smiled warmly at you, kind eyes curling up and he showed all his teeth—how could you not forget such a cute face.

“no you don’t.” you were quick to answer, but he retaliated.

“um yeah… yes i do! i saved you from that fire! don’t you remember? all your panties? sorry i couldn’t save ‘em all.” his lips quirked up slightly as he still felt bad, but his non-filtered reenactment of the events earned some confused reactions from the staff and other customers that happened to be in earshot.

“did you have to bring that up again? i told you not to worry about it, ‘m just happy i have my house back.”

“can’t i make it up to you? and i never got your name. . . ‘panties’~” he snicked at his nickname for you, seeing you get flustered made it all worth while for him. he enjoyed seeing your petrified face as he egged you on.

“shut up, and shouldn’t you be staying still? lay your ass back down.” you gestured to the table he was perked up on, the artist seemed annoyed at his movements.

“ahh, you’re right sweetheart. but, your name? then i’ll promise to let you be. . . ‘panti—’”

“y/n! it’s y/n. happy?”

“very.” he smirked your way and laid back in position effortlessly once he got his answer. the artist sighed and got back to work.

you rolled your eyes trying to suppress the smile that was creeping on your lips, he was crazy. with being a fireman you thought it was unprofessional to bring up such topics in public, but you had to admit—you kinda liked it.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

you thought you might have missed it, his long raven locks swaying as he made his way towards you, even in your drunken state, you knew it had to be him. why does he keep showing up at the most random places? this time though, he was fully determined to make his way to you and just talk. the distance was small but he stumbled all the way over. soon, you were greeted with the pretty fireman.

“wow you’re really drunk right now, aren’t you?” you couldn’t stop the giggles as you held the edge of his shoulder to keep him upright and standing, he swayed lightly with the music in the background as he sang incorrect lyrics softly to you.

you couldn’t help but smile, he was silly like this, maybe it was the drinks in your own system catching up with you but he looked really good right now.

“no mmm not. . . you’re jus really blurry-”

he let out a few of his own laughs, touching and talking with you for sometime, he really liked you.

“y/n.” he held you tight, catching himself on you before he could fall.

you were surprised he remembered your name, i’d been about a week since your last encounter at the tattoo shop. that day, he had introduced himself as ace. portgas ace in fact, lead role in the fire department in his city. he made sure to make that a know fact in hopes to impress you.

“can you take me home? think i’m too ddrunk.”

you blatantly agreed, he looked a mess. and besides, you did owe him, technically. your arm snaked around his making your elbows meet, but he shook you off. he mumbled something you couldn’t quite make out. but instead, his big hands stumbled to find your own, interlocking your fingers and he squeezed them tightly as to say he’s ready to follow you.

his simple actions had an effect on you, holding hands always seemed to be more intimate rather than something simple, like a kiss. his warmth made your tummy do flips, and his big muscles—his strong hands and arms were so close, you felt so small next to him.

you tried to take your hands from his but he whined. he missed your touch.

“wait, let me call order an uber. i’ll be fast i promise.” you found the closest car to come pick the both of you up, you just needed his address. you tried to hand him your phone, “can you type in your address? here take this.”

he groaned again. “mmmuhggg y/nnn—can’t we just go back to yours?? can’t type.” as the words slurred from his lips, they curled into a smirk. little shit, you knew he was playing it up a bit. fuck it—it’s late and it’s cold, you were ready to leave. now, you just have a friend coming with you.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

as you stepped into the coldness of night, you and ace stumbled through the streets to meet with the driver—his natural warmth kept you from shivering as he held you so close. little touches and sweet laughs were shared as you climbed into the backseat, ace stumbled along behind you, tripping on the doorstep as he made his way to sit next to you. the driver glanced back, seeing giddy intoxicated couples wasn’t out of the norm for him, the driver found the two of you endearing.

the car soon became a temporary haven for you, ace’s laugher sounded heavenly as it meshed with the purring of the car engine.

his rough hands found themselves attached to your hips, slowing rubbing up and down. with every passing second, you couldn’t help but grow attached to him. you’ve never met some like him. he was just so different from any other guy you’ve met, from his endless teasing to his charisma—how you always managed to end up together was a mystery.

he snuggled up next to you getting real close—he muttered in your ear, “wanted to tell you you looked pretty tonight,, mm watched you for awhile but was a little nervous.”

a blush crept onto your cheeks hearing his sweet nothings, ‘he was nervous?’

you felt his warmth radiating as he leaned in closer to you. his breath tainted with the smell of alcohol as his lips were millimeters from yours, but the car suddenly came to a stop. the driver interrupted just as they were about to touch. your stomach sank, you were ready to know what they felt like.

the driver turned around, oblivious to the romantic tension, and broke the silence, “here’s your stop folks, thank you and have a safe night.”

you both exchanged a look, a mixture of frustration and amusement, before gathering your things and stumbling out of the car. he soon drove off, leaving you standing on the sidewalk with a shared understanding. you hurried to get your keys and unlock the door.

as the door creaked open, you ushered him inside, the atmosphere filled with unspoken anticipation. once the door closed behind you, the playful glint in his eyes returned, and with a teasing smile, he quipped, “ahhh alone at last~ now, where were we?”

how cliche.. but that seemed to be very on brand for him—cute.

without waiting for an answer, he closed the gap and pulled you into his firm chest. this time, there were no interruptions—just the warmth of a long-awaited first kiss from your knight in shining armor.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

he’d be such a cute bf stawp

#one piece x reader #portgas ace x y/n #portgas ace x you #portgas ace x reader #portgas d ace x reader #portgas d ace #portgas d ace fluff #one piece fanfiction #portgas d ace smut #one piece fluff

748 notes · View notes

paradiseismine · 5 months

Text

Don’t be such a nice guy - Trevor Spengler x reader

Pairing: Trevor Spengler (Ghostbusters Afterlife/Frozen Empire) x f!reader

Warnings: mentions of alcohol; a bit of fluff; mostly smut.

Summary: you and Trevor meet at your friend’s party a few weeks after your encounter at the Spengler’s’ home. This is sort of a part 2 to “Late Night Talking”, a previous fic of mine.

Angie was definitely the best friend you had made since you moved. She was really fun and kind to you at all times. Another thing about her, maybe one of the most prominent aspects of her personality is that she was a party girl. She loved parties, and she wanted to throw a party at her own house to welcome you into the city (even though you had moved a few months ago). So, of course, you helped her prepare everything.

It was time for the party already: the decorations were all over the walls, on the handrails and even on the carpet. All the food and drinks were perfectly arranged on the kitchen table and on a bar-looking piece of furniture her father had. Some people had arrived already, but your guest of honor was yet to be seen… Until the front door opened again.

There he was. So tall and so handsome.

- Hi babe - you greeted Trevor, throwing both your arms around his neck, a sugary strawberry drink in your hand. - I’m so glad you came! How’s everything?

Trev took you in for a second before responding. He could smell your sweet perfume from a few steps before you greeted him, and it was so good it made his mouth water. Your hair was simply perfect, and the outfit you were wearing made him stare at your breasts for a second too long.

- Oh hi, princess - he smiled, still stunned. He put a hand to your cheek and quickly pecked your lips. - I feel so much better now that I found you.

- Me too - you smiled back, softly. - Should we get you a drink?

In no time, the room was filled with loud teens and even louder music. To be able to talk properly, as the majority of the guests were gathered in the living room, you took Trevor to Angie’s kitchen. She knew about your fling with Trevor and wanted to help her new bestie, of course.

You sat on the kitchen counter while Trevor towered over you, his hands on your sides. You two started talking about your most recent dates - ever since that night in his room, a month ago, you were inseparable. You had had a picnic date, a museum date, a movie theater date and, obviously, a vintage record store date. Until that night: now you were attending your first party together.

As the music had suddenly gotten louder, to which you both assumed was some sort of party game, you felt the need to speak closer to each other. Trevor lightly lowered his head to meet your right ear. Partly because of how noisy the house was, but partly because he wanted to feel you shiver over his voice and the feather light touch of his lips to your ear as he spoke.

- You know, the other day in my room - he said, his voice raspier than usual. - We couldn’t quite finish what we started… And I couldn’t think of anything else since.

You bit your lip, feeling your stomach fill itself with butterflies, and looked him in the eyes.

- Don’t look at me like that - Trev smirked. - You know what those eyes do to me, don’t you?

You pulled him closer by his T-shirt, glueing your lips together. He kissed you slowly at first, savoring the taste of strawberry and alcohol on your tongue. Trevor had always been a good kisser, ever since that night in his room.

As the kiss grew more urgent and intense, his hands found their way up your skirt. He would touch your inner thighs and feel the way you shivered and squirmed, just to remove his hand a few seconds later.

- Trev, touch me - you pleaded, your face flushed and your voice faint. - I need you.

- Are you sure? - he said, gently, as his right hand rested on your thigh. You two were drinking that night, and he wanted to be absolutely sure he had your consent.

- Don’t be such a nice guy - you responded, eyes squinted in desire, as you pushed his right hand further up your thigh. With his mouth agape, he simply let you guide him.

- God, you’re so wet for me, princess - he said, his index finger sliding your panties to the side and slipping inside you in a nearly magnetic way. - So tight - he continued, smirking as your eyes rolled and you bit your lips, desperate for relief.

Your pussy was pulsating around his finger uncontrollably, and you hadn’t even cum yet. Trev’s touch had such power over you, you were willing to do anything he wanted at that point.

- Just a finger and you’re already this weak, baby girl? - he whispered in your ear again, and you couldn’t help but moan. He took his finger off of your pussy and sucked on it, moaning and closing his eyes at the taste. - Do you think you can cum on my finger again, just like last time?

The way he talked to you, alone, made you nearly cum, so you nodded and guided him to keep touching your clit. You were so wet and so needy for him. It didn’t take long for your back to arch and your mouth to open in a delicious moan to his ear - the first of many times he intended to make you cum that night.

Trevor took his finger off your pussy and tasted you once again. It’s like he couldn’t get enough.

- Maybe we could take this to another room? - he said, the tent on his pants pretty evident.

You nodded, quickly standing up from the counter. Your legs felt like spaghetti and your stride was definitely different because of all the arousal dripping between your legs. You took Trev’s hand in yours and guided him towards the guest room. Nobody really used that room or went there that often, Angie had said, but she had it all tidied up for you to sleep over after the party. Little did she know, you weren’t sleeping alone.

Trevor sat down on the guest room bed, so you sat next to him, your fingers tugging lightly at the jet black hair on his nape. After another round of heated kisses, you went for his neck. He smelled so delicious you wanted to bite him - so you did. You’d lightly bite down on his neck, kiss the area and drag your bottom lip all the way up to his ear - a great place to nibble on and get some more urgent moans from him.

The way he was gripping your waist was intoxicating. You had had a few drinks that night, but nothing as strong as Trevor’s kiss. The more he kissed you, the more drunk you felt, the more desperate for him you were.

The puddle in your panties was getting bigger by the minute, and you couldn’t wait any longer. You reached for the hem of his T-shirt, motioning for him to take it off, so he did. You covered his chest in kisses and feather light touches, as he lied on the bed, defenseless. You unzipped his pants and took them off as well. His shoes were already off. You trailed your kisses down his belly and slowly took off his boxers as well.

Before you could do anything else, he shifted your positions so he could be on top of you. He took off your blouse and your bra eagerly, and attacked your breasts with sensual kissing and suckling. He even gave you a hickey.

- You’re mine - he said, admiring his work on your chest. - All mine.

Your skirt was also off right after that. That boy was wasting no time. You had touched each other on your last encounter, but Trevor was dying to see you completely naked for the first time. As he trailed his kisses down your stomach and his hands cupped your waist firmly, you’d let out a few moans every time he’d grip you a little tighter.

- Can-can I pull these down? - Trev said, his hands a bit shaky as he toyed with your lacy underwear. - You always wear such tiny, slutty panties, princess… But I want to see all of you…

- Sure, baby - you answered, a delicious tingling sensation spreading through your body. - I’m yours. All yours.

Those words were everything Trevor needed to hear. He took your panties off very gently, sliding them down your legs and placing them on the corner of the bed. Then, Trev looked at you in a way that felt ambiguous: he looked like he could drop to his knees and pray to you, but also like he could devour you as his very last meal.

Before you could react, his hands had already parted your thighs and his lips were gently touching your soaking wet folds. He was lapping up your arousal as if it was water, his tongue circling your clit softly. Your moans were more audible now, and the way your legs were shaking was very telling of the great job he was doing.

You came undone a few minutes later, you brain practically melted from such pleasure. That boy was going to be the end of you.

- Trev, I need you - you managed to say after you came down from your high.

- I’m yours, beautiful - he said, in adoration. You pulled him close so he would lie on top of you.

The heat from his body was maddening, irresistible. You reached your hand down in between your bodies, grabbed his cock and lightly glazed its tip with your arousal. He hissed in pleasure, his eyes squeezed shut.

- Don’t we need a condom? - he asked.

- I’m on birth control - you answered, nearly whispering into his ear. - Have you ever cum inside a girl before?

He shook his head no.

- Would you like to?

- I’d love to - he responded, almost in a trance.

You guided his cock into your soaking wet pussy, your eyes rolling as it entered you, completely stretching you out. Trev was so thick. He rolled his hips into yours slowly at first, trying to find the perfect rhythm, but in no time, you two were panting and moaning together.

He stood up and pulled your body to the edge of the bed, now thrusting even deeper into you. His thumb found its way to your clit, and there you were again, cumming in his magic hands. No boy had ever made you cum so easily.

As you orgasmed, your pussy convulsed around his dick in such a delicious way, he could no longer hold it in. Trev sunk his dick as deep into you as he possibly could, and came inside you. The sensation was amazing, the feeling of his warm cum taking over your dripping wet pussy almost made you cum again.

- That was perfect - he said, breathless. - I swear you’re the hottest girl in the entire world.

You laughed. Trevor kissed you one last time, passionately. He desired your body hungrily, but he was also really in love with you. All of you.

- Thank you for tonight, my princess. - he smiled. You make my life so much lighter and more fun, you have no idea.

- You do the same to mine, love - you responded, gesturing for him to lie in bed next to you.

You snuggled in each other’s arms quickly, feeling sleepier than ever. Trevor turned off the lamp on the bedside table.

- Good night, love - he kissed your forehead as you rested your head on his chest.

- Good night, angel - you responded, already falling asleep to his scent and warmth.

|||||

You were stirred awaken by the sound of a phone vibrating on the bedside table. With your eyes still heavy from all the drinking and partying, you looked over. It was Trevor’s.

- Babe - you nudged his cheek with yours, that was previously on his chest. He let out a whimper and tightened his grip around your waist. - Trev, wake up… I think your mom is calling.

Trevor nearly jumped out of the bed, his eyes wider than ever.

- Fuck - he said, holding his phone as his other hand gripped some of his own hair. - Mom’s gonna kill me.

#finn wolfhard smut #finn wolfhard x reader #mike wheeler x reader #imagine #mike wheeler #miles fairchild #smut #trevor spengler #Trevor Spengler x reader

195 notes · View notes

jiminrings · 2 years

Text

yoongi’s lullaby

pairing: yoongi x reader

wordcount: 13k

glimpse: there’s two things you can conclude from yoongi’s shapeshifting service: a) it’s great for his wallet, and b) it’s crushing for your heart.

alternatively, yoongi’s your best friend and soulmate, and you have to watch him fall in love over and over again.

[ 40% angst, soulmate au, yoongi is a capitalist (he shapeshifts and goes on fake dates then gets a load of money), fluff + wholesomeness, unrequited love (at first), f2l, self-deprecation, jealousy, YEARNING!!!, Redemption Arc I Promise ]

notes: this is part of the hlwwf universe :) and just like its predecessor, it’s also based on a song!! i haven’t felt this excited to write a fic in a while so i hope u love it as much as i do <3

as always, lmk what you think <3 send in feedback n love to my askbox anytime!!

Yoongi must be the universe’s reward to you for every good deed you’ve ever done.

When Yoongi lets himself to be roped into joining in your newest fixation, it must be your good karma because you sat front-row for each one of your younger siblings’ school events.

When he reminds you to drink your water and not skip your meals, even going so far as to deliver both to you as often as he could, it must be the universe’s payment to you for watering plants and going on that one (1) mandatory tree planting activity.

When he gives you all the credentials to log into his premium streaming platforms even without you asking, it must be fate’s way of thanking you for not making a fuss whenever a barista messes up your order or when a stranger cuts in line.

Yoongi is the good in your life and he has been ever since you were teens, reminding you of what you’ve worked hard for in life because when he wasn’t so busy going through the same hardships you did, he would be at the sidelines waiting for you to finish.

Or he could be someplace else without even sending a lousy text regarding his wellbeing nor his notice that he can’t be at your awarding ceremony tonight because he’s busy doing his job, serving as a reminder that Yoongi must also be the universe’s punishment to you for your missteps and lapses.

When he comes and goes into your apartment freely as treats himself to your newly-bought groceries, it must be retribution because you lost your temper on your college roommate once for eating the leftovers you’ve been craving since the night before.

When he salvages all the spare batteries you have lying around to power up his huge clock back at his apartment, therefore leaving you to eventually spend a rainy night without flashlights because of a power outage, it must be payback for lowering the temperature in your breakroom even with the sign that specifically tells you not to.

Whenever Yoongi mentions his shapeshifting “career” (he argues that it is) to you, a gift he had been born with and one he really maximizes to the fullest potential and profit, you’re reminded how much of it is a curse to you.

Yoongi must be the universe’s greatest reward and punishment for you at the same time because while he’s your soulmate and you spend almost every day with him — you have to see him fall in love with everyone else but you, over and over again.

“You should be splitting rent with me at this point. You’re always here,” you groan as soon as you spot him on your couch, barely escaping the grogginess you’re still in from having a long night.

His presence isn’t surprising anymore given the time you’ve been with him and how this exact situation has already played out tons of times before (him breaking into your place because he doesn’t want to be alone, you blissfully clueless until you hear raccoon-like searching in your kitchen) — it’s more irking than it is surprising, especially when you wake up at the wrong side of the bed.

“Do you not want me around?” Yoongi laughs heartily, unwilling to wipe his grin off when you don’t react. “That’s what I thought.”

He’s already beaten you to the TV and while he hasn’t had breakfast yet because he thought that the least he could do is wait for you to wake up so you could make it and the two of you can eat together, he’s getting there anyway.

“What type of horrible soulmate kicks out their other half that hasn’t had breakfast yet at 8 in the morning?” he hums, a faux pout on his face that rubs you the wrong way. You’re still pissed at him for not showing up at your awarding ceremony last night for being the top developer in your tech company, his lengthy apologetic text before you went to sleep still not doing its full effects.

“You don’t wanna tread there,” you huff, crossing your arms. “I have a lot on my chest, Yoongi. A lot of hateful, vile, factual comebacks.”

“Exactly!” he exclaims, the smile on his face telling you that he’s taking this lightly; way more lightly than you’d like him to. “We’ve had this conversation a million times before, baby. Sometimes, people just aren’t meant to be,” Yoongi shrugs, his words embedded in you now from repetition alone. “Some soulmates are only platonic.”

“That’s what you want because you’re non-committal,” you hiss, the incoming headache you have for having this conversation too early in the morning making you sit yourself on the couch. Yoongi grins because he knows you won’t kick him out at this point, slinging an arm across your shoulders while you’re still glaring at him. “Your hustle or whatever you call it is falling in love with everyone but me.”

“Uhm, correction — it’s a career,” he tuts. “I have a gift, Y/N. What, I can shapeshift into other people and I’m not supposed to capitalize off of that?”

He had only started offering his services a little more than a year ago, a byproduct of his boredom and his producing internship at the music label falling through. It just came to him in a fever dream and a drunken suggestion from you, and one website domain purchase and a socialite with a lot of connections for a first client later, Yoongi quickly made bank.

SeeAndSaw’s a trial dating service led by Yoongi, one that would answer clients’ curiosities to whether or not they were compatible with a person, and that’s where his shapeshifting came in handy. His services continue to be used for a multitude of reasons, the most common one being to see if the client would match with their soulmates (or just a random person, he’s not particular like that) ahead of their meeting. He’s also become a handy instrument here and there, breaking up with people in his clients’ behalf because they were too guilty to do so, to becoming a stand-in for clients that needed to present someone to their families for occasions.

Yoongi acts far too casual to you and not only is its time’s fault, it’s also yours for keeping him around in any way you can have him, even if it’s just as a friend.

“I keep professing my love for you every two weeks and I’m doing it now while you’re eating my leftovers. People would kill just to have a soulmate as dedicated as me,” you frown, slowly softening the more that you’re rendered awake. Yoongi’s right, you did have this conversation a million times before and it’s the realization of it all that perhaps, at rare times, makes it hurt less.

“We’ve had this talk before,” he sing-songs, digging into the carbonara you took home that he retrieved not even one minute later since you joined him on the couch.

“For someone who makes bank fake dating people, you sure do leech off of me a lot,” you grumble, effectively quietened when he shoves a forkful of pasta into your mouth.

“That reminds me,” Yoongi grins, building up to a dramatic gasp. “I love-…”

He trails and trails and if only you didn’t know any better, you would know that Yoongi wouldn’t profess his love for you in your living room while you were still in your pajamas eating cold carbonara. Much less, Yoongi wouldn’t tell you at all that he loves you.

“I love doing that,” he agrees, disappointed for a second when you didn’t even react to him doing a cliffhanger about what or who he loves. “My treat for you this week is to get you a new mattress. You’ll be less grumpy in the mornings.”

“The mattress can stay for a little longer. Can you just get me a new alarm system please?” you say without missing a beat, having already thought long and hard about what make-up gift you wanted him to give you from missing out on your awarding ceremony.

“Why? Are you okay? Did anybody attempt to break in?” Yoongi asks concerned, brows knotted in worry. He grunts under his breath, shaking his head. “I already told you to move into my apartment complex so many times. It’s much safer there.”

That’s also a conversation you’ve had a million times before, all circling back to your attachment to the first place that you bought with your own money. It’s not bad per se, it just looks like it when you show it side-by-side with Yoongi’s place.

“Oh. They already broke in,” you narrow your eyes, oblivious to the panic brewing in Yoongi.

“What the fuck? Why didn’t you tell me?! Are you-…” he rants, stopping himself when he sees the irony. “Okay, I get it. You’re not funny.”

You and Yoongi eat cold carbonara in total silence, save for his grumbles of how you should never joke about your safety and yours for how he should start chipping in for your bills if he’s gonna keep showing up like this.

Yoongi swears he doesn’t find you funny. He swears it on his life when a few days later, a guy is sent to your house to update your security system. There’s a couple hundred packages of additional manual locks, along with Yoongi’s letter of how he still doesn’t find you funny, amongst other things.

Please guard your home. Don’t let anybody else in except me.

- Yoongi

( ♡ )

Yoongi despises change.

He’s with the elderly when it comes to online menus in an actual, physical restaurant, annoyed by them to the point that sometimes he just walks out. He can’t help it that he wants a nice, slightly greasy, and good menu because it just goes to show how great the food would be.

He hates whoever invented and continues to advertise white cooking equipment that’s beyond impractical, knowing to himself that he would disown any friends or family he’ll catch using them. You spent a good two seconds more looking at a white ceramic pot that one time when you were online shopping, and Yoongi’s never been more determined to hurl your phone to the floor.

Yoongi also hates overly-modified cars and overly-decorated phone cases, because as much as it isn’t his business, he firmly believes that sometimes there are things meant to be left alone.

His voicemail is still the same one he had back in college and his standard ringtone for everyone remains untouched — everyone but you.

Yoongi knows that he’s in charge of his time given his very successful career and he worked around his whole schedule just to grant himself the luxury of sleeping in today. He wants to have himself buried in his cold sheets for longer but it’s your call that overrides his phone on Do Not Disturb, shaking him awake quicker.

“Yoongi?” you ask, too wrapped up in your internal to-do list to notice that he answered at the second ring. “Help me please.”

“Spider family in your cupboards again?” he yawns, rubbing the sleep off his eyes. God, he hopes it’s not that again. He isn’t the biggest fan of spiders either but at your insistence (and threatening last time that you’ll ignore him for a week), he forced himself to swallow down the unease.

“No, I woke up late,” you hum, once again oblivious that you’re intruding on Yoongi’s plans. He doesn’t mind though; not at all. “I just got a text about my package and I accidentally used your address again. The front desk received it.”

Yoongi’s address has already become your secondary one at this point, from food deliveries from staying over to parcels you made him receive because you wouldn’t be home at the time. You’ve gotten used to utilizing his address, his home, so much that you forget which is which sometimes.

“Can you sign off on it as me?”

You know potential and convenience when you have it within reach, and the both of you know that your best friend slash soulmate gets a sense of pride whenever you need to utilize his shapeshifting abilities.

“Okay fine. I’ll even talk you up as a future tenant here because you’re taking my advice and moving to my building, right?” he caves in even if it took nothing for you to convince him, putting on a shirt before finding his slippers.

“What, what? Yoongi, oh! You’re breaking up,” you make a half-assed attempt in avoiding the offer once again. You could afford it with the salary you have now but aside your attachment to the place you have now, being closer to Yoongi in this context would precisely be the demise of you. “Thanks, Yoongs. Bring the package with you when you come over.”

Yoongi’s filial when it comes to you, that much you’ve noticed. He may not be in love with you but his loyalty to you is as clear as day, much of a soulmate’s but not exactly a lover’s.

It’s supposed to be like clockwork when he picks up his parcels (yours in this case) from the front desk but there’s just something he belatedly realizes now, his mouth in a grimace when he has to pry off your package from the receptionist who was unabashedly asking where you were.

He didn’t know that every time this would happen, or in any case wherein you came by yourself to his apartment and therefore passing by the front desk, the sleaze would flirt with you.

“Joohyuk from the front desk always comes off strong, huh?” Yoongi snickers the moment he enters your place, handing you your stuff instead of tossing it like he usually would.

“Tell me about it. He doesn’t give me a break,” you snort, unfazed that he doesn’t greet you with a hi anymore because your current visiting set-up has been executed many times.

Yoongi doesn’t know what to do with the unhinged anger in his brain that unfolds because from your response alone, you’re used to it. You’re used to feeling uneasy and he hadn’t caught on earlier than he should’ve, the guilt weighing down on his chest.

“Hey,” he calls out, his tone leaving you no room for objections. “I’ll receive your packages from now on.”

( ♡ )

You don’t know how you keep holding onto Yoongi despite him grasping you from afar.

It’s a melancholy enough as it is to swallow at the end of the day that Yoongi’s yours but not in the way you want him to be, along with the great possibility that it would always be that way. You don’t heed the reminder when you’re with him and that’s almost everyday of your life, the ache that you’re the only one pining after him remaining as a dull thrum.

He seeks you in seasons but you look for him in all weathers, the great search of when you’d finally amount more to him still coming up unanswered.

You can handle seeing Yoongi often with the cue that you’re only friends despite the initials on both your ring fingers saying otherwise. You can manage with introducing him only as your close friend to colleagues and acquaintances because you don’t want to end up with a long-winded explanation how he wants you but really doesn’t.

Yoongi can deal with your moony stares at him every once in a while and your professions of love, whether sober or drunken. On the same vein, you can deal with the rejection he serves you every single time.

The both of you are adults who can handle each other, one more high-strung than the other, and it’s only in moments like these that you reach your limit. You’re awfully too aware of how easy it is for Yoongi to work, to be in love with people he only knows vaguely.

“I don’t like to see you when you’re at work.”

You’re momentarily caught with panic when you see a stranger in your living room, only being caught up to date when he’s sprawled across your couch in the same way that Yoongi does, the very same shit-eating grin he has on for giving you a fright.

You don’t know the guy at all and you don’t plan to. You try your best to separate yourself from Yoongi’s shapeshifting business, most especially his clients and the extensions of them that he has to portray. You don’t even want to hear the stories behind his appointments even if he begs for you to hear him out because he just wants someone to talk to.

The moment you fully accept that Yoongi would belong to everyone but you is the day that you rue him.

And in a longingly heartbreaking fashion, you don’t hate Yoongi — yet.

He momentarily changes back to himself, sneaking a look at his watch to see how many minutes he has more of annoying you before going on a date just two blocks away from your place.

“Why?” he whines, and in retaliation, changes back to the stranger. “I’m Hong Dusik. I’m from the countryside, moved back to the city to do stocks, and my dimples are literally embedded in there. I’m my client’s soulmate and it’s their first date next week but she’s shy and she’s nervous, so she’s having a dry-run with me first.”

Tuning Yoongi out has become a skill you continue to hone and while it isn’t foolproof just yet, it’s helped tremendously when you want nothing more than to kick him (or any form he takes) out.

“Nice.”

“You’re icing me out, sweetie?” his voice lulls, the sweetness behind it cloying until you remember that you don’t know the guy it belongs to.

“My god, your dimples are deep,” you murmur, clutching your bag to your chest. “Switch back, Yoongi.”

“Why? Dusik’s a nice guy.”

You kiss your teeth with the annoyance of a hundred days built up, gritting out your answer that makes him falter momentarily. “I’ve heard already, but I don’t plan seeing Dusik or any other stranger in my home.”

“Aw, you’re so loyal to your soulmate, whoever he may be,” he coughs, shifting back to himself. At any other day, Yoongi’s playful nature would be met with one of your sarcastic remarks but he doesn’t get any this time, the ghost of a frown accompanying his lips.

He’s admittedly nervous when you don’t play along with him, but his urge to sneak one last word in overtakes his trepidation.

“My advice to get over me? Bone it out. Get it out of your system. Soon enough, my initials would fade.”

Come to think of it, Yoongi’s advice isn’t all that bad.

“If Dusik and his girl don’t work out, just send him to me,” you nod, retreating to your room.

“Good! I’ll-…” he grins, satisfied with ticking you off until your words sink into him, the double-take that he makes giving him an ache on his neck. “What?” Yoongi murmurs, “I didn’t mean it that seriously.”

( ♡ )

In a parallel universe or in a different life, Yoongi actually lives with you. In that reality, you’re still soulmates and the difference is that he loves you back. He doesn’t have the ability to shapeshift and you don’t have to profess your love repeatedly either.

In a parallel universe or a different life, Yoongi’s cooking you dinner. Dinner would be just takeout from a drive-thru that he transfers to plates because the two of you barely ate the bourgeoisie food at your awarding ceremony. You’re still the top developer in your tech company, but the difference is that he’s there and you get to introduce him as your soulmate and not just a friend who coincidentally bears the same initials on your finger.

In a parallel universe or a different life, Yoongi is your soulmate before he is your friend. He doesn’t condense your love for him as a mere obligation. He doesn’t bat an eye at your confessions because in that reality, he’s the one who loves you more than you love him.

You don’t have that life though — what you have at the moment is Yoongi, your soulmate, not being able to see what was wrong signing you up for a dating app. You wouldn’t have known if not for the couple hundred notifications you receive in your personal phone that you left at home.

You wouldn’t be this angry if Yoongi could just accept that he went out of line.

“How many times do I have to say it over and over again?” you yell, hands flailing around helplessly. The smug look on Yoongi’s face remains, strengthened only by his stubbornness. “I love you and it’s just always been you!”

This is not the life you pictured with your soulmate. In your head, you don’t even see a particular space the two of you would live in. The home you see in your dreams is ever-changing, the layout of it never staying the same. The only thing that stays in the life you picture is Yoongi. Your Yoongi.

“Why can’t you put me in your choices atleast? We’re soulmates and you’ve been my only choice but I’m– fuck!” you exclaim, sucking in a sharp breath when you feel a momentary stab at your chest. “You don’t even consider me to be a potential girlfriend even if my initials are on your finger!”

In another world, Yoongi doesn’t look at you with a clenched jaw when you speak your mind. The two of you have grown sick at this conversation but the difference in your world now is that you’re beyond angry at him, the frustration unmistakeable when you look at him.

“Why can’t it be me, Yoongi?” you seethe, fists clenched tightly that your knuckles turn white. “For fuck’s sake, when can it be me? When can it be my turn? When do you pick me?”

Yoongi didn’t mean for you to be heated with him. It was a practical joke, only following through with the half-hearted advice he gave you when he showed up at your apartment as Dusik.

He just wanted to prove a point that you don’t want to give up on him as much as he doesn’t want you to stop trying for him. It’s selfish, he’s selfish. And if only Yoongi could focus on how conceited he is rather than the anguish he feels about you being angry and upset at him, he would wipe off the arrogance from his face.

“I hate your job so, so fucking much. It looks pathetic to me even if I know you must enjoy it a lot,” you burst, saying your truth that you’ve tried to minimize in order to make way for his self-esteem. “Your business is to be these random people’s dream guy but you’re mine. You’re my dreamboat, my ideal guy, my person! I’m your soulmate but I feel like shit. Just utter, hopeless shit that you visit almost everyday because you don’t want to be alone!”

He can’t put it into words but in the simplest way he could put it, being alone feels like a punishment more than it is a solace. Yoongi lives alone and he can handle it, but him tolerating it doesn’t mean that he loves it.

It’s always been you and him, one way or another. In the trench of your love, waiting for Yoongi to come around is worth it. In the shore of your doubts however, the novelty of having Yoongi is starting to wear off.

You make up your mind then and there, the ascent from your trench to your shore increasingly coming fast by the day.

“Leave. You’re not staying the night here.”

Yoongi breaks by then, a dry sob leaving his throat while he tries to plead with the resoluteness in your tone.

“What kind of-“

“What kind of soulmate throws out their other half in the middle of the night?” you interrupt, knowing that Yoongi only mentions your status when he’s desperate. “The kind that doesn’t want to be soulmates anymore.”

You sound the most casual you’ve ever been and Yoongi’s annoyed at you for it, his eyes narrowed into slits. He’ll oblige for the night, on his way to the door when he looks at you.

“With all due respect, Y/N, screw you. You don’t mean that,” he mutters, chest heaving up and down. He’s convincing you as much as he’s convincing himself. “You’re just angry, you’re sad, and you don’t mean that.”

Your back’s turned to him when he leaves, or atleast attempts to do so because he doesn’t want to make his exit when you refuse to even look at him.

“I mean it right now, let’s focus on that,” you chuckle, already turning off the lights in the apartment without sparing a single glance at him. “Go away, Yoongi.”

( ♡ )

Unsurprisingly, you find Yoongi at your house the next day when you come home from work.

He probably has your key fob microchipped on him nowadays, your huge fight from last night not being enough to deter him from coming over. He’s a stubborn and mostly annoying stain you have in your life at the exact second, the two of you unwilling to apologize to each other.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” you mutter, rolling your eyes when you set your bag down on the counter. You’re on a time crunch, the window you have of preparing yourself to look divine already closing down steadily.

“The fuck are you doing home?” Yoongi retorts just for the sake of it and simply because he wants to keep the conversation (if it was even called that) going, trying to ignore the fact that he totally bombed his comeback and makes up for it by staring at your leftover dumplings on his plate.

You’re busy fending for yourself, your eyes too preoccupied in rolling to the back of your head that you fail to notice Yoongi’s puffy with all the crying he did last night. You ignore him and go straight to your bedroom, not having enough time to multitask showering and fighting with him.

You’ve already went through your entire routine and dressed yourself up, the frustration in you only skyrocketing up when Yoongi’s still there in your kitchen.

“Either get out or move out of my way,” you say as you retrieve yourself a snack from your cupboards to munch on while you multitask, intentionally bumping your shoulder with him in the process. “I’m going out on a date.”

Yoongi heavily sighs, his fork clattering on the plate loudly. He tries to keep his emotions at bay because this is all his fault, the fight in his body tensing his shoulders.

“You’re lashing out.”

“I’m not lashing out,” you argue, looking at the clock to see if you could still fit in fighting with Yoongi between spraying your perfume and meeting your date by the front door. “Lashing out would be me bringing my date home and fucking him loudly in my room.”

He stabs the dumplings a little too harshly and a little too unnecessarily, fitting two in his mouth while clenching his fists because he knows a nasty remark is just bubbling to be said.

Yoongi’s being childish and your patience has already run thin to deal with him especially when you’re mad, the huff that leaves you sounding extremely personal.

“What are you even doing here? Go back to your house.”

“My appointment’s just at the next block. Your place is closer.”

“You could’ve just driven there directly instead of camping out here.”

Yoongi sarcastically smiles, his eyes in crescents as he makes a show of tilting his head. “Can I notspend time anymore with my best friend? My soulmate, even?”

“Stop saying the s-word,” you grit. “Don’t say that when I bring Jimin home.”

The resounding tension that envelopes the two of you finally snaps, manifesting into a scoff from Yoongi so offended and loud that it resonated in your apartment like a clap of thunder.

“Jimin from high school? You’re exes for a reason, remember?” he exclaims, eyes blinking in disbelief because he figures he must’ve heard you wrong. “He broke up with you when he went abroad for college because he can’t do long-distance. What makes you think he’ll give you the time of day this time?”

None of his words register in your head, blissfully letting them fly over. Jimin only invited you to catch up and you obliged; it’s not like you didn’t have years of love amongst yourselves to shroud yourself in anonymisity. Plus, it’s not like he asked you to try again with him — it’s dinner. Just dinner.

“He’s already outside. Also, it’s clearly a short distance this time.”

“Don’t be smart with me,” Yoongi scoffs, standing up abruptly with his arms across his chest. “I’m gonna barricade the door if you come home with him.”

“Good. I can come home with him to his place.”

“I’ll barricade his door,” he retorts without even thinking, his brows knotted in exasperation.

“Go fuck yourself,” you narrow your eyes at him, letting your glare at him linger until you get to the front door. “While I fuck Jimin.”

“You’re so-“

Yoongi points an accusing finger at you, unable to finish his sentence now that you’ve left. You’re stubborn.

If he’s being honest, the thought of you merely giving Jimin the time of day makes him uneasy. It puts a void on his stomach and an even larger cavity in his chest.

And if Yoongi’s being more honest, he doesn’t even have an appointment nearby. He just wanted to be with you whichever way he can.

( ♡ )

Yoongi used to hate crossfit.

He hated even the concept of it because the trainers for it at the gym have a superiority complex when talking about it as if it was revolutionary; as if launching yourself a feet into the air while doing push-ups from point to point was groundbreaking.

Even his friend, Jungkook, knowsjust how much he hates it. He didn’t particularly have a preference when it comes to working out, but Yoongi’s random and unprovoked hate for random things is starting to rub off on him. They both hate crossfit… right?

Jungkook doesn’t know how to react when he sees Yoongi doing pull-ups with one hand diagonally while a kettlebell’s on the other. He doesn’t know what to feel seeing him agitatedly do push-ups while wearing a weighted vest and with his feet up on a medicine ball.

Jungkook, for a fact, does not know what his cue should be when he sees Yoongi running 24kph on a treadmill with his eyes fixated on the phone in his hand, although he’s about 99% sure that this is not exactly crossfit.

He’s known him for years now and there’s barely anything between them that they don’t know about each other. Jungkook, however, doesn’t know the threshold of Yoongi’s emotional constipation, slightly concerned when he sees his friend’s mind drift elsewhere.

“Yoongi, are we okay there buddy?”

“Huh?” he squints, looking up from his dessert which he’s just been staring at the past two minutes.

Jungkook clears his throat, vaguely mentioning to the poor utensil in his hand. “You’re bending the fork.”

“It was already bent when you handed it to me,” he weakly counters, setting the metal down without much concern.

“I uhm, I really don’t think so.”

Yoongi only supplies with him a scowl and normally, being the filial and nosey friend that he is, it was cue for him to inquire what was going on. Jungkook likes including himself and it’s one of the numerous things he has in common with Yoongi, but it was clear as day just how differently it manifests for each of them.

Yoongi’s only been staring at the mocha crepe cake because he knows he would be incessantly interrupted by Jungkook once he started eating it, but come to to think of it, the younger hasn’t asked him even once.

He narrows his eyes at him, crossing his arms with a sly look to his face.

“What are you waiting for? I know you’re dying to ask me.”

Jungkook scoffs, rolling his eyes so passionately that Yoongi saw you in him for a second. “No, you’re dying to be asked. It’s always like this! You want to get something out of your chest but you always need me to ask first and then you pretend like you don’t like it.”

His face is far too straight and he got to the point really quickly with his delivery, his posture standing straight at the unimpressed look Yoongi gives him.

“Sorry. Your emotional constipation’s rubbing off of on me,” he hums sickeningly, batting his eyes. “Yes, Yoongi? What seems to be on your mind?”

Not even a second goes by before Yoongi breaks, his shoulders falling in recollection. “It’s Y/N. You already know my deal with her.”

“Of course I do. Aren’t we basically the same?” Jungkook tilts his head in thought. “Longtime best friends with our soulmates but the only difference is that the two of you knew at the beginning?” he continues, mixing his drink with his straw just to cushion the impending blow this conversation might inflict on him. “And uhm, that you spend every waking moment refusing her but magically, your friendship isn’t ruined over it?”

“You go on and on like an audiobook.”

He’s not the least bit offended because he does have the voice for it, but it wasn’t so audiobook-ish of him when his hands flail and his voice pitches in remembrance. “Oh also, you’re a shapeshifter! Poor Y/N has to watch you date all these people except her.”

“Which side are you on?” Yoongi looks down on his feet, the sigh that leaves him slowly weighing as much as the conflict in his mind. “There’s one more difference, by the way. I think she’s making me jealous.”

Now, Jungkook doesn’t flatter Yoongi all too much because his ego outnumbers his and that’s coming from him! But this is the one time that Jungkook has to hand it to him, his friend’s delivery and impeccable timing giving him the best chuckle he’s had this week.

“She’s intentionally making you jealous? God, Yoongi. Are we skimming over the fact that maybe she’s just grown sick of you?”

“You don’t get it!” he whines. “She’s entertaining her ex from high school. This stupidly blonde, stupidly genius, stupidly always available guy named Jimin! What a stupid name too. Seriously, he’s so-…”

The café’s well-lit and the acoustics are good too but there’s just this one cloud that forms above Jungkook when Yoongi mentions Jimin’s name, his brows suddenly furrowing in annoyance.

“Jimin?” he clarifies. “Jimin who?”

“This isn’t a knock-knock joke.”

The urge to smack Yoongi would always be larger than Jungkook’s intent to be the bigger person, his curiosity bursting at the seams. “What’s his family name, you idiot?”

“Why does it matter? You don’t know him anyway. It’s Park Jimin,” Yoongi rolls his eyes as he soothes the side of his head, equally as annoyed now.

The gasp coming from Jungkook alone shushes the entire café, his eyes as expressive as ever and his voice even louder, forcing Yoongi to sink further to his seat until the onlookers take their eyes away from the table.

“You’re joking me!” he booms, running his hands though his hair in a frenzy. “Guy from Busan, stayed until high school, then went to Harvard for college?”

“How do you know him?” Yoongi questions but at this point the how doesn’t matter as much as the why, his friend’s expression enough to keep him at the edge of his seat.

“Because he tried poaching my soulmate too!” Jungkook exclaims, pausing between words because he’s still speechless. “It’s this long story. We’re distant family friends, then I almost lost my bond, then-…”

Yoongi shushes him, putting up a hand for the both of them to stay on track. “Can we get back to me? Can we put a pause on the Jungkook and soulmate show?”

They’re a duo of insufferable people, one more self-absorbed and insufferable than the other. Jungkook sees much of his past self in Yoongi despite the latter being older, the irony of the situation rendering him breathless.

“What do I do about Jimin? Surely, he has a soulmate and it’s definitely not my Y/N,” Yoongi desperately asks for advice even if he thinks it’s beneath him, rubbing his face with his hands.

Jungkook thanks the universe and his soulmate for shaping him to be a better person because he could now hear what he used to sound like back then and by god was he emotionally constipated.

“My Y/N?” he mimics. “Let’s get you back to bed, uncle.”

He makes the internal reminder to get Yoongi away from crossfit because the punch that lands on his thigh is definitely powerful, making him wince loudly that once agains puts the both of them at the center of attention.

“Ow! What?! You can’t just refuse to be a thing with Y/N but then gatekeep her the moment she entertains another guy. That’s not how it works, believe me! I’ve literally been there before.”

Yoongi can hear Jungkook, but he doesn’t exactly understand.

He’s not oblivious to continue refusing the parallels between him and Jungkook but surely, the way it worked out for his friend means that it would for him too, right?

He’s in denial but he’s not there at the stage yet where he actually acknowledges that he is, stuck in the realm of hope that you’re not sick of him yet.

“Okay what if– what if we try to find out who this Jimin’s soulmate is? Look for them, pluck just one strand of hair, and I shapeshift into them? Then I’ll tell him to back off from other people and only focus on his soulmate!”

Jungkook winces, scratching his head. “That’s wrong. And unethical. You have so many things to unpack, Yoongi.”

“It’s not my fault I can shapeshift!” he exasperatedly sighs, briefly mirroring Jungkook by shifting to him just to prove a point.

“It’s your fault that you’re this constipated to be willing to go to great lengths just to steer Y/N away from Jimin!”

“What do I do then?” Yoongi groans, plunking his head onto the table. He doesn’t even have to raise his head for Jungkook to know that he’s nearing a dead end, his hope about to run out sooner or later. “What did you do?”

“I woke up. Figured I was too self-absorbed back then to realize that it’s always been her for me.”

Jungkook shakes his friend, prompting him to start eating the crepe cake he treated him to but refuse to eat because he’s still wallowing in worry over where he stands with you.

“Wake up, Yoongi,” he sighs, looking down on the markings on his own ring finger that he thanks the heavens for every single day. “The universe works in mysterious ways.”

( ♡ )

Yoongi prides himself for having 20/20 vision.

He’s always boasted about his vision not deceiving him even once, the constant praise whenever he gets his yearly check-ups fully seeping into his head.

He’s neither suffering from a hangover nor vertigo. Yoongi’s mind is in a sound and safe place which is why he doesn’t get how it could be playing jokes on him now, the most crucial of times he’s been going through with you.

Your soulmate mark has completely disappeared.

It simply cannot be true to how his initials disappeared overnight and you just woke up one day to see that they’re gone. Yoongi’s hand is gripping yours tightly as if you’d suddenly disappear too, the glare he has at your ring finger vacant and unnerving at the same time.

“It’s blank. Oh my god, it’s completely blank,” your eyes can’t seem to believe it too, a silent gasp leaving you in shock.

You’ve already said your piece but it’s not what Yoongi’s looking for. You’re not as distraught nor panicked as he is and he knows right there that you’re only fucking with him, making him sigh in exhaustion.

“It’s obvious why you didn’t study liberal arts,” he mutters, rubbing your finger furiously. It makes absolutely no sense when not a single hint of his initials peek through, the worry over his lack of a mark on you growing by the second.

“Huh?” Yoongi says under his breath, his pursuit of trying to get your stint to budge leading him closer to you to the point that your foreheads almost bump when he looks to you. “Okay, what’s the secret? You used pot concealer instead of liquid? You color-corrected? Tons of setting spray?” he tries, licking his lips that turned dry in exasperation. He’s running out of ways you could’ve executed this, mind turning up empty. “You uh, you got it tattooed over with your exact shade match?”

The dread that fills Yoongi is liquid hurt. It builds up from droplets and takes form wherever it flows, turning murky in contained and neglected spaces. He can’t move on from the hurt that’s in his chest when he glances at your empty ring finger and then to his that still has yours; that still links you to him, yet unreciprocated.

“Why is it not budging?”

“You’re rubbing all the way to my bone,” you chuckle, unable to read the anxiousness behind his tone. He looks disturbed even, lips parted with no explanation coming to mind.

“You’ve got me, Y/N,” he painfully chuckles, catching his bottom lip between his teeth. He bites too hard that he draws blood, eyes flickering ever so often. “Where did you hide the cameras this time?”

“Yoongi, I’m telling you! It’s really blank!” you chuckle but not as easily as the last time, sensing the atmosphere in the room that only favored you but not him. “Quick, walk into the wall. Let’s see if I feel it!”

He doesn’t know how you still have it in you to joke. He doesn’t know how you’re not panicking and as much as he’s figured that this is only one of the rare times where the universe favors you, he didn’t know it would result to this.

“First, I’m not walking into a wall. Second, you stop lying to me.”

“I’m not lying! I’m really serious!” your hands raise in defense, taking a step away from him. The starting notes of your laugh start to build but it never comes out fully because Yoongi interrupts you with a bitter laugh, throwing his head back in frustration.

You’re laughing. You’re unfazed and you’re laughing at Yoongi being at the end of his rope, his worry over losing his soulmate turning unrequited.

“Well then congrats on not having me as a soulmate anymore. I’m so happy for you!”

“What’s with the attitude?” you raise an eyebrow at him, scoffing in retaliation. It had only been lighthearted (for you, atleast) awhile ago and perhaps, maybe even humorous. You didn’t expect that he would receive the news like this at all. “No, congratulations to you, Yoongi, because you’ve been whining for years how you don’t want me and now you finally got it!”

The truth you say has been Yoongi’s for the longest time and the old him would’ve been thrilled because you finally got it. You finally got where he’s coming from and he didn’t need to deal with you pining after him but now that the realization comes here, one that you say to his face — it doesn’t feel good at all.

“Yeah, and I know and regret that now because I didn’t actually think the universe would listen!” his voice raises, pointing at his chest. “Fuck me for not thinking that the universe would stop to listen to my half-hearted wishes, am I right?”

“You’re right. Fuck you, actually!” you agree in spite, practically spitting your next words. “You’re so conceited. Why are you turning on me the moment you get what you thought you wanted?”

Yoongi doesn’t get it too.

He doesn’t get how he lets the flaw of his own insistence slip through his fingers so carelessly. He doesn’t even know what he wanted in the first place and it terrorizes him to know that he might just never know why, the answer for it only seen as a distant memory of you.

He doesn’t get how long he’s retained his insistence of preserving his safety zone by trying to deter you from loving him, when in reality, you’re the epitome of security itself. He didn’t think it through at all.

Yoongi didn’t think when he spent the past few years of his life rejecting your confessions and proposals in every opportunity that he could. Didn’t even leave you hanging from a thread of hope at all that he’d like you back; just a clean, straight refusal.

He didn’t stop to consider that the universe works in mysterious ways, because if he did earlier, he would’ve prayed to make you stay despite not being the type to get on his knees at all.

“Because I didn’t actually think we would stop being soulmates! I didn’t think that there’d be a reality where we aren’t together!” his voice cracks, his hands trembling at his sides. “It’s always been us, Y/N. I’ll always want you around.”

“Do you just want me around or do you want me?” you ask, the silence that follows after it being an accumulation of the ones you’ve had to spent alone when he rejected you. “I can’t be the background noise in your life, Yoongi. Not anymore. Y-yes, I know there are soulmates that are meant to be platonic but I don’t want that,” you stress, the tears springing to your eyes. “I can’t have that.”

It’s an ultimatum you didn’t know you would ever make at all.

“It’s either you have me as your soulmate or you don’t have me at all,” you say in strength, your thumb hovering about the ghost of his initials on your finger. “I can’t stand being your friend anymore.”

“You’d throw that away?” Yoongi croaks, taken aback. “You’d throw that– us away after all this time?”

“I would.”

“Your initials are still on my finger,” he reminds, sniffling as he pushes his hair back. This can’t be. You seriously can’t be posing this ultimatum to him, one that would determine both his present and future.

“Yours aren’t on mine,” you shot back. The lump on your throat is far too large to even swallow, each breath you take making it harder for you. “For the love of god, Yoongi, can you not deflect?”

Yoongi’s the most panicked that he’s ever been in his life and in your surprising and rarely selfish nature, you don’t even pause.

“This is a big decision, Y/N! Can’t you please just give me some time to think?”

“No. You’ve had enough time to think when you’ve been stringing me around for years.”

The hurt that bubbles up in Yoongi comes like a riptide, unsuspecting yet just as devastating. There’s no pause between his words, much too smooth and articulate for someone who’s as panicked as he is now. They’ve stayed at the tip of his tongue before and lingered in the back of his mind even longer.

“I can’t think because I’m not sure about you, Y/N! I’m not sure if I’ve always kept you around because I want us to be more like soulmates than we are as friends,” he sobs. “I don’t know if I can love you how you love me.”

The liquid hurt in Yoongi’s bones solidifies but yours evaporates. It should hurt for you — you know that it should pain you the most now. You wait and you wait for the hiss before the sting but it doesn’t come.

The weight lifts off from you instantly and you don’t even know why or how it happens. Whatever it was though, you let it carry your burdens for you. You only painfully nod, leaving Yoongi in your own house.

Yoongi can’t love you the way you love him — it’s the answer you’re looking for now, and it’s the same answer you swallowed down when you first professed your love for him years ago.

Jimin didn’t expect you to report back to him this quickly and this late at night to say the very least, his sleepiness being pushed back when you stand at his door.

You slur the words but you’re not even drunk with alcohol. You’ve walked the long way to Jimin in order to take off your mind from your fight with Yoongi but there was just something n your system, one that made you even forget who you were fleeing.

There’s no Yoongi that comes into your mind during your walk, in fact, you were starting to think that the name didn’t even make sense to you because you couldn’t put a face to it. All you knew was where you’re going and who you were going to — only Jimin.

The more you walked and the more you came closer to Jimin, it was only him that filled your mind. In fact, you didn’t even know where you came from at this point, the details a blur in your head except for Jimin who’s standing in front of you.

“It worked. He bought it.”

It’s the last words that Jimin heard from you before you quite literally froze up, eyes closing solemnly despite standing upright until you open them again, the glaze behind it shining brighter the more you looked at him.

“Jimin, my love,” you drawl, squealing in delight as you launch yourself to him in a hug. “What a handsome soulmate I have.”

Jimin flushes at the realization, frozen in his position as he only puts his hand at the small of your back, patting you in comfort.

He needs some pen and paper, his notes, and the brainpower to calculate his next decision.

( ♡ )

Yoongi makes no move to drive himself home.

He doesn’t even have the willpower to leave from where you left him, his knees giving in to situate himself on the couch where he could sink further in his self-loathing. He has half the mind to recognize that you need the space, especially tonight, even if it means leaving the comfort of your own home because he (your demise) was there.

He doesn’t know anything, other than the fact that he’s repulsive and he wants nothing more than to go seek you but he doesn’t know where he should start; if you would even want to see him in the event that he finds you.

He considers calling your phone and at this point, he’d be contented even with the line ringing or you declining. Yoongi stays rooted in your house as a placeholder that he doesn’t even know you would be acclimated to having, stuck in the very space with no purpose at all.

He’s waiting for either you or a miracle and both revolve around him being able to see you for just one more time, then another, then again and again after so. He’s waiting for you and only you, and he didn’t even think you would come through the door in first place — much more with someone else.

The door beeps open and Yoongi launches himself from where he sat, his stance protective the moment his eyes land on you and Jimin.

The guy is just as shocked to see Yoongi of all people, lips parted open in surprise. Jimin’s just about to ask Yoongi what the hell he’s doing here in the first place but he’s cut off when you grumble against his neck, forgetting momentarily that you were clinging to him by the hip the whole time.

“What are you doing with Y/N?” Yoongi questions, taking large steps towards the both of you. There’s practically smoke coming off from the top of his head, his fists clenched at his sides,

“Taking her to her room, obviously,” Jimin scoffs, attempting to dodge past Yoongi with you in tow but to no avail, the latter’s arm outstretched.

“She’s drunk.”

“She’s not,” Jimin insists, punctuating his desperation.

He moves past Yoongi this time but he doesn’t get far at all, his arm being wrung tightly. His hand awaits on your back out of instinct, the whiplash putting the both of them on edge.

“Hey, buddy, Y/N’s drunk.”

Jimin groans, prying Yoongi’s hand off him just as easily as he clamped it. “She’s not drunk! Not in that way, atleast,” he mutters, putting you closer to his chest that sets off Yoongi further. “Just back off.”

“What do you mean not in that way?” Yoongi bursts, his vision darkening. He sets out a hand once again to get you away from Jimin, his hold on you much gentler. “Asshole. I said don’t-…”

“She’s drunk, but not actually drunk!” Jimin caves, pinching his nosebridge but not before swatting away Yoongi’s hand. The latter belatedly realizes that Jimin’s not even holding onto you to keep you steady, it was purely you clinging to him. Jimin can’t put it into proper, technical terms because he’s always known that Yoongi isn’t his equal ever since high school, dumbing it down the best as he could that it physically makes him shudder.

“She’s drunk… in love.”

“What?” Yoongi squints, his face contorted into confusion and disbelief at the same time. “Are you high?”

“I’m not high. I mean it!” he groans, throwing his head back. He looks at you while you slip in and out of consciousness, his thumb underneath your chin to get you to look up. “Y/N’s literally drunk in love.”

You being attached to Jimin doesn’t make sense. What Jimin’s saying now isn’t making sense. You immediately coming to your ex, Jimin, after your fight with him doesn’t make any sense. None of everything that’s happening is making sense and Yoongi’s head is bound to erupt any time, the migraine forming in his temples giving Jimin a smaller window to explain.

“My friends and I made this drug for our company’s upcoming breakthrough and Y/N volunteered to try it out.”

“You drugged her?!” Yoongi yells, eyes wide and furious.

“I think you have selective hearing,” Jimin grits, offended at the insinuation. “It’s this drug that’s supposed to temporarily desensitize you to your soulmate, okay? It worked because clearly your initials are gone from her.”

None of them should be making sense but it does. It scares Yoongi that this whole thing could be condensed down to an explanation because it only makes it much more real; much more vulnerable.

“So I’m still her soulmate?” he asks with a lump on his throat, his rage simmering down back into sadness.

“Yeah, unfortunately,” Jimin snorts, running a hand through his hair. “It’d last for a week but we have yet to know all of the possible side effects,” he kisses his teeth, going through his internal checklist. “So far, we found out that although it desensitizes a person towards their soulmate,” he trails, perhaps a little bit amused if he was saying the truth. “They cling to the first person they see.”

How awful, Yoongi thinks.

“Y/N’s drunk in me,” Jimin announces with a grin. “She thinks I’m her soulmate.”

You’re waking up little by little and Jimin figures that your unconsciousness is only temporary and a one-time thing, considering that you’re back to trying to entangle all of your limbs with him in an eager embrace.

“Snap out of it, Y/N,” Yoongi says outloud to you, completely disregarding that Jimin’s still in the room.

He even makes a move to try and pull you away from him but to no avail, his interruption only making you raise an eyebrow at him. You look at Yoongi from afar despite being near and it’s haunting, the tilt in your head giving your sentiments away.

“Who are you?” you question genuinely, brows furrowed slightly. You turn back to the person you know most in this room at the moment, who’s none other than Jimin. “Who’s he, Jimin?”

“You don’t know this guy?” he questions, his mind computing rapidly.

“Not at all,” you confirm, not sparing a single glance back at Yoongi.

There’s a tense silence because all that Yoongi could hear now is the fuzz in his brain and the pulsing of his heart, his chest deflating in anguish.

“You promise me? You don’t know this guy at all?” Jimin confirms to you once more, assessing you deeply.

“I promise. I’d never lie to you,” you say with a frown, both of the guys knowing that from your tone alone, all you’re saying is the truth.

Jimin takes it down quickly, his tone more somber and less hostile than before.

“That’s another side effect then. Not only can it desensitize, but it also makes you forget about your soulmate completely.”

The two of them are talking as if you’re not in the room with them but it doesn’t make a difference otherwise because you’re only focused on Jimin, your eyes all endeared just by the silhouette of him alone.

Yoongi can’t will his mind to focus on just one thing, his frustration coming off as a strangled yelp.

“You’re shitting me! Make an antidote or something!”

“We still have to wait out the whole week.”

“It’s like you’re just asking me to slap you!” he grits, hand outstretched already yet retreating when Jimin mocks him in return, pointing at you whose head is turned from Yoongi. Of course, you think Yoongi’s your soulmate — of course you’d shower him with affection.

“Can you guys be any louder? I wanna sleep. Please take me to bed,” your attention’s only turned to Jimin, the guy nodding earnestly.

He’s about to coax you into your room when a voice cuts into the air, an eager tap being placed on your shoulder.

“I’m Yoongi.”

You look back at the guy who introduced himself, a smile on his face that doesn’t quite reach his eyes but looks like he’s just begging to be given a sliver of attention.

You don’t mind him though.

“Hi, Yoongi,” you curtly respond, turning your back on him. “Take me to bed, Jimin.”

( ♡ )

Your vocabulary’s not affected by Jimin’s experiment at all, except for the fact that the word you utter most is his name and barely Yoongi’s.

He neither came home nor went to sleep, his mind not being granted even a single second of rest because all he can think about how this is only a mere, flawed glimpse of what you would be like if he wasn’t your soulmate anymore and it’s terrifying. It puts goosebumps onto his skin and instills the fear of fate on him, obvious by the way he’s only been functioning long enough for the past hours for the sake of reliving the same alternate reality again and again.

You come out of your room and there’s still that same dazed look on your face, eyes less crazed but more yearning. Yoongi awaits any reaction from you that would lead him to think everything that’s happened in the last 24 hours is only a figment of his imagination.

It’s early in the morning but the sorrow from the evening already hits you through a frown, your eyes darting everywhere.

“Where’s Jimin?” you ask, shaking your head. “Why am I still here?”

“You live here,” Yoongi answers, keeping his hands to himself. He begrudgingly makes the internal note to relay your momentary forgetting to Jimin later even if talking to him is the last thing he’ll ever want to do.

You gasp then, eagerly nodding your head because that one piece of information definitely traces back to you. “Oh, right,” you nod, your lip curling once again. “Why are you here?”

Yoongi’s not sure how he should answer that.

He’s unsure if he should answer that he’s here and stayed the night because he was worried sick about you after your fight, almost driven to passing out in overwhelm especially when Jimin brought you home.

He doesn’t know if he should say that in your home because it’s only rational since you’re soulmates, and that he dislikes being alone, and that being with you calms him down an infinite amount; if he could just skim over the fact that you barely have any recollection of him and will continue to do so for the next week.

Yoongi can’t determine to whether or not he should tell you that he wants to spend every second with you because should be the precursor for you to believe that you don’t want him anymore, he’s left with a memory of you, no matter how painful.

“Because I live here too,” he says a half-truth, trailing off in remembrance of you nagging him to go back to his house.

“We live together?” you question once again, your face contorted in confusion. “Why?”

You don’t even mean malice with it and Yoongi knows that exactly, the bit of realization even more painful because he knew that you would question him with snark and tears otherwise. In your foggy, Jimin-centric brain, it doesn’t make sense why you and Yoongi practically live together.

Because we’re soulmates, he wants to answer.

It’s the same question he asks himself because he doesn’t know how you let him either — when in reality, he already knows why and it’s because you love him. The even bigger question is if he was even deserving of you.

“Because we wanted to,” Yoongi leaves it at that, clearing his throat as he pushes a plate towards you that he put together on short notice. “Here’s breakfast. This is your favorite.”

You don’t even move to thank him curtly, head tilting in curiosity. You have all the questions yet he doesn’t know if he has all the answers, his heart hurting whichever way he addresses you.

“But why do we want to live with each other?”

“Because we care for each other.” (Read: because we’re soulmates and because we’ve been friends and soulmates our whole lives and I don’t ever see us parting.)

You nod at Yoongi’s brief answer, stuck in staring off to space for a couple of seconds before you swallow down everything.

“Oh,” you hum somewhat satisfied. “You know where Jimin is?” you open a new line of questioning this time, tone picking up more. “Do we live with him or is it just the two of us?”

Jimin’s testing out his method of withdrawing himself this time, living out the remainder of the week by not making any contact with you and assigning Yoongi to report back to him. He’s not even meant to say everything to you in technical terms, knowing that he has to make up lies the whole week regarding Jimin’s whereabouts.

It’s only and should be a simple, trivial question regarding your living situation but Yoongi can’t help the hiccup that builds in his chest, heart heavy with nothing he can do about.

“Just the two of us,” Yoongi mutters, tracing your initials on his finger discreetly. It was one of the things you did when you felt like confessing to him silently, eyes not even meeting each other’s for you to tell him that you love him. He’s desperate to have you do it to him again — pathetically and helplessly pleading for you to come back to him again. “Always just the two of us.”

Yoongi finds it admirable that you grow warmer to him by the night, nevermind that you’re not doing it for familiarity but rather to get closer to Jimin through him.

Not once does he leave your side whenever you stroll back out to thr living room, plopping onto the couch to eat dinner made by him to which you aren’t weirded about. You no longer inquired him why he’s here, just accepting his presence because the back of your mind tells you that you’re used to him in the first place.

“I miss Jimin,” he hears you sigh for the umpteenth time, an automatic rigid smile painted on his face. He doesn’t want to hear about him at all actually, however he’d do anything just to get you to keep talking in the event that it’s the last he’ll hear from you.

“You don’t say,” he hums, tuning out his name as he tries to pretend that it’s his instead.

You can’t distinguish the far relaxed nature to Yoongi’s intonations because after all, you barely remember any of him and his quirks for you to compare his attitude to. For all you know, he’s just a calm and calculating person that you know in your life, one whose eyes just can’t stop straying to his hands.

Yoongi doesn’t want to feel like he’s mourning but the feeling in his chest is akin to it anyway, something resembling repentance rising out of it from nowhere when you let your curiosity get the best of you.

You’re unfathomably upset because Jimin’s nowhere to be found. One second you’re sighing and at the other you become molten aluminum at thrashing just to see him.

It’s painful to see you like this and he tries his best to gather you to his arms to calm you down, shushing you to the best of his abilities that annoy you even further.

“I don’t want you! I want Jimin!”

“I’m the only one you have,” he says just as urgently, releasing you from his hold but you melt to him anyway, in a fit of tears with your hands covering your face.

It hurts to see you yearn for another person who isn’t him (read: your soulmate) and it hurts more to even grasp that this could’ve been your vignette the whole time that he’s been working, perhaps even the whole time that you’ve been pining after him.

“But I don’t wanna have you,” you enunciate with a sob that wracks your body yet destroy Yoongi’s core, his intake of breath being shallower the more that you refuse him.

“Can you find him for me please? Did I do anything wrong? Maybe he’ll respond to your texts.”

“You’ve never done anything wrong,” he comes to his sense just to scold you, eyes narrowing of why you could’ve conjured up such a thing.

“But I must’ve done something,” you whine. “Jimin doesn’t love me.”

“It’s impossible not to love you,” Yoongi interjects faster than the impulsive thought had formed in your brain, his eyes stern and promising. “Your soulmate must be the luckiest bastard in the world.”

You hear him once again but you can’t understand him, the words meaning nothing to you because you aren’t even sure of the level of relation you had with him before your memory became hazy.

“But my soulmate doesn’t even love me back!”

You have him there, ironic that you’re going through the same situation twice. You’ve went through it with Yoongi for years genuinely, while you’ve been going through it with Jimin for five days because of an experiment.

“He loves you,” he says it in confidence and assurance, his hands unknowingly making their way to grip your shoulders for you to look at him when he’s speaking the truth. “He’s a conceited asshole and he’s really flawed, but he’s trying his best to love you more than you deserve,” his voice cracks briefly, clearing his throat. “Must be hard to swallow down the fact that the universe is too generous to him because he has you for a soulmate. He must feel like he’s the scum of the earth because he has the greatest, most lovable person in the world loving him, and he used to take it for granted.”

It’s warm. Too warm, too personal, and too familiar — and in your head, Jimin is the only person in your head who fills all three boxes.

“Jimin feels like that?”

“Hmm,” Yoongi agrees, lying easily. “He also hopes that it’s not too late.”

In a moment’s notice, he furthers the distance between the two of you as if the oddly-spurred passionate conversation the two of you had never happened.

Your memory’s not acting up when you remember that you came out to join Yoongi to talk about Jimin, but now, you wouldn’t believe yourself that it’s actually the reason you came out.

This time it’s you who reaches out for Yoongi, clearing your throat.

“Who’s that?” you point to his ring finger, eyes peeking at the initials. It’s just like yours, the irony of it making you giggle. “That’s not me, isn’t it?”

“And if it was?” Yoongi asks, eyes still gentle but his voice much too mellow to the point that you’d think he isn’t breathing.

“I wouldn’t believe you,” you answer, carelessly shrugging.

Yoongi purses his lips and he knows he should stop prodding now because the last time he did, it ended with him driving you right into Jimin’s arms to experiment him out of your life. He can’t hold his tongue now, even when he knows he’s bound to suffer from himself anyway.

“Why not?”

“Because if that’s me, then I should be in love with you right now and not Jimin,” you trail, your tone reeking obviousness. It’s clear enough for you, atleast, but Yoongi takes nothing but murkiness from it.

“Hmm,” he hums, pointing to your hand. “Why do you love Jimin if his initials aren’t on your finger then?”

“You got me there,” you snort, the words unwilling to roll off easily from your mouth. In fact, nothing forms in your mind anyway, just a mere vision that you can discern yet not verbalize. “I don’t know. I can’t explain it. I just love him.”

It’s a confession that sets you apart from the soulmate that Yoongi knows, all before you had been desperate enough to desensitize yourself to his very existence.

“You can’t explain love?” he asks gently, eyes lowering down in thought.

“Can anybody?” you counter resignedly, the concept of just settling for the fact that there’s things that are unexplainable being enough for you.

Yoongi feels the most alive that he’s felt since the past day, the smile on his face being so nostalgic and sentimental to you for some reason that it momentarily makes you dizzy.

“My soulmate can. She’d profess her love for me every chance she gets. Would do it in all the ways she could find.”

You can explain love. You’re talkative and you always have the right words to say. You have the stubbornness in you that when put to its fullest power, puts his ego to shame. You have the convincing power of a company in you, one that has nothing to its name and only its very being to prove with.

You can put love into words and it’s daunting how you can condense everything you’ve ever felt for Yoongi into the many confessions you give him. In your loud drunken spiels all the way to your silent telepathic stints — you’re the embodiment of love. You can explain love and it makes sense because you would know your own.

“She sounds like a handful,” you murmur, brows furrowed to how Yoongi describes someone who’s clearly not on the same wavelength as he is with lovesick dedication in his face.

“She’s my handful though.”

“Does she come by here often then?” your brows raise, your headache throbbing the more that Yoongi speaks to you.

“You already know her,” Yoongi smiles tightly, looking right through you. He looks at you like he’s a dog that looks for its owner, ready to be at your beck and call. “I just don’t know if you can’t recognize her.”

“Show me a picture! Maybe it’ll jog my memory,” you offer enthusiastically, already knowing that you’re missing bits here and there but maybe seeing Yoongi’s soulmate would push you to remember faster.

“Maybe another time.”

Yoongi’s turned solemn, breathing shallowly as if he doesn’t want you to have a clue that you’re even seeing him right now.

“It’s just a picture! You looked like you were gonna cry when you were talking about her,” you pout, giving in eventually. “Aw, come on! You’re not sharing her?”

“No,” he answers almost immediately, masking his certainty with an uneasy chuckle. “I hope not.”

( ♡ )

You feel fuzzy.

Fuzzy in the sense that you remember clearly the two days you’ve lived but operated with your mind from afar; every interaction and every word crystal clear.

Fuzzy in the sense that it’s overwhelming, the good kind this time, but still overwhelming to the point that you have to take a breather outside of your apartment that feels suffocating to be in.

You’re five days ahead of schedule, the effect of the pill that was supposed to desensitize you to Yoongi and have other as drastic side effects being cut early.

It’s only relief that fills you when you walk out and hear Yoongi’s light snores in your guest bedroom instead of the living room, alleviating your momentary guilt at leaving this time — but only to give yourself the space to think, of course.

It’s only solace that envelopes you when you screw your eyes shut and look to your ring finger while you hold your breath, the consolation of seeing Yoongi’s initials still on there satiating you.

You’re not in your room and not even in the apartment at all. You’re not at the hallway and not even anywhere in your entire apartment complex. You’re not at the convenience store nearby where you typically go on walks just to take your mind off things and buy yourself snacks. He’s already checked and checked — Yoongi can’t find you anywhere.

He fears the worst. The absolute, most heartbreaking worst. He can’t even fathom where he got the strength to dial your number on his phone because he thought he would be faced with nothing, the proof that you’ve cut all ties with him by disconnecting completely.

Yoongi doesn’t know what possesses him when you answer easily on the second ring, your voice lighthearted.

“You’re wrong,” you hum. “Your apartment’s easy to break into just like mine.”

“Where are you?” Yoongi asks first amongst the other hundred questions he’s been dying to do so, the relief that fills him unable to be topped. You’ve just said your location but he still asks, hesitant that this may just be some cruel joke.

You stay quiet at your side of the line, looking around his place with a fondness you can’t even begin to start tackling.

“I’m at home.”

There’s nothing that comes to your mind besides the fact that it actually looks like your home. It resembles your home when you only had a mattress on the floor and no bedframe when you moved in, when you started sticking up pictures with tape that you didn’t know would ruin the walls, and when you finally found your sense of the style and had the finances and time to do it — it resembles your home all at the same time.

There’s several pictures of you and Yoongi together that line up the walls and the shelves, notes written behind them in your handwriting that you didn’t think he would keep.

Your parcels that he received with your name on it are all gathered near the doorway, the flyers of your favorite restaurants hung up by the fridge. Yoongi’s house looks more like your home and it almost brings you to tears.

He never noticed it, in fact. Hasn’t noticed the way that his definition of his home has shifted to your taste and how his definition of love turned into you. It had been gradually building through the years that Yoongi hasn’t stopped to figure that your home has become his, all to the point that he’s been living in it the whole time.

“I’m waiting,” you mutter as soon as you open the door to Yoongi who had ran all the way here in a frenzy, chest heaving up and down. “I’m waiting for you to make it up to me.”

“I’ll do that and more,” Yoongi nods in earnest and immediately leaps in to kiss you, finally feeling that you’ve given him the opportunity to breathe.

He kisses you so endearingly that you’re surprised you haven’t done it before with him because the way he does so feels like second nature. He breathes you in until he feels like he can exhale, catching his breath as he settles his head to the crook of your neck.

“I was waiting for that too,” you snort, speaking at the same time as him.

“What I said that night-…”

“I remember,” you interrupt. “You’re not the scum of the earth, Yoongi, and I’m not the greatest person in the world either.”

“Whatever makes you sleep at night,” he rolls his eyes even if he knows a fool would see that you aren’t anything short of great. “I’m sorry for making you wait,” he apologizes, eyes flickering to yours. “But you don’t have to wait around for me anymore, okay?”

It’s a great mound of consolation that he’d be willing to trek over and over again if it means making up for everything he’s done.

“I can’t love you the way that you love me because nobody can compare to you,” he whispers, crossing his heart in promise. “But believe me, please, I’ll make up for all of the lost time and I’ll love you the best that I could.”

It’s a progress, a working one at that, wherein you’d meet Yoongi in the middle of.

“I can’t confess my love for you every two weeks-…”

“Oh shut up,” you roll your eyes, playfully attempting to break off his hug to which he doesn’t let you.

“Because that’s too spread out. I’ll do it everyday,” Yoongi finishes, the grin on his face pleasantly annoying.

“You’re the worst,” you weakly offer, letting yourself into the moment of vulnerability by abandoning your defenses.

“You’re sounding like me,” he laughs, pressing just one more kiss to your forehead.

You’re the universe’s reward to Yoongi for everything he’s ever done, the resounding desire in his whole being to just be the best he could ever be for you reverberating throughout his home and yours.

“You don’t have to ask me to love you anymore,” he says gently, eyes holding up the entirety of a truth he can’t deny. “I’d give you the sun even if you didn’t ask me to.”

#soooo... how r we doing :D #yoongi imagine #yoongi oneshot #yoongi oneshots #yoongi angst #yoongi angst imagine #yoongi fluff #yoongi x reader #yoongi au #yoongi scenario #yoongi fanfic #yoongi x y/n #yoongi x you #bts yoongi imagine

2K notes · View notes

selfaware-bungou-stray-dogs · 7 months

Text

When you were gone

Self-Aware! BSD x SAGAU Imposter crossover

Self-Aware! Nikolai Gogol x GN! Reader

Description: You disappeared one month ago...

Warning: OOC. English is my second language.

_____

You felt so sleepy. You go to your room, yawning. Tonight, you won't have a cuddle buddy. You tried to offer some cuddles to Kolya. But he refused.

"Sorry, Birdy, but I can't cuddle with you tonight. I will practice all night for the magic show."

You just nodded and left for your room.

"Okay. Goodnight, Kolya."

Your room's door closed behind you. Gogol feels a pang of guilt. You looked so lonely. Maybe, he should go to you and cuddle?

Nikolai shook his head.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow he will bring you coffee in bed and you two will cuddle.

You will be there tomorrow.

_____

Day 1

_____

You were late for breakfast.

Too late.

Everyone already were in the dining room, eating.

Nikolai smirked at himself. Were you waiting for him to arrive with your coffee? Well, give him a minute.

He was brewing coffee. Two cups. One cup was made to be perfect for your taste.

After preparations were done, Nikolai Gogol took the tray with coffee mugs, creamer and bowl of sugar and went to your room.

He will wake you up (by starting a tickle fight). Then you two will drink coffee.

Nikolai let out a small laugh. Maybe, he will plant a kiss on your nose after coffee will be drank.

He knocked on your door. You didn't answer.

Nikolai Gogol opened the door.

You weren't in your room.

He didn't hear the sounds of running water.

And your bed was made. And cold.

Did you go on a run? Or to the market?

How long were you gone?

When you will return?

Nikolai's eyes shrank, when he noticed your phone on the bedside table.

You left it.

You always bring your phone with you.

Nikolai had a bad feeling about it.

*****

It's been hours.

And you haven't returned yet.

It's been hours.

And all of them were searching everywhere.

It's been hours.

And you were nowhere to be found.

________

Day 7

________

Week...

It has been a week since you disappeared.

Everyone were devastated.

Nikolai fell down on his bed.

He didn't care, that the blood on his clothes will dirty the covers.

Today, he was searching for you.

He was 'nicely asking' some crooks, if they dared to kidnap you.

Ougiri have never used his ability as much as before.

And he will use it even more.

You still were missing.

You still were nowhere to be found.

________

Day 14

________

Two weeks.

They have been searching for two weeks.

For two weeks they were looking under every bush, every rock.

Trying to find just one clue. One little clue.

They gathered in the dinning room.

Sitting at the table.

Your chair looked dreadfully empty.

The table was quiet.

They can't say anything.

There were no news.

No good. No bad.

Nothing.

Oda's voice broke the silence.

"Q... Are you... Do you want to say something?"

Nikolai gazed at the teen.

They were silent. But the look on their face were empty. Q opened their mouth.

"I... Nikolai-san, two weeks ago... You were the last one, who saw [Y/N], right?"

Nikolai nodded, not understanding, where Q were going to.

Q nodded and bit their lip, hugging their doll closer. Toy's colorful clothes (your present for Q) looked out of place in this situation.

"I see... Why... Why didn't you stay with them? You were always talking about wanting to stay with Guiding Light forever. What happened with that?"

Nikolai's voice were a little bit louder, that of a whisper.

"I were practicing... For a magic show..."

"Were the practice necessary? Could you practice only that day?"

That he cancelled. Because he can't waste time on anything else, beside the search.

Q's unique eyes stared directly in Nikolai's mismatched eyes.

Nikolai stay silent. He could. He could practice in the morning. He could stay with you.

Nikolai's silence were enough to answer Q's question.

They stand up, put their doll on the table and walked towards Nikolai's chair.

Q took their own chair with them.

Q put their chair near Nikolai's chair.

Q stood up on their chair. Now they were looking at sitting Nikolai from above.

Q clenched their fists.

"If you stayed with [Y/N]… No one would be able to kidnap them..."

Q screamed.

"It was your fault!" Q's fist was small, but, the hit was painful. Nikolai covered his bruised nose.

Q were yelling, while Dazai was dragging them away. It was hard, because Q tried to get away from his hold and hit Nikolai again.

"If you stayed with [Y/N] they won't disappear! Don't you dare to say, that you cared about them! You never cared about them! You will never care about anyone! You will kill anyone, who came close to you! That was your plan, right? To get rid of [Y/N]? Did their love disgust you that much?!"

Dazai, with Chuuya's help, finally managed to drag Q to their room, locking the door.

And Nikolai was standing here. Unmoving.

"Коля... Как ты?"¹ Fyodor's voice sounded soft.

Nikolai swallowed and shook his head.

"I... I need to go..."

Before Nikolai could go away, Fyodor grabbed his shoulder.

"Коля, ты не виноват. В ситуации виноват только тот ублюдок, который похитил [Т/И]. Все мы знаем, что ты бы никогда и пальчем не тронул [Т/И]. Не вини себя."²

Nikolai didn't say anything.

Without looking at Fyodor, Nikolai returned to his room.

It wasn't true! He could never hate you! He likes you! You are his Birdy.

And you were still missing.

He loves loving you!

He didn't want to hurt you.

He missed you.

But, what if... Q were right?

What if he was the reason, why you were gone?

______

Day 21

_____

Nikolai's body was shaking. He was crying. There was no hope. There was no you. There was no clue.

Ever since Q accused him, everyone were checking on him. Everyone were worried about each other. And about you.

Nikolai tears start flowing again.

Maybe, it really was his fault that you were gone? If he stayed with you... No one could take you away...

Another cry filled the room.

"Пташка... Пташка моя... Мені так шкода... Будь ласка... Повернися... Я люблю тебе..."³

Nikolai whispered.

"Я люблю тебе..."⁴

And no one answered his call.

_________

Day 30

_____

Chew. Swallow.

Bite again.

Chew. Swallow.

Bite.

Chew.

Swallow.

Bite.

Nikolai blinked as he pulled his fingers from his mouth.

The teacup.

Nikolai took it.

Blow.

Sip.

Blow.

Sip.

Go through the motions.

Nikolai closed his eyes.

For now, that's all he needed to do.

Go through the motions.

Breakfast is over.

Put dishes into the sink.

Go to the living room.

Learn, where to go today.

Search for you.

Repeat and repeat.

_________

Earlier that day, the portal appeared in the barn.

And you finally returned home.

________

Two weeks later

________

Nikolai was sitting near your bed, holding your hand. You were shaking. You had another nightmare.

He squeezed your hand, trying to make you feel better.

"It's okay, [Y/N]. It's okay. You are home." whispered Nikolai. You swallow your tears. Nikolai carefully brushed your tears away.

"I was so scared... I missed you..." whimpered you. You wanted a hug, you wanted to be near someone.

Like he was reading your mind, Nikolai hugged you. He whispered into the tip of your head.

"Nothing will ever hurt you, Birdy. I will never leave you ever again. I promise."

You stay silent, resting your head on Nikolai's chest.

Kolya carefully pet your head.

'Ніщо тобі не зашкодить, Пташко. Я обіцяю. І я подбаю про те, щоб вони заплатили за кожну сльозу, за кожну краплю крові. Я їм покажу.'⁵ thought Nikolai Gogol, hugging you closer.

Maybe, that way, he will have the smallest chance to be forgiven. For being the reason why you were kidnapped.

________

¹Russian. "Kolya, are you alright?"

²Russian. "Kolya, it's not your fault. The bastard, who kidnapped [Y/N] are the only one to blame. All of us know, that you would lay a finger on [Y/N]. Don't blame yourself."

³Ukrainian. "Birdy... My Birdy... I am so sorry... Please... Come back... I love you..."

⁴ Ukrainian. "I love you..."

⁵ Ukrainian. 'Nothing will hurt you, Birdy. I promise. And I will make sure, that they will pay for every tear, for every drop of blood. I will show them.'

_____

Tag list: @withered-blossoms , @myluckymoon @cocodrilofeliz @c4xcocoa @vvyeislazzy @whisperingwinters

336 notes · View notes

dira333 · 5 months

Text

Of Tremors and believing in Love - Yaku x Reader

Yaku’s not sure what he expected.

Maybe some buff Russian guy like they show in action movies, or an elderly gentleman that makes him feel like a Celebrity with a private driver.

Not you.

You’re gorgeous, even in the unforgiving light of the airport exit area, holding up a sign that spells his name in bright red Kanji.

He swallows nervously, hands clammy with sweat as he approaches.

He hadn’t been that nervous, he thinks, leaving Japan for an unfamiliar country. It was Volleyball and he knew Volleyball. He could rely on his talent if everything else failed, and on his iron stomach to handle whatever the Russian kitchen was going to throw at him - Lev’s tales hadn’t left him with much hope.

But he’s never been that good at talking to girls and his perpetually single status is either a symptom or the cause of this predicament.

“Hi,” he greets you, voice breaking over that one-syllable word.

“Hi,” you smile and bow in greeting. “How was your flight? Are you hungry, tired, or anything else?”

Your Japanese is perfect. He can even hear hints of a Kansai dialect hidden somewhere in between.

“A little hungry,” he admits, “I… uh… I’m Yaku, by the way. Morisuke.”

He wants to facepalm so badly. Where’s his usual coolness? Where’s his confident tone?

“Sorry,” you apologize immediately, offering your name. “I got caught up in the moment. How about we grab something to eat and get to know each other?”

Yaku nods, glad that’s something he can answer without opening his mouth and making a fool of himself.

As it turns out, he was right.

You grew up in the Kansai region, moved to Russia with your parents when you were a young teen.

He can’t help but search for familiarity in your features, half expecting to be reminded of Lev, or Alisa. He berates himself immediately. Just because you’re Japanese-Russian too doesn’t mean you have to look like everyone else who’s Japanese-Russian.

“How did they find you?” Yaku asks as he slips into the booth, “The agency, I mean.”

“Oh, I work for Tigr Ekaterinburg. I handled your contracts. They asked me if I would be willing to show you around and be a helping hand the first few months and I agreed. Japanese players are often polite and easy to work with. Do you think you’ll be able to handle the Russians though? They can be pretty rough.”

Yaku laughs. “I do think I can. I’ve played in quite a few different teams. My classmates called me Demon-Senpai.” He laughs again at the memory, fondness washing over him.

“Tell me more about that,” you ask, your question so unusually direct for the polite tone you’re using. You flip open the Menu. “I’ll be ordering. Any allergies?”

“So you’re the Mom-friend of the Group,” you summarize, popping the last tiny pancake, or Syrniki, as they are called, into your mouth. You chew slowly, not letting him out of your sight.

“That’s interesting. I’ve never met a male Mom-friend.”

“I’m not-” he tries to defend himself, even though he’s heard it often enough from Kenma and Kuroo, Kai and Lev. “You really think so?”

“There’s an easy test,” you tell him with a smile. “Did you know I have actually a headache? It’s been bothering me all day.”

Worry washes over him. “Really? God, why didn’t you say so? You should rest then. Did you drink enough water?”

You laugh, the sound tinkling around him like droplets of silver.

“You failed the test. Mom-Friend detected.”

He pouts and you still. For a moment, no one speaks.

Eventually, you move again, clear your throat, and take a sip of your drink.

“Sorry,” you say. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“I’m not offended.”

“Good.” You nod, your voice calm and distant. “If you want, I can show you you’re apartment now.”

- - -

Yaku’s not the first guy you get to drive around town nor will he be the last, probably.

You drop him off at his apartment, show him the few things he could have trouble with - no rice cooker in the kitchen and the bathroom works a little different over here - and leave for the office, determined to finish that project you’d been working on all week.

Hopefully, work will flush out whatever’s bothering your heart, causing it to race at the adorable little pout on Yaku’s lips.

You told him you’d pick him up later for a night out, so you leave a little early - still not done with that damned project - to put on something fancier, add some smoke to your make-up.

Yaku’s waiting in the lobby when you step in and you swallow thickly at his sight.

Most athletes like to dress as casually as they can in their free time. Jeans and a shirt are often the most you get to see. Yaku, however, is dressed in an expensive suit, hair combed back.

You can tell he’s not a stranger to wearing suits, moving just as easily in it as he did in his tracksuit earlier.

He gets up before you can call out his name, cheeks turning a soft pink at your sight.

That eases your nerves a little, knowing you still have at least some effect on him.

“Ready to go?” You ask, trying to ignore the way he takes you in. There’s a warmth in his eyes that’s a little unnerving.

He’s even prettier under the twinkling lights of the city, leaning in when you explain something, expensive Cologne wafting around you.

“Do you want to dance?” You ask, after you’ve wandered through the city center. “Or something to eat?”

Yaku ponders the question for a moment.

“How about a bite first? I’d love to take you out to dance, though.”

His words leave you flushed and angry. That’s not what you meant, but correcting him would sound weird.

When you suddenly have to weave through a group of tourists, his hand presses against the small of your back, warm and steady, and in way you don’t want it to. But you can’t bring yourself to tell him off, nor to move away from his touch.

“First year was tough”, he remembers over a bowl of Pelmeni, “Kuroo and I didn’t get along.”

“Who was Kuroo again?” You ask, offering him one of your Pirozhki.

He swipes his thumb over his phone and turns it, so you can see a picture of his old Volleyball team. Yaku’s easy to find, almost the smallest of the group. He’s grown since then, though not much, if you had to guess.

“That’s Kuroo. I know his hair looks awful, but he claims he can’t do anything about it and that it’s natural. He was our Captain in our third year. The pudding head next to him is Kenma, our genius setter. These two have been best friends since childhood.”

He tells you each name, warmth in his voice as he remembers. It’s not hard to tell that they were close.

“Are you still in contact?” You ask, surprised when he nods.

“With all of them?” His eyebrows wander up.

“Yes, why? Is that surprising to you?”

You feel caught and look away, but you’re unable to escape his eyes, it seems.

“A little,” you admit finally and hope that he drops it.

Thankfully, he does.

Yaku’s easy to talk to.

All too soon you find yourself walking out of that restaurant and into a nightclub, his head so close as he listens to your explanation that you could kiss him, if you wanted to, without even having to move much.

But you don’t. Because it would be weird, right? And unprofessional.

His hand is warm in yours as a new song starts and he pulls you in.

It’s a slow one and you can’t tell if that’s good or bad.

The dance floor is packed and you’re soon pressed against him, your own heartbeat echoing in your stomach. There’s a tilt to his mouth that makes you wonder how it would taste and before you know you’re leaning in a little and he’s leaning in too.

His lips are soft and warm and he tastes like the wine you shared earlier.

His teeth graze your lower lip, just the faintest touch, but it shakes you out of your dream-like state better than a bucket of ice water ever could.

You snap back and purse your lips like they’ve offended you personally.

“I…” You hesitate, your voice breathless, “I’ll wait for you at the bar.”

There’s a tremor hiding in your bones.

You check your hands in the seconds it takes him to catch up to you, but you can’t tell from the outside. Good.

“I-”

“You can dance with someone else,” you tell him, voice as polite as can be. “I am only your guide, after all.”

“I don’t want to dance with anyone else.” He reaches for you but you step out of reach.

“Please,” you ask, but he shakes his head.

“Very well. Do you want to take a walk?”

The sky is clear above you, though it’s hard to see the stars beyond the glow of street lamps.

Your hands are buried in the pockets of your jacket in case he tries to take one.

“Do you believe in love?” You ask after a minute when the street clears and you’re on your own. “Not in general, but in like… love for yourself?”

“Yeah.”

“Makes sense.”

“It does?” Yaku looks over, confusion written all over his face.

“Sure. You’re good-looking, smart, easy to talk to. It makes sense.”

He smiles, but your stomach churns violently.

“Yaku-san,” you stop, address him in the politest way you can. “I don’t believe in love. I am sorry I just kissed you. But I cannot offer you anything of that kind.”

Yaku’s quiet for a while. His face does not give anything away.

Eventually, he nods.

“I understand. But we can be friends, right?”

“Friends as in you’re waiting for me to change my mind about it?”

“No.” He shakes his head. “Friends as in friends. I quite like your company, but I can deal with a rejection.”

You hesitate for a second before you nod.

“Friends would be nice.

- - - xxx - - -

“Have you eaten yet?” Yaku’s standing in the doorway to your office, two identical looking Bento Boxes in his hands.

“Eh?” You look up from your Desk. “No, but what are you doing here?”

“I figured. Want to share?”

You’re just about to decline when your stomach grumbles loudly.

Yaku grins and steps closer. “I think that was a confirmation.”

“Hey,” Yaku’s grin is warm and inviting, his hair dripping wet. “We just finished training and the boys want to hit the city. Do you want to come along? I heard they have great Syrniki.”

He absolutely butchers the name and you can’t help but correct him.

“So?” He cocks his head to the side, waiting. “It’s just a hangout with the guys. You know at least one of them, well, besides me, I mean.”

“Yeah, sure, I’ll come.”

“Are you coming to the game this weekend?” Yaku asks as you meet him in the lobby. He always comes in early for extra training and while you haven’t yet figured out at what time he arrives, he’s already got your schedule memorized, waiting for you with a coffee and a pastry.

“I wasn’t planning to,” you admit, “My parents are coming into town. They’ve moved into the countryside a few years back.”

“Oh, that makes sense.” He nods. “I hope you’re having a great time together.”

“We will.” You take a sip of coffee and can’t help the teasing comment slipping through your lips. “Aren’t you going to tell me that you’re going to play much worse now that I’m not there to cheer you on?”

“Your presence or lack thereof isn’t going to affect my game,” he tells you, voice serious, confidence so deeply laced into his tone it catches your breath, “But I prefer to celebrate my wins and losses with the people I care about.”

“O-oh…” you stammer, suddenly overwhelmed, “I… guess that makes sense. W-we can celebrate on Monday.”

“Girl, I don’t know how you do it,” your best friend comments and you can almost smell the alcohol on her breath - through the phone. “You decline every offer to have a relationship yet you have these fine men running after you? Why does this never work for me?”

“You can’t say no.”

“True.” She chuckles dryly. “But it’s a shame you didn’t get to watch that game. He was looking fine. I might not have understood all that much but he was doing well. At least if you believe the commentators.”

“I’m sure he did his best,” you tell her calmly, yet unable to keep from biting down on your fingernail.

“Don’t worry, I recorded it. I’m sending the file over now.”

Your home computer dings with an incoming mail and you heave a sigh.

“I don’t have time to watch it tonight. My parents just left and I’m exhausted.”

“Don’t tell me they asked you about grandchildren…”

You sigh again and she laughs.

“Go, take a nap. The world will look better in the morning.”

And it will… but you can’t help yourself, press play instead of going to bed as you intended.

And your friend is right.

Yaku looks good. He moves with the calm confidence of a professional.

If you could convince yourself that attraction is all it takes to lead a healthy relationship, you might have taken a leap of faith.

Staying up late comes back to bite you in the butt.

No amount of concealer can cover the dark rings under your eyes.

“Long weekend,” Yaku asks when he meets you in the Lobby, coffee and a pastry in hand.

“Mhm,” you nod and take a large sip of coffee, hoping for it to fuel you. It doesn’t.

You chat for a bit but you need to get going and so does he, so you part with the quickest of hugs.

There are only a few steps leading down to the elevators, steps you’ve taken day after day after day for years, but today, you miss the last one.

Your right foot lands wrong, pain shoots through your ankle and you yelp. Your half-empty coffee cup goes flying, just like your pastry and you can see the mess you’ve made but all you can do is cower and clutch your ankle.

“Are you okay?” Yaku’s voice cuts through the ringing in your ears. There’s worry in his eyes. It lights the cold fire of shame in your veins. God, you just rolled your ankle, there’s no reason to make a big fuss about it.

“Sure, yeah, all fine!” You tell him, grinding your teeth as you get up. Nausea wells up inside you but you swallow it down.

“We should get it looked at,” Yaku insists, hands hovering just a few inches above your skin.

“Stop worrying!” You bite out, tone harsher than necessary. But he doesn’t flinch.

“I know it’s a lot, but it will only take a minute, okay?” He insists, voice warm and soft and calming, like hot cocoa on a cold day. You can feel the tremor coming back, want nothing more than to sink into him.

“I’m fine,” you insist, taking one cautious step. It hurts, but it’s nothing you can’t handle.

“Yeah, for now.” He follows you, bends faster than you to pick up the coffee cup and the pastry. Someone’s going to have to mop the floor, but Yaku’s already waving at the receptionist and you’re too focused on grinding your teeth against the pain to complain.

“Stop worrying about me, okay?! We’re not that close.”

Hurt flickers over his face like candlelight.

“I’d do this for everyone,” he insists. “I don’t mess with accidents. Please? It’s only a short trip down the hall for a first check-up. If our doc thinks it’s nothing I won’t bother you anymore.”

You agree, mostly just to get this over with.

But it’s not nothing.

You must have fallen asleep, face pressed against the window of his car, because his hand is warm against your cheek and your name falls softly from his lips.

“Yaku?” You ask and he nods.

“We’re at the hospital. Can you walk?”

“Sure,” you insist, grind your teeth through the pain. Yaku must have seen through your lies, though, getting a wheeling chair at the next chance.

He’s with you through the whole ordeal and you hate it but you don’t ask him to leave you alone. His warm hand on your shoulder is the only thing that keeps you from crying.

He’s there until the very end when they plaster up your leg up to your knee and you can’t help but laugh at the fact that you’ve made it so far in life without a broken bone, yet a single missed step has changed it all.

“I’ll take you home now,” Yaku insists as soon as you’re back in his car. “Are you hungry? We can stop and get some food on the way.”

“I just want to sleep,” you admit. “Forget this happened.”

“I think that’s going to take some time. The plaster stays one for the three weeks.”

“Don’t remind me.”

It’s only when he parks in front of your apartment block that you realize.

You live on the fifth level. No elevator.

Stubbornly you grab your crutches and move toward the first step when Yaku stops you.

“Do you want to carry me up?”

“No!”

“Okay,” he nods. “But you can’t make that trek. Not today for sure, and not every day for the next three weeks. Do you have any friends you could stay at where that’s not a problem?

You hesitate. Most of your friends have similar apartments and if they don’t, they can’t offer more than an air-mattress on the floor for you to sleep on.

“You can sleep on my couch,” Yaku’s voice is low, soft, and casual. This is nothing big to him, not like it is to you.

“Or I carry you up and you have to take the next three weeks off because you cannot get up and down here without help.”

He’s right.

And it’s not that you have to work, you’re pretty sure you classify for sick leave at this point, not to mention that you have enough vacation days saved to take off half of the time without a problem.

In the end, you oblige. And because you want to pack your own things, you agree to a piggyback ride up the stairs.

If Yaku notices how your face is pressed into his neck, your tears soaking his shirt, he doesn’t mention it. His hands are warm and steady around your thighs and he carries you up without breaking a sweat, telling you a funny story to distract you all the way.

It’s weird. It’s cozy. It’s everything at the same time.

You get to go through his list watchlist - which feels more personal than going through his underwear drawer - and watch him prepare Dinner for the two of you.

You sit naked in his bathtub - door closed of course - and open the bottles of shower gel and shampoo to sniff at them like the crazy person you are but when the door opens and you limp outside he’s sitting at his desk practicing Russian, not even sparing your scrubbed clean form a glance.

Yaku’s switched his routine without a second thought, makes breakfast at home now and drives you to work.

He’s the best friend one could ask for, a man so good you wouldn’t believe he existed without the proof you have. But he has a hissy fit in front of you when his friend from school makes a joke about his size.

And maybe that’s the last straw, the last proof you needed.

Because people aren’t just always good. People are people, human and fallible, and there’s always something that makes them break their perfect facade.

For you, it’s the pain of having to rely on someone else.

For Yaku, it’s the pain of being looked down on.

Tomorrow your cast will come off.

Tomorrow you will move back into your own apartment.

You’re not sure how things between the two of you will be then.

But since there’s no way to turn back time, to go back to how things were before, you can try and find out how things could be instead.

“Yaku?” You ask into the silence of an early night.

“Yeah?” His voice is scratchy and sluggish like he’s just on the border of sleep.

“Are you still awake?”

“Am now.”

“What if I changed my mind?”

“About what?”

“Love.”

Silence. Then, the rustling of sheets and soft steps on the floor.

“Are you being serious?” He asks and his voice sounds so warm and excited, so young and full of anticipation.

“Yeah.”

“Well,” he clears his throat awkwardly, now only two steps away. “It depends if you mean me with that change of my mind. If you mean someone else I think I’ll have to get a lawyer before I answer.”

You laugh. “Yeah, I meant you.”

He giggles and there’s a slap as if he’s clamped a hand over his mouth urgently.

You turn a little on the Couch, try to make him out in the dark.

“Do you want to cuddle?” You ask and there’s the swoosh of quick movement as he leaps onto the Couch.

“Boy, do I ever!”

- - - xxx - - -

The air smells the same, but maybe it’s just the airport.

Yaku’s hand takes yours, warm and safe and well-known.

“Excited?” He asks, laughs when you pull a face.

“They’ll love you,” he insists and leans in to kiss you, not caring about all the people around you, or the fact that Kuroo’s going to be here any second to pick you up, or that your hair is a mess and you’re not wearing any make-up.

His lips are soft and warm, just like they were on that first night.

You sink into the touch and when his teeth graze your lower lip and the tremors come, you embrace them.

Even if you shiver, you’ll never freeze.

You’ve got Yaku there to warm you, after all.

#my writing #Yaku x Reader #yaku morisuke #Yaku fluff #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff

149 notes · View notes

yurinaa-world · 7 months

Note

hihi!! could I req some platonic aventurine hcs with a teen!reader?

Characters: Aventurine platonic! x Gender-neutral Reader

Synopsis: with teen reader

Warnings: Fluff and spelling mistakes,

𝒜𝓋𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓊𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑒

He’s so bossy, not letting you do anything that’s “fun.” since Everyone your age does it. Everyone Gambles all the time, you try to sneak out but he always catches you. Don't complain he just doesn't want you to get addicted like your “friends” with no future.

He’s pretty dotting as well. Like don’t be mad at him, he’s just trying to help your future self from doing something he knows you’ll regret! If you want you can just spend some time with him since he’s your older brother.

“Ugh fine” You reluctantly spend time with him (you just can’t help but wonder how much free time this guy has) he makes you have fun, like theme parks or their version of Chuck E. Cheese.

He is not a fan of punishing you harshly at all. You can’t force a kid to act like an adult. Your teen in your angsty era, thinking whatever he does is annoying and uncaring. It’s fine you two have many years ahead of you if that's the problem.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

How annoying.

Just how annoying could Aventurine be? Honestly, you wanted to just hang out with some friends and now you're stuck with him! you're just dreading going to your table—with both of your drinks in hand—with him just waiting for you.

How shameless! He’s just embarrassing you! So many people were staring at the two of you.

You just sigh when the cashier gives you your drinks and dragging your feet back to your table, you sit down next to him, roughly putting his drink in front of him “Your drink is here.” you say in an unenthusiastic tone, before sitting down as well.

“Such an attitude these days.” he grins at you almost as if he’s happy about it. then he just randomly grabs your drink away from you. “hey that’s my drink!” you whine at him. He ignores you, however.

“Should teenagers be drinking at such a young age?” He doesn't seem mad at all, more like laughing at your attempt at being sneaky. you just feel so embarrassed.

“No more drinks, you're just going to drink water for the rest of the night.” He just gives you the consequences of your actions. “Waiter, just get this kid some waterwater.” He snapped his fingers at the staff walking by. you tried, just watching him down your drink right in front of your face.

So embarrassing, but it's fine he'll keep the secret between.

if you liked this, consider tipping me on ko-fi! it'd mean a lot!

#✧*:･ﾟ✧:･ Yurinna's Writing :･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧#honkai star rail x you #honkai star rail x reader #star rail #star rail x reader #hsr x you #hsr x reader #honkai star rail #aventurine x reader #aventurine x you #aventurine hsr #hsr x y/n

159 notes · View notes

ed-recovery-affirmations · 7 months

Text

I just made myself a cup of a new tea, one from a set that a friend sent me. I was super curious to try it with and without milk in it, so after I take a sip without, I'm going to add milk to my tea.

That may seem like such an inane little story to post on a blog, unless you have an eating disorder. I'm sure many of you know what a big deal milk in tea can be, and what an important act of self-love it is.

It was poured into many of our ears, approaching teenhood in the mid-2000's, not to "drink our calories." For those of us whose restriction was weight-based, many of us practiced filling ourselves with water, with our coffee black and unsweetened whether that was how we liked it or not, and with tea that never contained milk.

Like many people who've struggled with binge eating and with restriction, I struggle with creating anxiety-inducing rules about when is okay to eat, especially if I'm between meals and worrying if I should allow myself a snack, or if it's okay to quench my thirst with anything other than water. This is especially true between meals. For some reason my brain has accepted the "extra" caloric intake as part of a meal, but still balks at the idea of introducing these things independently into non-meal parts of the day. I would like to note that my chronic illness and my body's reaction to food has also influenced this weird relationship between me and my favorite treats, such as a piece of candy, or a beverage that might happen to contain a greater-than-zero calorie count.

But tonight, before bed, I want to try this tea. And it sounds like one that'd be super tasty with milk, as it has cocoa powder and vanilla in the blend. So I let my tea cool in the room with me as I type this, telling myself that I can get up and go back for milk after I taste it.

Now I have gone to the kitchen.

Now I have poured in a splash of milk and tasted. It's soy milk, as regular milk sometimes hurts my stomach and I don't want my sleep to be disrupted. Due to my chronic illness, this is still something I have to think about, and I'll be honest, I hate it. Things like this make it so hard to tell myself I can let go of my food fears, because my brain knows that some of my food fears will turn out to have validity, and so what if they all do?

Now I have poured in another splash. Tasted.

Now I have poured in a third, much larger splash. Tasted.

Oh, this is it. This tea tastes like a warm dessert. But now it's too cool, so I need to microwave it back to its best heat. I used to not want to microwave my food. As a teen I heard a hippie say that microwaves destroy the nutrients in your food because the radiation breaks down their molecular structure. This is absolutely false. In fact, it's been disproven that microwaves break down nutrients any more than other methods of heating food, but for a long time I believed it. And even after I learned the truth, I still found it hard to convince myself it was okay to use microwaves for a very long time.

I have just finished my tea in my room. I took the time to identify that I wanted it. I took the time to truly taste it in several different ways, consider how I felt I wanted it and bring it to those specifications. It wasn't planned for any specific time or day, but I agreed to give myself this the way I wanted it anyway. I've been drinking my coffee with milk every morning, too. I actually like black coffee, but I like it better with milk. And I give myself things throughout the day that I enjoy, to enhance my experience of my existence. Life is hard, and it's okay to allow yourself, to the fullest extent you can, the small joys that bring you through the day.

I wanted to share this with you. I hope you don't feel the crushing weight of morality when staring at a bottle of regular soda and the sugar-free, when you wake up with your morning coffee, when your self-care regimen includes a cup of tea. I hope you practice actively giving yourself the love you need this week. And I hope you give it to yourself exactly the way you need it.

#recovery diaries #ed recovery #restriction recovery #self care #food cw #long post

180 notes · View notes

clarisse0o · 21 days

Text

Camp Wiegman-Part 59

Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle

Alternative Universe : Military School

Words : 7k

Masterlist

———————————————————————

Wednesday, February 24th; 8:30 AM - Lucy's Apartment.

I groaned as the alarm echoed through the room. It’s way too early, especially considering how late we got home last night. I buried my head in the pillow, while my wonderful girlfriend chuckled. Unsurprisingly, when I turned to face her, she was already fully awake.

"Do you think this is funny?" I mumbled.

"A little bit," she teased. "Good morning..."

I smiled as she leaned in to kiss me. I love our morning kiss, even though it’s not the best one of the day. A slight headache began to take hold. It wasn’t the most pleasant wake-up, though far from the worst.

"What do you want for breakfast?" she asked, getting out of bed.

"Stay," I groaned.

"As much as I’d like to, we have to pick up your little brother in an hour," she said, changing from shorts into a new pair of joggers. "We shouldn’t be late, right? You only have yourself to blame for wanting to stay up so late."

"At least I didn’t drink until I was wasted," I teased, hugging the pillow closer.

"You’d better not have. I would’ve made you sleep on the couch if you had."

"I don’t believe you," I teased again.

"You should. I would’ve done it without any guilt."

I stuck out my tongue at her, which only made her smile smugly. She came back over to give me another quick kiss.

"Don’t take too long, okay?"

"I’ll try my best... Can you make me some toast this morning?"

"Of course."

We exchanged smiles before she left the room. I love our life together. It feels like we’ve been living together for years. Everything is so ordinary, far from anything that could bother us. I stretched out once more before lying on my back. Today is going to be long and busy, but so perfect. Our little bubble will be interrupted with Joan’s arrival, but I’m excited to see him again. I forced myself out of bed and, unlike Lucy, didn’t change before joining her. I smiled when I saw her making the toast I’d asked for.

"I expected you to join me much later."

"I had a good teacher for getting out of bed."

"Oh, please. I only threw you out of bed once," she teased.

"After throwing a glass of water on me, if I remember correctly. The other times, you made me run outside. I’m not sure which was worse."

She laughed heartily as I joined her in setting the table. I didn’t find it funny at all. I went through a lot because of her. There’s a reason I didn’t like her at first, now that she reminded me.

"Stop laughing."

"Oh, come on. Admit it, it was funny."

"No, it wasn’t," I pouted. "You really pushed me to the limit."

"Those are good memories. I can’t wait to tell our grandkids about our first meeting someday."

"Of course," I giggled. "Let’s focus on having kids first, before thinking about grandkids."

"You’re right. We’ll get there one day."

"Mm-hmm."

I approached her and hugged her from behind. She leaned back against me, and I took the opportunity to kiss her shoulder. I slowly moved up to her neck, lightly biting a few spots without leaving any marks. Mine had finally faded, and I was glad about that. Knowing Joan, he would’ve asked what it was, and I wouldn’t have known how to explain it to him at his age.

"Thanks for agreeing to have my brother over for a few days."

"It’s no problem. I was surprised your mom let him come alone, though," she admitted.

"Me too... It seems the airport reassured her by saying he’d be accompanied the whole time. Plus, she knows how attentive I am with him, so nothing can really happen to him with us. And, I feel like she trusts you more than she trusts me," I chuckled.

"She shouldn’t, though. You’re way better with kids than I am."

"Nonsense. You work with teens all day."

"They’re students, which means they’re almost adults. It’s not the same at all."

"Well, let me tell you, we’re way worse than innocent kids."

"That’s debatable. I’ve always found kids to be quite devious... Though Joan isn’t like that, thankfully."

I giggled at her thinking. She must not have been around many good kids. I let go of her waist when I saw she was finishing up the toast. I quickly poured her coffee and heated up my hot chocolate. Then I joined her at the table, where she had brought all sorts of toppings.

"So, you don’t like kids, huh?" I asked as I began my breakfast.

"I didn’t say that," she rolled her eyes. "I don’t like spoiled, badly-behaved kids. That’s all."

"Or cheeky ones, huh?" I teased.

She laughed, knowing full well that I was referring to myself. She used to say that about me, and it wasn’t in a pleasant tone.

"Or cheeky ones, indeed. But they can be redeemed after a few laps around the track."

"Ha ha ha!"

"Isn’t it true?"

"Maybe. But I wasn’t cheeky."

"Oh yes, you were," she teased. "You had a comeback for everything I said."

"Well, you were really hard on me. I mean, you were very direct with me... And I hated it. That’s why I didn’t like you at first."

"You didn’t like me because I dared to tell you things to your face, and that’s exactly what you needed, right? You needed someone like me to help you understand and make an impact on you."

"You’re probably right... Your words made me think a lot at the beginning. I felt like crap," I admitted shyly.

"That was kind of the goal... At least, by insisting and being so harsh with my words, I wanted you to realize who you had become. It was obvious you weren’t a bad person. Circumstances made you that way."

I smiled softly at her, nodding. I love when Lucy shares her thoughts with me. She’s so good at reading people, a quality few possess. I, for example, don’t have it. I couldn’t tell who has a good or bad heart. At first, I saw the good in everyone, but since Feli, that’s changed.

"Do you think everyone has a good side?" I asked thoughtfully.

"I think everyone has both good and bad sides. It’s just that one tends to come out more than the other at certain times."

"Yeah, okay. But do you think someone can become good again after being bad? Like Korbin, for example."

She seemed to think for a moment, dipping her toast in her coffee before taking a bite. She took her time chewing and swallowing before replying.

"Well... It’s hard to say with that example. Korbin grew up in a tough environment. The people you saw in Wiegman’s office last time weren’t her real parents, but her foster family. Some people don’t have a choice about who they become. Even though she was taken out of her old neighborhood, I can guarantee that once she feels ready, she’ll go back there."

"You think so?" I asked, surprised. « Why? »

- Because that's what her parents decided. In neighborhoods like that, families have reputations to uphold. If she doesn't go back, she'll be shunned for the rest of her life and disowned by her family.

- That's really not cool, I grimaced.

- That's life... Not everyone has a choice, she replied with a shrug.

- Is that what she told you?

- Yeah. You weren't my only student, you know.

- Really? I thought I was the only one, I admitted.

- No, she shook her head. You weren't the only one, but you were definitely the most important. Wiegman wanted me to focus on you. To do that, she let some go early and reassigned others to Ingrid.

- Oh... What about Korbin?

- Wiegman let her go early. The more I think about it, I believe she took it out on you to get back at me. She must have felt betrayed and abandoned since I was the first person she ever opened up to.

All the hatred I had for her almost turns into pity now. Even though her actions are unforgivable, I can understand them. I would have reacted the same way if I were in her shoes. What I don’t understand is why Lucy was so adamant about her leaving Camp Wiegman, even though she knew about her issues.

- Why did you insist on having her leave Camp Wiegman if you thought she still needed help?

- As I just told you, some people don’t have a choice and decide they don’t want to be saved. That was Korbin’s case. Unlike you, she didn’t want to be saved because she already knew her future. I can guarantee she’ll be on the wrong side her whole life, and keeping her at school would have put you in danger.

- Y-you wanted her gone to protect me?

- Of course, she replied as if it was obvious. You specifically, but also all the other students. Her group of friends will have you in their sights for a while since you got their leader expelled. But don’t worry. You don’t have anything to fear. You’ll be watched, just like them.

- What do you mean, watched? I asked, frowning.

- The entire teaching staff and the instructors are aware. They won’t let anything happen, trust me, they know.

- OK... I murmured. Why are they even here if they’re so dangerous?

- Everyone deserves a chance, right? she smiled. Some of them won’t follow Korbin’s path. Take Athenea, for example. Ingrid was in charge of her, and she plans to continue her studies after school.

- Really? I was surprised. She doesn’t seem very smart... I said without thinking.

Lucy laughed and shook her head.

- Believe me, she’s smarter than she seems. She wasn’t just the little girl following Korbin around. If she let people think that, it was to get Korbin’s protection within their group. I wonder how things will go for her now that Korbin is gone.

- People are really crazy, I sighed.

- Oh yes, she giggled. More than you think. Well, I’m going to take a shower. Can you clean up in the meantime?

- Yeah, but I need to shower too, so hurry up.

- Then go first. You take longer than I do.

- Hey!

- What? It’s the truth, she teased as she headed to the kitchen.

I stuck out my tongue at her while bringing my cup and some topping jars like Nutella and jam to the kitchen.

- That’s mean, I commented.

- Oh, please. It’s not the worst thing I’ve said to you, she laughed.

I was about to pretend to sulk, but she pulled me back and held me firmly against her. Her lips quickly found their way to my neck, which I instinctively tucked in.

- Sorry. I take it back, she said with a hint of amusement.

- You’re only saying that so I’ll stop sulking.

- Is it working?

- You wish, you fool.

She laughed, turning me around so we could face each other. She kissed me so intensely that I stepped back until I felt the countertop against my lower back. I was about to go in for another kiss when we barely separated to breathe, but she gently pulled away.

- Shower, she reminded me with one word.

I groaned in frustration, knowing she was right. We can easily get lost in the moment, and now is not the time given our schedule. Still, I gave her one last kiss before heading to the bathroom. I can’t wait to hug my little brother.

Wednesday, February 24; 10:30 AM - Manchester Airport

My foot bounces in rhythm with the seconds as I watch the display board counting down the minutes until the plane lands. The wait is so stressful for me, and apparently for Lucy too, who finally places her hand on my knee.

- Stop that, she grumbled.

- It’s taking forever!

- Fidgeting won’t make the wait any shorter. It’ll just annoy me.

She raised an eyebrow in a threatening way. I bit my lip and stopped moving my foot. I don’t like it when she looks at me like that, even if I deserve it. She let out a sigh of relief and turned her attention back to her phone. I looked back at the display board to see how much time had passed. Fifteen minutes. I’m definitely going to die before it reaches zero. My excitement is at its peak. I’ve missed Joan so much. I hope his flight went well since he was traveling alone. A flight attendant was supposed to accompany him from the beginning to the end of the boarding process, so everything should have gone smoothly. However, I’m not sure if it’s Shay.

- The girls are asking if we want to have dinner together tonight, Lucy announced, snapping me out of my daydream. Is that okay with you?

- Yeah, of course. Joan will be happy to see them again. We could also invite Alexia and Jenni. I know Ale has always wanted to meet him, so this would be a good opportunity. But I’d avoid inviting the other girls. They might scare him, I giggled.

- Okay. I’ll suggest they come to our place then. It’ll be more relaxed.

- Do you have enough to cook?

- If not, we’ll go grocery shopping or order pizzas. I don’t have to ask if Joan likes them, do I?

- He loves them, I said with a smile. But we already had some this weekend.

- That’s true... We could order Chinese instead?

- Owh. I’m not sure he’d like that. Oh, what if we made crepes? That’s a good idea, right?

- We could, but I thought you wanted to take Joan around the city? We won’t have time to do both.

- That’s true... But it’s not like he’s going to be interested in the city’s architecture at his age. A cooking session would be more fun for him, I think.

- Okay, we’ll go shopping then. Crepes it is?

- Yep. We’ll save your pizzas for next time.

- Alright, she teased softly. We’ll do that next time. I know how much you love them.

I smiled and nodded as she ran her hand through my hair, gently stroking it.

- A lot. If it were up to me, we’d have them again tonight, I confessed.

- You know, you can have them whenever you want now.

- I know, I sighed. That’s why I’m not pushing it. It wouldn’t be reasonable.

- Since when are you reasonable?

- Hey! I protested.

- What? she smiled mischievously. Want to know something? I’ve always loved your innocence.

- Really? I’ve never claimed to be an adult.

- Oh, I know that. Well, your innocence is part of why I love you.

The spontaneity of her words always gets to me. Plus, she continued to stroke my hair as if nothing had happened. Eventually, she stopped and kissed the corner of my mouth before getting up.

- Now that I’ve kept your mind occupied, it’s time to welcome your brother, right?

I looked up at the screen to see, to my surprise, that there were only two minutes left. I quickly stood up. My girlfriend pulled me close, wrapping her arm around my shoulders, and kissed my temple. Instinctively, I wrapped my arm around her lower back.

- Does that amuse you? I murmured into her neck when I heard her chuckle.

- A little. You’re very impatient, but so easy to distract.

- You knew the whole time, didn’t you? About tonight?

- Since we left the house. I said yes and already invited Jenni and Alexia.

Since my head was still nestled in her neck, I smiled freely. I can’t tell if I appreciate or dislike that she always knows what I want in advance. Since it wasn’t the time to debate it, I simply lifted my head from her neck.

- And you’re way too organized and decisive.

- Decisive, really? she laughed. I always gave you a choice.

- At school, you would always let me choose between two options, knowing full well which one I would pick.

"Well, it's true that I didn't give you much choice back there," she chuckles. "But it was for your own good."

I would have replied, but my attention is drawn to the people disembarking from the flight we've been waiting for. I step away from Lucy and move as close as possible to the others. Lucy quickly follows, keeping her hand on my back. I'm scanning for Joan, but I don't see anyone yet. I start to feel impatient as I realize we're nearing the end. Finally, I spot him holding the hand of a flight attendant. I smile, recognizing Shay. The message seems to have been passed along, which eases my mind. At least I know he was well taken care of and likely had a good flight. Shay looks surprised when my brother points me out to her, and he tries to break free to run to us, but Shay keeps hold of him. She only lets go when they're about a meter away, allowing my brother to run toward me. I kneel down to catch him and lift him into my arms, letting him hug me tightly.

"Ona!"

"Hey, sweetheart. Did you have a good flight?"

"Yeah, but it was long!"

"Oh, I bet it was," I chuckle. "Hey," I say, addressing Shay as she approaches, "were you the one looking after him?"

"Yes, I was asked to specifically, but now that I see you, I understand why."

I smile softly, glancing at Lucy, who has been quietly standing behind me this whole time, tracing patterns on my back with her fingers. I remember she talked to my mom about this just yesterday, ensuring Joan would have someone for the flight. For some reason, my mom insisted on having Lucy's contact information. Given what happened last time she found me, I guess it makes sense. Now she wants to be informed if anything unusual happens. I think it was just an excuse, but Lucy didn't mind, so I didn't argue. It’s strange knowing they’re in touch, but at least I know Lucy gets along well with my family. She’s even won over my brother, who is now asking to be held by my girlfriend. Lucy doesn’t hesitate to pick him up. The sight of them together warms my heart.

"Thank you," I say sincerely to Shay. "So, everything went well?"

"Yes, yes. He got very impatient toward the end, but overall, it went smoothly. Is he family?"

"He's my little brother," I reply. "Thanks for taking care of him."

"No problem, it’s my job. He was adorable. When’s his return flight?"

"Saturday at two o’clock."

"I’ll be on that flight too, so I can make sure he’s okay."

"My best friend will be with him, but it’s great to know. Thanks."

"It’s no trouble. Well, have a great weekend."

"Thanks, you too."

I turn back to the two most precious people in my life as Shay leaves. Joan is now on the ground, firmly holding my girlfriend’s hand.

"Are we going, Ona?" he asks, reaching out her other hand to me.

"Let’s go," I confirm. "We’ll just grab your suitcase first, and then we can finally enjoy ourselves."

With a big smile and a full heart, the three of us walk through the airport. I’m so happy to have Joan with us. These three days with them are going to be amazing. My mom couldn’t have given me a better gift.

Wednesday, February 24; 11:30 AM - Supermarket

"Is this good, Ona?" he asks, showing me a pack of gruyère cheese.

"Yep. You can put it in here," I say, handing him the basket. "Okay, let’s go find Lucy now."

After our little battle earlier over crepes, here we are doing the grocery shopping. When my brother heard the word, it was nearly impossible to get it out of his head. According to him, it’s been ages since he last had them, which was funny to hear. Knowing my mom, that’s probably almost true. When I was still living at home, we barely ever had them. To speed things up, we split up to find the ingredients.

"Are your new friends nice?" Joan asks, taking my hand again.

"They are, sweetie. You don’t need to worry," I reassure him. "And Mapi will be there too."

"Really?" he says excitedly. "She’s here too?"

"Yes," I giggle. "And Ingrid will be there. Do you remember her?"

"Mapi’s girlfriend?"

"Yes," I confirm with a smile. "She was nice, wasn’t she?"

"Mm-hmm."

We told him the news for tonight. He was a little nervous at first, but he wasn’t opposed to the idea. As we leave our aisle, I freeze for a moment when I see someone in front of us.

"Damn it," I mutter.

"You said a bad word, Ona."

"Yeah, I know, and that’s not good. Come on, hurry," I say, pulling her along.

"Why?"

I don’t answer and rush into the next aisle to find Lucy. I’m relieved to still see her here, choosing the last of the savory items.

"Lucy!"

"Hmm?" she responds indifferently.

"We need to leave!"

"Why?"

"I ran into Leah."

"What?" she frowns. "She lives in the center. What would she be doing here?"

"I swear, she was—"

"Ona?"

Both Lucy and I freeze. I was sure I saw her correctly, but the voice isn’t Leah’s. I look past Lucy to see Alessia at the other end of the aisle. I couldn’t say which of the two is worse to run into.

"Hey," I say with a forced smile.

"What are you doing here?" she asks, starting to walk toward us. "I thought you were in Barcelona."

Lucy points behind her, and I quickly understand she wants to take advantage of Alessia’s back being turned to slip away. I step aside to let her pass and move toward Alessia, but she groans, making me turn around to see Leah this time. We’re completely trapped, and to make matters worse, Joan tugs at my arm to get my attention.

"Who is that, Ona?" he whispers, pressing himself against me.

"Ona? B-Bronze?" Leah says in surprise. "What are you two doing here together?"

Her voice rises with a hint of anger, making me sigh. Joan starts to get scared of the newcomers and clings even more tightly to me. He asks to be picked up, so I do. Now, we’re face-to-face with both Leah and Alessia, who are staring at us. Alessia is the first to grasp what’s happening, breaking into a huge grin.

"No way! You and Bronze!? Was it her all this time?"

I groan as Lucy gives me a hard look.

"Don’t look at me like that. I never said anything about you."

"Really?" she arches an eyebrow. "That’s not what it seems like!"

"I figured it out on my own that there was someone in her life. She never confirmed it or gave me a name," Alessia defends me.

It’s Lucy’s turn to sigh. I hope she’s not too upset with me, even though I didn’t do anything wrong.

"Sorry," Alessia apologizes. "I just didn’t expect us to get found out here."

"Well, you’re crazy for hanging out together like this!" Leah scolds us. "There are plenty of students from Manchester, including us! Imagine if you ran into someone else!"

"Excuse me, Leah, but this is the first time I’ve ever seen students in my neighborhood," Lucy retorts, full of bitterness. "I should be the one asking what you’re doing here. You live downtown, and we’re in a small convenience store. The odds should have been very slim."

I chuckle at Lucy’s visible annoyance. I knew she wasn’t a fan of surprises, but this must be the last straw for her. My reaction doesn’t seem to please her, judging by the stern look she gives me. Even Joan is scared and clings to me more tightly. I understand him completely; I know how it feels to get on Lucy’s bad side.

"Relax," Alessia responds. "It’s not like we have anything against Ona or that we’re going to snitch on you. We were just surprised, right, Leah?"

"Hmm," she grumbles. "Dating is still risky," she insists.

Her comment earns her an elbow from her sister, as they’ve since switched places. It was unexpected to see them, but on the other hand, I feel relieved not to have to hide such a big secret from them anymore. I’ve gotten close to them since we’re in the same class, so it’s been pretty annoying to keep it from them. Especially since Alessia already had suspicions. I take this opportunity to ask her directly.

"You suspected it, didn’t you?"

"Yes," she admits with a small smile. "I didn’t want to push because every time we talked about it, you’d get angry."

Poor thing, I can’t even deny it. Alessia is very persistent, and it’s hard for me to handle since everyone else gives me the space I need. I remember she hesitated to bring up the topic during our last week of classes. It was probably to talk about Lucy. She was right not to ask me anything. I would have immediately shut down. Lucy sighs again, which prompts me to move closer and kiss her cheek.

"It’s okay, it’s fine."

"That makes three people, Ona," she says discontentedly.

"They’re my friends. Yours know too. I don’t see the problem."

"Mine aren’t at school. That’s the difference. And Leah’s right. I’m starting to think anyone could see us together if they can."

I wince as she abruptly pulls away. Without giving me time to respond, she takes the basket I was still holding and drops the ham inside.

"I’ll finish the shopping. Don’t take too long to join me."

No one dares argue with her as she walks away, clearly in a foul mood. I sigh, running my hand through my hair. This afternoon is likely to be tense now.

"Why is Lucy mad?" my little brother asks.

"Lucy?" Alessia repeats. "Oh... Bronze, I get it."

"Yeah... Another thing to keep to yourself. And don’t worry, Jo. It’ll be okay. »

- "She looks really scary like that," he whispered.

- "You haven't seen anything yet," Leah commented.

- "Stop it. Don’t scare him," I replied, frowning.

- "Is he your little brother?" Alessia asked.

- "Yes, this is Joan. He just arrived today, and he's going to spend a few days with us. Joan, this is Alessia and Leah. They're friends of mine from school."

His head, which was mostly buried in my neck, emerged to curiously look at them before he gave a shy smile when Alessia waved at him.

- "Will they be here tonight too?"

- "Uh... No, sorry," I giggled. "Maybe another time."

I adjusted her on my hip as I felt her starting to slip. Even though he's only six, he's slowly getting heavier.

- "Will everything be okay with Bronze?" Alessia grimaced. "We didn't mean to cause any trouble."

- "It’s fine, I’m starting to handle it," I reassured her with a small smile. "I'll let her cool off, and we’ll talk."

- "Sorry for getting carried away, but what I said was true," Leah continued.

- "I know. I think that's why she's upset, so don't take it personally. It’s just that you've brought up a major issue that didn’t exist before. We’ve been going out for a while, but we’ve never really paid attention to our surroundings."

- "For a while... you two?"

- "No, just a few weeks," I admitted honestly.

I could have gone into more detail, but I held back. After all, it’s a story that only concerns us. People don’t need to know that we went through ups and downs before getting together.

- "I thought it had been longer," Leah responded. "It seemed like you two had been circling around each other for a while."

- "It was a bit complicated for both of us at first," I stayed vague. "The most important thing is that we're together now."

- "And so you see each other outside of school?" Leah asked. "You’re both crazy. What if she dumps you because she's afraid of risking her career? We’ll have to pick up the pieces."

- "That’s not going to happen," I rolled my eyes. "We’re a solid couple."

- "Alexia’s girlfriend got fired. It could easily happen to Lucy."

- "And they’re still together. Anyway, I assure you, Lucy won’t dump me for that. But if you want her to be nice to you, I suggest you stop getting on her nerves. Especially since if we stay together, you'll have to deal with her in private, and it would bother me if you two didn’t get along."

- "Oh my God," Leah muttered as if imagining the scene. "Is she as annoying as she is at school?"

- "Of course not," I giggled. "She’s adorable with me."

- "I find it hard to picture her in 'adorable' mode," she repeated, mimicking quotation marks.

- "She certainly won’t be with you," I teased.

- "Hey, wait. If your brother is here, does that mean your parents know?"

- "My mom knows, yes. She found out when she came to see me after the fight with Korbin. She took it well and loved Lucy."

- "Wow. And she didn’t say anything?"

- "No. She was actually happy. Since my ex, I hadn’t opened up to anyone, and no one thought I’d get into another relationship so soon. She even invited Lucy to come with me to Barcelona three weeks ago."

- "Really?"

- "Yeah, they were on a weekend trip, so she told Lucy she could come along when she found out about us."

- "And what did you do during those holidays?" Leah asked. "I guess you didn’t go home."

- "No, we didn’t. We went to the Alps with her friends last week and then came back here. Alexia and Mapi are here too; they were with us."

- "Really?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "Even Mapi?"

- "Uh... yeah," I giggled. "She’s dating Ingrid, or rather Engen. So she’s at her place. We’ll see them tonight... hence the shopping."

- "Oh my God," she muttered. "This is all way too complicated. You really have a knack for getting into crazy situations."

- "Oh, please, it’s nothing bad. Anyway, the school year is almost over."

- "Ona," Lucy called out sharply. "Let’s go."

I turned around to see her waiting for us with a full basket. It seemed like my chatting had given her time to get everything done by herself. I looked up to see her expression just as stern as when she left. It didn’t seem like she had much time to calm down.

- "Well, see you soon then."

- "Yeah," Alessia smiled. "Good luck, and see you in a few days."

I thanked them and said goodbye before joining Lucy. Surprisingly, she offered me her hand when I reached her. I took it and let her lead me to the checkout. Despite her gesture, I could still feel her tension. Once again, I kissed her cheek.

- "They won't say anything, I promise."

- "I know. That’s not what bothers me, but the way they found out. Leah is right in what she said. Besides, I would have preferred to wait until the end of the year for your school friends to find out. I don’t want them to see me as anything other than your superior. They’ll think I’m showing favoritism, and we both know that’s not the case."

- "Everyone knows I have a special relationship with you. They won’t think that."

- "Yes, they will. They already do now. How many times have they teased you or made comments about me, huh?"

I blushed slightly, shrugging. Far too many times to count, really. As I just said, they know we have a special relationship. It’s no secret given how she acts differently with me than with other students. So, I often get gently teased about her. When we got to the conveyor belt, I put Joan down, and he was the first to start placing our items on the belt. Poor little thing. I had completely neglected him since our encounter with my friends.

- "Anyway, it’s done now," Lucy concluded.

- "Please don’t be in a bad mood. Not after these past few weeks, and I don’t want Joan to be scared of you. If you need to blow off steam, do it only in front of me."

She gave me a soft smile and surprised me by leaning in to kiss me.

- "That wasn’t my intention... I’m sorry for being so moody, but you can’t really blame me. You know as well as I do that we need to be more careful now."

- "Yes, you’re right. There's no such thing as zero risk, so I’m not going to argue about it, Lucy. If you decide we shouldn’t go out anymore, I’ll accept it."

- "No, I was just joking," I laughed. "I wouldn’t go that far. Besides, apart from coming here or to The United, we haven’t really gone out in Manchester."

- "We’ve visited your secret spots, the park, and even some galleries."

- "Don’t twist my words," she said, rolling her eyes. "If we take the park out of the equation, those aren’t places where we’re likely to run into students."

- "True," I giggled. "Thanks, though. I really expected you to stop us from going out."

- "Of course not," she smiled, gently pulling me into her arms. "Anyway, there are only a few months left. If I get fired, it won’t be dramatic since I plan on leaving next year anyway."

- "But that would bother me..." I admitted.

- "We’ll make sure that doesn’t happen, I promise. But just know that if it does, it won’t be the end of the world. I’ll leave without causing any fuss, and it won’t change our relationship."

I smiled against her lips as she kissed me firmly. This was exactly what I told Leah earlier. Lucy won’t leave me. We laughed softly as we pulled away when I heard Joan make a sound of disgust.

- "That’s really gross."

- "Hey, watch your language," I gently reprimanded him.

He shrugged like a cheeky little boy before turning his back on us and moving toward the cashier when it was our turn. I was stunned. He had never behaved like this with me before. I was starting to think that what Sam or Sofia told me when I left wasn’t exaggerated. Lucy snapped me out of my stupor with a soft giggle.

- "Are you still sure you want kids later?" she teased.

I groaned in displeasure, making her laugh even more. The surprise was such that I didn’t even know how to react. Finally, I moved forward to help pack our groceries. I listened to Lucy continue talking about tonight, but I looked up when I felt someone watching us. I realized it was true when I caught Alessia’s eyes observing us from afar. I gave her a gentle smile before my attention was drawn back to Lucy, who waved a hand in front of my eyes.

- "Are you listening to me?"

- "No, sorry. What were you saying?"

She raised an eyebrow, clearly not expecting that answer.

- "What’s got you so distracted?"

Before she could even look up to see Alessia, Joan chimed in with an answer.

- "It’s her friend from earlier. She’s been watching us since before."

Lucy narrowed her eyes slightly before looking at me as if expecting confirmation. I shrugged indifferently, not finding the information particularly important. She then turned to my brother.

- "Really? And how was she looking at us?"

- "Luce-"

I stopped when I saw her raised hand, signaling me to be quiet. I placed our last item in the basket just as Lucy pulled out her credit card. I felt a bit guilty letting her pay for everything, but she insisted.

- "She was looking at Ona a lot. Kind of like Emma at my school. My friends say she wants to be my girlfriend but is too scared to talk to me."

I didn’t know what to think or what to worry about more after hearing that revealing statement. Joan is only in first grade, so it’s strange that he’s already talking about girlfriends, even if it’s harmless at that age. Lucy, however, seemed to have made her choice on the most important subject to discuss.

- "Is she still interested in you?" she surprised me by asking.

- "We’re friends," I replied. "I’ve always made it clear I’m not interested."

- "That wasn’t my question, Ona."

I sighed, shrugging as she put away her credit card after paying. As I’ve said many times, I’m not the best at reading people.

- "I don’t know," I admitted. "But if she still had hope, I think she just lost it."

She nodded, taking my free hand. The other was busy holding our packed shopping basket. Before we headed toward the exit, she pressed her lips firmly against mine, prolonging the kiss as if to make sure we were seen. That was definitely her intention.

- "I hope so. Because I’m not sharing you. You’re mine."

I blushed, discovering this new side of her that I hadn’t known before. With Feli, I hated her possessiveness, but it’s a different story with Lucy. I felt warm and reassured at the same time.

- "Why do you think I was never interested in her?" I retorted. "If I hadn’t met you first, I might have given her a chance."

My honesty caught her attention immediately. I’d be lying if I said Alessia isn’t my type. Besides her persistence, we have a lot in common. Lucy was about to respond, but I quickly cut her off before she got the wrong idea.

- "You already had too much of a hold on my mind for me to look elsewhere, darling. No matter what I might have done before meeting you, know that no one can compare to you now. You’re the only one I need and want."

I could say so many wonderful things about her to make her understand that since we met, nothing has been the same for me. She managed to fix me and bring back a missing part of my life. If she were to leave, it would be like losing a part of my soul. I realized that when we were apart.

- "I’m sorry. It’s just that I’m afraid you’ll find someone better than me."

- "That’s not going to happen."

The thoughtful expression she had disappeared, finally replaced by a wonderful little smile. She gently pulled me close and kissed my temple.

- "I know, I’m sorry. I love you, my love."

I closed my eyes for a few seconds, smiling in return. I didn’t know what she had been thinking, but it seemed I had managed to change her mind. As for me, I really couldn’t have dreamed of a better new life. If only she knew how much I care about her. She is my everything.

#woso #lucy bronze #woso community #ona batlle #barca femeni #woso soccer #lionesses #sefutbol fem #ona batlle x lucy bronze

61 notes · View notes