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cjsinkythoughts · 3 years

Text

Suits, Dresses, and Heels

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader

Word Count: 4000

Warnings: !FATWS SPOILERS!, Cursing, More Mentions of PTSD, Gun Violence, Slight Mentions of Drinking, Club Dancing (You’re all gonna hate me for that part, but I’m not sorry)

A/N: Here’s Part 4.2 - The Second Part to Episode 3 - as requested. This is a little more scene-by-scene, but there are some off-screen moments. I’ll be posting Part 4.3 (which will have the rest of the episode) later tonight.

There’s a bit more information on Reader, but not as much as the last chapter. Sharon comes in during this part, so you get to see her and Reader’s relationship.

Also, I have mixed feelings about Zemo at this point. Not in the story, the Reader’s not a fan as you learned previously, but for me personally, he’s surprised me a couple times by coming back and helping.

Anyways! Thank you so much for reading! This isn’t beta’d so excuse any mistakes! Check out my other parts before you read! Thank you again! Stay tuned, loves!

FATWS MASTERLIST

cjsinkythoughts MASTERLIST

!SPOILERS UNDER CUT!

The dress was far too tight for your liking, and showed way too much skin. Not that you didn’t like being a tease every once in a while, but for this mission, you’d rather have more cover and movement.

You had to admit though; Zemo had nice taste. The dress fit deliciously - which made you wonder how he got your size. The color and cut was devastatingly flattering. Plus, he let you do your own makeup.

Being the only female, you were in a separate area of the jet getting ready. Once you were done, you made sure to knock, even though you’d walked in on Sam changing too many times to count while on the run and had seen Bucky answer the door in nothing but a towel. It was mainly for Zemo’s sake, just a warning that you were walking in whether or not they were ready.

“Damn, girl! You clean up nice!”

You rolled your eyes at Sam, painted lips quirking up as you studied him, shooting him a wink. “You should try a mirror, Sammy.” You turned to Bucky to find him staring wide-eyed and slack-jawed at you. “What do you think, Buck?”

His mouth snapped shut and he cleared his throat, eyes exploring the dips and curves your body. “You…” He blinked once. Twice. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, his intense eyes making you heat up, before he shook his head. “You look good.” He rushed out, before spinning on his heel shoving past Sam who was snickering.

“Where’s Zemo?” You noticed he wasn’t in the main area of the plane when you walked in.

“Rearranging our ride once we get there.”

You huffed, fixing your hair. “Oh God. We’re really doing this.”

“Yup.”

“Okay.” You looked down at yourself before looking up at the boys. “Something’s gonna go wrong, isn’t it?”

“Absolutely.”

“No doubt.”

Giving a slight groan at their simultaneous answers, you nodded. “Let’s try not to screw up too badly, boys, alright? I at least want to live long enough to see Peter graduate.”

Sam rolled his eyes with a scoff. “That kid’s a punk.”

“You’re a punk.” You shot back.

Bucky raised his hand. “I second that punk thing.”

“For which one?”

“Both of them.”

You chuckled as Sam gaped at Bucky, who shrugged innocently. The former assassin tilted his head in your direction to shoot you a grin and a wink, making you laugh more. Shaking your head, you go to make a joke when Zemo walked in.

“It’s time. We’re landing now.”

And just like that, the teasing atmosphere dissipated, leaving you anxious and regretful.

*******************

You walked by Bucky, arm linked with his metal one, listening as Zemo told Sam about his “character” he was to play.

“He’s a known womanizer - always has a gorgeous lady on his arm.” Zemo gestured towards you. “It’s the only way they’d let in a woman.”

“Aren’t we going to see a woman?” You questioned, gently patting Bucky’s metallic bicep when his hold on you tightened.

“Which makes it more imperative that you don’t act threatening. Women don’t make the same mistake men do; they don’t underestimate other women.”

You nodded. He had a point there. Bucky faced you, a frown on those pretty lips. “I don’t like this.” He mumbled.

“You think I do?” You whispered back. “With you being him again? Even if it’s just pretend? And need I remind you whose idea this was?”

“I know, I know. Just…” He sighed. “Promise me you won’t get hurt on purpose.”

Your forehead creased. “Why would I-?”

“To protect people. You always do. And I get it, I do. It’s why you started this in the first place, but…save yourself first, this time, okay?”

“Buck-”

“Promise me.”

It wasn’t often you could see the fear in his eyes, hear it in his voice, but you could then. Unable to do anything else you nodded, a soft, “okay” falling from your lips. He nodded back, pressing a kiss to your head, before letting you go as a car approached.

Bucky helped you in - the heels you were wearing were no joke - before sliding in himself, Sam getting in on the other side of you. “And you two can’t be…” Zemo gestured to the two of you as the car started moving, eyeing your still connected hands. “Doing that.”

“This isn’t my first theater production.” You snapped at him. “We’ll be fine.”

He raised his hands in surrender, turning back to look out the windshield. Once you arrived, you gave Bucky’s hand one last squeeze, before accepting Sam’s hand to get out on his side, linking your arm with his like you were doing with Bucky earlier.

“I finally get to see one of your performances, baby.” Sam grinned at you.

You smirked back. “Best seats in the house, too, Smiling Tiger.” He groaned at your jest, nudging you playfully with his elbow as you giggled.

“This way.” Zemo cut in, jerking his head in the direction you’d be going. You took a breath, steeling yourself, before the three of you nodded at each other and followed his lead.

You found the fellas reactions amusing, their heads turning to study and scan everything they could see. You were more subtle in the way you analyzed your surroundings, feeling a bit more at home in this situation than, say, fighting super soldiers on top of semi trucks.

Your jaw tightened, as did your grip on Sam’s arm, when Zemo started speaking Russian, the four of you pushing through a crowded bar. Sam ran his fingers over your arms, giving your hand a little squeeze, silently reassuring you.

It was a bit obvious Sam hadn’t done much undercover work, put he stayed in character and you were impressed. Especially when the bartender started cutting up the snake, which you had to look away for because if there was one thing you couldn’t do…it was snakes. You nearly gagged when Sam reluctantly downed the drink.

Bucky eyed you, lips pursed in a way you recognized as him trying to hold in a smile. That made you feel a little better, hiding your own smile by turning into the crook of Sam’s neck. “Not. Funny.” He growled through clenched teeth, lips not moving.

“Kinda is.”

He grumbled under his breath, before the two of you tuned into the conversation between Zemo and a thug that came up, learning about the apparent power broker of Madripoor, which you a bit of from your time undercover there.

Sam held you tightly when Zemo turned to Bucky, knowing what was about to happen.

You didn’t like it. You didn’t like how easily aggressive he became. You didn’t like the little smirk Zemo gave as Bucky attacked. You didn’t like the cellphones being pointed in his direction. You didn’t like it.

“Didn’t take much for him to fall back into form.” You gave Zemo a warning glare, a shaky breath leaving you.

He’d been doing so well. At least, for someone who had been through what he had. Especially considering it’d only been a few months since he’d been pardoned - half a year since everyone came back. You knew bringing Zemo on board had been a bad idea, but-

A squeeze to your hand pulled you out of your thoughts. You let out an inaudible sigh of relief as Zemo allowed Bucky to let the man he was choking go.

“Selby will see you now.”

One step down. You hoped that would be the hardest part, but you knew it most definitely wouldn’t be.

“You good?”

Bucky sniffed, giving you two a curt nod, before following Zemo. You bit your lip. “That wasn’t really an answer, was it?”

Sam shook his head. “No. No it wasn’t.”

Selby wasn’t exactly what you were expecting, but you’d come to expect that. You stayed on Sam’s arm, giving the guards coy smiles and playing with the fake nails you had on in faux-boredom.

When she purred at the man besides you, you and Bucky glanced at each other, with you resisting the urge to scrunch up your nose. “And who is this gorgeous creature?”

Your eyes snapped back to Selby, giving her a slightly bashful smile. “Celeste Addams. Pleasure.”

“Trust me, dear. The pleasure is all mine.” Alright, you thought as she scanned you with a smirk. She was swinging for both teams. You could work with that. “What’s the offer?” She looked back to Zemo.

Zemo gave her the offer - information about the super soldier serum for the Winter Soldier and the code words to control him. Your blood boiled as Zemo touched Bucky, fingers grabbing his chin. You swore, once this whole thing was over, you would kick Zemo’s ass. You should make a list, just to keep track of all the things he’d done, and no doubt would do, to piss you off. That way he’d know why exactly you were beating his ass.

A name came up, Dr. Wilfred Nagel, along with the knowledge that the super soldier serum was, in fact, in Madripoor. You and Sam met eyes. Second step down.

But before they could get anything else, Sam’s phone buzzed. You ducked your head, closing your eyes, mumbling “fuck” when you saw it was Sarah. Sam’s responses just made you inwardly cringe even more.

“The bank, yeah. We laundered so much mo-” He chuckled nervously. “Yeah. They’ll come around.”

Is he fucking serious? For the love of God, Sammy…

And then she called him Sam. Next thing you knew, Selby was shot and you, Bucky, and Sam were taking out a guard each, you growling at the fact that you couldn’t use your legs because the dress was too damn tight.

You had no choice but to trust Zemo’s lead, but word traveled very quickly here, and less than a minute after walking outside, you were getting shot at.

“C’mon!” Bucky grabbed your arm, pulling you besides him.

“Can you not right now?!”

“I can’t run in these heels!”

You glared at Sam, the killer six inchers on your feet feeling like hell. “Hell no! You did not just say that in front of me!”

“You started it!” You scowled at him, following Bucky into an alley, only to duck as shots rang out. Chest heaving, you looked around for the source of the bullets that killed the men chasing you. Your “guardian angel” as Zemo put it.

She soon appeared in all her stunning, blonde badass glory. “Sharon?”

Sam quickly explained the situation, trying to get her not to shoot Zemo who she had a gun pointed at.

“I stole Steve’s shield, remember? I also took the wings for your ass,” she pointed the gun at Sam, then Bucky, “so that you could save his ass, from his ass.” And the gun was back on Zemo. She shot you a smile. “And your ass is looking beautiful as always.”

You grinned back. “Thanks. You’re not looking too bad yourself.”

As she spoke, your lips turned down. You had tried calling her after Germany, but it always went to voicemail. First thing you did when you got back was try to get everyone pardoned, but it was a process. And then you found out about Wanda and ever since…

Sharon was your first real friend. She was only a couple years younger than you and had been one of your first partners during your time with SHIELD. And the fact that she’d been on the run for years now, even with the Blip, her family not having seen or talked to her since…that was exactly why you couldn’t take a break. She was family and you found there was nothing more important than family. But when she needed you, you were out searching for someone who didn’t want to be found.

How were you supposed to choose between two sisters? How could you cope with the fact that you chose the wrong one?

“Sharon, we need your help.” She laughed at Bucky’s statement. “Please,”

She glanced at you and you nodded. “I’d appreciate it, Share.”

She gave a sigh before nodding. “This isn’t over. I have a place in High Town. You should be safe there for a while.”

She turned and started walking, and you were about to follow, when you remembered something.

Spinning around, your fist connected with Zemo’s cheek, Sam and Bucky shouting in surprise while the man stumbled back. “Don’t you fucking dare touch him like that ever again, or I will break every bone in your body.” You threatened, your expression twisting into a scowl as you grab his hand and bend it awkwardly. He grunted but didn’t move, knowing one wrong turn would break his wrist. “Do I make myself clear?”

“Crystal.” He ground out.

You pushed a little more, making him wince, before letting go and rounding back to Sharon, who was smirking at you. “Let’s get moving.”

“Yes, ma’am.” She jerked her head back over her shoulder to where a car was waiting, leading them over.

You quickly followed after her with Bucky on your heels and Sam dragging Zemo along. Speaking of heels, as soon as you got in the car - getting shotgun for the first time ever at Sharon’s insistence - you prodded the stupid shoes off your feet.

“Nice kicks.”

“Yeah.” You scoffed. “Unless you’re trying to kick.”

“Did you rip the dress?”

“I was tempted to.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll get you in something more comfortable. And you’ll look just as good. Not that you wouldn’t look good in literally anything.”

You chuckled, giving her a look. “Let’s not test that theory.”

She smiled back, nodding. “Fine. I’ll let you pick something out.”

Sam huffed, crossing his arms best he could, being squished with the two other fully grown men in the back seat. “Women.”

The two of you exchanged looks, rolling your eyes at the three pouting guys. “Men.”

*****************

“I’m gonna go check on the boys. But I’ll be right back.”

You nodded, looking through her closet. No dresses. And absolutely no heels. Flats, if you had to, but you’d definitely prefer sneakers right now. You decided on shorts and an off-the-shoulder blouse, grateful for the looser clothing.

“They’re idiots.”

You laughed and looked over at the door as Sharon entered. “Yeah. I know.”

“Cute.” She commented on your outfit, sitting on her bed. “They explained the situation. Sam said if I help, he’d clear my name-”

“Sharon.” You sighed, biting your lip. “I tried. I really did. I-”

She shook her head, smiling at you reassuringly. “No, I know. It’s why I’m not mad at you. Sorry I didn’t call back. How’ve you been?”

You shrugged. “Fine, I guess.”

“Even with the whole ‘Cap is back’ thing.”

“Walker’s the government’s pet. He’s not Captain America. He’s not…”

“Steve?”

Looking up at her from the ground, you nodded. “Yeah.”

“Do you miss him?”

You smirked, wagging your eyebrows at her. “Do you?”

She rolled her eyes, tossing a pillow at you. “It’s kinda weird now, isn’t it?”

“Maybe a little. But I can’t blame you. Have you seen him shirtless? Good God.”

Sharon laughed, shaking her head as you joined her on the bed. “How come it’s always you getting wrapped up in these things?”

“I have no clue.” You chuckled, crossing your legs underneath you. “First I’m answering a phone call from Bucky at five in the morning and next thing I know, I’m being kicked off of semi trucks, breaking criminals out of prisons and running in six inch heels.”

“You answer Bucky’s calls at five in the morning?”

You gave her a look. “Sharon-”

“No, no. Hey. That’s cool. Some girls like bad boys, some like jocks, others like nerds. You like super soldiers from the 40’s. Everyone’s got a thing.”

A playful shove turned into a pillow fight, which turned into a sparring session, during which you pin her on her back. “You’re getting better.” You complimented, getting up.

She glared at you, taking your outstretched hand and letting you pull her up. “I guess that’s why you’re an Avenger.”

“That’s still weird to say.”

“Why? You’ve been an Avenger since, what? Ultron?”

You nodded, straightening your clothes. “Officially, anyways.”

“Right. Because you were there for the Battle of Manhattan as the secret seventh superhero.”

“Yeah…I miss it. The anonymity. I’m pretty sure I’m one half the Senators’ speed dials.”

Sharon frowned, brows pinching together. “What about the other half of the OG? Where are they?”

“Thor’s in space, Bruce is MIA - which I can’t really blame him for - and Clint’s retired with his family.”

“You think he’s gonna stay retired?”

You shrugged. “I hope he does. He’s been trying to retire for years. He deserves it. Knowing him, though…probably not.”

Sharon crossed her arms, nodding at you. “So that leaves you.”

“Yes it does.”

“Do you ever think of taking a break?”

You gave a half-sigh, half-groan, making her smirk in amusement. “It’s…come up a lot recently. I dunno. I think I’m burning out, anyways.”

“What makes you say that? I was watching you guys with Selby. You’re still one of the best I’ve ever seen.”

“I-I’ve been having…problems.”

Her eyes narrowed, her hands setting on her hips like a mother about to scold her child. “What kind of problems?”

“Just flashbacks. Of different things. It happens at random times. Certain triggers; something someone says or does, or something I smell or hear.”

“PTSD?”

“Something like that.”

“Has it affected you in the field?” Hesitating to answer was answer enough and she nodded. “Then…maybe it’s time you do start considering retiring.”

You snorted, shaking your head. “At 36? There’s no way.”

“C’mon. It’s not too late for you to settle down. Go one a few dates. Meet someone. Maybe have a couple kids-”

“Woah, woah. Slow your roll.” Your features scrunched up in incredulity. “Pump your breaks. No one said anything about marriage or kids.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m just saying…think about it. I heard even Bucky’s been on a few dates.”

It was your turn to narrow your eyes at her, hearing the suggestive tone in her voice and seeing the eyebrow raise. “Yeah. He has. A few. I told him to. Told him it might be good for him to, I dunno, get back out there.

“Or, you could just…go out there with him.”

“Not you too! Have you been talking to Sam?”

“Is it Steve? Is that what’s stopping you? Because you know he’d just want you to be hap-” She stopped as he phone vibrated, grabbing it and reading the text. “Company’s arriving.” She pointed a finger at you. “You got very very lucky. This conversation isn’t over. I’m not dropping this.”

You bit your cheek and nodded. “Alright, mom. Can we go party now?”

She breathed out a laugh and nodded. “Yeah. Let’s go party.”

**********************

“Hey, gorgeous! There you are!”

You smirked at the boys as they met you near the top of the stairs, eyeing Sam and Bucky appreciatively. Damn, could Sam pull off a turtleneck. And Bucky in black and skinny jeans? Sharon sure had good taste. “Today’s the day for attractive outfits, huh, gentlemen?”

“I’ll say.” Bucky hummed, glancing at your own outfit. “You look beautiful, doll.”

“You look very dashing yourself, Barnes.” You grin, pulling at the lapels of his black blazer and fixing the collar. You smoothed your hand down the front of his shirt, looking up at him with an eyebrow raised when he caught your wrist, keeping your palm over his heart.

He clenched his jaw, taking a breath, before letting it out, almost dejectedly, and letting your hand go. “Um,” He cleared his throat, hand falling down by his side. “Did, uh, did Sharon say anything more about these friends of hers to you?”

“Nope.” You shook your head. “Just told me to enjoy the party.”

“I guess we should go enjoy the party, then.” Sam nodded towards the stairs, where the music was floating up, her guests already pouring in.

You made your way downstairs, looking around the room. Sharon sure did know how to throw one, that’s for sure.

People were pushed together, dancing to the beat of the music, drinking, with colored lights flashing every which way. Bucky’s hand found yours almost instantly, and you smiled at him. “C’mon.”

“What?” His eyes were wide as you dragged him towards the groups of people dancing.

“Dance with me.”

He shook his head violently. “I-I can’t.”

“I thought you used to be a dancer?”

“Used to. And I was a swing-dancer. Not…” He gestured around to the people bobbing up and down, moving their bodies with each other.

You waved dismissively, pulling him closer. “All you need to do is feel the beat. I’m sure you can do that, can’t you, Mr. Tough and Scary Assassin?”

He licked his lips, looking around nervously. You brought his hands to your hips, making his eyes snap back to yours, your own arms winding around his neck. You started moving rhythmically, nodding your head to the music, smiling up at him and giggling at the adorable concentration on his face.

“You, uh, you go to parties like this a lot?”

“I specialized in undercover operations, remember? I practically lived at these places for some of them.” He licked his lips, his grasp on your hips tightening. “Loosen up a little.” You laughed, catching his jaw between your fingers and making him look at you instead of the crowd surrounding him. You scratched at the scruff, speaking softly, but loud enough for him to hear. “It’s just me.”

He nodded and, slowly, a bit hesitant, started moving his body with yours, relaxing his tense muscles the longer you two danced.

“Nice hit, by the way. With Zemo earlier.”

You shrugged, turning in his arms, biting your lip when he pulled you closer, your back to his chest. “I didn’t like the way he grabbed you. It was unnecessary. I was thinking of making a list, actually.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah.” Your arms wound around his neck again, your head falling back to his shoulder. “Of things he’s done so far that warrant’s me beating his ass once this is done.”

He chuckled, warm breath tickling your cheek, thumbs tracing circles on the bare skin just above the waistline of your shorts. Your own fingers had found home in his hair holding his head where it was, his lips centimeters away from your ear. “Share it with Sam. I’m sure he has a few things to add.”

Your breath hitched as his metal fingers danced along your bare navel, arm tightening around your waist. “I’m sure he does…I thought you said you can’t dance.”

“I guess I just needed to warm up. I’m a bit rusty after eighty years.”

“Don’t seem that rusty to me.” You breathed out, turning your head to look at him. His tongue ran across his lips again, his eyes glancing to your own.

“Hey, guys!” The world and your situation came crashing down on you, the music you didn’t realize you’d been tuning out, along with the crowd’s boisterous laughter and cheers, rushed back to yours ears. The little bubble with just you and Bucky shattered. You both stepped away from each other; you cleared your throat and pushed down the heat that had nothing to do with the hundred bodies in the one room, while Bucky rubbed the back of his neck, the tips of his ears red with no help from the colored lights. Both of you were panting lightly, avoiding eye contact with the other three staring knowingly at you. Sharon nodded her head, gesturing behind her. “I found him.”

Sam nudged Bucky - who was staring at you, his jaw ticking and his throat tightening as he swallowed thickly - before jabbing his thumb in Sharon’s direction. “Here we go.”

You nodded, eyeing Bucky with a small smile. “Here we go, Buckaroo.”

2K notes · View notes

wotanidiott · 3 years

Note

maybe some draco angst with prompts 20, 17 & 15 (angst ones)? thank you 🤎

—————————————————

The Other Potter

summary - after a heated argument, draco finally confesses, or rather shows you, his hidden feelings

pairing - draco x fem reader, mentions of ron x fem reader

house - gryffindor

time period - 7th year

word count - 2.6k

warnings - very angsty, violence and a whole lot of swearing

a/n - ahhh this is my first official post skdjkssjskksjssk !!!! i hope it’s okay i made the reader harry’s sister? i just randomly came up with the storyline and thought it would fit well with your request ... anyways i hope yall like it <3

prompts

“are you going to cry now?”

“you’re scaring me”

“you’re nothing. you hear me? nothing”

"Y/N!" You heard the distant calling of your name amongst the chatter of the mass of students in the Great Hall. Cocking your head slightly forward from your seat at the Gryffindor table, you found the source of the noise as they barrelled into the entrance with a frantic look in their eyes.

"Neville, what's wrong?" You question him, as he flops onto Seamus Finnigan, seated adjacent from you. Seamus furrows his eyebrows at his friend's breathless state, then looking at you with the same confused expression on your face.

Neville audibly heaves for a good minute, catching his breath from the seemingly long run he underwent.

"Harry, he—" His sentence is interrupted by a lengthy inhale of oxygen.

You perk up at your brother's name. A plethora of questions surfacing in your mind. "Harry? What happened? What did he do now?" You stand up, placing both hands on the table as you peer over at the short-winded boy now laying flat on the floor, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

“He ... he—”

"He what?" You persist.

"Courtyard. He's— A-And Malfoy. "

That's all you needed to snatch your bag off the floor and bolt for the courtyard.

You realised you had developed some sort of attraction to the infamous Slytherin Prince around the start of 5th year. Although, you had assumed it was just a phase. In what world could you ever be attracted to the one guy that makes you and your brother's lives a living hell?

So that's what you had concluded it was. Just a phase. One that had seemingly fizzled out once you started dating Ron and now call a silly mishap.

But that wasn't true at all, was it?

A series of scenarios flickered through your head as you begun to wonder just exactly what had happened for poor Neville to nearly faint from shortness of breath to fetch you.

It must've been urgent.

As you reach the Courtyard, a crowd has formed around the oak tree, most likely watching the interaction between the two boys. Your hand finds the wand tucked in the pocket of your robes, gripping it tightly as you push through the cluster of people to get to the front.

He sees you before you see him.

"Ahhh, how nice of you to join us. Now the other Potter's here, we can really have some fun" Malfoy announces. Sniggers erupt from the group of Slytherins behind him as you finally reach the centre of the circle.

Your eyebrows knit together in perplexity. Malfoy is stood in the middle, surrounded by his goons but there's no sight of Harry.

"Where is he?" You snap at Malfoy, hostility lacing your words as you look around the gathered students agitated.

"Y/N, I'm here!" Harry's voice calls from above. At first your skeptic but as you look up, there he was. Floating in mid-air. Along with Hermione and Ron.

"You bloody git. I'll get you back for this Malfoy. I swear—" Ron is cut off by the single wave of Blaise Zabini's wand, effectively silencing him.

"They look rather comfy up there, Potter. Don't you think? Care to join them?" Malfoy pulls his signature smirk, eyeing you up and down.

The hold on your wand tightens as you whip it out and point it at him, stepping forward. "Oh, I wouldn't if I were you. Unless you want a repeat of fourth year? Don't think we all forgot about you running stark naked around the corridors after your little ferret incident."

The crowd bursts into laughter at your witty comeback. Even Theodore Nott couldn't contain his laughter and eventually gave in when he saw the humiliated look gracing Malfoy's face.

Malfoy's gaze on you hardens, his upper lip curling in contempt as he too takes a step forward. If looks could kill, this would be it. He flicks his wand upwards, still maintaining eye contact and you hear the thud of 3 bodies on your left, followed by grunts from the hard contact as he relinquished the golden trio from his spell.

"Yeah? No wonder Weasel left you for the Mudblood. I would too considering what a bitch you are." He hisses with no remorse.

Gasps emit from the crowd at his harsh riposte.

As much as you'd hate to admit it, the comment hit a nerve. You remained civil with Hermione and Ron after having found out he cheated on you with her but the pain was still there. A guilty expression flickered over the couple's faces as they shot you an apologetic look.

"Awww, are you going to cry now?"

Your wand lowers slightly from the impact of Malfoy's insult and he takes this as an opportunity to cast a leg-locking curse.

However, he underestimated you. You managed to block the spell with a simple protection charm before quickly shouting "Expelliarmus!" Malfoy's wand jumped into your open hand in a fleet of a moment and he was left defenceless.

"I may be a bitch but at least I'm not a disappointment. It's obvious that your Father would rather have anyone— hell, he'd even have Harry rather than you as a son" you scoff, narrowing your eyes at him.

You felt a surge of satisfaction when an emotion that resembled hurt flashed across his face. But it went as soon as it came.

Something in Draco snapped. It was one thing to ridicule him in front of his peers but to bring up his Father? Now that was a whole different ball game. Before he could even stop himself, a barrage of insults came pouring out.

"Are you even hearing yourself? At least I have a Father. And I have a Mother. You? You have no one. Your parents are fucking dead, Potter. You don't even have any recollection of them—"

"MALFOY—"

"Shut the fuck up, Potter" He snaps at Harry then instantly directs his attention to you again. "And as for your sorry brother, I don't even see you two together anymore. He'd rather be around the two people that betrayed you—"

"Draco, mate, I think that's enoug—" Theo tugs on Malfoy's sleeve to get him to stop but he's persistent on speaking his mind.

"Piss off, Nott. A-Around the two people that betrayed you than— than a pathetic excuse for a witch. No one likes nor cares about you. You're nothing, Potter. You hear me? Nothing."

Malfoy appeared deranged in the way he lashed out at you, chest heaving from his rant and wild eyes that looked as if he could kill you right at that moment.

But you didn't care.

You were past the point of caring. You knew all the things he said to you were true, you sometimes even thought it. But it felt like a whole new revelation when he stated it aloud. In front of everyone. Soon the whole school would be talking about this.

But you didn't care.

It was then, Draco knew. He knew he messed up. He took in the wide eyes and gaping mouths of his peers around him. Harry's enraged expression. His friends' guilty body language; despite the fact they played no part in the insult.

Then his eyes swept over to you. He had knocked the life right out of you. You looked ... numb. With your faintly quivering lip and glassy eyes, he realised he had overstepped. Usually, you'd retaliate and he would too until you were both separated by your friends or the professors.

Though, this was different. This was overdoing it.

"R-Right." You managed to say flatly but the distress was clear in your words. The tears in your eyes were threatening to spill and you felt sick. Sick to the stomach about the fact everyone had heard and were most likely going to realise that about you too if they hadn't already.

You had to leave. Bolt out of there before you became a weeping mess.

You turned on your heel and made a beeline for the closest abandoned corridor you knew by heart. You couldn't go to your dorm because Harry would find you there and you wanted to be alone for the time being.

You ignored your brother's calls to come back aswell as Hermione's and a few other fellow Gryffindors you had befriended over the years.

Tear after tear came rolling down your flushed cheeks. Each one representing a time you had bottled up those feelings and refused to give into the 'let it all go' mechanism.

The past 2-3 years had been a blur of pain and heartbreak. Ron and Hermione's betrayal had hit you worse than you thought, combined with Harry's absence and the pitiful treatment your friends had been giving you.

"Potter, wait!"

You whirled round so fast at the all so familiar voice. Out of all people, you hadn't expected him to be the one to follow you.

"Leave me alone, Malfoy. Please— Just .... just please leave me alone" Your plead came out in splutters, unable to fully form a sentence with the state your mind was in.

You swivel back round and begin to continue further down the hallway but you don't get far as Malfoy calls after you again.

"Potter, stop."

"WHAT? WHAT IS IT? YOU WANT TO HUMILIATE ME EVEN MORE? IS THAT IT? WHAT DO YOU FUCKING WANT, MALFOY?" You turn, snapping at him.

Through the swelling anger and haze of your tears, you couldn't make out his expression as he stared intently at your face.

"I— I just wanted to—" Malfoy pauses for a second, struggling to find the right words. After a moment, he simply sighs, eyes travelling to your hand. "My wand. You have my wand." He points at your clenched fists that have both his and your wand in it's tight grip.

At that, you feel immensely stupid for lashing out at him. Huffing, you shove it in his hands and collapse against the vacant corridor's wall out of frustration.

You bury your head in your hands and replay the scene that had just occurred. It was humiliating. Utterly humiliating ... but it was the truth.

"Potter."

You started slightly at the sound of Malfoy's voice. You had expected him to go running back to his goons to ridicule your breakdown yet here he was.

"Wh-What are y-you still doing here?" You managed to reply in between hiccups as you kept your eyes wired shut to cease the ever flowing stream of tears. "Would h-have thought you'd ran off and celebrated this v-victory of yours with the other Slytherins."

"Potter, I—"

"No, you know what, I don't even care anymore." You get to your feet and push yourself off the wall. This would only satisfy Malfoy even further; watching every piece of the facade you managed to maintain, crack and fracture. He didn't deserve to see you like this.

As you swivel round, about to make a run to your dorm, you're pulled back by a harsh grip on your wrist. Cold rings digging into your skin as he spins you back round.

"Well, I do." Malfoy says in almost a whisper.

You shoot him a bemused look at his vague and random words.

He takes in your confused expression and further elaborates. "...Care. I mean." He says, flatly whilst looking around you as if he were avoiding your eyes.

You can't help the scoff that passes through your mouth as you yank your wrist free of his grasp. "You? Care? Yeah, right."

You go to turn again but he stops you once more. "Look, Potter—"

"Malfoy—"

"If you would just—"

"No—"

"Listen to me—"

"Why would—"

In a fleet of a moment, Malfoy shoves you against the wall. His large hand wrapped around the back of your head to mitigate the impact. And the other squeezing your hip to hold you in place.

"FOR FUCK'S SAKE, STOP INTERRUPTING ME. IS IT SO HARD TO SHUT YOUR MOUTH AND FUCKING LISTEN TO WHAT I HAVE TO SAY?"

You open your mouth to protest but you're quickly cut off by his hand leaving your head as it drives into the stone wall right next to your face.

"STOP IT. DO YOU NOT UNDERSTAND WHAT LISTEN MEANS, POTTER?"

You jump at the abrupt act of violence combined with the volume and harshness of his words.

"LISTEN."

His fist rams into the wall again.

"TO."

And again.

"ME."

And again.

Your eyes screw shut as you let out a small whimper from the proximity of his punches between the wall and your face. Tears escaping and falling rapidly from the fear he had elicited out of you combined with the occurrence that had put you in this mess in the first place.

Malfoy is pulled out of his momentary ballistic rage at the sound of your small and helpless sounding whimper. He had yet again let his temper get the better of him. Culpability overcame him as he took in your cowering state and he instantly regretted spinning out of control.

"Potter." His voice, eyes and grip had softened drastically, completely contrasting his aura just seconds ago.

"Y-You're scaring me." You murmur.

Malfoy instantaneously takes a step back, releasing you from his hold.

Your eyes fly open and immediately register the immense shame etched on his face.

"I'm sorry. I didn't—" He pauses momentarily, sighing to himself before continuing. "I didn't mean to scare you. Or hurt you. I didn't mean the things I said earlier."

It was an understatement to say you were taken aback by Malfoy apologising. You didn't think he even knew how to.

"You're sorry?" You reply, dubiously.

"Yes. I am."

You squint your eyes at him in suspicion, "No, you're not. Why would you be sorry? You don't even care—"

"Fuck's sake, not again." He cuts you off, shaking his head as he pinches the bridge of his nose out of irritation.

You don't understand. What's his angle? Surely, he doesn't really care. Right?

"What? You don't. Or else you wouldn't have—" You attempt to explain your point of view but he interrupts you once more.

"FUCKING HELL, POTTER. I AM SORRY, OKAY? IS IT SO HARD FOR YOU TO BELIEVE THAT I'M APOLOGISING FOR HURTING YOUR FEELINGS?"

A moment of silence passes between the two of you as you stare at each other.

"Yes." You breathe. "I-I just don't understand why you would—"

Before you could even process what was happening, Malfoy has you pinned to the wall anew but this time with his lips pressed against yours.

You undergo a mixture of all sorts of emotions in the time span of a second. Shock, confusion, disbelief and most of all a tiny spark of exuberance.

He gives you little time to melt into the kiss before he's pulling away already and holding your face in his hands.

You've never been this close to Malfoy before, so needless to say you wouldn't have believed anyone if they said Malfoy actually had the most entrancing eyes. Like a storm brewing behind grey clouds, you thought.

"Does that answer your question?" He asks, a smirk creeping up his face.

You can't help the little smile tugging at the corner of your lips as you attempt to mirror his smirk. "Partly, yes."

Without a second thought, you smash your lips against his, hands travelling to his hair as you lightly tug on the ends.

He slightly moans at this and mumbles in between kisses, "You don't know how long I've been wanting to do this."

"WHAT THE FUCK?!"

You both suddenly pull away from each other as you meet Harry's eyes from the end of the hallway.

Shit.

———————————————————————

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yoichichi · 3 years

Text

To Call You Mine

college!tsuki x reader series

Ch. 1 - study buddies

warning(s): swearing, early early mornings 😵‍💫, second hand embarrassment LOL

a/n: ahhhhh!! Here’s chapter one of my first series!! I have the masterlist and details linked above but for some quick info: this is a college!au multi chapter fic about tsuki and the reader :) if you’d like to be added to the taglist let me know!! And as always I really appreciate your thoughts and comments n all that :) my inbox is always open!!! Enjoy <3 psps - don’t forget to check out the playlist linked above hhehehe

You’re not sure what woke you first; your alarm, the pain shooting up your back from the stiff cot your university has the audacity to refer to as a “bed”, or your own sour attitude from having to be up so early.

Five am. Five am. It takes a certain kind of sick and twisted individual to suggest meeting up to study at five in the morning. Although, you have to admit, it does take a different kind of person to actually agree to those terms.

Why, why, why, why, why.

Is the mantra you chant to yourself while you mindlessly dress and pack your bag, not even bothering to snatch a power bar from your nightstand for breakfast. Water will have to do.

You make an effort to click the door shut behind you quietly, not wanting to wake up your more than sweet dorm mate who’d surely be focusing on being just as careful as you were right now.

“Oh my gosh, don’t you have that study date in the morning sweetie? You should be sleeping right now.” Bonnie, said dorm mate, leans over the back of your desk chair to peer down at the page of your calculus ll textbook you’ve been staring at for the past ten minutes. Concern is evident in her voice and her body language as she brings up a hand to gingerly rub your shoulder, hoping her small sideways smile will give you a sense of comfort. Or maybe even convince you to give it, and yourself, a rest.

“I know, I know. I just want to be prepared is all. I’m already dropping past a C at the speed of light and I’m sure my professor thinks I’m an idiot, hence him actually setting me up with a tutor, and I don’t need this guy to think I’m one too.” Your head falls in your hands at the end of your sentence, a dramatic groan feeling needed to really emphasize your point, too.

“Okay, just head to bed soon.” She placed a kiss on the top of your head before crawling into her own bed, using a storage container to prop herself onto it properly. She almost made you homesick with the way she doted on you like she was your mother.

You looked over and tapped the screen of your phone to see it read 9:14, not too late. You could reasonably cram in one more lesson.

You scoffed at yourself with the door fully shut and locked. You should’ve listened to Bonnie when you had the chance, it was just past midnight when you finally tore yourself away from last weeks review and decided to get ready for bed. Barely even four hours later and you’re up and getting ready to look at it all again.

You could at least appreciate how quiet the dorm hall was this ea-

“Mornin’, you!”

You internally banged your head against the wall at the bright voice that came towards you with such heavy and loud footsteps, how can someone’s footsteps manage to be so loud on carpet?

You substituted a hello with a gentle smile and wave as your R.A., who definitely didn’t remember your name - which is fine cause you didn’t remember theirs either, rushed past you.

Sighing deeply, you left the warm confines of the dorm building and stepped into the cold and brisk morning, starting your trek to the library.

He couldn’t have even chose a coffee place or something?

You had some, thoughts, about this guy. You didn’t know much about him, only two things.

One, his name: Tsukishima Kei.

Two, he was a good enough student to be assigned to you as a tutor.

You swallowed your slight embarrassment at the thought of your professor reaching out to someone on your behalf and instead chose to focus more on how weird this guy has to be.

Waking up before the sun rises on a Sunday was not something you looked forward to, you don’t think anybody would truly; especially to meet someone for the first time; yet this guy thinks it’s a great idea. So much so he didn’t even think to ask first, just tell you when and where to meet.

Thursday 4:14 pm

- ‘It’s Tsukishima. See you at 5 in the library this sunday.’

- ‘Oh hi!! Oh ok, am or pm?? lol’

Thursday 7:43 pm

- ‘am.’

- ‘Ok cool, see ya then!’

And that was it. Neither of you have texted since, which was three days ago on a Thursday afternoon. It kind of bothered you really, I mean, what kind of self righteous ass-

You took a deep breath and chose to think happy thoughts instead. You’d much rather be in a somewhat pleasant mood when you meet this guy than have some grudge against a stranger. And he probably talks different than he texts, right? You’re sure he didn’t mean to sound like a complete jerk.

You shook your head as if you were shaking away your thoughts as you started to walk along the path to the library. It was a fairly nice walk, about five minutes, and being alone was kind of peaceful on the way there this early.

Your feet shuffled only slightly on the cold concrete surprisingly enough considering the way your fatigue was starting to creep into your joints - but surely the cold wasn’t helping.

It was that kind of morning cold that stung your nostrils when you breathed in and tickled your cheeks and ears. It made your hands clench and unclench in your coat pockets, debating whether or not it’d be worth it to pull the cold metal of your jacket zipper just a centimeter higher in hopes of keeping your neck warmer. The morning fog leaving droplets on the synthetic material of your coat, making it squeak awfully when you moved your arms. And there was the dew on the grass that’d cling onto the tops of your shoe when you had to walk through it.

But the way the old fashioned light posts lit your walk and illuminated the fog kind of made your slight discomfort worth it. And by the time you reached the tall brick library, you could almost say you were in a pleasant mood, almost. And then you remembered why you were here.

You took one final deep breath as you reached the heavy doors of the university library. It was a grand sight really.

The building had its own separate spot on campus, towering at about four stories high, which although didn’t sound ginormous, it definitely felt that way when you had to climb those stairs to the top floor for a book you really didn’t even want. The brick with the foliage creeping up the sides to cover some of the lower windows even gave it an almost magic feeling when you took it in from the outside, it’s too bad that sense of wonder couldn’t be mirrored on the inside.

It was too quiet, especially this early, it smelt almost stale, and everything seemed to have a layer of dust no matter how new a book was. And the bathrooms? Old. Most stalls didn’t even have usable locks at this point. It’s arguably all apart of the charm of such an old building, but it’s not as charming when you have to reach out to keep the stall door closed with your fingertips just to use the restroom. And the water from the sink that never seems to get warm enough when you wash your hands doesn’t help either. Yet the water fountains are always too warm curiously enough.

You made little to no noise besides the occasional rustling of your jacket and squeaking of your shoes as they padded across the dingy off-colored carpet towards the back of the first floor.

There were various sizes of tables spread out throughout the space, few actually matching in color or style. The chairs varied less - but you could still find the oddball desk chair, or the chair with the wooden frame just a tad to wide to feel like a normal seat but just as evenly too small to be a bench.

Your heavy eyes surveyed the dimly lit space in hopes of finding any sign of human life when you finally noticed a backpack haphazardly tossed onto a table, still zipped open. Pens were splayed across the table with a single notebook, scribbles scrawled across the pages too far from you to be read. Not seeing anyone occupying the seat pulled away from the tables edge, you took out your phone to take a peek at the time.

4:58 am

Wow, I’m early?

Shoving your phone back into your pocket you began to make your way towards the (un)occupied table, debating whether a seat closer or farther would be more polite.

If I sit too close that’ll definitely be-

“Hey.”

You felt your shoulders hunch up to your ears and a small gasp leave your mouth at the way the voice behind you so suddenly interrupted your train of thought.

You turned around to come face to face with the voice.

“Are you (y/n)?”

Damn. He’s kinda tall.

Kind of was certainly an understatement. God he was definitely above 6 feet, 6’2” maybe? No, maybe even a little taller.

A single earbud was still in his ear as the other hung down and rested against his chest. He took the time to take the other out and wrap the cord gently around his middle and index finger before shoving it into his coat pocket, presumably the same one with his phone, in an effort to prevent them from getting tangled most likely. He took a deep breath and eyed you up and down before chuckling softly to himself.

“Okay.”

The tall man, who you’re now beginning to realize is Tsukishima, gives you a quizzical stare with a quirked eyebrow as he looks you up and down one last time, definitely judging you and your silence at this point, before turning around and making his way to a table.

Well it’s a good thing he stopped you before you sat at some other strangers table. You don’t think your heart could’ve taken that today.

You watched his back as he made his way towards a table farther into the back, closer to a window peering out onto the foggy and barely illuminated field.

Oh shit

“Oh, sorry!” You clear your throat and begin again, your own sudden volume startling yourself for a moment, as you double your pace to catch up and walk beside him towards a table,

“Um, yeah. Sorry, it’s a little early, brain hasn’t woke all the way up.”

Silence.

At the lack of a response, you decide to awkwardly laugh rather than wallow at the fact he didn’t even give a pity chuckle at your bad attempt at a polite joke to ease the seemingly tense vibe between the two of you.

Okay, well he definitely seems to talk the way he texts.

Clearing your throat again, you tried once more.

“I’m (y/n) by the way, it’s nice to m-“

“I know your name.” He stopped at the table and turned to glance down at you over his shoulder, the tiniest of smirks resting on his face with raised eyebrows, before pulling out a seat to sit in.

Yeah, maybe being quiet for a bit would do you some good. You’ll try again later.

Still trying to shake the embarrassment, no humiliation at this point, you busied yourself with taking out all the proper materials and waiting while he did the same. Sitting patiently opposite of Tsukishima, you decided to finally get a good look at him. Take in what you see and make some judgements.

He shook off his jacket and draped it over the back of his chair, showing you his wide shoulders underneath the simple grey t-shirt he wore. You didn’t fail to notice how the sleeves were cuffed, either.

Hm. Nice look.

Points for Tsukishima.

His hands and ears were slightly pink from the weather outside, contrastingly sweet against the paleness of his skin.

Kinda cute, in like a Keebler elf kind of way.

More points, you guess, for Tsukishima.

He sighed as he opened up the calculus ll textbook, adjusting his glasses with long and slender fingers before flipping through the pages. You decided it’d be best to do the same.

It was quiet for a moment too long when you thought it might be a good idea to try and speak again, but apparently he must’ve had the same idea.

“So, why d-“

“Thanks for-“

Cutting each other off, you pursed your lips as he gave you some emotionless stare, one of you waiting for the other to start back up again.

Andddd, another awkward beat of silence.

Jesus, this was gonna be the longest hour of your life.

—————————

AHHHHH HERES CHAPTER ONE - I promise the next one will be full of tsuki and tsuki content ok, I just had to get the ball rolling and really wanted to post smth!! I hope you guys like and please please leave your thoughts or anything in my ask box or anywhere!! I’d love to talk :D MWAH I also have little footnotes in my tags too :) (more like commentary but yeah)

taglist for series: @plutowrites @c0rncheez @ruetaro @daniagabriela48 @toyas-wife @devilkou @anime-and-kpop-trash (if you’d like to be added or removed let me know! And if ur crossed off tagging didn’t work!)

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wizardouxie · 3 years

Text

PANTONE 2046 C

Genre: Fluff, #ZoeAppreciationWeek

Pairing: Zouxie

Summary: The Pink Hair Origin Story (alternatively also the Blue Hair Origin Story)

Word Count: 2788

Author's Note: First day of Zoe Appreciation Week! Wanted to participate so have this not so little one shot to showcase our lovely pink haired witch <3

"Wow, the dye came out really nicely," Zoe murmurs as Douxie exits the bathroom, his hair freshly blown dry -- from its tips to the full bangs dipped in a deep yet striking blue. He smiles widely at the quiet compliment and waves over to Archie.

"How does it look Arch?" they ask, though the answer is pretty clear, if Archie's fond gaze is anything to go by. The familiar flies in to nuzzle his face.

"Dashing as ever, Douxie."

Zoe leans back into the couch with content, taking in the beautiful sight that is her best friend. She did really good. The faint buzz of adrenaline lingers on the pads of her fingers. Right, she forgot. That was her first time.

"Are. You. Crazy? I've never even dyed hair before!" the natural brown haired girl hissed. She begrudgingly wiped the bubblegum that had exploded over her lips -- a result from the initial shock when Douxie first made his request. Granted, she felt honored that they would come to her before anyone else, but still! She can't risk ruining his hair, she doesn't have experience, plus the hair salon could totally do it better and-

"I'd rather it be you than anyone else," the wizard confirmed firmly. Zoe turned to the familiar. Surely the cat who lived with this stubborn kid could knock some sense into them. Archie could only provide a shrug in response.

"They're pretty sure about this."

She groaned.

"Fine, fine! But give me a few days unless you want me to pick out the wrong dye and end up with neon green."

[ 1 Week Later ]

Zoe couldn't keep track of just how many hair channels and blogs she'd gone through. She mimicked their hand movements, using cheap wigs and mannequin heads to simulate the experience. Through it all, one voice echoed the same message: "You can't mess this up."

She bought all the necessary tools. Gloves, hair clips, bleach, foil, just to name a few. Oh, and of course the dye -- though you'll be surprised how one can forget the simplest things while getting caught up in trying to memorize everything. Blue, Douxie had asked for. But what kind of blue? Sky blue? Cobalt? Midnight? Which one? She pinched the bridge of her nose before angrily texting the wizard. It went a little something like this:

DOUX: go with whatever you think will look good! i'm fine with anything tbh :]

ZOE: i Hate you so much

DOUX: ??? WHY

ZOE: IDK SHIT ABOUT HAIR DYE HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO KNOW WHAT LOOKS GOOD

DOUX: let's talk about this in person before you electrocute your phone again

ZOE: you won't let me live that down will you

DOUX: you know me so well ;)

She shoved the phone back in her pocket. There's no way she was actually doing this for him.

She was.

"Are you absolutely sure you want to do this?" she asked for what would be around the 73rd time. Douxie pulled his face down with both hands.

"Ugh, the answer is still yes, love. I'm not asking you to dye the whole thing, just the front part, bangs and sides."

She rolls her eyes at the nickname and smacks the clean brush against his head. She smiles at the little 'ow' that Douxie lets out with a pout. Hm, cute.

"Alright, but don't start moping around if it doesn't come out the way you wanted it!"

"Nothing that a little magic can't fix if it gets to that point. Which I hardly believe it will."

And now here they are.

Douxie crashes on the couch with Zoe, slinging an arm over her shoulders. She raises an eyebrow at the sudden physical touch, but it's never unwelcome. Not when it comes to him.

"You know of all human creations, I gotta say, this one really takes the cake," they start and Zoe snorts.

"You say that about nearly everything."

"Can you blame me?"

She looks at them and no, she really can't. In fact, she finds herself agreeing with him. He looks... really nice. A faint blush spreads over her face; not that it is noticeable by any means -- the two of them happen to have done this dying process starting from the evening to night, so the dim lights in her home do little to highlight her features. This is still her Douxie, lovable guitarist and wizard nerd who cares about everyone. Yet there was something about the hair dye that changed things up a bit. Something good, naturally.

The two of them fall into a comfortable silence, doing whatever is usually available. Sometimes it's texting, scrolling through social media, or listening to music. Other times it's zoning off and reminiscing about the past.

Zoe decides to go for her phone, unconscious of the way her hand finds its way into Douxie's hair, carding through the locks and untangling them with nimble fingers. It's peaceful. Maybe even a little too peaceful, considering the two of them are adrenaline junkies.

"Douxie, I can hear you thinking..." she begins. It's a common way to start the conversation between them, and oftentimes she's right.

He turns around, her hand still in his hair, but enough to meet her eyes. Their own eyes look serious and her heart sinks. Were they not happy with their hair?

The answer is quite the opposite.

"You ever considered dying your hair too? Maybe we can match."

The untangling stops.

And then the tugging starts.

"Ow ow ow-"

"Hisirdoux Casperan you are a menace to society."

She does though. She considers it for weeks. Of course, Douxie doesn't push; it's her hair at the end of the day, she can do whatever she likes. But after seeing how well she did with the wizard, she kinda felt excited. She definitely can't forget the exhilaration she felt when she saw people compliment Douxie at Benoit's or at the GDT book store. Her heart started beating faster when he looked back at her with a proud smile on his face-- damn that wizard, they told the others that she did it for them, didn't they?

After a few days, a young girl in a cap comes up to her at the record store. Probably from Arcadia High, if her backpack stacked with books is any indication.

"Hi! I'm Claire. Claire Nuñez," the girl starts. Zoe raises an eyebrow in interest.

"Hey Claire. What can I get you?" she asks, raising a flask to her lips. There's no water. Damn.

"Um, it's not really a standard request, but um, I was wondering if you could dye my hair?"

Zoe chokes on her water. Dye her what?

"Kid, are you new here? This is a records store. I can give you the direction to the hair salon it's really not that far."

"No, no, no! It's just, this guy got their hair dyed and I asked if he did it himself and they said you did it for them so I came to you. It's nothing too big! Just a strand really," Claire rambles. She gestures to the invisible front of her hair, currently tucked away behind the cap, outlining it with her fingers. The hedge witch groans.

"That would be Douxie. Now, here's the thing I don't do this for just anyone. Douxie happens to be a close friend so what I did was a little gift for him. I don't even know you, so what do I get out of this?"

Claire pales.

"Uh, $20? I know a full head of hair costs way more but like I said, just a strand..."

Zoe's stomach rumbles in response. She had $5 currently in her wallet which could buy a snack at most. She pinches the bridge of her nose.

"Ugh, you're lucky I'm hungry. Catch me after my shift is done okay? And I only got one color on me, which is blue, you good with that? Otherwise bring your own."

"Yes of course, of course! Thank you so much."

"Yeah, yeah, now scram if you're not here to buy anything."

"Oh actually, I was wondering if you had anything Papa Skull released recently!"

Curse this girl and her good taste in music.

[ 45 minutes later; 2:00 PM ]

"Thank you for doing this by the way," Claire starts. Zoe waves it off. She doesn't really know why she agreed to this. Well kind of. She wanted to eat. But besides that, she also was curious to see if she could satisfy another "customer". Hair dying was never a profession she had properly considered and right now? It doesn't hurt to entertain a thought.

"Alright so I have the bleach, you'll need to let that set in and keep that before dying the strand you want. We can even add toner to neutralize the color post bleaching if necessary," she lists off. Claire shakes her head.

"That won't be necessary!"

The girl pulls off her cap and surely enough, there's a light blonde lock, similar to Douxie's, just a little lighter. Zoe's impressed.

"Well that definitely makes my job easier. Especially since this is my second time."

"Wait, second time?"

"You didn't know?"

"No?"

"Of course Douxie leaves that part out. You want out? I'll pay you back the $20 in four days."

"No, I trust you."

Zoe always believed that she had tough and cold demeanor. Clearly she's doing something wrong if people are finding her trustworthy just by looking at one dye job.

"Alright then, here we go! Don't say I didn't warn you," the witch replies. She wraps the cloth around Claire softly, and pulls up the bowl with the dye in it. With a gloved hand she separates the pale strands from the brown ones. The blue will definitely be more prominent here than it would be with Douxie's. Something tells her that Claire wouldn't mind.

From the looks of Claire's surprise, wonder, and delight, she definitely didn't mind.

"It. Looks. So cool! You're really good at this. Maybe you should start a hair dying salon or something," the girl rattles off. Zoe raises a hand.

"I'm already working two part time jobs so... no. But I'm glad you liked it. The blue looks really good. Stands out well."

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," Claire repeats, putting back her cap on. A feeling of confusion overcomes Zoe.

"Wait, why are you putting your cap back on? Don't you want to show people?"

"Duh, but um, my mom doesn't know about, uh, all this. You know, councilwoman things."

Zoe's mouth drops, the $20 bill crumpled in her hand. So that's why she didn't go to the hair salon. Nuñez is the councilwoman, so she'd know pretty much everyone in the town. And word spreads pretty fast. In summary: Claire would have gotten caught.

"See ya!"

These kids are going to land her in some serious trouble one day.

With a burger and soda in her tray, Zoe takes a seat and pulls out her phone. That Claire girl though, she's sort of inspiring. Adventurous. Not hesitant in taking chances. And you know Zoe, she absolutely loves the thrills of life. Whether it be hunting magical creatures or refining her usually unpredictable magic. The humans tend to have mellow definition of risk taking, in her opinion, but their examples are fun enough in their own way: crossing the speed limit, riding rollercoasters, anything along those lines. The brunette clicks on a familiar contact and begins typing.

ZOE: which color looks good on me

ZOE: don't ask it's for a stupid job thing

DOUX: which job?

ZOE: WHAT PART OF DON'T ASK

ZOE: hex tech, something for employee uniforms

DOUX: i was going to say pink since it brings out your eyes but if it's for uniforms i dunno, light blue?

ZOE: hm interesting

DOUX: you should just work here at the book store it's chill

ZOE: but then i'd have to deal with you

DOUX: now is that really a bad thing?

DOUX: zoe.

Light blue is definitely a no go, Zoe decides. Too much blue dye going around. But pink, hm she could work with that. It's a pretty bold color and it would compliment her eyes as well as her face in general. A win-win for her.

And as for how far she's willing to go? She decides to go all in. No tips, no ombre, just complete bubblegum hair. Of course this takes a few days to gather the guts.

'You can do it Zoe, just go for the bleach,' she thinks to herself. Her hands shake with nervousness and excitement. Frankly, hunting niffins didn't compare to the rush she's feeling right now. She closes her eyes and brings the brush to her hair.

Well, here goes nothing.

She winces as she feels the tingling sensation, but loads of videos have assured that such symptoms were normal. She continues to work at it, using the foil to make sure she doesn't bleach a part of her hair to death. It's long and strenuous, but she knows the results in the few coming weeks would be worth it.

She doesn't have to worry about Douxie finding out thankfully. Turns out these weeks are essential for Merlin's "To-Do" List. Apparently it was to find Camelot?

"The castle he means. Not the actual kingdom. That's been gone for centuries. Anyways, I'll be back once I actually find it. Dunno how I'll do it and it probably will take me and Arch a month or so, haha. Oh! And if my hirers ask you anything, it's a family emergency."

Hm, whatever. A brief thought of Merlin dying his hair neon green amuses her, before she goes back to watching more hair dye videos. They've become a little addicting nowadays. She's amazed at how often people do it. How do they keep their hair so healthy?

It's been four weeks now and Zoe's eyes stare at the pink concoction in her hand. PANTONE 2046 C. This was the shade that stole her heart in the middle of the hair dye aisle. No other color could compare in the slightest. Even the cashier who packaged her order hummed in approval.

"Nice color! Not many go for it, but it'll suit you for sure."

This time her movements are calculated, not clumsy or fear driven like it used to be. One could even say she's getting the hang of this. Her hair over time changes from platinum blonde to a dark matted pink. She lets it sit for a bit, meanwhile focusing on getting the dye out of her hands. This turns out to be harder than she thought and she sighs. Well, maybe another day.

After washing and blow drying her hair, she stands in front of the mirror. The witch staring back at her is almost unrecognizable. As if she were a new person completely. And she liked it.

The blank stare shifts into a grin and she tugs at her own locks. Goddamn. She looks really good.

And well, Douxie's reaction is priceless to say the least.

DOUX: you said to meet up at the museum where are you

DOUX: i swear if you slept in i'll send archie to knock down everything in your apartment

DOUX: ok no i won't but still it's been a month since we last saw each other come on

DOUX: wait a second

DOUX: you're joking

DOUX: IS THAT??? YOU????

DOUX: IN THE PINK

DOUX: oh fuzzbuckets you look stunning

DOUX: Hello this is Archie. You broke Douxie so could you please finish your conversation with whoever it is you're with and come pick him up? Your hair is absolutely lovely by the way.

ZOE: omfg

ZOE: can't take you guys anywhere

The witch smiles at the girls and nods over to a gaping Douxie and his cat before gracefully exiting the conversation. She approaches her friend and pushes his jaw up with her index finger.

"So I'm assuming you're digging the new look hm?" she teases.

"You have no idea," Douxie responds. A pink tint lighter than the shade of her hair blooms across Zoe's face at the expression of adoration in her best friend's eyes. The two of them have been through a lot together, seeing each other grow and change. And this time, it was a really fun and welcome one.

"I might try this again with a different color some time. You wanna join then?"

"Don't have to ask me twice."

It's crazy how all of this came from a chaotic, impulsive research project to help a friend. But honestly Zoe wouldn't have it any other way.

Maybe Douxie was right. Of all human creations, this one beats pretty much everything else.

#ZoeAppreciationWeek #zoeappreciationweek #here's my entry hehe #enjoy!#toa #tales of arcadia #zoe #hisirdoux #hisirdoux casperan #douxie #zouxie #archie #claire #claire nuñez #ophelia #ophelia nuñez

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whitleyschn33 · 4 years

Text

Not Everything Can Be Wiped Away With A Hug

Or why I’m not happy with Weiss and Whitley’s reconciliation.

Whitley and Weiss haven’t had a great relationship. From the first time we see him, the two are shown to not be comfortable with each other. Weiss’ tone when they meet is one of dismissiveness and wariness, even if the conversation ends on a technically hopeful note. As the show goes on, every interaction the two have is riddled with tension. Weiss accuses him of wanting her loss of status, Whitley gets angry and bites back. Whitley stops by her room to ask if she wants anything and twist the knife, Weiss asks if he’s jealous and slams the door in his face. When Weiss comes back at the party, she does everything she can to brush him off, clearly annoyed, while Whitley talks about what he’s been up to since she’s been gone. Weiss laughs when Whitley gets splashed with wine, Whitley storms off in a huff. Then Weiss comes back during the... siege(? I don’t know what to call this failed attempted at a Fall), commanders the house, shoves a weapon in Whitley’s face, sends him to his room like he’s a child, and then doesn’t acknowledge him again until he calls Klein. At which point she hugs him and all tensions disappears from their relationship.

See what’s missing here? We have point A of massive hostility between the two with both parties having grievances with the other and point B of both parties having found a balance in their relationship. What’s missing is a strong connection between those two points. What’s missing is the meat of the actual arc, something between set up and pay off, and that’s ultimately the problem with their reconciliation. It wasn’t worked for, at least on Weiss’s end. There was no effort for any of their grievances to be addressed, talked about, and worked through. There was no point where they took the grievances that had been brought up and had the characters discuss or react to them in any meaningful way. It just fell into their laps - or rather, it fell mostly into Weiss’s lap. That’s the short version, anyway. Let’s discuss the long version.

In Volume 7, Weiss and Whitley’s relationship is tense, Weiss clearly annoyed and dismissive of her brother for being a snot towards her, and Whitley angry that Weiss ignores him and abandoned him to their neglectful/abusive parents. In episode 7, though, Willow flat out tells Weiss why Whitley acts the way he does to her. Willow gives us Whitley’s motivations - that he’s hurt and resentful towards Weiss. This is the set up for a reconciliation; Weiss has been given insight into Whitley’s point of view (had it literally shoved in her face), and has the chance to contemplate it so as to be able to find common ground later.

Plot stuff happens, and the two are separated as Weiss deals with all that until Weiss needs a place to lay low. Armed with new information on Whitley’s disposition, Weiss...

Whitley: Oh, you’ve picked a fine time to--

Weiss interrupts by pointing Myrtenaster at him, and he looks at the blade in fright.

Weiss: Not. Another. Word. We’re coming in.

Whitley steps aside and groans as Ruby’s group walks into the manor.

...threatens him after saying 7 words. Not even words of “you can’t come in” or anything to suggest he won’t let them in but, “oh great, this is a wonderful~ time to drop by”, venting frustration. Weiss doesn’t try anything else before shoving a weapon in his face (the face of an unarmed, defenseless, civilian minor that physically can’t stop her from coming in anyway) and forcing her way inside.

Whitley: Things are already bad enough after what you did to father, now you want us to harbor fugitives too? Our family has a reputation.

He crosses his arms in annoyance. Blake, having set Nora down on the floor, looks at him.

Blake: That’s what you’re worried about? Your reputation?

Whitley: I’m just saying that we’ve already lost all the house staff, and Mother locked herself in her room.

Weiss: Maybe you haven’t figured out what’s going on, Whitley, but we’re busy trying to save Atlas.

Whitley continues to vent his frustration. Jacques, Whitley’s only source of familial attention, has been taken away by Weiss (”what you did to Father”), the staff has all vacated the estate (most likely a combination of their employer being carted away in the back of a military truck and then all hell breaking loose in Mantle and Atlas airspace), and Willow, the only other human being in the mansion, has locked herself in her room for several hours, up to almost 24 hours (I’m honestly lost on the timeline of this volume with how much it flip-flops between night and day, and I can’t be bothered to rewatch these episodes).

Whitley has been left completely and utterly alone, and Weiss comes back not for him, but to use his resources to hide herself and her friends, all of which are wanted by the military. I don’t know what Atlesian policy is, but harboring fugitives is a crime punishable with prison sentences in the US, dependent on what the fugitive is charged with. She’s forcing him to risk being arrested and imprisoned for her crimes, after destroying his family’s reputation with Jacques’ arrest and causing everyone to vacate the manor and leaving him utterly alone (the way he follows up Blake’s response with “I’m just saying we’ve already lost all the house staff” makes me think he’s tying those two things together. With Jacques’s arrest, their reputation is falling, and everyone’s jumping ship, starting with the house staff. Any other family allies the Schnees might have legally and politically are likely to follow suit to save their own skin (ah, societal politics of the rich). Harboring fugitives and Whitley and possibly Willow arrested as well? The Schnees are sunk, dead in the water. They’re not getting out of that, they’ll be left to the dogs.). And how does Weiss respond?

Weiss: Maybe you haven’t figured out what’s going on, Whitley, but we’re busy trying to save Atlas.

How in the absolute hell is he supposed to come to this conclusion? No, really, tell me. He knows two things: one, he knows there’s some kind of Grimm threat in the heatless Mantle and hovering around Atlas based on the news - maybe; we don’t know how much the news has reported about how bad it is outside of that one Mantle broadcast and how much Whitley has kept up with the news (he seems the type to absorb in as much information as possible, but he may not have been watching every waking second) - and two, he knows his sister and her friends have pissed off the military and are marked as fugitives. There is no way for him to know that the group of fugitives are doing anything to help Atlas, especially when he has no way to know what’s going on and what Weiss+co are up to. Weiss’ comment does nothing but imply that he’s too wrapped up in his own stuff to see the big picture, when he doesn’t have the knowledge that there’s even a big picture to look at. Rather than trying to reach out and reason with Whitley, Weiss snaps at him and treats him like he’s being self absorbed and shallow. His life is falling apart, he’s been left behind again by staff and his mother, and Weiss doesn’t just not respond to it, she gets mad at him for it. It’s Ruby that has to step up and tell him that they just need a place for their friend to heal and then they’ll leave (which turns out to be a bold-faced lie, but that’s another post).

Whitley relents then, and asks what they want him to do. Weiss then tells him to “go to his room”. Let’s set this up - we don’t know how old Whitley is, but we can guess based on Weiss’s age. Weiss is 19, and Whitley is likely 2 to 3 years younger, as he seems a bit older than Oscar but most likely more than a year younger than Weiss. That makes Whitley at least 16 years old, possibly 17. Whitley is either just a year younger or the same age as Ruby, the girl Weiss is blindly following as a leader. Whitley is not a child. A minor, probably, but not a child (I consider “child” to be 12 and under, and minor to be 13 - 16/17 (depending on what the age of maturity is in Remnant, which I’ve always considered to be 17 based on Beacon admission ages) btw to clarify). Yet, Weiss tells the boy that she has no legal or emotional authority over that’s about the same age as her leader to go to his room, treating him like he’s a petulant child. She doesn’t want to have to deal with him, so she shunts him aside - makes it clear that she’s not going to break his isolation, she wants him out of her way. Alone.

The relationship between Weiss and Whitley was already tense and hostile, but this pushes that to the next level. Before, it was hurt feelings and snipping - valid hurt feelings on both sides - but this has escalated it. Physical threats of violence, forcing him into committing a possible felony, and then dismissing him like he’s a child shows a lack of respect for Whitley, and is the exact opposite of working towards reconciliation. I wouldn’t be surprised if Whitley’s anger and resentment towards his sister grew after this; that would be my reaction.

“But wait!” You might be thinking. “That’s not really fair to Weiss - she’s worried about Nora who’s possibly dying and about being followed by Atlas’ military. She just wants to get under cover as fast as possible and then get to helping Nora! She’s stressed and tense, it makes sense that she’d be brusque to Whitley; we shouldn’t judge her so harshly.” To which I say - character is the choices you make under pressure, not when everything is just fine. Weiss resorting to the threat of violence immediately against someone she knows is no threat when faced with a tense situation where some diplomacy and respect would go a long way, it’s not a good look for who she is as a person. But alright, let’s play that game. Weiss is too worried about Nora to deal with Whitley at the moment. She gets Nora to bed, starts treating her as best she can, and then...

Nothing. Weiss doesn’t speak to Whitley again until he calls Klein for Nora, presumably a day later (once again, I’m not entirely sure. They arrive at what I believe is sunset, Amity happening that night, then the sun rising or setting in Midnight (?) and in War it’s night again as Klein arrives, so I think that this has to be the next night but it’s extremely difficult to tell and causes a crap ton of plot holes, thanks a lot CRWBY (I might skim through each episode to put together just how broken the timeline is)). That’s 24 hours where Weiss didn’t decide to ask Ruby or Blake (who I would have thought would be the one to have the most first aid knowledge of the three with her militia group experience) to watch over Nora for a few minutes while she seeks out Whitley to talk to him. 24 hours where she didn’t choose to apologize for threatening him, or go to talk to him about what’s going on, or follow up on Willow’s request, or ask if their mother is even alive still if she’s been locked up drinking for over a day, probably 2 (again, the timeline is fucked up). That’s not “I’m rushing and being harsher than I normally would out of concern for my friend”, that’s “I don’t regret or care about how I’ve treated my brother; I don’t see any reason to reach out to him” (And as side note - if Weiss had gone to see Whitley earlier, letting him know just how bad of shape Nora was in, Whitley might have called Klein earlier. By talking to her brother, Weiss could have gotten Nora the help she needed sooner, but she didn’t).

This is the next conversation Weiss and Whitley have after she threatens him and sends him to his room. I know I spent far too long breaking it down, but that was just one incident, the only one between between Willow telling Weiss to not forget Whitley and their hug.

Weiss: You called Klein?

Whitley: That girl needs a doctor. (turns away from Weiss) I didn’t do it for you.

Weiss: I know. That’s why it means so much to me.

Whitely gasps as Weiss steps forward to hug him. After some hesitation, he sighs and embraces her back. Weiss gasps when she and the others hear an explosion from outside.

That’s it. That’s their reconciliation. After this point, Whitley shows no anger towards Weiss or brings up his issues with her, so we’re meant to think that this is it, the Weiss-Whitley reconciliation is over.

Now, on Weiss’s side, I could see this putting Whitley in her good graces (maybe). Weiss’ grievances with Whitley boil down to hurt feelings over him being a snot about her loss of inheritance and being annoying. Whitley was being a jerk about it when he came around in V4E9 to twist the knife, but we know why he did that (he was pushing his own situation in Weiss’s face, a “see how you like it, being stuck here alone like I was” type thing), Weiss does get an explanation for it later from Willow, and at the end of the day, that’s all he did. He didn’t betray her, act against her, try and get her in trouble with Jacques - he didn’t do anything to her. Gloating at the role reversal is petty, yes, but it’s not like Weiss doesn’t attempt to fire right back, and it’s not like she wasn’t plenty rude to him when accusing him of wanting it to happen. Weiss mentions “you never liked me” in V4E7, but we never get anything more specific than that, and implies that he was just bitter and snippy with her like he is in V4E9. Theoretically he could have been an absolute terror before, but since we’re never shown any of this or given any examples, it’s difficult to factor in anything Whitley may have done before V4 as a piece of Weiss’ attitude towards him. Point is, since I’m starting to ramble, is that ultimately Whitley hasn’t done anything but hurt Weiss’s feelings, and him calling a doctor for Nora purely because Nora needs one feels like it might be enough to put Whitley in Weiss’ good graces, even if it raises some uncomfortable implications - that Weiss only extends her love and affection when Whitley does something she likes and can revoke it if he does something she doesn’t (like make a light joke).

On Whitley’s end, though, this scene is an absolute mess of an ending. At the end of Volume 7, Whitley is angry and resentful towards Weiss (and Winter) for abandoning him to abusive and neglectful parents, and then arresting Jacques, taking away his only source of attention and dealing a huge blow to their family’s status. In Volume 8, Weiss comes back, threatens him physically, dismisses his concerns, treats him like a child by sending him to his room, and leaves him alone again until he does something she likes. At no point does Weiss do anything that would make his attitude towards her shift to the better; in fact, she does things that should only further alienate him. Why is Whitley no longer mad at her? Because she gave him a hug? That doesn’t change that she still (from his point of view) abandoned him without a second thought, blamed him for things he didn’t do, threatened him with a weapon, forced him to harbor them, and then talked down to him and pushed him aside when she didn’t want to deal with him - abandoning him again. Weiss has done nothing to make Whitley any less resentful. She hasn’t acknowledged how she’s hurt him, they haven’t discussed why he was so hurt by her leaving, there’s been no attempt for the rift between them to be mended. Weiss just hugs him, and somehow that makes everything better. I didn’t realize that Whitley was so completely starved for affection that a hug makes him forget everything leading up to it - a hug that he initially backed away from.

He has his hands raised defensively, he starts backing away, and his expression is completely shocked. His posture is completely stiff, his arms falling to his side and hands clenching into fists. He’s clearly not comfortable with this initially, before giving in with a sigh and hugging Weiss back - giving in and giving Weiss what she wants.

Weiss is happy with him now, so Whitley can’t be upset. Weiss gives her approval, Whitley has been useful to her, so Whitley is “redeemed” in the eyes of the characters and the audience. What Whitley wants, what Whitley feels, what motivates Whitley? They don’t matter now that Weiss cares about him again. They aren’t discussed, they don’t continue to effect how Whitley acts and views Weiss, Weiss has forgiven him, so Whitley isn’t allowed to still be pissed with Weiss. Weiss didn’t have to do anything to reconcile with her brother, she doesn’t have to be humbled or acknowledge her own role in this dysfunctional relationship. She got to treat him with violence and like a child, and then hug him and act like everything is forgiven when by all reasonable logic, Whitley should be pushing her away, repeating that he didn’t do this for her and to back off.

Weiss didn’t work for this; Weiss didn’t earn this. Whitley’s own emotions and motivations were stripped away to let her get her brother on her side without her having to confront her own mistakes, because RWBY refuses to let its main girls make mistakes.

This isn’t the first time this has happened in RWBY, far from it. This isn’t even the only example of this happening with Whitley. Next episode and a few later, they do the exact same thing with Whitley and Willow! Whitley starts episode 8 rightfully pissed at his mother; she’s left him completely alone for two days straight to drink in her room, being less than useless, straight up neglectful. This anger carries on when she tries to call him, him turning to the door as the Hound approaches with anger. During the Hound attack, Willow grabs onto him, and he lets him. That makes sense, both of them were extremely frightened by this Grimm unlike anything they’d ever seen. What doesn’t make sense is that in episodes 11 and 12, Willow is still hanging onto him. I haven’t watched episode 11 for personal reasons (RWBY’s pissed me off), but I’ve seen the screenshots.

Willow’s holding onto him like she’s showing him off with pride. It’s a cute image - but why is Whitley allowing it? Why is Whitley not pulling away? Whitley was rightfully angry at his mother for neglecting him, for leaving him emotionally and mentally, right up until the Hound attack. Now, I know what you’re thinking; Willow saved his life. They killed the Hound together. Something like that, it can being people together. I agree - and I would even buy that being the spark for Whitley giving his mother another chance if there had been any kind of scene or even conversation on screen where we get to see this transition from rightfully anger at a drunk neglectful mother to a son giving a proud mother another chance at being his mother. It would have been incredibly easy to slip in, too! Like, and I’m just spitballing here -

Willow after the Hound is killed: Are you alright, Whitley?

Whitley: Oh, so you suddenly care. That’s nice to know.

Willow: I have always cared -

Whitley: Then you haven’t ever shown it! Whitley gets visibly angry. You’ve done nothing but leave me alone in this house with him while you drown yourself in your wine. You haven’t cared about me since I was 7 years old! Stop acting like you’re my mother! Whitley starts walking off.

Willow: Whitley - ! Willow reaches out for Whitley and stops him I - she deflates - You’re right. I have been a horrible mother. I’ve left you alone, all this time, and if I had been even slightly more drunk tonight, you might have been killed. ...I might have lost you for good, and it would have been my own fault. I’m sorry...

Whitley: He pauses, and falls silent.

Willow: ...Please. I almost lost you tonight, and I don’t want to lose you to something I can fix. Is there anything I can do? Can I... Can I get a chance?

Whitley: .....he turns back to Willow, taking a deep breath, and looks up at her. ...One chance. You can’t - You can’t fix all of this, but... Whitley looks away ...I’ve wanted you back for 9 years. I don’t want to lose you either if I might get you back.

Willow: Willow looks surprised, before giving him a weak smile and pulling him into a hug. Thank you, Whitley. And I am so, so proud of you.

Whitley: Whitley stiffens with surprise, looking at his mother with shock, but returns the shaky smile and hugs her back.

One minute for this conversation, and I would be completely on board with Whitley and Willow seeming to reconcile as well. The same goes with Weiss, except a longer conversation.

If Weiss and Whitley had had even one talk where they both admit their faults and failings, apologize to each other, and agree to try again, I would be all on board with this Schnee family reconciliation. As it is now, though, with how it’s been written in the show, neither Weiss nor Willow have had to work to repair their relationships with Whitley; Whitley’s anger has just been wiped away. They set up the potential for reconciliation between Weiss and Whitley, between Willow and Whitley, acknowledging why Whitley is angry with both of them, but rather than have any of the characters take that knowledge and use it to reach out to Whitley, the writers skip all of that and let the characters treat Whitley however they want until they end up reconciled with one act. A single summon is treated like it makes up for years of neglect. A single hug because Whitley was useful to Weiss is treated like it makes up for abandonment, disrespect, and threats of violence. They don’t, and the lack of respect the writers’ have for the emotions of a male abuse victim sickens me.

#rwby #rwby8 #whitley schnee #weiss schnee #willow schnee #man this got long

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yunoteru4ever · 3 years

Note

how do you imagine Yuno and Yukiteru’s life post game? I headcanon them as married with a daughter in their adulthood

Ooh, I could really go on for a while about this. I'll try not to ramble too much.

Ok, so the anime and the manga both end a bit differently, right? In both cases, stuff happens that leads to Yuno shattering the wall between realities that separates the Third and Second Worlds. But the manga ends with Deus asking her and Yuki to become the gods of the Third World, and Yuki ponders how much he's looking forward to re-meeting his old friends in that world. On the other hand, the anime ends with them becoming co-gods over the void of the second world instead, and starting to develop new life there. There's also a late coda on both that shows they get like, a metric ton of Murmurs. lol.

So my post-series headcanons incorporate all of that. If Yuno's shattered the wall between the Second and Third Worlds, why can't they just be the gods of both? There's two of them, and they have a veritable army of imps to support them. In addition, there's that whole "gods can share/gift their powers onto others" thing. So I imagine they will gift some divine powers onto one or more Murmurs in one reality whenever they move over to manage the other one. I've previously mentioned that the current Murmur seems to be inherently loyal to her current god, so it'd make sense for them to trust Murmur 2 from the Second World and Murmur 3 from the Third the most. Plus, there's also Akise as a backup option. And I think they'd come to make use of him as both assistant and observer of the natural world semi-regularly, still allowing him time to further his detective career. (This inevitably leads to the friendly trash talk that I've previously suggested.) And if push comes to shove, I bet they could get Minene to handle oversight of the world for an hour here or there.

I imagine Yuki and Yuno would want their godly realm to feel more home-y because, unlike Deus, they started out as human beings with human needs. Rather than a grand "Cathedral of Causality" for them to dwell in, I picture Yuki remaking their god-realm into an isolated version of his old house for them to share. (Admittedly, we have official post-series art of them lying on some tatami mats, making their environment resemble an Eastern-style home like Yuno's house. But I think they'd ultimately shy away from that aesthetic because Yuno has so many bad memories from there... and because she'd still be spending part of her time in her Earthly house anyway for reasons I'll get to in three more paragraphs.)

However, I'm sure they'd wind up spending the majority of the their time trying to take care of the Third World rather than growing the Second. And they'd often leave things up to Murmur 2 and Murmur 3 while they go down to Earth and try to at least act like they have semi-normal lives. Yuki did say he wanted to reunite with Hinata and Mao and Kosaka and the like, so this is the obvious way to do that.

There are a couple of hiccups to this idea — the first one being the fact that there's a whole other Yuki running around down there! Buuuuuut you know how Yuki's mom has been working her current job out of Hong Kong? Well, I'm sure Yuki and Yuno can work the strings of cause and effect from on high in such a manner that Third-World Yuki's mom gets an offer for a permanent job in Hong Kong, leading the whole family to relocate. And by doing so, our godly Second-World Yuki can establish a regular presence in Sakurami City without raising too much suspicion.

The second and bigger hiccup is how Yuno is going to be an independent goddess while still making her Third-World parents believe she's living a normal life. With her disappearing regularly because she has much larger responsibilities than those of a normal teenager, antics will ensue.

As for the question of whether they’d have kids to my mind: Eh, probably eventually. But they have literal millennia to get around to it.

Oh god, I've already rambled on for too long. I guess I'll stop there for now. But suffice it to say that I've put a LOT of thought into this. Arguably too much, lol.

#mirai nikki #future diary #the future diary #yunoteru #asks #yukiteru amano #yuno gasai #aru akise

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grace-likes-things · 4 years

Text

Beside Her

Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

A/N: uhh it’s been a while. Here’s this! And here’s to me posting a random one-shot every two years lmaoooooo. Disclaimer: alternate reality where no one died/left after endgame.

Summary: A mission Peter’s off the job for, and which goes terribly wrong.

Warnings: blood, major character death, this one is v angsty folks.

Word Count: almost 6k

~~~~~~~

“So, am I alright to go with?”

“No way, Peter. Your sling may be off but your arm can't handle the kind of wear you put it through yet. Give it another day or so.”

Peter sighs, exasperated, “But the mission’s tonight!”

“Nuh, uh, Pete,” my dad cuts in across the room, “You’re staying here, doctor’s orders. I told you we’d check, and we did, and Helen says no.”

“Mr. Stark—!”

“Not me, Helen, you really gonna combat her decision?”

Dr. Cho gives Peter a stern look, having had experience with his impulsively-gained-injuries before. He turns away, ducking his eyes, knowing not to challenge her.

“Peter it’s fine,” I say, hand on his good shoulder, “You’ll join us on the next one.”

“If—“ my dad buts in, “he doesn't go shatter half the bones in his arm again. And don't go assuming you’ll be on the next one, Y/N, I'm hardly supportive of you coming with tonight as it is.”

I sigh, turning stubbornly towards him as he waltzes out of the room, “I've been training for over 3 years, dad I—“

“Nope. Still my kid, don't push your luck. We’re t-minus 1 hour out, so go get ready,” and with that, he turns the corner and leaves.

“Sorry Pete, better luck next time.” Helen picks up her clipboard and departs, leaving us alone in the room.

I turn to Peter, who’s looking rather defeated about the fact that he won't be allowed on the first mission in three months. I nudge his shoulder playfully, “Hey, think on the bright side, now you get to snoop around the lab uninterrupted for a couple hours.”

He gives me a halfhearted smile, “Yeah? I still wish I could be out there with you.”

His eyes change into an anxious look. I look at him, sympathetic, and grab his hand in mine.

Since the snap, the fight with Thanos, and almost losing my dad, Peter’s had this protective, premature-guilt complex concerning the people close to him. We got lucky not losing anyone, but I think seeing my dad recover from mourning us and the near-death experience I had in the battle, he’s not really comfortable being separated from us in a fight.

“I know. But it’s relatively minor, from what I’ve heard. I mean — minor enough to convince my dad to let me tag along, so.“

“Yeah, I know. I just hate not being there to have your back.”

I lean into his side, shoving him playfully, “You suggesting I can’t handle myself?”

“Absolutely not,” and I see I’ve forced a grin onto his face, “Just think, ya know, maybe your dad’s had a few too many juice pops lately, and I gotta be concerned — I mean, a gain in weight could throw off his balance in the suit—“

“Oh! Throwing my dad under the bus here, are we?” I laugh, “That’s funny, maybe I’ll mention it to him later.”

“Kidding! Don't tell your dad I said he’s fat — he's not.” He hangs onto my hand as I stand from the med-bay bed, “He’s a very fit man, you know, for his age.”

I laugh, “This just gets better and better! I’ll make sure to tell him you think he’s old too after I get ready.”

I move to walk away, but Peter stops me, tugging my hand gently.

“Hey, but seriously,” he murmurs, “be careful tonight. Come back in one piece for me. Okay?”

“Of course,” I say, and lean my forehead against his, “And you have a fantastically boring night, let your arm rest. Don't get into any trouble.”

He kisses me long and gentle, “I’ll try not to.”

——————

Tonight’s mission was a fairly routine one. One of the lingering branches of Hydra left, hiding in a bunker and planning nothing good. We’d all been briefed on the most recent information about their weapons and tactics, and the team had decided tonight was the time to shut the place down.

I examine the repulsors in the palms of my suit, sleeker like Peter’s, but armed similarly to my dad’s. There’s about 15 minutes before we fly out, so I tuck my braids beside my neck — getting my hair caught in the helmet seriously blows — and make my way up to the launch pad.

“Hey, offspring!” my dad plants his hand on my head and shakes it, “You still wanna come along on this one? Sure you don't wanna stay home? Absolutely? Because you know, you’re welcome to, in fact, DUM-E's been missing you down in the lab, i’m sure he’d appreciate your company—“

“Nuh uh, old man, I'm going with. You said so.”

“Oh, so I’m old now? You know, I did end up with an extra five years than you, so you can cut me a little slack.”

I laugh and walk onto the quinjet to meet the team, “Never.”

————————

“You all remember your assignments?” Steve asks, “Me and Sam, Tony and Wanda, Nat and Y/N.”

A chorus of yes’s and nods follow, as if this wasn’t the fourth time we’d answered that question.

The ride to the bunker is relatively boring, other than my dad pestering me with Stay with nat, and don't get distracted, and be careful, and don’t do anything I would do, and definitely don't do anything Peter would do. Nat and Wanda chuckle at my situation from across the quinjet, and it was getting pretty old by the time we landed a bit outside the target.

Once we’ve all gotten set with weapons and coms, we start out on the jog to the bunker. Upon arriving there, Nat and I are tasked with stealing a hard drive that contains targets and weapons data. From what we know, it’s in a room close to the center of the building, so we have a long way to go while trying to get noticed as little as possible.

My dad tells me to stay safe and call for him if needed before we part ways, and Nat and I are alone in a dark hall.

“Alright,” Nat whispers, “We move toward the center of the bunker, 4 floors down, we’ll use the vents if we have to. They might cause a scene somewhere else, but our job is to keep hidden, all the way in and out if we’re lucky.”

“And when are we ever lucky?” I murmur back with a smirk.

“Don’t jinx it, kid, let’s go.”

For the most part, the beginnings of the mission are easy. We used Friday’s heat signatures for a full week to map out the guards’ schedules, so we knew what halls to stick to and when. Making our way to the less-monitored maintenance stairwell, we walk in silence, keeping an ear out for updates over the coms. Just as we reach the bottom of the third flight of stairs, a pair of guards walks through the doors.

“Hello, boys,” Nat says and quickly turns to me, “I’ll take the tall one.”

With that, we spring to action.

The pair raise their weapons toward us, but Nat quickly disarms the man across from her while I blast the gun from the shorter man’s hand and drag him through the doorway before he can reach the alarm on the outside wall. Slamming him into the stair railings, he tries to get rid of me by throwing a headbutt my way, but my suit takes the brunt of the impact. Pulling my arm back and releasing his wrist, I aim a punch square at his face and hear a crack when it lands on his nose. After a disdainful grunt, he shoves me back and tries to kick my legs out from under me, but I quickly grab hold of his ankle and yank up. The man lands harshly on the floor, and one kick is all it takes to knock him out.

When I look up, Nat has already beat her opponent and is checking the outer hall for more guards. “It’s clear,” she says, and we both take the ankles of the two guards and drag them through the door into the nearest room, tying them up securely before jamming the door in place.

“I hope they enjoy a nice nap, let’s keep moving,” Natasha says, and we make our way back to the stairwell.

Finally on the fourth lower level, we hold ourselves with a bit more caution. This is where they guard more heavily, and we still have quite a ways to travel before we’re near the center of the building. With light steps, we make our way down the dimly lit halls, occasionally ducking through doorways and turning corners to avoid passing agents, guards and other workers. It seems as if most of the work they do happens down here, as we constantly see high-ranking members and people in lab coats muttering to one another as they roam the halls. I’m only able to catch a few words of any given conversation, and of the ones that were spoken in English, none of them sound pleasant.

Nat and I travel fairly uninterrupted for the next few halls before she stops me and says, “Alright, we’re close to the center now. The hard drive we need is going to be in a lab somewhere around here, so we’re checking rooms. If there are any heat signatures, we clear it together. If Friday doesn’t pick any up, we split and multitask.”

I raise my eyebrows, “Oh? Going against my dad’s orders, huh?”

She gives me a wry smile, “You seem to be able to handle yourself, and it’ll get us out of here faster,” she points at me, “Just don't make me regret it.”

I laugh, “I won’t.”

And with that, we start scanning the upcoming rooms.

The first room we check has a few Hydra agents inside, so we clear it together, check the computers for the right information and come up empty handed, breaking the doorknob and continuing on. We go about this for a while, knocking out the occupied rooms together, splitting up to clear empty rooms, checking for the right hard drive, and moving on. It’s tedious, but no alarms have been activated so far, and we make a good team.

Now very close to the center of the bunker, we come upon another few rooms free of heat signatures, so we once again divide and conquer. We have to be getting close now.

“I’ll take this one on the left, you’ve got the right?” I ask, walking carefully toward the door.

“Gotcha, call if you find anything.”

I open the large metal door and take a cautious step in, examining the room around me. There are no lights on, so I use a light on my suit to see my surroundings.

It’s strange, the room is large with high ceilings, but is pretty much empty. A few scraps of metal and packaging are strewn about the floor. Concrete floors and dark walls line the place. I take a few steps further in to double check that I haven’t missed anything, but all I see is one door on the opposite side. I turn back to exit when the entrance I came through slams shut in front of me. Alarmed, I run forward and try to open it, but the handle won't budge.

“Nat!” I whisper hushed through the coms, “The door shut behind me, can you get it from the outside?”

I hear her footsteps approach from the other side and the sound of her trying to open the door, “I can't get it, and the lock must be electric, there’s nothing to pick. How’d this close on you?”

“I don’t know, I didn’t see it.”

I hear a new voice over the coms, “Wait, did you two get separated?” My dad’s voice resounds with a hint of anxiety, “What did we talk about, Y/N? I said to stay with—“

“I tried! Not my fault the door shut behind me.”

“Well you should’ve gone through the door with Nat in the first place!”

“Hey!” Natasha’s voice cuts in, “While I would love to listen to you two bicker, we’ve got a job to do. She’s fine, Tony, we’ll figure it out.”

“I could just blast the door handle—“

“No, Y/N, it’ll be too loud, we’ve gotten this far without being noticed.” I hear Nat huff through the door, “It’s in our best interest to keep it that way. Friday’s telling me there’s another door, leads out to a hall. I can go around and meet you there. It's further toward the center, so at least if you have to blast the thing down we’ll be closer to the target.”

“Sounds good, I’ll wait for you,” I say, and with that, Natasha stalks off through the halls.

I turn to make my way across the room, walking leisurely. This place really is unusually huge for a seemingly-unused underground room, about the size of a school gymnasium. I’m wondering if it may have been used for storage or training when I hear a noise to my left.

Turning swiftly with my guard now up, I see a male guard walk through a side door. Another entrance? How did I miss that? I ready my fists in a fighting stance and call through the coms, “Hey Nat? This room was occupied, I’ve got it handled for now but you might wanna make it here quick.”

Strangely, I get no response, but I don't have time to dwell on that fact because the man is charging toward me.

He’s a good fighter, and we both land some hard hits as we combat to occupy the room. I flip over him and blast him into the wall, but he recovers abnormally quickly and rises up again for more. I land another punch to his stomach once he’s in range, but he quickly grabs my wrist after and squeezes with inhuman strength, crushing the thin-design gauntlet on my hand. The metal cuts into my palm before tear what remains off and launch him over my shoulder onto the floor. I move to kick his side but he grabs my leg and throws me off balance, and my back hits the floor in a harsh slam. Groaning, I try to sit up as the guard grabs a metal pole off the floor — oh shit — and slams it onto my other palm, crushing my second gauntlet. Two hands now bare, aching, and unarmed, I continue to fight at a slight disadvantage. But I’ve trained for years, I can handle this.

It turns out maybe I couldn’t handle it.

The guard has to be one of Hydra’s human experiments, because he’s stronger than the average adult. I struggle to gain the upper hand for several minutes. He's had me pinned me to the ground, and just when I think his weight is lifting off me he brings down the pole on my side. Hard.

I groan and curl away. Even through the thin — and now damaged — metal of my suit, the blow took the air out of me. I press my palms to the cold floor to push myself up, but another blow strikes my back and I collapse forward. Finally, the man grabs a fistful of my hair and slams my head into the ground, and a ringing suddenly starts in my ears. Dizzy, head aching, and barely able to think, the next thing I register is being dragged across the room to the opposite wall by my wrists, which are then cuffed in front of me.

And strangely, the guard who put all that effort into beating me walks out of the room.

“Hey!” I shout, “What’s going on, asshole!? Come back here!” But he doesn’t return, and shuts that same side door behind him. I groan in frustration, head still pounding in pain, and try to reach the team again, “Anyone hear me? I’m still in this room, my gauntlets are broken and I'm cuffed, anyone around?” No response, “Hello?”

I’m starting to think Hydra somehow interrupted our signal when another noise distracts me from across the room.

The door opens once again, and this time five people exit. Four guards and…

Peter.

A chill surges down my spine.

They’re dragging Peter into the room.

“Peter?” I call out, panicked, “Hey! What are you doing with him?”

He’s dressed in plainclothes, so he didn’t come here as Spiderman. He doesn’t look like he’s in the best condition, slumped and hardly fighting the guards who are carrying him to the center of the room. My mind starts racing with all the things they could’ve done — what’s wrong with him? How could they have hurt him so badly he isn't able to fight back, especially with his strength? I need to get him away from them, but if these four guards are anywhere as strong as the last, I need a plan of attack. Or backup. Where is the team?

And how did they get to Peter? Peter Parker, not Spiderman, so not out on the streets — he was supposed to be in the lab tonight. Did they get into the compound? Is anyone else hurt? My mind keeps spiraling into more and more panicked thoughts, and then I hear him.

“Y/N?” He calls out, “Where are we?” His voice is raspy and slurred, and I think they must’ve given him something, some sort of drug. I’m about to call back to him when a guard lifts him up and punches him in the stomach.

“No!” I shout, raising up to my knees and then beginning to stand before one of the four guards points his gun at me. I stay there, kneeling before the scene, not knowing what to do to stop either of us from getting hurt. The three remaining guards begin to beat on him again, kicking and punching and Peter is too delirious to serve any resistance other than curling up and grasping weakly at the ankles of the men hurting him. I can hear his pained whimpers, and my heart squeezes in my chest, I feel tears building in my eyes.

“Stop! Stop hurting him, what do you want?!” I scream, wanting to get closer to him but still at a stand still with the fourth guard, “Come on, tell me what you want! You’re not getting anything by just beating him!”

The three guards pay me no regard, but the fourth, still pointing his gun at me, snickers as if I’ve said something funny.

Peter is still at their mercy, receiving hit after hit and a voice in my head tells me, they’re gonna kill him. You have to do something or they’ll kill him.

“What do you want? Come on, what is it?!”

And with a heavy accent, the man says, “To cause you misery.”

The chill returns, and I decide — despite my terrible odds — that I have to get them away from Peter.

I get my feet firmly under me.

I charge toward the guard with the gun, bracing myself.

And he does something I didn’t expect.

He turns the gun on Peter.

I hear three shots.

“NO!” I scream, my eyes go wide and I drop to my knees once again, facing Peter and crawling toward him, “No, no, no, no, no!”

The guards shuffle back into the shadows, laughing, seemingly done with their job, but all I can see is Peter.

I’m frozen for a second, staring, shaking, unable to process the scene before me. He lies on his back, staring up at the ceiling, hands grasping at his chest where blood has begun to pour from three wounds. I race toward him and drop to the ground at his side, placing my cuffed hands firmly over the holes in his chest.

“Peter?” I say, my voice tight and choked, “Hey, hey listen to me, you’re gonna be okay. The rest of the team is here, my dad is here, he's gonna get us out, okay?” A few of my tears leak down onto my hands, running into the blood that now stains them.

“Y/N?” He mumbles, hardly able to speak.

“Yeah, it’s me, I'm so sorry,” I sniff and try to keep my throat from closing up, “I’m so sorry I couldn’t stop them but you’re gonna be fine, Peter, we’re gonna get help.”

His face is twisted in pain, and when he tries to speak next, only a cough comes out, and blood bubbles out over his lips.

I fail to hold back a sob and move my hands to his cheeks, “Shh,” I try to get out, but it comes out shaky, like a whimper, “Shh, don’t— don’t try to talk.”

His eyes look into mine, I can see the pain behind them as he lies there, struggling to breathe. I stroke his cheek, and only now come to notice the blood I’ve painted there. I sob again. I don't know what to do, I don't know what to do, I don't know how to help him.

Can I?

Is it too late?

I cradle his head across my thighs, take one of his hands in mine and leave the other on his cheek, trying to provide some sort of comfort.

“I’m sorry, Peter, I’m so sorry, I’m sorry,” and I just keep saying it, breathing it out and heaving air back into my lungs between sobs. Tears are constantly tracking down my face now, and i’m doing all I can to subdue them while he’s still conscious, still looking at me.

My mantra of apologies keeps repeating, and my thumb keeps stroking along his cheek, and I don’t know how long I sit there, crying, mumbling, desperately hoping someone comes to help us before I notice him release a slow, defeated breath.

In, out.

“Peter?” I mumble. My blood freezes in my veins. My breath stills. I wait for his chest to rise again. I watch and pray for it to happen. Please, please, please.

It doesn’t move.

A long, whining sob erupts from deep in my chest as I drop my head and cry, and cry, and cry above him, “No, no, no, no. Please, no.”

I sob, loud and painful, unable to take a breath in anymore. I shut my eyes and don't look up because I can't look at his face — his eyes are still open his eyes are still open.

I’m never gonna see him again,

I’m never gonna hear his voice again,

I’m never gonna kiss him again.

The pain in my chest gets worse and I feel dizzy with the force of my sobs.

And then suddenly there are arms under mine, and I'm being dragged backwards.

Away from Peter.

“No, no, no, no, let me go! Let me go!” And what i’m saying is barely coherent between the sobs, “Let me stay with him, please, please!” But the arms hooked under me don't relent, no matter how hard I pry at them, no matter how hard I kick and scream. He’s getting farther and farther away from me, alone in that room, and I can't bear the thought of it.

“Please, let me go!”

And suddenly I hear my name, as if through a haze, but I can’t make out who’s saying it. I don't really care. I have to get back to him, I have to stay with him, I can’t leave him alone.

“Y/N— “

“Y/N it’s us! Come on!”

I pull and pull at the hands around me but I can’t remove them, I keep getting pulled backwards until—

I’m yanked through a doorway, and the room where Peter lies is dark and blank in front of me.

My hearing isn’t fuzzy anymore.

I gasp in surprise but the sobs haven’t stopped, and my father’s unmasked face appears in front of me.

“Y/N? Hey! You’re okay, we’re here!” His hands are on my face but I swat them away.

“No! Peter’s in there! We can't leave him! We have to take him home, we have to get him home—”

“Y/N— “

“Dad they shot him, I couldn’t help him, I couldn’t help him—“ my words dissolve again into cries of grief.

“Y/N he's not in there.”

I turn to him in confusion.

“He is!” I point my hand frantically toward the doorway, “In the middle of the room! They k— they killed him in there!”

“Y/N…” my dad speaks.

And it’s then that I notice my outstretched hand, pointing toward the door.

There’s no blood on it.

I start to shake harder.

“I- I saw it, I saw it happen I— “

And I notice the thin fog rolling out through the doorway, lazily dispersing along the floor.

I look up. I breathe heavy and shakily. The whole team is staring down at my red, tearstained face. Cap’s face is twisted into concern, Natasha looks sad and sympathetic. Hydra agents lie dead or out cold on the ground, alarms blaring, but no one takes any steps to exit. The raid is over…

And I can't see any blood on my hands.

“Y/N, it was a hallucinogen,” my dad says firm, but gently, “Whatever you saw in there wasn’t real.”

I stare at him, trying to make sense of this. It looked so real. It felt so real.

“But— but I saw it— I felt it, I could feel what they did—“

He gently breaks the cuffs from my wrists, “I know, I know kiddo, but it wasn’t real. They know how to get in your head.”

I shake my head in confusion, “But the cuffs? And my gauntlets are broken—?”

“Whoever did that was real.” Nat cut in, “They hurt you so you wouldn't fight the simulation and then the drugs were pumped into the room.”

I sit there on the floor in front of the Avengers. Disbelief, confusion, and grief all playing across my face.

“Check the room,” I demand.

My dad points a light into it, and Steve walks through, “No one here, see?”

My mind still races, it felt so real.

“Friday?” My dad speaks up, a gentle hand in my hair, “Where’s Peter now?”

“At the compound, sir, working on his suit in your lab.”

I sniff and mumble out, “Vitals?”

“All normal levels.”

I sigh, squeeze my eyes shut, and drop my head into my hands. A sob of leftover panic and relief fights its way out of my chest.

“C’mere,” My dad says, and pulls me closer to him, a soothing arm around my back.

“I need to see him,” I choke out, “I need to know he’s not— “

“I know, I know, we got the job done here, we’re going home.”

——————

I don't remember the walk back out of the compound. It’s all vague reassurances and worrying eyes. I think my dad buckled the straps around me once we got to the quinjet.

The flight back is somber, quiet, despite the fact that we succeeded. I feel the entire team’s eyes on me, but I don't look up. I’m too busy sitting curled on my seat, staring down at my hands.

There was so much blood. So much of his blood.

I spend the next few hours staring, not speaking, unable to stop the images from replaying in my head. My dad sits beside me, stroking my hair, muttering things I can’t hear.

I thought he was gone. All I can hear are the choked, wet sounds of the blood rising from his throat, all I can see is the stark image of dark red dripping down his pale cheek. Pain in his eyes. His chest refusing to move.

“Y/N,” I think it’s the fourth attempt someone makes to get my attention, and I look up to see my dad kneeling in front of me, “We’re almost back.”

“He’s at the landing pad?” I whisper, my voice hoarse.

My dad takes my hand and says, “Yeah, I had Friday call him up.”

The next thing I’m aware of is the quinjet touching down, and I unbuckle the straps and stand up. My dad rests a reassuring hand on my back, and when the ramp lowers, he walks me forward. He can tell I’m still doubtful. He can tell a part of me still believes what I saw back in that room.

But then we reach the ground and I see him.

Peter is standing back from the landing pad, accompanied by Pepper. He’s healthy, he’s standing on his own, he’s not bleeding, he’s not hurt, he hasn’t been shot, he’s okay.

He’s not dead.

I pick up the pace, walking out of reach of my dad, and once I’m close enough to see his eyes a sob fights its way up my throat and I throw my arms around his shoulders.

“Hey, shh, it’s alright,” his arms wrap firmly around my back, one hand landing in my hair and one stroking up and down my spine. His hair tickles my cheek, his shirt collar is bent out of shape — he never folds them right. He’s warm and strong and breathing and alive. I bury my face in his neck as another sob wracks through my body.

“What happened?” I hear him ask, confused, and his voice rumbles so low and soothing and I can feel it against my chest, hear it in his throat where my ear is pressed. I can’t stop my cries long enough to answer him but I realize the question wasn’t directed toward me.

“She’s not hurt,” my dad’s voice reassures him, “They messed with her head. She thought — she saw them hurt you—“

“I thought you were dead,” I croak out. My grip on him tightens and I let my hand trail to the curls at the base of his neck, let them twist around my fingers. My voice has risen an octave when I say, “You died, I saw you die.”

We sway for a moment, his hands still running down my back and through my hair, I don't think he knows what to say. I wouldn’t know, either.

We stay there for a minute, and the rest of the team has walked inside to give us some space, I assume.

After a while, when my sobs have quelled and I'm just quietly sniffling against him, I feel his hand on my cheek, pulling me back.

“Hey,” He whispers gently, wiping his thumb under my eye to clear away the tears there, “Good thing that wasn’t me then, right? I’m right here. And I’ve got proof— I was talking Dr. Banner’s ear off in the lab the entire time, he can vouch for me,” I let out a watery giggle at his antics, “You wanna go inside? Get you warm, patch you up?”

“Yeah,” I sigh out, disentangling myself from him, but keeping an arm around his side as we walk into the building, “Sorry, I’d give you a hello kiss but I’m pretty sure there’s snot running down my face.”

He chuckles and presses a kiss to the hair at my temple, “That’s okay, let’s get you cleaned up.”

——————

After a brief period of time, I’ve showered, changed into pajamas, and am now sitting at the bathroom sink where my dad is bandaging the shallow cuts on my hands from the broken gauntlets. We sit in relative silence, and there’s no doubt from the look on my dad’s face that I appear just about as shell shocked as I feel.

“Kiddo, you gonna be okay tonight?” He asks in a hushed voice.

I don't look him in the eye, instead watching him work on my hands as I mumble out, “Probably not.”

He huffs with a bit of amusement, “Well, thanks for the honesty, I guess.”

He finishes up on my left hand and raises my chin to look him in the eye. I don't know what to say, so I let him speak first.

“Seriously, Y/N, that was heavy, what you went through. Don’t be afraid to ask any one of us for help, okay?” He looks me pointedly in the eye, already doubting I’ll take him up on that. I am his daughter, after all.

“Yeah,” I whisper, “Got it.”

He stands with a sigh and puts the first aid kit back under my sink.

“Goodnight, come get me if you need me.” He presses a kiss to my head and leaves.

——————

Tony looks at the clock. 7a.m., three hours after they returned from the mission.

“Friday? Has Y/N gotten any sleep yet?”

“No, sir. She spent a few hours in the kitchen with Mister Parker, but it appears as if they are both headed to their respective rooms now.”

“Alright. Alert me if she needs help, Fri.”

“Will do, sir. Goodnight.”

——————

“Sir, it appears as if Y/N is in distress.”

Tony wakes up to the alert just forty minutes after he’d laid down to sleep. He's quickly alert and shuffling out of bed, down the hall to his eldest daughter’s room. Although, when he turns the corner he sees Peter already at the door.

The teen looks up at him, “Hey, Mr. Stark. I— Friday told me she needed help. I was just gonna check in.”

“Me too,” Tony sighs, “You go ahead, Pete. It’s you she needs to see right now. Goodnight.”

The man turns to leave, but stops short of turning the corner. He says, tired, but playfully, “Door open, Parker.”

“Gotcha, Mr. Stark,” And the boy walks in to comfort his daughter.

Several hours later, after Tony’s gotten his meager version of a full-night’s sleep, and after a night he’s sure has held several nightmares for his daughter, he walks back past her door to make sure she’s okay.

He smiles warmly at the scene. Wrapped in Peter’s Midtown sweatshirt, his daughter sleeps, restless but quiet, leaning an arm over the boy she loves. He holds her secure, both their legs strewn about the covers, and Tony can't help but notice Y/N’s hand. Resting softly at the side of Peter’s neck, fingers in the hair behind his ear, and her thumb rests just over the boy’s pulse point. Thrumming gently in sleep, reassuring her — even in her unconscious state — that what she saw was fake. Peter is alive and well, sleeping soundly right beside her.

—————

Alrighty that’s it! Let me know how you liked it and thanks for reading!

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iamapuffhuffle · 4 years

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Arrange Marriage ~ Halfdan x F Reader part 2

Authors Note: Nervous but okay to post this. Set year after Paris attack in the 12 year time frame.

Warnings: Swearing, age gaps, arrange marriage, mentions of sexual themes, angst. If there are any others that I missed please tell me and I will add them. Also Grammar Mistakes.

Part 1 | Part 3

I woke early in the morning just after the sun rise. The second day since arriving in Tamdrup. I want check out the market, the people and the area. What else can I do until I get marriage and sails back to Earl Leif’s home.

I could just divorce him in due time, but father said I should give our marriage a few years before deciding to end our marriage. But probably by then I would have a child or two with Leif and that would make ending the marriage a bit more difficult.

Why was I the one to be picked. My sister, Sigrlinn was excited to be in the line up to be the second wife of Earl Leif. Her, only being born 6 months before me. She always wanted to be better than me at everything. Which wasn’t that difficult but being married to a Earl. But I was picked, so I guess I win this even if I was very against marrying him.

I argued with my father telling that I rather marry someone that I felt something for. Love or even attraction to him. He married 6 wives because he felt attraction to them why not me.

As I glanced at the different stalls in the market and their difficult buys. I headed back to where I left Edda sleeping. Leif said he and Aesa are going hunting, which mostly means they are having sex in the woods for most of the morning.

I seem a little lost because I ended up at the docks. “How did I get here?”

I was about to turn around before I hear crying. Most noticeably a little girl’s crying.

Finding the source of the quiet cries behind a barrel. I kneel down in front of the little girl that seemed around 6.

“Hello, my name is y/n. Are you okay?”

The little girl looked up from her arms that hide most of her face. She sniffles before speak in a croaking tone, “My-my mother. I lost her.”

I reached my hand out to her, “Come, let’s go find your mother. What is your name?”

“Maiken.” Small hand places into him.

I pull her out from her hiding space. “Maiken could you tell me what your mother looks like?”

Maiken thinks for a moment. “She is wearing boots and a dress.”

Right that is most woman. “Could you tell me about her hair and color of her dress.”

“Her dress is brown and her hair is short and black.”

We head to the area she said she lost her mother. The little girl says non of them are her mother. We continue though Tamdrup until we get to the market place I just was. I look up into the sky seeing it’s already half morning. I sigh.

“Are you hungry Maiken?”

She nods. We approach a stall that was selling bread and I bought two small loafs. I hand one to Maiken. She happily begins to munch on it.

Deciding to head to the hall. Maybe her mother is there.

After a short walk. We are at the entrance of the hall. I quickly scan the surrounding area for the woman before entering. None fit the description.

Looking around I see a few people speaking to one another. Looking to the other side, there is a group about 7 speaking and laughing. One notably being the king’s brother.

Our eyes meet and after a few seconds, Maiken softly yanks on my hand. Pulling my attention back to her. Her eyes begin to water. I place my hand onto her shoulder.

“We will find your mother and I will be with you until we do.”

My eyes glance to the man approaching us. He stops leaving a great distance between us. Halfdan speaks, “I didn’t know you were already a mother?”

I blink surprised. I shake my head. “No I found her by the docks, she got separated from her mother. Been looking for her for most of the morning with no luck.”

Halfdan leans against the wooden post that held up the hall structure. He fiddles with a small knife as stares at us.

“Halfdan is there something you would like to say?”

Halfdan clears his throat. “You looked like a good mother.”

“Oh...thank you, Halfdan. But I am not rushing to have children.” I chuckled. I can feel my cheeks getting a bit warm.

Maiken decides to spoke and a bit bluntly. Too bluntly. “ Y/N is the king’s brother, your husband?”

My eyes widen and I try to speak but my words came out as a clumped stutter.

Halfdan begun to laugh, before speak to the young girl. “No, she is to be married to Earl Leif.”

“Oh, why.”

“Well my father wanted one of his daughters to married Leif and Leif choose me.”

“But do you love him, like my mom and father do to each other?”

I stare at the young girl taken back from her sudden questions. As she is trying to pick apart me.

I kneel down to the child’s height. Brushing her black hair back away from her eyes. But before I could speak, a woman voice erupted. I stood up. See a woman looking frantic. Maiken turn to see the woman. “Mother!” As Maiken ran to her. Jumping into the woman’s arms.

The woman walked up to me. Before bringing me into a hug. “Thank you, Y/n for keeping my daughter safe.”

“No need to thank me.”

She turns to her daughter, “Come Maiken.”

Maiken nods happier before shouting to me “Bye Y/n” waving as they walk out of the hall.

I turn to Halfdan, “I have to head back to the lodge. Bye Halfdan.”

“I am going the same way. I’ll walk you there.”

I nod to him as we walk out of the hall and down the path, It was short distance the whole was it was quiet but it was not awkward.

We arrive in front of the wooden door. I shyly smiled at Halfdan, “Thank you...I hope to see you more around Halfdan.”

He nods to me before leaving, I watch as Halfdan walked away, before my attention was pulled away by Edda opens the door stretches her arms upwards, yawning . She smirks but doesn’t say anything. Y/N asks what is she smiling about.

Edda smirk some how become bigger, “Oh nothing.”

Later on in the evening, after we ate. Leif and Aesa stated they would like to train. They lunged me along with them. Luckily Edda also wanted to train.

But I sat on a stump forced to watch Earl Leif and Aesa duel. I looked to see the other men and woman training. Looking further on the training ground. Harald and Halfdan and their men are also training.

Edda comes over to me. Tossing me a sword. I panicky clasp the handle before the sword hit me. “Ready to train?”

I look up and down the sword, nodded. “I have not trained in weeks. My skills has became rusty.”

“And that is why I want you to train more. So you are able to defended yourself.”

We begin, starting off slow and causal combat. Before the duel became a little bit more intensely. That is how Edda likes to train. Start off slowly until I has beaten and bruised. I do not mind, it makes me stronger.

Before I knew it I was lying on my back on the dirt. Having a sword pierced into the ground next to my next. I widened my eyes realizing what happened. I begun to laugh.

Edda grabs my hand and pulls me up. “You fought a lot longer than the other times y/n. You are getting better.”

“I have a great shieldmaiden to teach me. That is why.” I grin at Edda. Edda walks a short distance to drink. I fiddled with my sword. We both turn to a loud shout. Coming from the Earl himself. He marching up to Edda. Throwing his sword to his right.

I back a bit up. What in gods name is he doing?

Leif yells at Edda, shouting that I am not a shield woman. That I am his wife soon. That once the time comes, he will train me in fighting. I do not know why he is getting so upset at this. This is truly embarrassing. I glance to see even the Tamdrup warriors are curious of why this Earl is acting like a child.

I watch as Edda just rolls her eyes, putting her cup down, and returning over to where I stood. I watched as Leif returned to Aesa.

“He is an arse.”

We decided to watch Harald’s warriors train. My eyes continue to watch Halfdan every move. I try to advert my eyes, to watch any other Viking, but Halfdan keeps gaining my attention. Halfdan easily takes down his opponent. I smile lightly behind my hand, holding back a snicker of happiness. He is a furious fighter.

I feel Edda’s eyes on me, Edda elbows me. Chuckling at me.

I elbowed her back. We continue elbowing each other until the man who Edda was speaking to on the first night we got here.

Edda stood up quickly, greeting the man. I clearly my throat feeling a bit out of place.

The man turns to me before speaking in a rough deep tone, “You must be y/n. Edda speaks highly of you. My name is Thorir.”

“It is good to finally have a name to the face.” I greeted the tall blonde Viking.

Edda and Thorir decided to train together, as I sat glancing at the other men train. Truly only at one man.

I and Edda headed back to the lodge, I headed into the tub. After I asked Edda to brush my hair. “I want to shove goat shit down his throat and bury Leif in the middle of the forest.”

“I agree you should.”

We both silently look at each other before bursting into a laugh.

Edda continue to brush, “But I can see your still have eyes for you know who.”

I whisper to Edda, “Shush, if Leif found out. He would whine even more. I do not want to make my marriage awful just because I am attractive to someone else.”

“You can have him as your lover.” Edda abruptly stops brushing due to laughing hard.

I huffed, “That is not what I want Edda, you know this. I do not even know if he finds me attractive.”

#vikings #vikings tv show #halfdan x reader #halfdan fic #agegap #reader #halfdan #kingharald

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scribble-blog · 5 years

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Soulmate AU part 3!!

First • Previous • Here • Next

Side note, I’m a grandma in a 22 year old body who doesn’t understand technology. If somebody can teach me how to get readmores to work on tumblr mobile, and possibly how to start linking the posts together, I’d appreciate it!

Also, the taglist is now full! Though if people want, I could try doing a supplemental taglist? Either in a reblogged or in a separate post to notify you? Let me know in the replies!

Damian Wayne, as it turns out, is almost very certainly the son of Bruce Wayne, who sponsored their entire trip to Gotham. There are only two official pictures of him that are clear enough to truly check against, but Marinette sees the eyes and she nods. “That’s him.”

Trixx, Pollen, Kaalki, and Plagg are scattered about the bed, napping and lounging. Adrien also lounges, catlike and crosswise with the bed, entirely over the pillows at their back. Chloé holds the laptop that Marinette is hovering over, even from her seated position with her much smaller stature.

“It would be you,” Chloé snorts. “Oh, let’s just traipse over to America for a quick class visit! Oops, my soulmate is the incredibly handsome son of the incredibly wealthy man who invited us here!”

“Still more believable than you, Miss ‘My soulmate and I have literally been standing two feet from each other for weeks because not only do we have the exact same friends, but we’re part of the same superhero group and never realized until Ladybug allowed us to learn each other’s secret identities.’” Adrien doesn’t move as he calls her out, lazily curled into the warmth of his two friends and the pillows cocooning him.

“I don’t think any of us can speak,” Marinette groans. “I’m living a cheap rom com, Chloé’s got all the plot elements of a high budget Shakespearian drama, and Mr. ‘Didn’t know I wasn’t straight until my soulmate mark was a guys name” is straight out of a b movie comedy.”

“At least I got my act together pretty quickly once it occurred to me that I could like guys too,” Adrien points out. “And now Jon and I talk all the time, and he even comes to Paris sometimes to see me, or we’ll meet up for my occasional business trips in America. Which reminds me,” he pulled out his phone, sending off a quick text, “he wants to come meet you guys. Next week, while we’re all actually on the same continent.”

“Kudos to you for shaking off whatever Gabe tried to stuff your head full of,” Chloé says. “Took me ages to admit that I was gay, and that was even WITH my soulmark and both Marinette and Ladybug constantly in front of me.”

“Feeling pretty objectified,” Marinette protests.

“Oh shut it, I know for a fact that you’ve basically been the gay awakening crush of every not straight girl in our class. And several outside of it. And that’s not even counting all the dudes that fall in love with you.”

“I still object,” Marinette pouts at Chloé.

“Objection overruled.” Adrien sits up. “Marinette. You’re like, the perfect crush. They have a warning about you in the introductory packet for Mme. Bustier’s class.”

“They do not,” Marinette gasps, outraged. “I wrote that packet!”

“And then the class unanimously decided you were too dangerous to be walking around without a warning sign,” Chloé pinched her cheek. “If it makes you feel any better, it’s still in the packet despite Lila’s best efforts to get it thrown out.”

That does make Marinette feel better.

“Damian Wayne resurfaces after year of being believed dead,” Adrien reads from his phone. “Gotham’s Newest Wayne: The True Son! These all read like tabloids but as far as I can tell the Wayne’s don’t tolerate stuff like that. So I guess it’s true?”

“I’m tired of looking him up,” Marinette groans. “Can we just leave it be?”

“Nope,” Chloé pops the P. “Congrats, Dupain-Cheng, this is what friends are for.”

“I wish I could talk to Tikki about it,” Marinette sighs. “Especially because I have literally never heard anyone talk about that- electric feeling when we touched. Is it a Ladybug thing?”

Plagg opens one big green eye. “Cool it, Spots. It’s definitely a Ladybug thing. You’re literally the reason these marks exist.”

Marinette sticks her tongue out at the mini god. “I just miss her.”

“Join the club,” he grumbles, closing his eye and going back to napping.

“Good news,” Chloé says, bringing her attention back to the laptop. “Searching your name very easily leads to you, and our class, and the fact that we won the contest. So, unless he decides he’s not ready to meet you, you’ll have the chance to find him at the gala. Or at Wayne Enterprises. Or at any of the places the Wayne’s own, which is two-thirds of our trip destinations.”

“Oh god,” Marinette says. “What if he didn’t want to find me?”

Adrien, Chloé, and four Kwamis hit her at the same time, shoving her back into the bed.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Mari,” Adrien scolds her from his position atop the newly formed cuddle pile. “I saw his face too. If the boy isn’t already in love with you, he’ll be hunting you down just for the chance to fall.”

Trixx nuzzled into her side. “I may not be Tikki but all of us Kwamis know how incredible you are, Marinette.”

She sighed. “Alright guys, get off.”

———

Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Tim already knew who the girl was, because he’d been curious when his favorite artist had started talking about the source of his newest looks.

But having Damian demand his help in searching for everything he could find on her, and then only asking for the bare minimum of information about her trip itinerary- Tim wasn’t an idiot.

“So. She’s your soulmate.” Tim takes a sip of the coffee he’d been working on, making a face and instantly setting it back down when he realized it had gone cold.

Damian carefully did not change his expression, but it wasn’t fooling anyone. “And so what if she is?”

Tim looked back at the monitor. “So nothing. Congrats, Demon Spawn. I’m happy for you.”

He barely caught the edge of the scowl the younger Wayne tried to hide.

“Hey, no.” Tim spun his chair to face Damian. “Look, we’ve had our differences and disagreements-“

“You had me on the superhero equivalent of a terrorism watch list,” Damian interrupted.

“And you literally tried to kill me within the first day of meeting me.”

“A byproduct of my indoctrination from birth into a murder cult,” His brother kept his face still but the tone was wry.

“You kept trying to kill me.”

“I wasn’t trying to kill you!” Damian finally exclaimed, losing his collected demeanor. “Just-“

“Point being,” Tim stressed, “even if we haven’t always gotten along- haven’t ever, really- I’m still happy for you. Soulmates are a special thing. We all kind of thought you might not have one, with the way you always acted when Dick tried to ask.”

Damian forced down the immediate retort and looked at Tim. “I thought that maybe my dying would have prevented my name from showing up for them. And my teachings-“ he said the word with the inflection that meant he was discussing Assassin Upbringing rather than here- “were as such that most connections, be they familial, friendly, or romantic, were- unnecessary and even dangerous.” It felt tantamount to a betrayal of his younger self to confide anything in Drake like this, but... Damian really was, in many ways, a better and more mature person than the spoiled, aggressive, near sociopathic brat he’d arrived as seven years ago. He still kept the veneer of it up, but he was no longer the boy who needed to fight Drake to prove his worth as Bruce’s son.

Now he just waited for Drake to embarrass himself by passing out after staying up for far too long surviving on caffeine and energy drinks. Much easier.

And Drake didn’t ever seem as eager to blackmail and fight as Damian ever had, so he figured a small amount of vulnerability was a proper thank you for his discretion in finding Marinette.

Tim just took another grimacing sip of the cold coffee. “Man. In that case, even happier for you that you’re shrugging off yet another of the Child Assassin School’s upsetting and frankly terrible rules. Though as for the dying thing, I’m pretty sure it doesn’t matter as long as you don’t actively die now that you have the mark.”

Damian shrugged. “Irrelevant now, as I will not be dying anytime soon, and neither will she. And she clearly knows that we’re soulmates.”

“Still confused about that,” Tim frowned, looking back at him. “You said there was an electric current between you? Or it felt like that?”

Damian couldn’t stop his hand from twitching, the memory of it clear enough to feel. “Yes. I don’t understand it myself either.”

“I’ll search around. See if anything comes up.” Tim handed him a pile of papers. “Here, the info you wanted on her itinerary, plus things I thought would be pertinent without going over whatever line you seem to have drawn.”

Damian took them, and very begrudgingly said, “Thank you,” before ducking out of the room.

He waited until he was back in his own room before flicking through them, finding the trip schedule and the hotel rooms listed, the names of her class and teachers, and finally a list of her accomplishments and a copy of the paper that had won her class the trip, authored by her.

He read through it, noting the names of her classmates and their own community efforts, and the way her own section in the paper was minuscule compared to both each other persons section and the list of accomplishments Drake had drafted.

One classmate had, if no less written than than any other person, a distinctly different tone to what Marinette had written, and most of her community building and service events were merely echoes or assisting what another person had done. Damian shrugged it off, as there were sometimes people who simply tagged along, and never put their own effort out there. Followers, and not leaders.

All in all, he found himself more intrigued than ever about her.

TAGLIST:

@the-fusionist @rebecarojas07 @lowandco @kotaleartzu @resignedcatservant @alenee13 @mystery-5-5 @ladybug-182 @actual-disaster-human @loysydark @rumbelle18 @magic-miraculous @vixen-uchiha @athena452 @mochegato @ash-amg @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @thestressmademedoit @sassakitty @doriebell @jessigurl-design @emotionalsupportginger @kceedraws @kuroko26 @moonystars14 @toodaloo-kangaroo @myazael @theatreandcomicfreak @mer-mel @dahjokester @northernbluetongue @area51qt @renscorpio @redscarlet95 @razzledazzle247 @rosep16 @tired-butterfly @catthhay @shamefullove @imanerddealwith @chaosace @captainmac6 @bigpicklebananatree @abrx2002 @cici-schnee @multplelifes @shreky-boi @purple-people-eaters-productions @crazylittlemunchkin @weird-pale-blonde-person

#maribat #daminette #daminette soulmates #soulmate au #fanfic

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morganaseren · 3 years

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WIP Meme (Warden Inquisitor Niamh/Warden Bethany)

Tagged by: @illusivesoul Many thanks!

Tagging: @this-is-something-idk-what, @noeldressari, @jellydishes, @w-h-4-t As usual, I suck at telling who has or hasn’t been tagged yet.

So this WIP is from prompt #3 I made off this list. It doesn’t tie into the other Warden Niamh/Warden Bethany AU I’ve already written; this is something wholly separate. No knowledge of it is needed to read this.

Granted, this is a much rougher draft than what I’d normally post here, but given I’m already more than a month behind on updating OtSttCA, I thought you guys would appreciate the treat. :)

Things you might want to know:

As with any AU where Niamh is a Warden, she’s the one who undertakes the Dark Ritual with Morrigan in order to spare anyone from being sacrificed once the Archdemon is slain. Through magic, Kieran is born as a result of their union. While both women carry a great deal of respect for one another, they aren’t and were never in a romantic relationship although there’s gonna be a whole separate AU for that once I get around to writing it.

Niamh is the Warden-Constable for Ferelden while her sister Saoirse is the Warden-Commander and Hero of Ferelden. Saoirse and Leliana are married sometime after the end of the Blight.

As a result of going on the Deep Roads expedition with her sister, Bethany contracts the taint and has to undergo the Joining in order to save her life. She is transferred to the Fereldan branch of the Grey Wardens by Stroud not long afterward.

Niamh and Bethany are in an established relationship by the time the events of Inquisition begins.

While Niamh would normally be off searching for the cure by then, I'm just going to headcanon that she and Morrigan weren’t able to find a suitable lead in their research until much later—enough that they start hearing about the mass disappearances of Wardens across Ferelden and Orlais.

Out of concern, Niamh and Saoirse convince the remainder of their comrades (except for Bethany obviously) to head toward Weisshaupt for help, but Niamh senses that's enough wrong about the situation that she also tells them to journey there in secret. Vigil’s Keep is pretty much closed down at this point until they can figure out what’s going on.

Niamh and Bethany head out toward the Hinterlands to follow up on reports of some Warden sightings in the area. It's when they're stopped in the Crossroads area (where you meet Mother Giselle) that Niamh has Bethany to ask the villagers for any leads while she heads up to the Temple of Sacred Ashes to follow up on a tip there. The usual stuff happens, and she ends up waking up in Haven's dungeons, where she gets interrogated by Cassandra.

Honestly, this follows pretty closely to how OtSttCA unfolds as far as the major decisions being made within it goes. However, because she wasn’t in self-exile for a decade, Niamh’s a lot more laidback and confident in her ability to lead, especially with Bethany by her side.

Along that same vein, Bethany is also more self-assured in her abilities as a mage now that she no longer has to fear hiding from Templars. As such, she’s much quicker to speak about what’s on her mind rather than bottle them up as she used to in the past. She confronts Cassandra like an absolute badass several times during the beginning of the story in defense of her lover, which you can check out below the cut with the rest of the content. ;)

Like in her canon world state, Niamh isn't treated well when she’s imprisoned. The guards merely know that she's a mage, so they're operating under the assumption that she caused the explosion at the Conclave. It doesn't help that Niamh's been essentially undercover to search for the missing Wardens, so she's not wearing her usual uniform to signify her status. Cassandra does her whole intimidating interrogation as per usual when Bethany—in all her Warden regalia—bursts in with Leliana.

---

"She leaves with me," she leveled at the Seeker coldly before turning to Leliana with a deep frown. “Why did you not put a stop to this?”

“I arrived here at the same time as you. I didn’t know she was here until she was already imprisoned.”

Niamh couldn't help but chuckle under her breath, utter relief filling her. “I think you may invited utter ruination upon your heads with those two."

Cassandra frowned. "What? Why?"

“What do you mean why?” she parroted with a roll of her eyes, unimpressed with what she had seen of the woman and her colleagues thus far. "Leliana’s my sister-in-law, and the Warden next to her is my fiancée, whom—might I add—you've actually succeeded in making angry.” The corners of her lips turned up into a languid smile. “Not an easy feat, and not a fate I would normally wish upon anyone.”

“Hush,” Bethany muttered as she brushed past Cassandra—all but shoving her aside with a pointed shoulder—as she knelt at Niamh’s side to begin healing the wounds she’d received from her captors. All the soldiers began backing away uneasily, especially as Leliana walked alongside her. “I’m already upset that you sent me down to the Crossroads while you went up to the Conclave alone.”

“It was the easiest way of scoping out the area," Niamh defended even as she sheepishly shrank back beneath her lover’s glare. "If the individuals we were searching for were still down in the village, you would have seen them, and if they were up at the Temple…Well, I suppose that’s a moot point now, given what our new acquaintances have just revealed to me.”

“Do you remember seeing anything at all?” Leliana asked then in concern.

“I can’t recall much of anything before the explosion.” Niamh admitted with a frown. “I thought I remembered someone screaming, but then there’s just... nothing.”

“And...” Leliana gestured toward her hand. “That mark?”

She shrugged as much as she was able to, especially given her heavy shackles. “It certainly wasn’t there when I went to the Temple.”

“What is going on here?” Cassandra demanded then, perhaps confused as to why their supposed prisoner had proven so much more forthcoming with Leliana than anyone else thus far.

“You’ve met my wife before, yes? This is her younger sister Niamh Cousland. She is also the Constable of the Grey here in Ferelden, Cassandra,” Leliana stated gravely. “While the Wardens may not regularly involve themselves in politics, Niamh’s high enough up their chain of command that this country’s branch would fight to the death to get her back, and that’s not even involving what Saoirse herself will do once she finds out her sister's been hurt.” She rubbed the bridge of her nose wearily. “Not to mention the Teyrn of Highever…”

---

After the demons upon the frozen lake had been defeated, Niamh felt the brush of a warm hand in the crook of her elbow gently pulling her back before all she could see was Bethany’s back as her lover marched right up toward Cassandra, heedless of the obvious height difference between them.

"Point your sword at her again, Seeker! Kindly test my patience right now, and see what happens!"

Niamh was mildly amused when Cassandra actually appeared to be a bit startled and had to move back a step so as to not accidentally stab the woman. The Seeker’s dark brows furrowed in confusion. "Are... Are you threatening me?"

"Only because you’ve threatened her repeatedly!” Bethany scowled. “Niamh's very life is in danger so long as that portal in the sky exists; she has no reason to put yours in harm's way. She’s made it more than abundantly clear she’s willing to cooperate even after the mistreatment she received from you and your colleagues." Amber eyes narrowed, and despite their bright depths, there was little mistaking the ice within them. "I haven’t, however, and I’ve no reason to if you’re going to blatantly ignore your own words to the contrary simply because she’s a mage."

Cassandra sheepishly sheathed her weapon. "I’m—"

"If you ever think of drawing a sword on her again, your friendship with Leliana or no, I swear it will be the last time you ever draw breath," Bethany spat, tilting her chin up defiantly. "I’ve lost enough. I will not lose her too." She turned then to hold out her hand for Niamh, allowing the first bit of tenderness to enter her expression as she called out to her. "My love..."

Niamh chuckled quietly even as she weaved her fingers through Bethany’s. “Still so quick to defend me?”

Her lover smiled. “Always.”

Afterward, Cassandra was left to follow behind the two women, who proceeded to lead the rest of the way up the mountain.

"I did tell you not to make her angry," Niamh quipped to Cassandra later upon reaching the first outpost, grinning when she earned a soft sound of disgruntlement.

---

Nothing had really prepared Bethany for the sight that greeted them upon reaching the Temple of Sacred Ashes.

There were so many bodies scattered across the immense crater, expressions twisted in permanent states of terror as they tried to guard themselves against a danger beyond all earthly imagining. Horrified with such evidence of the Breach’s power, it was then that she realized that if Niamh hadn’t somehow received the Mark, she likely would have—

"Bethany?"

She jerked in place, turning to see her lover’s concerned eyes watching her.

"It's nothing,” she mustered up with a weak smile. “I'm right behind you."

Bethany saw, however, that Niamh couldn’t be convinced, as was evident in the tender way the other woman had taken hold of her hand. Niamh said nothing else, as was always her way. She never pressed her to offer anything more than she was ready for. She sighed.

"I should have been there with you," Bethany murmured at last, looking at the strange mark still glowing upon her lover’s palm. It was nothing that even with all her healing magic can hope to fix, but Niamh merely shook her head.

"No.” She brought Bethany’s hand up to her lips to press a kiss reverently across her knuckles. “Were you there with me, I fear you would have died with everyone else," she admitted solemnly. "My heart would not have survived such devastation."

---

Bethany was beside herself with worry when Niamh fell unconscious upon the first, unsuccessful attempt to seal the Breach. Niamh was brought back to Haven to recover, but Bethany refused to leave her side despite Leliana's attempts to get her to take care of herself as well.

"Bethany—"

"You know as well as I do that your colleagues would have killed her down in the dungeons if we hadn’t arrived when we did," Bethany said flatly from where she sat by Niamh’s bedside. "Everyone in the village knows she’s a mage now, and I don’t need to remind you of how well-liked we are on a regular basis..."

"I’ll have my agents watching her. What nearly happened outside the chantry will never happen again."

Bethany bristled instantly at the memory.

---

She’d still been inside the building to relay some information regarding Saoirse to Leliana when they heard the first outraged cries beyond the doors. As the uproar grew louder in volume—all demanding the death of the one who had supposedly killed the Divine—Bethany had rushed outside immediately just in time to see civilians and more than a few soldiers attempting to stone Niamh.

Infuriated by the blatant injustice, Bethany reached over her shoulder for her staff and immediately slammed its point into the ground. At the moment of impact, a wave of force magic traveled violently across the ground, taking the mob entirely off their feet. She had been mindful to curve the energy away from Niamh—and inadvertently Cassandra, who had sidled up to aid the other mage, just as she unleashed her magic—so her lover had remained unharmed and even grateful for her arrival if her relieved smile was any indication.

Still, Bethany steeled her features to utter impassivity as she coolly strode through the crowd. Those within it seemed to be in various states of bewilderment as they tried to regain their bearings, but she took note of the many widened eyes that recognized the blues and silvers of her Warden regalia.

“You will show Ferelden’s Constable of the Grey the proper respect she is due,” Bethany said lowly as she placed herself alongside her lover, her gaze searching for any signs of rebellion to her words. “Anyone who would dare accost her in spite of her title will sorely live to regret it...”

---

"Can you really make such promises?" Bethany asked dryly.

"I can certainly try. Niamh’s family. Saoirse would never forgive me if something happened to her, especially if she knew there was anything I could have done to prevent it." She sighed. "Nor would I be able to forgive myself for that matter. Niamh’s a kind woman, and much like you—and any mage—she’s so undeserving of the treatment she often receives from others.”

---

Anyone who knows me knows that I LOVE mages; thus, it should come as no surprise that I always go to get the mages at Redcliffe as allies.

It should also go without saying that Bethany also would have gone with Niamh to deal with Alexius and the Venatori. Per the events of In Hushed Whispers, it's canon that the companions who went with you there become prisoners in the twisted, future version of Redcliffe.

While Warden mages are more susceptible to Corypheus' influence, I headcanon that Bethany was so furious with the loss of Niamh to Alexius that she fought against the mind control even to the point of torture like Leliana. When Niamh sees her in the future, Bethany's so pained, broken, and exhausted but so very thankful to see her lover again.

There's hope again—no matter how small—and Bethany's determined to help her set the world right again.

What little happiness they have at their reunion obviously doesn't last long, especially with Alexius’ death. With the Elder One beckoning at their door, Bethany goes off with the other companions to stall the demons and Venatori outside to give Dorian time to cast his spell.

I’ve always headcanoned that mages have auras unique to the type of magic they specialize in and that they’d be able to subtly influence the world around them based on their emotions. You see evidence of that a lot in OtSttCA, especially in those moments where Niamh’s angry or upset.

In any case, per my headcanon, mages would be able to sense one another although the distance at which they could detect such magic would be dependent on the senser’s overall power or their relationship with the other mage. As close as both women are, Niamh absolutely feels the moment Bethany dies... :(

---

She felt the absence of Bethany’s magic like a dagger to the heart.

It had been there, burning as bright as the sun, and then it had stuttered—dark clouds eclipsing its light—until it simply settled inside her like a dead weight. Left bereft of that familiar, constant presence that had been her very reason for breathing for so long, it was as if water had pooled into her lungs, threatening to drown her. The sensation immediately brought her to her knees, leaving her gasping for breath.

"No..." Niamh whispered out brokenly, anguish and horror overtaking her even as Leliana tried in vain to urge her back up to her feet again. She couldn't hear the other woman's concern past the shattering of her own heart. In its place was simply an aching emptiness that slowly began to consume her whole...

---

Let’s just say that Niamh’s not happy with Alexius when she and Dorian manage to return to the present...

---

The fighting between the Inquisition and rebel mages against Alexius and his Venatori was brought to an abrupt halt by the presence of the Fade rift that appeared overhead. The force with which it easily tore space and reality asunder was enough to take everyone within the audience chamber off their feet, especially as stifling heat and wind spilled from the portal along with two figures.

“Give her back..."

Bethany blearily looked up when she heard Niamh’s familiar voice, and relief filled her when she saw that she was standing beneath the now sealed rift. Even with its disappearance, however, she realized all too soon that it had done nothing to quell the storm that had now taken residence within the room, sending banners and tapestries flying with whipping gusts of wind. At its center was her lover, who was standing so still amidst the chaos around her, regarding Alexius with such apathy in her expression.

“What?" the old magister uttered in confusion, shakily rising to his feet only to have his progress nearly undone as lightning struck the ground next to him with a deafening peal of thunder.

Bethany saw how his throat undulated as he swallowed in nervous regard of the mage slowly making her way toward him. His fingers trembled with the effort to form flames between them.

"...Who gave you the right?” Niamh asked, voice as low as the rumbling thunder, as she strode toward the dais.

The pressure within the room escalated once more as an aura of absolute fire surrounded her. Like vines, they rose from the floor up in spiraling patterns before enveloping her entirely with almost playful licks of flame. Nothing in Niamh’s expression indicated the display of power was in any way exhausting to maintain whereas Alexius was already weakened from his initial spell to destroy her along with his efforts to keep the Inquisition at bay.

But it was not a woman who sought to meet him.

It was death.

As if aware of the sudden danger he was in, Alexius threw forth several barrages of fire at Niamh, but her smooth, relentless advance couldn’t be stopped. She made no attempt to even bat away the bursts of magic. If anything, the flames just seemed to absorb themselves into her. Her aura flared higher, burning more brightly beneath each attack, and as Alexius tried to back away, he inadvertently tripped himself into the throne behind him. He flinched as another peal of thunder made itself known, and as he reflexively turned his gaze to the dark storm clouds coalescing above them, he didn't see Niamh Fade-stepping forward to close the distance between them until he was choking from the fingers around his neck. With her enhanced Warden strength, Niamh was able to lift the magister off his feet entirely, leaving him to dangle helplessly.

“Who gave you the damned right to take her from me?!” she demanded.

With her cry, the fires along the sconces and the hearth behind the throne went out entirely, gone with the sudden gale of wind. As such, the only light to be seen came from the flashes of lightning above them and the fiery aura surrounding her. In the sporadic moments the room illuminated itself, there was little mistaking the utter hatred in Niamh’s eyes.

She was going to kill Alexius.

It would have been well within her right, given the magister had attacked her first within their meeting, but Bethany’s eyes widened when she saw how the staff on Niamh’s back began to rattle violently. Against the sheer heat emanating from her body, the silverite wolf head adorning the top of the staff began to melt entirely onto the floor in thick dregs of liquid while the shaft bowed and arched until it creakily bent in the middle, angling itself with the sharpness of an arrow.

Oh, no... With dread, Bethany scrambled to her feet and darted over toward Niamh. Without her staff to act as a catalyst, if Niamh burnt too much of her magic away, she could cause irreparable damage to herself and those around her.

Upon reaching her lover’s side, she placed her hands on Niamh’s face, desperately trying to draw her attention from Alexius. For a moment, nothing could sway her from trying to squeeze the life out of the magister, and she winced when she felt Niamh’s magic already begin to fluctuate erratically against her own.

"No, no, no! Look at me!” She jerked her lover’s head toward her. “Look at me, Niamh! Please!"

And as Niamh did, she watched in confusion as the woman’s expression froze. The lips that had been pulled back in a sneer of bared teeth slowly went lax, forming an ‘o’ of awe and disbelief, as recognition began to dawn in her lover’s gaze. With it, Alexius gradually slid from her grasp to collapse at her feet with desperate gulps of air, but Bethany paid him little mind. With relief, she saw Niamh’s fiery aura dissipate along with the glow of her eyes until they returned to the pale grey she adored.

"That’s it. Come back to me,” she encouraged. “Just breathe." Bethany took one of her lover’s hands in hers, placing it over her own chest, allowing Niamh to feel her breathing. “Slow and steady. Just like that.”

As each breath fell into sync with her own, Niamh's expression gradually softened into something so reverent and sweet that it almost hurt to see—as if salvation had finally blessed her—but Bethany smiled when she saw the battle rage finally leave her.

“There we are."

Niamh used her other hand to gently cradle the side of Bethany's face. “You’re still here…” she breathed, utter relief in her voice.

“Yes.” Bethany frowned in concern at her reaction. “Always."

---

When they returned to Haven, where Niamh gave her official report to her War Council, Bethany was horrified to learn all that her lover had endured from Alexius’ spell.

Afterward, Niamh suggested they spend the evening in their cabin together rather than explore the trails out the village as per usual, and Bethany didn’t object. She understood her lover’s need to reassure herself that she was still there with her—that she wasn’t simply caught in a dream that she could never wake from.

“Is... Is this okay?” Niamh asked quietly, wanting permission to seek such comfort.

Niamh was always thoughtful in everything she did for her—in bed or otherwise—and while she never treated her like glass, Bethany could count on one hand the number of times she saw her magic unfettered like in Redcliffe. She had felt subtle traces of it occasionally with their intimacy although it was usually with purposeful design—heat, ice, and tickling traces of lightning—that were meant to tease.

But rarely was it ever so close to the surface like this—a conduit of power coiled so tightly within mortal form—waiting to burst beneath Niamh’s skin.

“It’s okay,” Bethany said, gently lacing the fingers of Niamh’s marked hand in hers.

The other woman had been reluctant to let her touch it although it hadn’t shown any notable effects toward anyone—or anything thus far—save for its ability to close rifts. Still, Niamh had been skittish all the same, fearing that it might harm her.

...Or perhaps she believed it was a damning mark of shame—of guilt—much like it had been when the people of Haven had attempted to stone her to death.

---

“There’s no denying that this mark is tied to the Breach. You saw the wreckage at the Temple of Sacred Ashes. You saw how many people died, and I still can’t even remember what happened before or after that moment beyond waking up in the dungeons. What if I did do something to cause that explosion?”

“If you had, it would not have been intentional,” Bethany insisted with a frown. “The mark is unlike anything we’ve ever seen, yes, but that you bear it all does not mean you were the one who created it.”

But Niamh couldn’t be swayed as she paced back and forth before the hearth of their cabin. “How can you be so certain?” she murmured.

“Because I’ve known you for years, Niamh. You would never purposely hurt anyone without provocation. Trust in me if you can’t yet trust in yourself.”

---

With permission given, Bethany found herself gently laid out against their bed as Niamh sought to touch and bring her pleasure all throughout the night.

Over the years, she’d become remarkably acclimated to Niamh’s magic that felt so much like a forest caught beneath a winter storm of ice and lightning. It was normally as calm as it was now—crisp as the first intake of breath beneath a cool dawn—but there were times where it could be provoked. The incident in the audience chamber was proof enough of that, where it had settled over them all like the tolling bells of judgment—an inevitability inviting the nascent danger of death.

Bethany had been beyond concerned when she had seen the first bits of viridian energy springing across her lover’s eyes then. There had been an almost disturbing beauty to them—a ring of vines gathering just at the outside perimeter of silvery irises—but that they had pulsed in time with the mark upon Niamh’s hand...

Bethany had feared for her, especially when it seemed to flare all the brighter with the fury that had overtaken her.

She was glad to see no evidence of that now as Niamh laid contentedly next to her. Even though Niamh was sated at last—the burning, restless energy within the other mage having finally simmered down to faint embers—she seemed reluctant to drift off into sleep. Winter-grey eyes continued to lazily rove across her face and form, as if cataloguing every detail less she forget later.

In response, Bethany reached out to tangle her fingers through the dark mane of tousled hair, letting her nails gently rake across her lover’s scalp. Pale eyes had widened imperceptibly at the sensation, but like always, they soon became half-lidded with the soothing nature of it. She heard the quiet hum of disgruntlement, as if protesting the notion of Bethany’s attempts to lull her to sleep against her silent vigil, but she merely shushed her.

“Shh… Rest, my love. I’ll still be here in the morning when you wake.”

---

And that’s basically it.

Again, since this is still in its rough draft phase, it’s not as polished as I’d like it to be, but I hope you enjoyed it! If you did, leave me a like, comment, or send some love to my inbox! Until next time, dear readers!

#Dragon Age: Inquisition #bethany hawke #female warden/bethany hawke #fanfic #My writing #OTP: In Search of Silver Linings #lee's au ideas #female cousland/bethany hawke

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asian-hero · 4 years

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Too Impatient to Wait Another Lifetime (2/3)

A/N: I’m not going to lie, but the reason I didn't post this for a while is because the last one did so poorly compared to my other fics, so I figured that no one would want to read this anymore :(

But I truly love this story, and this is probably my favorite part that I wrote for this, so I wanted to share it anyways :) Welcome to the medieval/fantasy era

Pairing: Prince!Todoroki/Bard!Reader

Summary: The idea of soulmates is often one that’s heavily debated over. Some believe in the idea that there’s one special person out there for everyone, whereas others believe that it’s near impossible for just one person to be your “perfect match.” While you can’t necessarily see if someone is your soulmate, when you finally find that person, you get a feeling of euphoria that you’ve never experienced before. Unfortunately for you, someone must find it hilarious to constantly separate you from your soulmate every single time, in every single lifetime. So, what happens when you realize that you don’t want to wait any longer for your happily ever after?

Words: 8,367

If there was one thing that Prince Todoroki Shouto hated, more than the weighty title at the beginning of his name, more than the isolation he felt from being the heir to the throne, it would be the seemingly pointless balls his father would insist upon.

In all honesty, he knew why his father would put on these lavish events. Since Shouto was the crown prince, only due to a falling out between his father and his two eldest brothers, the fate of the Todoroki lineage had also rested upon his shoulders, and in order to keep their family tree growing, he needed a wife. However, since he was never allowed outside the walls of the castle, these balls were put in place in order to find the most “suitable” wife for Shouto.

Suitable for his father, of course.

So, Shouto would hold his tongue, not daring to argue with his father’s wishes, though he wished nothing more than to just lay low for one night, to at least pretend that he was a normal person, one who wouldn’t be forced into a loveless marriage. Instead, he’d quietly submit to the demands of the King, sitting on a throne next to his mother, watching as lord’s and lady’s danced around, mingling with one another. He did his best to keep in the disgust whenever a prominent lord would step up, their daughter standing behind them, and attempt to sell the royal family on one of their own, as if their daughters were simply tools used to gain an entry into a world they desperately wanted to be apart of. Every single time he’d come face to face with a desperate lord, he wished that he could just give them his status, with no charge. After all, they seemed to want it more than he did.

It was safe to say that Todoroki Shouto hated balls. He found them to be tedious and repetitive.

However, tonight was different.

Not fundamentally, no. Shouto still sat upon his throne, doing his best to look somewhat interested as his father droned on and on about some girl from a dukedom not too far from them. As his eyes drifted from person to person on the dance floor, he found himself pausing when his eyes land upon a woman dancing around while playing the lute, singing a lovely tune that carried throughout the entire ballroom. She was accompanied by a few other musicians, who seemed almost as jolly as she was. Shouto wasn’t quite sure what drew him to her. Perhaps it was her melodic voice, or maybe it was the semblance of freedom that her entire person exuded. She both irritated him and intrigued him, and that mix of emotions was what made his feet move towards you, seemingly not caring to hear what his father had to say for his sudden movement. He wasn’t able to make it far, though, for as soon as he entered the dance floor, he was met with a few women, some of which he recognized belonged to powerful dukedoms, who begged him for a dance. Even as he tried to step away politely, trying to get over towards the bard who captured his attention, they still persisted. He did his best to try and escape them without seeming like an asshole, but it was becoming more and more difficult.

Across the dance floor, singing the last note of the last song before intermission, stood you, a slightly goofy smile etched across your face. Coming down from the high of your latest performance, you quickly gave a bow, though you doubted that anyone noticed, and walked over to your group, giving out words of encouragement and praise, as most of them had never preformed at such a large gathering before, let alone a ball for the King. You laughed along with your group, listening to the newer ones ramble on about how grand the ball looks, how lucky you all were to be in the presence of such high ranking people.

As you continued to converse with those around you, you found yourself looking over towards the sea of people, who had now taken a pause in their dancing, opting to talk amongst themselves. Though they never spared even a glance at you or your friends, nor would they ever stoop as low as to talk to the likes of you, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of warmth at the thought that they all had danced to your music. Not some fancy, uptown musicians that the King could’ve easily hired, but you and your traveling group of musicians. Though you tried not to get a big head about it, you found yourself welling up with pride.

You were so absorbed into your own world that you didn’t notice the group of women hounding a man behind you, slowing inching closer and closer to your group. By the time you finally noticed you were just moving to grab your lute, moving to get back into position, but it was too late. As you straightened up, putting on your smiling persona, you felt someone collide with you, pushing you forward and nearly causing you to trip over yourself. The sound of your lute crashing against the floor was drowned out by the chattering of the crowd, but you could practically feel the anger rolling off of you. Whipping around, you were fully prepared to give whoever bumped into you a piece of your mind, telling them that they owed you a new instrument. However, as soon as you eyes locked with the cold, heterochromatic gaze of the Prince, you found your words catching in your throat.

Rather than giving the long lecture you’d mentally prepared, you instead bowed slightly, doing your best to remember what to do in the event of meeting a royal. “Your Highness, I apologize—“

As you looked up, you found yourself staring at a rather harsh glare from the Prince, one that made shivers go down your spine. Standing back up, you met his gaze, not backing down. In that moment, you could’ve sworn that you saw a hint of surprise flicker in his eyes, but as soon as one of the lady’s beside him spoke, the hint of emotion was gone, and was replaced by the usual cold aura he exuded.

“Oh my goodness, Prince Shouto, are you okay?” One of the women asked, sending you an unamused stare before going back to her mock fretting, “Did she hurt you?”

At the subtle shake of his head, you wanted to snort in response. After all, how the hell could you hurt him? He was the one who bumped into you. Just as you were about to excuse yourself, to escape to your friends who had suddenly disappeared at the sight of the Prince, you heard him clear his throat, signaling that he wanted your attention. Turning back to face him, you gave him a questioning look.

Strutting up to you, he watched you with detached, emotionless eyes, and, for a moment, you felt your normally bubbly and carefree persona disappear. Now, all you felt like was a child who was getting scolded.

“Make sure you watch where you’re going, next time.” With that, he turned away from you, but you weren’t about to let that sit.

“Watch where I’m going?” You asked, making sure that you heard him right.

When he didn’t respond, you felt yourself growing livid. How dare he blame you when he was the one who bumped into you? Even if that wasn’t the case, in the end he was fine, and you were without your lute. Stomping over to him, you pointed an accusatory finger at him.

“I’ll have you know that you were the one who bumped into me,” You hissed, making sure to keep your voice quiet enough to not cause a scene, “Just because you’re some ‘high and mighty’ Prince doesn’t mean that you’re not above an apology.”

Shoving your broken lute into his face, you gave a mocking smile, doing your best to keep your anger at bay. “You owe me a new lute, and I expect that on top of my pay for tonight,”

Huffing, you stormed off to where the rest of your band were, realization of what you just said not quite hitting you. As you went off, your back turned towards the Prince, you didn’t get to see the absolute shock on his face, nor did you see the way he held off the women beside him, telling them that it was fine, and there was no need to cause a fuss over your outburst. Once you were over to your group, you were greeted with the shocked faces of your friends, some of them were focused on the broken lute in your hand, while the others were more focused on you.

“Are you,” One of them started, reaching out a hand towards you, “Are you alright?”

You gave a hum of affirmation, easing some of their worries. “Don’t worry about me, my lute broke my fall,”

Once you were able to calm them down, another one piped up. “What did you say to the Prince? You looked pretty agitated,”

You waved your hand, trying to dispel their worries once more. “It wasn’t that bad, all I said was that just because he’s royalty doesn’t mean that he’s absolved from a simple apology. I mean, he’s the one who bumped into me.”

While your friends continued to stare at you incredulously, you couldn’t help but wonder just what they were thinking.

It took you exactly two minutes to realize what you had just said, and to whom.

Gasping, you put a hand up to your mouth, ducking your head as if that would hide you from the royals. You honestly don’t know what overcame you, all you know is that you were angry because he had the nerve to say that you were the one in the wrong, and that didn’t sit right with you. But now, oh god, you were surprised that he even let you walk away from him, after that outburst you had. While there weren’t stories about any sort of cruelness the Crown Prince had, there certainly were tales of how cold and dismissive he could be, and you certainly didn’t want to be on the receiving end of that.

Moving to whisper to one of your friends, you told them that you needed to leave, preferably at that moment. Having seen what just occurred, they ushered you to the door, telling you that it was probably for the best. So, as you made through the shadows of the magnificent ballroom, you made sure to stay hidden away from any prying eyes, just in case anyone saw their entertainment run away like prey from predator. Thankfully for you, your group seemed to distract all the nobility, playing another song as you left.

Turning around one last time, you found yourself locking eyes with the Prince once more, and, if you were a betting woman, you’d say that he was looking at you with both curiosity and, a bit of regret? It was a bit unnerving, to be stared down like that. However, remembering all of the times you’ve incorrectly guessed when gambling, you immediately crush that idea. There was no way he was looking at you with anything but contempt. Exiting the room, you made your way out of the castle and into the chilly air of the night, praying that you’d never have to see that Prince again.

Unfortunately for you, fate seemed to enjoy toying with you.

A few days after the royal ball, you found yourself in one of the dingiest taverns in the kingdom. While, of course, it wasn’t necessarily the best looking, you had to admit that both the patrons and the drinks were what kept you coming back for more. The unassuming tavern had become a home of sorts for you, somewhere that you could walk in to and be recognized immediately, greeted with a warm welcome. It was quite possibly your favorite place to preform, if not for the company, then because of the tips you’d receive.

Though you still mourned your dearly departed lute, the instrument that had been with you since you first started out, you were thankful to have backup options in case something awful happened. So, as you moved around the bar, singing some tune that lifted the mood of all the patrons, your fingers danced across your lyre, playing a melodic song that captivated all those around you. It was nice to have a change in pace, and although you would’ve much preferred the instrument you were most comfortable with, it was a pleasant change to hear the soft and angelic plucks of your lyre.

Dancing around the tavern, you gave flirtatious looks at the patrons who seemed to have the most money, giving them a wink as they tucked a few coins into the small bag at your side. Continuing to move around, you could vaguely hear the soft click of the front doors opening, indicating that yet another person had entered. Though you paid no mind, as you were wrapped up in your song, with your voice carrying an alluring tune, one that both put life into the bar, and seemingly had every person in there wrapped around your finger. As you turned around, your fingers still moving across the strings, you found yourself eyeing up a person you’d never seen here before.

Their figure was cladded in a black cloak, with the hood pulled up, covering most of their face. The clothes they wore beneath were hard to depict, but from what you could make out, it seemed as though this person was either a thief or a well off worker, as they seemed too nice for the typical patron. Eyes trailing up to their face, you couldn’t really see anything above their nose, but one thing that stuck out to you was the marking on the left side of their face, the scarred flesh stopping mid-cheek. For a brief moment, your mind wondered if the person was actually the prince, though the rational side of your brain told you that the idea was ridiculous, it’d be stupid of the prince to come here, of all places. He’d certainly have a death wish coming here, if not for the thieves who would want to either hold him for ransom, then the common folk who’d want to kill him due to their hatred of his father. However, as your song ended, your eyes finally connected with the mysterious stranger.

A mixed match of steel gray and a cool blue eyes had locked with yours.

Feeling your heart freeze in your chest, you quickly gave a bow to the audience, quickly glancing from side to side to see if anyone else had noticed the dumb prince. When you realized that no one had noticed, you quickly walked over to the hooded man, slamming your hand down onto counter beside him. He seemed startled at your sudden aggression, but as you smiled sweetly to the bartender nearby, he allowed himself to relax, though you could tell that he was still on edge.

“Can I get two pints of ale?” You asked, though it was more of a statement as you threw your coins onto the counter, nodding your head as the bartender went to pour your drinks.

Once you had the two mugs, you looked over at your new companion, nodding your head over to the most secluded area, telling him to follow. Walking towards the table in the corner, you found yourself blocking the prince’s body with your own, making sure that no one else figured out who he was. As you two slid into your seats, you pushed one of the mugs towards him, taking a long sip from yours.

Letting out a long sigh, you put your drink down, crossing your arms across your chest. “What are you doing here?”

He simply looked down at the drink set in front of him, his fingers tapping on the sides of the mug. When he didn’t give you an answer, you leaned in closer, your face certainly too close to be comfortable, especially knowing that the man sat in front of you was royalty. “Not going to answer me? Should I just assume that you were just wandering around town and you happened to stumble into any tavern you could find?”

He shook his head, his eyes finally meeting yours once more. As you continued to look at him with confusion swirling in your eyes, he bit his cheek, figuring out what exactly he should say.

“You said that just because I’m a ‘high and mighty’ prince, it doesn’t mean that I shouldn’t apologize for my actions,”

At that, you could feel your cheeks heating up, the mortification of what you’d said coming back full force. Taking a deep breath, you attempted to calm yourself, putting on a look of pure neutrality.

“So, you’re here to berate me for it? Have me arrested?” You truly shouldn’t have this much confidence, but you couldn’t help yourself. Being in your second home made you feel more comfortable, and you knew that those around you would help you out in a heartbeat.

However, it didn’t seem to be necessary, as the prince shook his head, and it was then you realized that he seemed to have a rather awkward look on his face.

“No, that’s not it at all,” He started, his hands gripping onto his drink tighter, “I wanted to say that you were right,”

You blinked, not quite sure if you heard him correctly. “Pardon?”

“No one has ever been as straightforward as you. I know that I come off as cold and abrasive, and there are times when I truly mean to be. However, I shouldn’t have been so rude to you that night when I was the one at fault,” Staring at you with an all too sincere look, he continued, “So, I’d like to apologize for my actions,”

You continued to look at him with a blank look on your face. It was still baffling to you that, firstly, the prince came to perhaps one of the shadiest taverns in the kingdom, just to apologize to you, and secondly, the fact that he seemed to be an entirely different person that the last time you saw him, even though it hadn’t been long. The prince you saw at the ball was stuck up and rude, but the man you saw before you looked uncomfortable and unsure of himself.

Clearing your throat, you averted your eyes from his, taking in the lively seen before you. “How did you even know I’d be here?”

“I asked your bandmates,” He said simply, as if it were the easiest answer in the world.

Your lips quirked downwards, and you made a mental note to scold them afterwards. After all, what would’ve happened if he wasn’t as kind as he was, then they’d be responsible for ether your banishment or your arrest.

Leaning back into your chair, your eyes flickered across his form, still unable to truly process the person in front of you. While you thought it was sweet of him to come all this way to formally apologize to you, you couldn’t help but think of how stupid he was, wandering around town all by himself. What would’ve happened if someone else were to have recognized him?

Deciding to voice your worries, you spoke, “So, what in the world made you think that coming to the shadiest part of the kingdom all by yourself was a good idea?”

He tilted his head, and it took all of your self restraint to not sigh once more. “I’m not alone,” Pointing towards another cloaked figure hanging by the door, he smiled, “I had one of my trusted knights come with me,”

Before you could even breathe, he glanced over to his side, “Besides, I figured that I should give you this in person,”

Eyes following to where the prince had looked, you finally noticed the rather fancy looking lute sitting by his side, and you felt your jaw drop. Snapping back up to look at him, you gasped.

“Your Highness, I can’t—“

“Shouto.”

When you gave him the most incredulous look, he simply shrugged, taking a sip of his beverage, “We’re far from the castle, there’s no need to call me ‘Your Highness,’ and besides,” he started, a small smirk playing on his lips, “Weren’t you the one who said I shouldn’t bring attention to myself?”

You bit your tongue, doing your best to hold in a smart remark. While it may be true that the two of you are far away from his castle walls, it didn’t mean that you were safe from punishment should he see fit. So, you approached the situation cautiously, making sure that you were clear in your response.

“Shouto,” You started, and you were fairly certain that you could see his eyes light up, “You cannot just show up to give me an expensive lute just because your conscious caught up with you. In fact, you shouldn’t even be here at all,”

You could see his face fall for a second, but before you could even try to soften your original statement, his blank mask was put back on, his lips forming a thin line.

“I came here out of my own volition, only to fulfill a request that you made that night,” Leaning in a bit closer, he raised a brow, “Or do you not remember demanding me to give you a new one?”

Though you usually prided yourself on being able to keep calm in some of the most stressful situations, you couldn’t help the nervous feeling situating itself in the pit of your stomach. After all, it wasn’t every day that you were inches away from the prince’s face.

Taking a deep breath to calm yourself, you spoke once more, “I said many things out of anger, but I didn’t expect you to take that part seriously.”

He didn’t answer you with words, instead bringing the instrument over the table and setting it beside you, to which you immediately pushed it back towards him, your eyes unrelenting. For a few more seconds, the two of you found yourselves pushing the lute back and forth, neither of you wanting to give in.

After what had to have been the fifth or sixth time, the prince sighed, pushing it back towards you for the final time. “I don’t understand why you’re so adamant about not taking it, but you may as well just accept it. After all, you’ll be needing it for the next ball,”

Your head jolted up, eyes boring into his, “Can you repeat that?”

The prince’s eyes lit up once again in mischief, though he did his best to mute his facial expressions. “There’s a ball next month, and I’ve already told my father that you’ll be playing once more.”

“Are you serious—“

“So I suggest that you take the lute and start practicing, perhaps learn a few new songs before the ball,” Standing up, he threw one last smirk in your direction, “Oh, and if I see that you don’t have that lute, I’ll be sure to get you an even more costly one.”

With that, the prince made his way over to his knight, and the two of them exited the tavern, leaving you to wonder just what the hell happened.

So, after a month had passed, and, though you detested it, you learned a few more songs, you found yourself coming in contact with Shouto Todoroki once more. Only this time, rather than being able to blend into the crowd, simply singing and dancing your heart out, you felt a pair of mismatched eyes watching your every move, and, if you were lucky, you could make out the slightest hint of a smile on his features whenever you met his eyes.

Similarly to the last ball, Shouto refused to dance with anyone, choosing to sit upon his throne as he watched the lords and lady’s dance to their heart’s content, and, just like last time, he sat through the multitudes of lords offering their daughters to his father with the promises of alliances that he truly didn’t care for, nor did he need.

However, instead of simply going through the motions, wanting nothing more for the ball to end, Shouto instead focused his sights on you, watching with a small smile on his face as you danced around from person to person. Instead of feeling a sense of resentment towards you like last time, he instead found great joy and entertainment in watching you preform, and he especially enjoyed it whenever the two of you made eye contact, only for you to turn your head, your entire body screaming with embarrassment. Though he wasn’t quite sure why, he could feel his heart speed up whenever you’d give him a subtle wave, a small enough gesture that no one else but him caught. He didn’t know why his face would flush at the sight of you smiling and laughing, or why he wished that he could be the one who made you look like that.

While the prince continued to watch you intently, you found yourself playing your last few songs, your fingers plucking the strings of the lute gifted to you by the stubborn prince. You did have to admit, the instrument he had made for you seemed to be made out of the finest materials, and it had a lovely sound.

As the night grew longer, and you were on your final song, you found yourself growing more bold in your movements, singing even louder and even dancing alongside some of the nobles in the room, whom seem to have enjoyed the show you put on for them. Singing the last few bars of the song, you twisted your body to face the prince, and, with an unfounded surge of confidence filling your body, you gave him a sly wink before bowing to the crowd, taking your leave.

Since you promptly turned around and walked over to your bandmates, you didn’t notice the surprised look developing on the prince’s face. If you’d waited for just a moment longer, you would’ve seen the dramatic shift in color from his usually pale face to a red that could rival the shade of his hair. You would’ve also noticed, had you waited, that Shouto promptly excused himself, an action that wasn’t too unusual for the party hating prince, walking quickly down the steps and out the door in order to reach you.

Just before you could head back into the carriage the King had sent for you, you felt a hand tug at your wrist, preventing you from moving further. Whipping your head around, you made eye contact with Shouto, who also seemed to be just as shocked as you due to his actions. Raising a brow, you stepped closer to the man, giving him a quizzical look.

“Your Highness,” You started, glancing down at where his hand held you, “Is there something wrong?”

At the sound of your voice, Shouto released you from his grip, moving to rest his hands by his sides, “Ah, no, everything’s fine,”

Nodding your head slowly, you took a cautious step towards the carriage, not quite sure if you were dismissed. When you noticed the downcast look upon the prince’s face, you bit your lip, weighing your options carefully. Deciding that you may as well gamble with fate, you spoke up:

“It was nice to see you again, Shouto,” You started, giggling as the prince looked up at you with shock, “Even though it was entirely your fault for this,”

With that, you stepped one step further, grabbing one of his hands in yours and pressing a soft kiss to the back of his hand before waving goodbye, entering your carriage. As you entered, you watched the prince’s face turn from one of shock to one you couldn’t quite read. Just as the carriage was about to take off, with you wondering if you’d insulted him just now, you watched in surprise as he clambered into the seat beside you, shutting the door quickly behind him.

“What are you doing?” You hissed, looking out the window to see if anyone had seen him.

Luckily for you, the only person who had seen the prince enter in with you was your coachman, and you supposed you could pay him off to keep his mouth shut. However, that still left you with the confusion as to why the prince jumped in beside you. As you continued to stare at him for an answer, he began to stumble over his words, something so uncharacteristically charming.

“I—“ He started, immediately cutting himself off as he tried to better answer your question, “Well, I’m not really sure what to say. My body was moving on its own,”

You gave him the most dry look you could’ve mustered, though you couldn’t find it in you to be irritated. Sighing, you leaned back into your seat, raising an eyebrow at the man. “You do know that I could be in serious trouble if you come with me, they’d think that I kidnapped you,”

He giggled at that, a sound that you wanted to hear more of. “Ah yes, the bard and serial kidnapper, (Y/N),”

You weren’t sure why, but the way he said your name made your heart flutter. However, you pushed that feeling down immediately, staring at him with a serious look in your eye. He seemed to understand the situation, opting to speak once more.

“I’m truly not sure why I jumped in, all I know is that I wasn’t ready to say goodbye just yet,” He smiled at you, taking your hand into his, “You make me feel so many different emotions that I have yet to feel,”

You scoffed, yet you still let him hold your hand, “Oh really? Like what?”

“Envy,” He stated simply, before his face grew into an even bigger grin, “Amusement, happiness, and perhaps a few more that I can’t quite describe,”

He leaned in closer, and you felt your throat dry, watching as he simply stared at you. You wanted both to kick him out of the carriage to save face, and to pull him even closer, though you weren’t quite sure which urge was stronger. In all honesty, you hoped that he couldn’t hear how quickly your heart was beating, not wanting him to get an even bigger ego boost than before.

The two of you continued to stare at one another, neither of you making a move until the coachman coughed awkwardly.

“Miss,” He started, his voice catching both of you off guard, “Should we be heading off?”

Looking to the source of the voice, then back at the prince in front of you, you watched as he leaned in closer to your ear, whispering, “I’ve already told my guard to cover for me, I’ll be fine,”

Pursing your lips, you didn’t take your eyes off of the man in front of you as you called out, “Yes, let’s go.”

Rather than having him take you back to your home, you instead had the coachman take you to the center of the city, where the festivities never ended and the two of you could blend in without a trace. Before the two of you exited the vehicle, you quickly shoved off any symbols of royalty that cladded Shouto’s figure. He watched in amusement as you hastily took off his cloak and royal broaches, not bothering to help you one bit. As you sat back a bit, trying to see how he looked, you shrugged your shoulders, figuring that it was as good as it was going to get.

“You just look like a wealthier man,” You sighed, tugging his hand as you exited the carriage, “I suppose that’ll have to do,”

“I am a wealthier man,” He pointed out, waiting for you as you paid a hefty amount to the coachman, hoping that it would buy his silence.

You simply waved your hand, as if dismissing him. Pulling him into the center, you began to show him the many attractions and foods that were in the city. You wanted to show him more of what he never got to see, wanted him to experience more than he ever got to do. Watching him stare in awe of the sheer amount of stalls that were open for the night market made your heart soar, and you couldn’t help but giggle whenever he’d ask you what something was. You allowed yourself to be pulled in every direction, letting him choose where he wanted to go, and what he wanted to try. There was one moment when you lost him in the crowd, being pulled away from his side. You were panicked at first, worrying that someone would’ve recognized him, and then the two of you would be in trouble. However, when you felt a hand intertwine with yours, you felt yourself let out a huge sigh, scolding him gently for leaving your side. He apologized with a cheeky smile, telling you that he got distracted by something.

For the rest of your time in the city, the two of you never disconnected your hands.

As the night began to wind down, you pulled him towards a clearing in the park, finding some space where no one could bother the two of you. Sitting down on the grass, you motioned for him to join you, staring out to watch the river’s current. You could feel his presence beside you, his body emanating a comforting warmth that almost had you leaning into him. Staring out into the horizon, neither of you spoke, instead opting to simply enjoy the moment with one another.

It was surprising to you, just how well you seemed to get along with the prince. Though your first impressions of one another weren’t exactly something to marvel over, you were surprised by just how well your personalities went together. It felt as though you had known each other in another life, as if you grew to care for one another then, and it was flowing over to the present. Though you weren’t one to believe in myths such as that, you couldn’t help but smile at the idea of having known the prince in a past life, and you wondered what you’d done to be lucky enough to meet him once more.

Turning your head to the side, you made eye contact with Shouto, whom, once caught, whipped his head to the other side, a steady blush rising from his neck. Throwing your head back, you let out a laugh at his actions, amused with how he responded. Scooting just a bit closer, you bumped his shoulder with your own.

“Enjoying the view?” You teased, giggling harder when his face became a bright red.

Glancing at you from the corner of his eye, he smiled. “If I was?”

You playfully rolled your eyes, doing your best to keep the heat from rising to your own face. “Can’t blame you, really,”

Shouto let a laugh out at that, tilting his head back at the sound. Once more, the two of you grew silent, with nothing but the far away chatter from the townsfolk filling the night air. As the night grew colder, and the sky turned from a violet shade to a pitch black void, you turned your head to look at Shouto, giving him a sad smile.

“Well, you should probably head back now, wouldn’t want the King to start a war looking for you,”

He scoffed, but nonetheless stood up, extending a hand for you to take. Once the two of you stood up, with you brushing off your lap for any excess debris, Shouto continued to hold your hand in his, not ready to let you go just yet. When you noticed that he was making no effort in leaving, you gave him a quizzical look.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, before deciding to tease him a little, “Don’t tell me you don’t know how to get home,”

Rather than feeding into your teasing like normal, he instead fished for something in his pocket with his free hand, fumbling for a bit before finally pulling out a simple locket, one that you’d been not so secretly eyeing since the two of you got there.

It was by no means an extravagant necklace, it was just a simple gold locket, the shape of a small oval and a chain that went down to your collarbone. You looked from the necklace in his hand back to his face, confusion taking over your features.

“Didn’t I tell you last time that I didn’t want you to go and buy me things?” You questioned.

He nodded, taking his hand out of yours and putting the necklace on you, his hands brushing the back of your neck for a moment longer than they needed to. “If there’s something you should know about me, it’s that I usually don’t comply,”

You huffed out a laugh, doing your best to disguise your flustered state, though you were sure he could read you like a book. “You know, if you keep buying me things, I’m going to get used to it,”

“Maybe you should,”

Before you could even protest, he moved in closer, pressing a kiss to your cheek. It was so soft and his movements were so unsure that you weren’t quite sure that you hadn’t imagined it. Touching the spot where his lips had rested, you looked up at him in shock, though he refused to make eye contact with you once more.

“I hope to see you again, (Y/N),” He spoke, clearing his throat as he began to walk away.

You didn’t let him get far, however, as you quickly tug on his wrist, and as he turned to ask what you needed, you pressed your lips onto his, giving him a sweet kiss. At first, you felt him stiffen beneath you, and just as you were about to move away, to apologize immediately, he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you in closer.

For a few minutes, the two of you simply stood in the darkness, pressing soft kisses to each other’s faces, basking in the glow of your reciprocated feelings. However, you knew that he needed to be back soon, if not for fear of being found out, then because the night was much too dangerous for a royal like him. Reluctantly, you pulled away from his embrace, giggling at his pout.

“You really need to get going now,” You said, brushing his hair away from his face, “You’re sure to be in trouble if they find you missing,”

He sighed, not wanting to move away, but knew you were right. Resting his forehead on yours, he gave you one last kiss, smiling hopefully at you. “So, can I see you again?”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re the prince, you could send your knights to come and collect me at any time,”

When he gave you a flat look you grinned, nuzzling your nose into his neck. “Of course you can, just say the word and I’ll be there,”

Giving you one last bright smile, he finally detached himself from you, his face lit up in pure excitement.

“Then, how about tomorrow?”

Just like that, the two of you ended up spending as much time as you possibly could together, whether it be due to his father hiring you for the balls he hosted, or when Shouto snuck out of the castle to you. Though you couldn’t see each other every day, on the days that you could see each other, it felt as though you’d never even left the others side.

You’d spend your days together mostly exploring more of the city, as Shouto had mentioned to you that, being the heir to the throne, he wasn’t allowed to be outside much. You made sure to give him all of the experiences he wanted, even the simple, mundane ones like going to the local bakery to buy some desserts. Other times, the two of you would simply lounge around outside, with Shouto’s head resting against your back as you strummed your lute, softly singing a ballad you had learned on the road.

Of course, the two of you never really defined your relationship, and, in all honesty, you were afraid to even try to. You knew what you were getting yourself into, you knew that you shouldn’t hold such affection for the Crown Prince, but you couldn’t help it. You couldn’t help the way your heart fluttered whenever he looked at you, how you felt as though you were soaring whenever he touched you, or how you felt as though you were unstoppable whenever he kissed you. Deep in your heart, you knew that this wouldn’t last forever, that he’d eventually have his duties to attend, and you’d simply be a distant memory for him. However, you couldn’t bring yourself to worry about that now. Instead, you simply worried about the smaller things, such as making sure Shouto didn’t hurt himself, or making sure that no one would recognize him.

You didn’t realize just how short your time with him would be.

On a bright, warm, summer day, you waited outside of the castle walls, hidden away from any of the guards patrolling the outside. Today you were supposed to be going on a picnic with Shouto, perhaps just bask in the sun’s rays. It had been a few days since you’d last seen him, since an old friend of the King was coming to visit, and Shouto was to help entertain them. Of course, you’d been understanding of the situation, simply telling him that you’d wait. So, when the day finally came that one of his most trusted knights had shown up at your door to personally deliver a letter from the prince, asking if you’d join him for a picnic, you were quick to agree.

Resting on the wall, you let out a small sigh. He was running a bit late, but you figured that he was probably just trying to find an excuse to leave his father. As you turned around to face the entrance to the castle, you noticed a carriage coming in at the front. You watched as a familiar head of red and white hair popped out of the carriage, making a small smile cross your lips. However, before you could even breathe, you noticed another figure come out beside him:

A rather regal looking woman had stepped out of the carriage beside him, linking her arm in his as she whispered something to him, giggling. As the two were making their way towards the castle, you watched the mysterious woman stare up at him with a look that you knew very well, holding your breath as you saw her pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. You watched as he didn’t push her away, instead allowing her to latch onto him. Humming to yourself, you watched as his eyes wandered around, finally locking with yours, his eyes going comically wide. But you didn’t bother waiting around to see what he’d do. Instead, you simply frowned, making your way back towards the city, deciding that it’d be a lovely day to go and busk in the park.

For the rest of the day, you found yourself seated on the grassy ground, strumming the lyre that you’d exchanged for your lute at home, singing to your hearts content. You ended up making good tips, and you ended up having an audience by the end of your final song. Once you had finished, you bowed slightly towards the crowd, before moving to head back into town, hoping that you could get a drink before heading home.

However, fate seemed to enjoy playing with your emotions.

Just as you were nearing your favorite tavern, you heard a voice call out to you, followed by a hand catching your wrist. Turning around, you found yourself facing a green haired knight, who looked to be out of breath.

“Sir Midoriya,” You started, turning so you could better face him, “How can I help you?”

He took in a deep gulp of air before shuffling through his belongings, eventually settling on a folded piece of paper, handing it to you. Curiously, you slowly opened the piece of parchment, scoffing as you looked at the location Shouto had wanted you to meet up. Folding the note back up, you handed it back to Midoriya, giving him a smile full of venom.

“Sir Midoriya, please do me a favor and tell His Royal Highness that he can go and fuck himself for all I care,” Giving the man a bow, you entered the tavern, only to quickly turn back and add, “Word for word, please.”

As you slammed the door shut, you thought that would be the end of it, though you supposed that was just wishful thinking. Once the beautiful blue sky of the afternoon had turned into a rosy pink color, you found yourself sitting in one of the more seclusive parts of the tavern, watching the patrons of the bar as you slowly sipped on your drink. You weren’t drunk by any stretch of the word, having not really been in the mood to be throwing up your guts the next day, though as soon as you heard the door open, and your eyes landed on a familiar looking figure, you wished that you had been.

You watched as mismatched eyes scanned the crowd, eyebrows raising just a hair when his eyes met yours. Figuring that leaving was no longer an option, you waited for the prince to make his way over to you, wanting nothing more than to get this conversation over with. As he finally sat down in front of you, his eyes boring into yours, you took a long swig of your drink, letting out a sigh as you swallowed.

Setting the mug down, you crossed your arms. “Long way away from home, Your Highness,”

At the sound of his title, he flinched, but he didn’t let that deter him, “(Y/N), let me explain—“

“What’s there to explain?” You questioned, your head tilting in almost a mocking manner, “I get it, you’re a prince. You were going to marry some rich girl eventually, there’s nothing to talk about.”

“(Y/N)—“

“It’s not like we had a chance anyways, it was all just supposed to be fun, right?” You asked, putting on a guarded smile.

He sighed, and you could tell you were getting under his skin. “Would you let me explain?”

When you didn’t say anything, he took it as his chance to go. “I didn’t even know of her until a few days ago. She’s the daughter of one of the most influential Lord’s in the kingdom, and apparently my father made a deal with him, that’s why I’ve been with her,” He reached out to hold your hand, inwardly letting out a breath of relief when you didn’t pull away, “I never wanted this to just be ‘fun,’ and you know that,”

You let out a laugh, though it’s devoid of any humor. “I didn’t think that you were hiding some secret wife, Your Highness, but her being here just reminds me of how different we are. I’m not royalty, and there’s certainly no way that your father would let you be with some random commoner, so is it really worth it to prolong something that’s bound to break?”

“You don’t have to be royalty, I could always,” He trailed off, but you knew what he was getting at.

“Do you really think he’d let you get away that easily?” You asked, and when he didn’t respond you continued, “Besides, you shouldn’t throw away the rest of your life for some random bard, Your Highness. Don’t make this harder than it needs to be,”

Pulling your hand away from his, you stood from your seat, giving him a small bow as you walked towards the front door, but not before whispering to his knight to take him back. As you opened the entrance of the tavern, you looked back at the prince you left behind, your heart cracking slightly as you touched the locket on your neck. Smiling, you let the door shut behind you, closing that chapter of your life.

About four months after the last time you saw the Prince, you heard news that he was to marry one of the Lady’s from a dukedom not too far away from the kingdom, one that had a monopoly over some profitable trade routes. Though the King insisted it was a marriage of love, word quickly spread amongst the townsfolk that the Prince was not particularly fond of his bride-to-be, but none of them dared to speak it.

A year later, the Prince had married his “sweetheart,” and you had found another. While you loved them dearly, you still couldn’t deny the hole in your heart, one that longed to be filled, yet would never be completely whole.

One night, when your lover had long since gone to bed, you sat out in the night, letting the cool breeze wash over you. As you looked up to the stars, you could faintly make out a constellation of two lovers, and, as your hand went to touch the locket sitting above your heart, you prayed to any deity that would listen to you, pleading with them to bring you back to your prince in the next life, and that next time, the two of you could finally be happy.

Little did you know, that in a castle not too far away from you, a certain prince was looking at the very same stars in the sky, praying for the same thing.

#bnha #mha #bnha imagines #mha imagines #bnha x reader #mha x reader #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #todoroki shouto #todoroki shoto #shoto todoroki #todoroki x reader #todoroki shouto x reader #todoroki shoto x reader

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desiree-harding-fic · 4 years

Text

The Phantom of the Opera but Taakitz

In which Kravitz fails pretty spectacularly at Phantoming but he’s trying very hard. Taako fails at “damsel-in-distress”-ing but to be fair he’s not really trying.

My parents were watching Phantom and my brain went taakitz because you know... spooky one and pretty one. But then I had to make it fit, and idk y’all. It’s pure silliness. Lmk if you want a kissin’ part bc if you do I have like 1/3 of that written. Thanks to @fandomsnstuff for encouraging me in every way to post XD

@herbgerblin >:333

*~*~*~*~*

Taako woke up not knowing where he was.

Which was, to begin with, just a massive red flag.

His head hurt. He felt heavy. And where the fuck was he? All he could see was grimy stone brick, and on them, softly flickering candlelight - and the sound of - was that water? He was having a hard time breathing - Lup’s fucking corset, he swore this was the last time she convinced him to take place in some fucking hairbrained scheme -

He shoved himself up to sitting and was immediately assaulted by a voice -

“LUP TAACO, I HAVE BROUGHT YOU HERE TO -”

“What the fuck?!” Taako shouted, leaping to his feet, and then the fucking skirts got tangled and then the floor underneath him tipped -

And taako was wet. He was in water, in all these fucking skirts and he was wet and Lup was going to pay for this.

He pushed himself up again, sputtering, and thank god it wasn’t very deep, he didn’t know what he’d do if was forced to swim in this ridiculous outfit -

The voice came again.

“MISS TAACO, YOU HAVE BEEN SUMMONED TO THIS SANCTUARY OF MUSIC TO-”

“I’M NOT LUP!!” Taako shouted desperately, just to get it to shut up, the voice that was splitting his fucking head in two, and trying to arrange the soaking wet gown into some semblance of order, and he didn’t know where he was, and he woke up here, which was just - there was something immensely wrong with that because Taako didn’t remember going to sleep.

“TO- I’m sorry?”

“I’m not Lup!!” Taako shouted again, throwing his hands up in frustration, and giving up on the stupid dress, and looking toward the direction of the candlelight, and the whoever was standing there screaming at him, and - huh.

A man, half his face obscured by a mask meant to look like a skeleton, in a suit that looked more at home at the opera (where Taako was a moment ago - or it seemed a moment) than - was this a fucking sewer? - and a full on-cloak atop that, and a fucking ridiculous hat-

As Taako’s eyes adjusted to the dark, he could see more of the man’s face, which was, even with the one eye obscured, contorted into an expression of confusion.

He may have registered, distantly, that he also looked rather handsome, but fuck that honestly, because Lup’s corset was cutting into his side and he was wet and - and his brain wasn’t working. He was in the opera house, and then Lup - Lup had begged him to switch clothes because please< Taako, I can’t get Grimaldis to quit following me, please, just to throw him off - and then he was going out the stage door, but he didn’t get there… he didn’t get there because-

“Did you fucking kidnap me?!” he shouted.

“I - I didn’t - you’re not Lup Taaco?”

“No!! Fucking - look at me!” he gestured to the ruined dress, the way it hung, now clearly fitting ill - “Do I look like Lup to you?!”

“Yes! Well, no, I mean, but you - but you- you’re wearing her clothes!” The man sputtered.

“And?!” Taako shouted, “you don’t fucking know me, kemosabe! I can wear whatever the hell I like!” The man, whoever he was, was standing on some kind of shore, and Taako, sick of standing in waist-deep water, started hauling up his skirts and wading toward it. “And that’s another thing! Who are you to fucking - get off kidnapping my sister?!”

“I - No!” Tuxedo Man said, stumbling back further from the shore as Taako advanced, “it’s not like that, I - I can see where you’d think, but I - I didn’t want to -”

“Didn’t want to what?!” Taako continued, finally stepping out of the water, the heavy gown dripping on the stone, so much heavier soaked like this. Taako couldn’t take it anymore. If he had to fight this motherfucker over his sister’s honor or whatever, he wasn’t going to do it in a goddamn evening gown. He started tearing at the clasps at back of it, the ties, anything to get the fucking thing off of him.

“You mistake me for my fucking sister,” he fumed, “which firstly, you’re stalking my sister, apparently, so you’re gonna fucking die - and then you -what? Fucking chloroform me and drag me to some kind of sewer sex-dungeon god knows where, what am I supposed to think?!” The outer-most layer of the gown finally came off, and Taako flung it into the water behind him because honestly fuck this.

“No!” the masked man said, shaking his head furiously, “I didn’t - I didn’t mean anything untoward!”

“I think kidnapping is pretty untoward-”

“I wasn’t going to do anything to - I don’t - it’s not a sex dungeon!” he cried, “I don’t even like her!”

“OH?!” Taako said, and god, he wished he could get the corset off, because he was really running out of breath with all the shouting - “what’s your name, thug, because I’m about to-”

“Kravitz, but - Wait! No! I - I - please don’t, I didn’t mean any harm, I was - I was just trying to give her a violin lesson!”

“Give my sister a violin lesson?” Taako growled, “She’s the goddamn concert master of the Paris Opera I think she knows how to play the violin pretty fucking well-”

“It’s just the solo in the third scene of act five!” Kravitz pleaded, actually pleaded, and Taako supposed that was a point in his favor somehow, but still, “She - she keeps - the phrasing is all wrong, and it’s the climax of the piece, and I couldn’t stand it-”

“So you were going to kidnap her?” Taako said, completely dumb with disbelief because who did this motherfucker think he was - “Who are you to give notes on her fucking performance, huh?”

“I’m the composer!” Kravitz said, throwing up his hands.

That stopped Taako in his tracks, because what? Of all the off the wall lies to get him off the hook, that’s what spooky Kravitz went with? The composer of the opera taking Paris by storm. The opera that just had its run extended another two months. And sure, sure he might as well fight the skull-mask man in the fucking - sewers, he guessed, while wearing his sister’s evening wear, the composer of her fucking opera, who wanted to kidnap her for a violin lesson in the sewer because sure! Taako’s life was already so goddamn weird, he figured this might as well happen too, why the hell not?

Maybe he didn’t wake up at all. Maybe this was all one horrible, drawn-out nightmare. Maybe he’d been hit over the head and this was his brain’s last fanciful imagining before he went out.

He buried his face in his hands, tried to breathe deeply. And then couldn’t. Because of the corset.

Ok, he thought, if this is a dream, it has to end now, because I figured it out. I’m dreaming. Time to wake up.

He counted to five and then peeked out from between his fingers. Spooky skele-man Kravitz was still looking at him. In the moment, without all the screaming, Taako managed to just get a better look at him. He was leaning back against something that looked like a manual for an organ. Weird, but then again, no weirder than the whole. Sewer-dwelling skeleton thing.

There were a few things Taako could do. He could fight the skeleton composer man, who, the more Taako looked, didn’t cut nearly as imposing of a figure as he did a moment ago. Or he could play things out.

The thing was, Taako wasn’t particularly a fighter. And Kravitz the skele-man had kidnapped him once that evening. And getting flustered when Taako shouted at him didn’t mean that he wasn’t capable of taking Taako if he made good on his threats.

And Taako was tired.

Taako sighed, removed his hands from his face. Pinched the bridge of his nose. He was so tired. His head felt like someone had reached down into it and was pulling it slowly apart from each side.

“Uhm,” Kravitz said, “are you alright?”

“No,” Taako groused, and then sighed. He removed his hand. “I would love to kick your ass, darling, because no one stalks my sister and lives, but first,” he gestured to the whole… rest of his get-up. “Would you mind lending a guy a hand in getting this off? It’s fucking cold and ‘chaboy’s gettin’ real tired of not being able to take a complete breath.”

“I’m sorry?” Kravitz squeaked. His voice sounded about two octaves higher than before. His eyes, just for a moment, flickered over Taako’s body, panicked, and - well. That was interesting, wasn’t it.

“The clothes, Kravitz,” Taako said, purposely evoking his name. “Please? I’m wet as all hell and fucking freezing, and if I’m gonna throw you in this water and drown you or something I’d like to at least have a decent range of mobility so if you wouldn’t mind-”

“Um,” Kravitz said, “Please don’t drown me?”

“Gimme that cloak to wear and we’ll see,” Taako said back. Fuck, his head hurt. He was too tired for this.

“I can - I can actually do you one better, if you need me to. I have um…. men’s clothing around the corner if you’d prefer-”

“Fucking fantastic, skeletor, just get a move on.”

“Oh. Alright then, um. Follow me?”

And Taako did. Kravitz pushed himself off the organ and moved to his left, and sure enough, there was something like a corner, and a sort of tunnel, lower-ceilinged, and in it was - well, practically an entire apartment’s worth of furniture, all arranged just-so, with candles perched all about on tables and sconces on the walls. The place was drafty but all the same, it looked quite like Kravitz had made it into a perverted imitation of a home.

Beside the frankly absurd number of candles, and the lakeside organ, there was a series of screens, separating out the space where walls did not. Rugs, slightly tattered and faded. Old brocade armchairs that didn’t match. A desk, ink and pen sitting atop it with scattered papers, and, in the last “chamber” of the long, successive home, a bed and chests in something that looked quite almost like a bedroom.

Kravitz turned around and regarded Taako with a fair measure of confusion as though unsure exaclty what to do next, but after a moment, he fumbled with his gloved hands around his neckline, until he was able to untie the cloak from around his shoulders. He thrust it toward Taako, quite sheepish-looking now behind his half-mask.

“Here,” he said. “You can um… use it to cover up, while I - find you some clothes.”

“Corset first, bones,” Taako said, only just in a small part to watch him squirm. Sex-dungeon indeed. Taako was feeling out the boundaries of the conversation and Kravitz was bashful, of all things. Probably not kidnapping Lup for - well. Probably not that then. Maybe the violin lesson wasn’t an excuse after all.

Taako was beginning to think Kravitz was… well. For lack of a better term, somewhat pathetic. Maybe just insane.

Still, he’d do. All Taako needed was an extra pair of hands. He turned around, back to Kravitz and facing one of the screens. “Help me outta this. I’m not used to the lacing and I need some more eyes. Might have to take the gloves off though. Dexterity, and all that.” That he did say to be mean.

“Oh. Um, yes of course,” Kravitz said, and Taako felt as much as heard him walk up to his back, closer than he’d yet been. Taako felt his hands pulling at the lacing of the corset, felt something come undone, and the constriction lesson by degrees. He pulled in a deep breath. It was heavenly.

For a moment, something frigid brushed against Taako’s back, and he jumped. “Christ!” Kravitz withdrew; Taako could feel that sixth sense of proximity dissipate.

“Sorry,” Kravitz said. “Poor circulation.” His voice was so much softer than before. Something in Taako’s chest twisted at the sound of it. “You should… you should be able to remove the rest of it, now. I can- I’ll get you some clothes. Oh, um.” There was a moment of hesitation from behind him, then he felt the weight of something thick and soft drape over his shoulders, felt Kravitz withdraw again. The cloak. He’d draped it over Taako’s shoulders. It was surprisingly soft. Heavy, too. Warm. Probably did him some good down here.

“There, you can - I’ll get you something to change into.”

Taako felt strangely hot. He busied himself pulling the rest of Lup’s clothes off of him, shivering as they hit the floor with wet slaps. Good god, it really was cold in Kravitz’s - dungeon… or whatever. Even with the many candle flames all around. Removing the corset was a blessing, though. Taako drew in several deep luxurious breaths, pausing in his undressing to stretch. He could hear Kravitz rummaging around in the trunks and chests behind him.

And the rummaging stopped.

“I’m just going to uh… leave these on the bed?” Kravitz’s voice came, “I’ll. I’ll leave you to it,” and he slipped out between a couple of screens, and Taako was alone in his… in his bedroom. In the bedroom of a mysterious masked man who somehow knocked Taako out, dragged him to god only knew where, shouted at him for being Lup and then seemed, inexplicably, very apologetic the moment Taako called him on it.

He supposed stranger things had happened to him in his life.

Then he thought again, and no, they hadn’t.

It was almost disconcertingly silent on the other side of the screen. Taako wrapped the cloak around himself properly, stepping out of the last of Lup’s clothes, and left them in a heap on the floor as he turned around and moved to the bed. He dressed quickly (Kravitz’s clothes weren’t a perfect fit but they worked well enough), draped the cloak around his shoulders to keep out the persistent chill in the air, and stepped out from the screen. Kravitz was standing in the middle of what looked like his sitting room, as though he was waiting for Taako.

Taako crossed his arms.

Kravitz began to speak.

“Mister Taaco,” he said, “you have come to know too much of my domain. I cannot allow-”

“So,” Taako interrupted him, “Are we gonna throw down or what? I promised you an ass-kicking on account of defending my sister’s honor and all.”

Kravitz paused, and Taako could practically feel the frustration coming off of him. “I shall not be taking orders -”

“What happened to your voice?” Taako asked, cutting him off again, because god, what was he doing? “Is that a Cockney accent? What are you going for here?”

“This is how I speak-”

“My dude, we literally had a conversation without you going all Charles Dickens on me like not five minutes ago-”

“Could you let me finish?!” Kravitz finally snapped, accentless once more. “For once?! Please?!”, and Taako just waited, and watched as Kravitz realized what he’d done, as his whole schtick disintegrated before his eyes. “Oh goddamnit all,” he said, throwing up his hands in defeat.

Taako couldn’t help but smile.

“Really nailing it on the whole spooky sinister vibe, my fella,” he said. “Really knocking it out of the park on that one.”

One hand came up to cover Kravitz’s face, laying over his half mask and eyes. Almost like pinching the bridge of his nose.

“It doesn’t usually go like this,” he sighed.

“How do the kidnappings usually go?” Taako teased. And god, what was he doing? He needed to get out of here. It was just that -

“I’m really more adept at hauntings,” his host said forlornly. “The abduction angle is new.”

It was just that everything Kravitz said was stranger, more unexpected, more absurd, more interesting than the last. And… strangely funny. It caught strange corners of Taako’s brain and captured his attention, raising flags and illuminating pathways that he wanted to go down-

But that didn’t mean he wanted to stay. In the dank candlelit sewer, with Kravitz, who, while it was clear he wasn’t a very skilled kidnapper and - whatever his thing was supposed to be here - had still been good enough to get Taako in the first place. And, atop that, was a person who’d just admitted to kidnapping Taako. And who seemed not to be terribly… thrown by the thought of it. Taako didn’t know anyone - well, until now - who seemed to view unwilling abduction as a done thing. No one Taako knew really considered that socially acceptable.

It reminded him that Kravitz, while… intriguing, was by no means safe.

It reminded him that he still needed to get the hell out of there.

“Well,” he started, “the whole production could use some work, kemosabe. Points for the aesthetic,” he gestures vaguely to Kravitz’s getup, and the whole… opulent sewer situation, “but really, Taako’s rating this one a ‘room for improvement’ situation. Nice try, though, points for effort,” he cast his eyes around as he rambled, trying to see if there were any visible exits, but the only way he could see was back the way he came in - through Kravitz’s “house” - past Kravitz.

Nothing for it but to try, he thought.

“Thanks a bunch,” he said, inching forward, “glad to be of assistance workshopping - well, no, not glad, really - but I uh… I’m going to need to be on my way.” He stepped forward, purposeful. Kravitz countered, stepping in front of him, blocking his path. Shit.

“I am terribly sorry,” he said, and the thing was he actually sounded it, “but I really can’t let you do that.”

#phantom of the opera au #taz balance #taakitz #taako taaco #kravitz #silliness hours #hey guys? i love them #also taako got accidentally kidnapped and Kravitz was Not Ready for A+ Elf Rage #He was expecting a trembling damsel #he doesn't realize he got the easy version #imagine if he'd actually got lup #She wouldn't've waited to kill him until after a carefully engineered homoerotic intricate ritual #is this a carefully constructed distraction from the fact that i'm not posting longfic?#yes

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kjhmyg · 5 years

Text

rough edges pt. 4 (m)

pairing: jungkook | (f) reader genre: college!au, badboy!jk warnings: mentions of drugs, implied sex word count: 11K

1 / 2 / 3 / Part 4 / 5

author’s note: no smut in this chapter folks, but i’m posting the next one real soon and you better hold on to your panties for that one. i wanted to show more of jungkook’s pov in this one. enjoy!

Jungkook makes a bee line in the direction of the toilets. He turns the corner at the far end of the dance floor and enters a long corridor. He turns right in the direction of the men’s room, then stops halfway, leaning against the wall that separates the area from the dance floor. The music isn’t as loud here and he sighs, being able to hear his own thoughts for the first time tonight. A couple of other club goers walk past him. He waits for them to be out of sight before digging into the inner pocket of his jacket, taking out his phone. Swiping the screen, he finds multiple notifications of text messages from you. He’s smiling before he even opens them.

They’re mostly pictures of you, back home, where you’re spending Christmas and New Year’s. You’ll only be back in two weeks and he’s counting down the days till then. When you mentioned going home for the holidays, he looked a little down. Not because he didn’t want you to be with family, but because he didn’t want to be without you. You had asked if he wanted to come home with you, but then you both decided it might be a little too early for that. Also, he’s deathly afraid of your dad after hearing how much of a perfectionist the man is. But not wanting him to feel lonely, you promised to send him photos whenever you can.

“I’ll be fine.” He says, tightening the scarf wrapped around your neck. “Besides, Jimin and a few of the guys are gonna be around. I won’t be alone.”

“Alright.” You pout, asking for a kiss. “I’ll miss you.”

The train horn sounds, signalling that it’s about to depart soon. Both of you look in the direction of the train where other commuters are hurrying aboard. “I’ll miss you too, baby. Take care and call me when you get there.”

“I will. I’ll send you lots of pics.” You nod, smiling. You were so excited to go back home but now, having to leave Jungkook behind has you questioning whether you really have to go. “Stay out of trouble, okay?”

He chuckles, kissing your forehead. “I’ll try.”

"See you next year then." You say, lifting your bag over your shoulder. You're sad about having to leave him behind. "Merry Christmas. And happy new year."

"Okay come on Santa, you're gonna miss your train if you don't get on now."

You giggle as he directs you to the train car door. "One more thing." He tilts his head and grins when you stop yourself from getting on the train, and turn to face him instead. You're so stubborn.

"What is it?"

"I love you."

You're still so shy about saying it so openly. He grabs your face and kisses you deeply. "I love you too."

The platform guard starts whistling and you hurry up the train. Jungkook bites his lip at how cute you are, then there’s a sinking feeling in his heart. He doesn’t like seeing you go, even if it’s just for a couple of weeks. But he’d rather not show it to you, because he knows you’d feel bad about it. You rush to your seat and wave to him from the window. He watches from the platform as your train departs, and until he can no longer see you.

He scrolls through the photos you send, noting the family members and friends in some of them but honestly, his eyes only look for you. The scrolling stops when he lands on a photo of you in a dressing room, trying on a light blue dress. It hugs your figure nicely. Too nicely. You definitely know what you’re doing sending him that photo. Oh the things he would do to you if you were standing in front of him right now in that dress.

He closes the chat and clicks on a private folder in his gallery. His tongue comes out to wet his lips and he gulps, suddenly feeling very thirsty as he looks through the photos and videos he has of you. Specifically, a video you sent last night, where you’re laying in bed in your nightgown. Only showing from the neck down at first, the camera then pans to where you’re lifting the fabric up to reveal your bare body underneath. Your hands trace your skin from the top of your chest all the way down, and your fingers find their way to your⎯

“Damn. Does she have a sister?”

Jungkook jolts from his position, pressing the phone to his chest. The other guy chuckles, crossing his arms and leans against the wall, facing Jungkook.

“What the fuck. “ Jungkook breathes, positive he’s just had a heart attack. He looks to the side where Suga stands all smug. “Are you trying to kill me? How long have you been standing here?”

“Long enough.” He winks and Jungkook groans. Jungkook locks his phone and shoves it safely back into the pocket it came from. Suga continues to observe Jungkook. How he gets all clammy when the topic of you comes up. Jungkook should know better than to try and keep secrets from him. “You know you shouldn’t have your personal phone on during work. Much less use it.”

“I know I just...nevermind.”

“It’s that girl, isn’t it?” He smiles his signature gummy smile. “Y/N?”

Jungkook scoffs way too quickly, only confirming Suga’s theory. He raises a brow at Jungkook, who shakes his head and walks off, back towards the main area of the club. He rests against the bar and orders an iced tea without thinking much of it. When Suga joins him, he frowns. “What now?” Jungkook asks, noticing his expression.

“Iced tea?” Suga nods towards the drink and Jungkook blinks, looking at it. “Why are you drinking iced tea?”

Jungkook can’t admit it’s because iced tea is your regular order when you eat out, and it kind of grew on him. He pushes the drink away. “It’s...refreshing?”

Suga laughs, then motions for Jungkook to follow him. They walk past the crowd of people, towards the back exit where security guards the door; one on the inside and one outside. They exchange nods, stepping out into the back alley to find a quiet space, away from listening ears. They lean against a fence wall separating the club ground from a more sophisticated version next door; a gentlemen’s club which they’ve only been to once. It’s a huge contrast. Same type of business just different target audience.

“I’m not stupid.” Suga takes a box of cigarettes out of his pocket and lights one up. “She’s more than a friend, isn’t she?”

“Who?”

“Drop the act.” He rolls his eyes with a shake of his head.

Jungkook drops his head into his hands and groans. Amused by his younger brother, Suga chuckles, ruffling Jungkook’s hair. It’s been a while since he’s seen Jungkook this vulnerable and he’s enjoying it.

It’s been almost two months since the night Suga and you met. Although Jungkook tried his best to redirect the conversation every time a question was sent your way, at the very least, you had given Suga your name. Would’ve been impolite not to, anyway. Suga put two and two together. It became all the more apparent to him why he’s been seeing less and less of Jungkook at work, why he never stays longer than he needs to anymore, and why the car always smells like sex.

“You’re not as slick as you think you are. I’m disappointed.”

Jungkook sighs, then looks at him as he takes a slow, long draw of the cigarette. "Sorry. I know I shouldn't get myself attached to a girl especiall⎯"

"No, not that." Suga smiles. He lowers his voice, "We work with drugs, among other things, so keeping secrets should be your forte. Yet, I find you in a corner, jacking off to a video of your girl."

"I was not⎯" Jungkook pinches the bridge of his nose. "I was just...relieving some tension."

“Right.” Suga throws his half-used cigarette on the ground and steps on it. He crosses his arms across his chest and expression turns serious. Jungkook knows that look. It means he’s thinking over something important. He waits patiently for the older guy to speak. “Listen. Don’t think the others haven’t noticed how distant you’ve been. They don’t know about Y/N yet. You’ve got to be more careful.

“I”ve been covering for you. I told Captain and Lieutenant that your university’s keeping a close eye on you. So you had to lay low. I’m just telling you this so our stories check out. The boss is here. Big boss. And he’s called for us to see him in a bit.”

“What, why? Shit, are we in trouble? This is all my fault.” Jungkook fidgets in his spot. The boss seldom makes an appearance. There’s usually an underboss who passes the necessary information to their captain or lieutenant, who then passes it to them.

"Calm down." Suga frowns. "Since when do you get nervous? You better get yourself together. He's expecting us right about now. Come on, Ace."

Jungkook straightens himself up. Suga walks ahead, back to the club and before Jungkook trails behind, he’s grabbing for his phone again. But this time to switch it off. He doesn’t usually have it on, but he misses you. And waiting till after every shift to be able to see you is torture. Now that it’s off, he can focus. He has to. Suga stops by the door, waiting for him to catch up and they head up to the second floor of the building, down narrow corridors before reaching a room guarded by two of their colleagues. They greet each other and one of the two opens the door for them.

It leads them to a room with a gambling table in the middle. Everyone at the table is serious, silently observing their opponents. Inside, there are four other guards, one by the door, one by the table, and two standing in front of a second door to the back of the room where they’re headed. All of them armed. The two walk quietly across the room and wait as the guards make their presence known to the boss. It’s a makeshift office, where Mr. Kim waits for them. They enter once they hear him call out for them.

“Sit down.” He says as soon as they step inside. The lieutenant, who was sitting on the other side of the table across from Kim, gets up and smiles at them as he takes his leave. At the very least they know it won’t be bad news if he’s not leaving the room looking sullen. They take their seats and wait for instructions.

Contrary to what anyone would expect the boss to look like, he has a kind face. Like someone you’d see in the supermarket grocery shopping for his kids, which makes it easy to get comfortable. That is, until he gets angry. Neither of them have experienced it personally, yet. And they hope not to after all they’ve heard about him. He’s not the boss for nothing.

He gets right down to business with the boys, sliding a tablet across the desk towards them. On the screen, there’s a picture of a vacated building. It looks similar to the one they’re in.

“This is…?” Suga asks.

“A new location.” Kim replies, a smile on his face. “Abandoned a few years ago after it caught fire. Pretty damaged but we’ve got men working on it already. It’ll look good when it’s done in about a month.”

Jungkook notices the address at the bottom of the photo. He thinks about it for a while before realising he knows where this is. “Wait. This is in our district.”

Kim smiles and nods. “It is.”

Jungkook glances at Suga and shifts uncomfortably in his seat. Suga sends him a look that tells him to keep cool. “Sir, is there a reason you’re setting up the new location in my area? I mean, based on my numbers, I think I’ve been pretty consistent in my dealings⎯”

“Calm down.” He chuckles, leaning back into his chair. “Always so serious. No wonder you’re so good at what you do. But no, we’re expanding because business is good. Especially in your district. Stressed college kids who need help winding down, looking for some fun. We’re just bringing the party to them. It’ll make things easier for you.”

“But boss, the cops are gonna be all over the place.” Suga says. “We definitely can’t move as freely there, like we do here. One slip up and it’s over.”

“So don’t slip up.” He says casually, then laughs. “But ah, you’re right. So maybe until we’re clear, we don’t move the drugs there. Let the cops see it’s just another nightclub. Till then, you can continue pushing the drugs as you normally do. Then once we’re clear, we open up business. I’m sure you can figure out the timing, I’ll leave that to you.”

The boys nod. Jungkook sees the appeal, it’ll definitely be easier to have a base in the district itself. It would save him and Suga a lot of time than having to come down all the way to this club to get supplies.

“So who’s the lead on this? The Captain?” Suga asks.

“Didn’t you hear me?” Kim says. “I’m leaving it to you. Both of you will oversee the entire movement there.”

“Us?” Jungkook and Suga speak in unison.

“Yup.” He nods, taking back the tablet. “I’ve been hearing good things about the two of you. If you’re as good as they say, then maybe...you don’t need to answer to anyone anymore.”

“Wait, what are you saying?”

“You two will manage the place. And…” Kim smiles, taking out a black notebook from his drawer and starts to write. “At the same time, you’ll be training some new members. This is supposed to be the Lieutenant’s job but I want you two to have a go at it. The new soldiers will then take over your place in a few years because by then, after Ace is done with college or whatever, you won’t be pushers anymore. I’ll want you on the team. Maybe a captain. Or co-captains. We’ll see.”

Suga and Jungkook look at each other, then back at Kim. There's an obvious glee on Suga’s part. In this business, the only way is up. They don’t take their instructions straight from Kim, there’s usually a captain giving them the orders. But now they’re getting a chance to be captains themselves. Jungkook remains poker-faced as he usually does. On the inside though, he’s a little conflicted. Suga’s happy, is he supposed to be happy too? He thinks about you. Would you be happy?

The boss clears his throat, snapping Jungkook out of his thoughts. He reaches under the desk for a small black briefcase and places it nicely on the table. It unlocks with a click and inside, stacks of money which he’s grabbing by the bundle. He starts counting and places five grand in hundred dollar bills on the table, in front of each boy. The two of them remain seated, looking at the money in front of them. Jungkook looks to Suga quizzically.

“Sir, what’s this for?” Suga asks, attempting to sound casual. “We got our pay from the captain two weeks ago.”

"Just a little Christmas gift from me." He winks.

Again, Jungkook waits for Suga to move before he does, only reaches for the money when the older boy does. He folds the stack in half and keeps it safe in his jacket pocket.

“One more thing.” Kim says just as they start to get up. “I need you to track someone down.” He slides the tablet back to them, this time there’s a photo of a man on the screen. “This is Jax. He owes me money and unfortunately, he’s been avoiding us and our men. There’s word he’s hiding out in your district. See if you can find him and bring him to me.”

They nod and excuse themselves. But before Jungkook steps out of the room, the old man calls out to him again. “I hear you’re having some trouble with your school. Did someone rat you out?”

“Oh.” Jungkook gulps. “No, nothing like that. Just word of mouth maybe. But don’t worry, I’ve been keeping a low profile.”

“Good. If anyone gives you trouble, just take them out.” He says casually, not even looking at Jungkook anymore. “And if you need any backup, let your captain know. Tell him you’ve got orders from me.”

“Right. I will.” Jungkook nods with a half-smile. “Thanks boss.”

Jungkook speed walks out the room, past the gambling table and finds Suga by the door, making small talk with the guards. They walk back down and Jungkook checks the time; a little after three in the morning. The club closes in a few hours, staying open just a little longer during the holidays. The crowd is already starting to wind down, though the music keeps blasting.

“What’s the matter? Bedtime already?” Suga chuckles, speaking over the music.

“I’m tired.” Jungkook says. “Aren’t you going home?”

“Home?” Suga scoffs. “Haven’t had that in a long time.”

Jungkook looks away, sharing the same thought. He just hadn’t realised how he’s started calling the frat house and you, as home. He fist bumps the older boy, then takes his leave, riding home in the early morning on his bike.

𝄖

“Are you awake?” You ask over the phone. It’s early, but the only time you’re able to have a decent conversation with Jungkook, in the privacy of your room and away from the prying ears of your grandmother.

“Now I am.” He hums, still sleepy. He stirred from his sleep as his ringtone goes off from your call, about to switch it off, until he sees your name across the display. “It’s okay, I wanted to hear your voice anyway.”

“I miss you.” You say.

“I miss you too.” He smiles, leaning against the wooden headboard. It presses against his back uncomfortably but it doesn’t bother him, not when he’s busy pressing the phone closer to his ear, listening to the sound of you giggling on the other end. “Feels weird when you’re not just a drive away.”

“Well, now you know how I feel when you disappear for days on end.”

“Hey,” he pouts, “I thought we’re way past that.”

“I know,” you laugh, “I’m just messing with you.”

Jungkook laughs along dryly. It brings him back to what happened at work and what Mr. Kim said. He wonders what you would say if he tells you he’s about to get a promotion. It’s weird; before you, he wouldn’t think twice about anything related to work. Probably would be ecstatic at the thought of moving up the ranks. But now, he wonders if that’s really what he wants.

As much as he hates to admit it, what Hoseok said before is probably true; you’re not going to want to deal with this forever. And you’re definitely not worth losing. You sense that something’s bothering him and after a long pause, you ask him, “Everything alright?”

“Everything is...normal.” He nods, even though you can’t see him. You only hum in response, hoping he’ll tell you when he’s ready. “I’ll tell you when you’re back.”

“Alright.” You say. “Hey, can we facetime?”

“Sure.”

You click on the option and wait for the screen display. When he finally comes on screen, you almost throw your phone across the room. How does he manage to look that good when he just woke up? Ridiculous. But he’s thinking the same about you, the way you’re glowing, like an actual angel. “God I miss your face.” He breathes.

“Life is so unfair.” You pout and he’s confused. “You wake up looking like that? Come on.”

“Are you kidding me?” He scoffs. “Have you seen the way you wake up from a nap with drool on your face? I can’t beat that.”

“Shut the fuck up.” You hiss, not wanting anyone to hear you. “That was one time! And I was really tired.”

You both start laughing and it slowly dies down to you just staring at each other. Jungkook runs a hand into his hair and leans his head against the wall, watching you like he’s trying to memorise everything. You heat up a little under his stare. How do the butterflies still not go away after so long? “Hey Jungkook, merry christmas.”

“Oh, right. Merry Christmas to you too.” Jungkook smiles fondly, trying to ignore the squeezing sensation in his chest. It’s sad, but he thinks this might be the first time someone’s wished him a merry christmas. He’s not usually around for the holidays, so it’s not anyone’s fault. And it’s not like they’re gonna start singing carols and having christmas dinners at the club. Then he clears his throat, interrupting his own thoughts. “So, you must be pretty busy there?”

“Kind of.” You shrug. “Just decorating the house, getting ready for the Christmas dinner tonight. My dad’s pretty stressed about that. He likes everything to be perfect.”

“I can tell.” He agrees and you tilt your head asking how. “Cause you’re perfect.”

You can’t help the smile that forces its way onto your face, looking down to avoid eye contact out of embarrassment. There’s nothing that Jungkook likes more than to watch you react so adorably to his words. He could watch you forever, but then you hear footsteps moving about outside and your expression changes. You haven’t told anyone about Jungkook yet, so you’d rather they not hear you. You lower your voice when you speak, “I think I have to go now.”

“Oh, alright.” Jungkook nods, though he looks obviously disappointed from such a short time with you. “Call me when you can.”

“I will. Bye Jungkook.”

You hang up quickly after he says goodbye. It leaves him feeling empty, suddenly aware of how quiet it is. There’s less of the usual ruckus around the house with most of the boys having gone home. He then wonders about how different it would be to spend Christmas with you, and your family. A sudden longing overcomes him.

To shake it off, he decides to get up, rolling off the bed and tossing his phone back on the mattress. He’s headed for the kitchen but before going down the steps, he realises the soft music coming from Jimin’s room. He walks over and finds Jimin on his bed, singing along to the songs. His knocks on the door, startling Jimin, who smiles wide when he sees Jungkook. It’s not always that the younger guy comes to him, it’s usually the other way around. “Hey stranger.”

“Hey.” Jungkook steps inside slowly, hands in the pockets of his shorts. “Merry christmas.”

Jimin doesn’t hide the surprise on his face. Is this what they call a Christmas miracle? “Merry Christmas to you too, buddy.” From the look on his face, Jimin thinks Jungkook might have more to say, so he pats the area on the bed next to him, but Jungkook shakes his head instead.

“Um, do you want to maybe have lunch later? Or dinner? Only if you want to.” Jungkook clears his throat, trying to ignore the awkward atmosphere.

Jimin grins up at him. “Are you asking me out on a date?”

Jungkook rolls his eyes and turns to leave. “Just let me know when you’re ready. I’ll drive.”

𝄖

It’s not a fancy dinner, and Jimin is fine with burgers and a shake. Jungkook had actually asked Jimin out for help on picking out a gift for you. He wanted a second opinion, since he’s never done this before and Jimin was kind enough not to give him too much shit for it. Of course, it’s not Jimin if he doesn’t drive Jungkook crazy. They spent an hour bickering because Jimin insisted on dropping by planned parenthood to get himself tested.

“Why do you need to do this today?!” Jungkook yells in the car.

“Because we’re already out, Jungkook!” Jimin yells back and Jungkook groans. “I need to get myself tested ASAP!”

“Why didn’t you tell me? Then I wouldn’t have asked you out!”

“Because then you wouldn’t have asked me out!” Jimin can’t help but to let out a chuckle. “And I needed a ride.”

“You are the most annoying person⎯”

“Oh!!! You can get yourself tested too! We can go in together!”

“That’s it, I’m crashing this car.”

For the sake of his own sanity, Jungkook went along with him. But it was only after Jungkook threatened to tell Taehyung that Jimin had a crush on him the first time they met, that Jimin finally shut up. Only to open his mouth ten minutes later to suggest Jungkook give his test results to you as a Christmas present.

“Oh yeah,” Jimin groans, mouth full, “this is definitely better than microwaved mac and cheese. Thanks for bringing me out of the house.”

Jungkook stays quiet, eating his own burger and downing sips of soda. It’s only after a while that he speaks. “I spoke to Y/N, about her and Hoseok.”

“And she said they’re just friends, didn’t she?” Jimin asks, nonchalant. Jungkook nods, not meeting his eyes. “Told you there’s nothing to be worried about.”

“I guess.” He shrugs. “Can I...ask you something?”

“Go ahead.”

Jungkook sets his burger down and takes a long sip of his drink. Jimin eyes him curiously as he does. Everything about today has been strange. Jungkook almost never spends time with anyone outside of school, and even when he does, it wouldn’t be him that makes the first move. “How do I know if whatever choice I’m making is the right one?” Jungkook continues when Jimin doesn’t respond, “Like if you have to choose between two things, how do I know if I’m choosing the right one? Assuming you can’t have both.”

“First of all, I can’t believe you’re coming to me for advice.” Jimin says cheerfully, then gets serious again. “But okay, that’s too vague Jungkook. It really depends on the context.”

Jungkook thinks hard. He doesn’t want to let Jimin know what this is really all about. “Okay so, if you’ve always liked dogs...but now you realise cats are cute too.”

“O-kay...and you can’t have both a cat and a dog?”

“Um,” he thinks, getting confused himself, “maybe the cat’s allergic to the dog?”

“So you want the cat?”

“Yes. But she- it’s allergic to dogs. And I have a dog.”

Jimin blinks. “Yeah, I can’t work with this. Do you want my help or not?”

“Okay okay,” Jungkook whines and Jimin almost snorts at his tone if not for how serious he looks, “what if all you’ve known is one thing but now you don’t think you want that anymore. You want to move in a different direction. How do I know if I’m going in the right direction?”

“You’ll just have to take the risk. Won’t know if you don’t go for it.”

“What if I regret it?”

Jimin stares at him for a while. “You might have regrets either way. That’s life. If you choose that one thing, you might regret not going for the other. If you choose the other, you might regret it because you miss how it was before.”

“So, there is no right choice?”

“That depends on you. Which option would your future self’s happiness outweigh the regret? That’s the choice you go for.”

“Happiness…” Jungkook mutters to himself. What makes him happy? He wonders. But all he sees is an image of you in his head. Jimin snaps his fingers to bring him back.

“Okay? Just do what makes you happy.”

Jungkook nods, silently reaching for his burger again. He continues eating as if nothing happened and so does Jimin. They sit in silence for a while, save for the sound of their chewing. Then Jungkook says ever so softly, “Thanks hyung.”

𝄖

“Are you sure he’s here?” Suga sighs, asking the kid walking ahead of him. He sends a disapproving look Jungkook’s way. “The last couple of places you’ve sent us were dead leads.”

“I think so. I...I⎯I think he’s here.” He stutters and Jungkook has to hold Suga back before the new recruit pisses himself under his death stare. It’s dark and dirty, an old apartment building with floors that feel like it might collapse at any moment with every step they take.

Christmas and the conversation with Jimin pushed to the back of his mind, Jungkook’s back at work, trudging through this place, looking for a wanted man. Next to him, Suga’s seething, “I swear if we don’t get this guy, you⎯” He stops when Jungkook grabs his sleeve, stopping them in their tracks.

“Will you shut up?” Jungkook growls. “You’re scaring him.”

Suga looks offended. “I’m scaring him? Gee, sorry mom, I won’t do it again. Why don’t you ground me while you’re at it!”

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Jungkook hisses.

Suga sighs again, running a hand through his hair, messing it up. The other guy moves ahead when Jungkook nods for him to go on. He continues to search for the right apartment, one which he was told the guy Kim is looking for can be found at. “I’m really tired and this kid is getting on my nerves.” He says, gesturing towards the guy.

“Give him a break. He’s new, it’s not his fault he got assigned to this.” Jungkook whispers. “We’re supposed to train him, remember?”

“I don’t give a f⎯”

“Uh...guys…” The newbie calls out. They turn in his direction and walk towards him, standing in front of an apartment. Door ajar, and a mess on the inside. The window is open, probably from leaving in a rush. Another dead end.

“Fuck.” Suga grunts, storming off in the direction they came from.

Jungkook sighs and turns to the boy. “You can go. Call me when you have new information. But check your sources first.”

He looks at Jungkook sheepishly and mutters a soft apology as Jungkook walks away, catching up to Suga who’s already standing by the car in the back alley. “He sucks.”

“Yeah well, he’s new. And young. Give him a break.” Jungkook stares Suga down. The car door clicks as Jungkook unlocks it and they slide in.

"Hey, we started young too." Suga mumbles, then smiles as he thinks about the past. "Remember? You had such innocent eyes, fooled everyone into giving us intel for Kim. Gave us everything we need. And look at where we are now."

"Where is that?"

"What d'you mean?" Suga cocks a brow at Jungkook, frowns when he doesn't reply. "Did something happen?"

"No, nothing." Jungkook sighs, shaking his head. The car's engine revs up as he turns the key on the ignition. "Just really tired."

"Hang in there." Suga says softly, looking out the window. "If we do well managing the new club, we'll move up the ranks as captains. We won't have to do stupid runs like this anymore. I mean it's fun but it'll be even more fun getting soldiers to do the dirty work for you. Am I right?"

"What if I don't want all that?" Jungkook asks carefully and quietly, immediately regretting it after. They've known each other for a long time; they're practically brothers. Suga knows Jungkook like the back of his hand, or at least he thinks he did. Recently though, Jungkook's been hard to read and acting differently. Suga doesn't like that.

"What the hell are you saying?" His voice is low but Jungkook can sense the frustration in it. "You don't want to be captain? Dude, what is wrong with you, you're acting so weird. Seriously. The normal you would've beaten the crap out of that newbie for leading us to three dead ends! But no, you're all soft now. Talking about giving him a chance and shit…and now you don’t even want to be captain?"

“I⎯” Jungkook opens his mouth but can’t find the right words. He backtracks instead. “Nevermind. Just forget I said anything.”

Jungkook starts driving, heading back to Suga’s apartment to drop him off. After a long silence, Suga speaks again. “I don’t know what’s going on but I hope you don’t make any stupid decisions. Take some time to think things through. Then tell me if you’re in or out.”

Jungkook nodded even though he stopped paying attention halfway. Once he’s dropped Suga off, Jungkook takes a long drive through the night with the windows down. But the cool night breeze does little to clear his mind, so he decides to head to the gym instead.

While he managed to get through his usual workout routine, it didn’t help him forget about what happened earlier either. He didn’t even realise a guy at the reception was speaking to him until they called out his name a couple of times. They wished him a happy new year and Jungkook returned the greeting, collecting his belongings from them.

It’s three days into the new year so things are slowly going back to normal; students returning from their hometown. He was bummed when he got called into work on new years’ eve and had to miss out on a facetime session with you that night like he had planned. He hasn’t been home since and he sighs, feeling exhausted. Thinking about you, he takes out his personal phone and tries to switch it on, but the screen remains black. The battery’s dead. Perfect.

He heads back to the house, driving past other greek houses hosting parties. The house is dark when he walks through the front door, save for the light coming from the television in the living room. Reruns of bad movies are playing on the television and a few guys are on the couch with drinks in their hands. Jimin, amongst them, turns his head when he notices Jungkook, then smiles. He’s drunk. He raises a finger at Jungkook and opens his mouth, then his brows crease and mouth drops into a frown. “Have to tell you something...can’t remember…”

“Cool. Goodnight.” Jungkook heads for his room, leaving him confused.

Jungkook runs up the steps but stops just as he reaches the top. There’s light coming from under his door. Had he left his lamp on before leaving a few days ago? He doesn’t think so. He walks up to it slowly and presses his ear to the door. It’s quiet. Gently, he turns the doorknob and pushes the door open.

Are his eyes playing tricks on him? He looks around the room and sees luggage placed by the bed. They’re yours. And then there’s you, sleeping peacefully in his bed. He closes the door gently and walks over to you, kneeling by the side of the bed. It’s the first time he’s seen you in weeks. Without realising, he cups the side of your face with his palm. Your stir at his touch and he almost regrets it, if not for the cute way you pout and eyes flutter open.

“Jungkook?” You mumble, placing your hand on his.

“Hey baby.” He smiles, moving in to kiss your forehead. “What are you doing here?”

“I came back early.” You say softly. “Hana’s not home yet and I thought I’d come stay with you. I called you, but I couldn’t get through. So I came here.”

Jungkook curses himself for not charging his phone earlier. “And they just let you in?” He asks, keeping in mind the house rules in which non-members aren’t allowed in unless you’re with a member.

“I flirted with Jimin and he let me in.”

“Sounds about right.” He chuckles. While he’d love to slide into bed with you right now, he figures he should clean up first. So he removes his hand from you and gets up, but you grab onto his arm to stop him.

“Where are you going?”

You’re so tired that you drift in and out of sleep. He finds it so endearing. He places your hand back gently and pulls up the covers. “I’m gonna take a shower. I’ll join you in a bit.” You hum in response.

Jungkook’s shower is a quick one. The warm water from the shower doesn’t match up to having you snuggle up against him. He finishes quickly, dries his hair in the bathroom and practically runs back into the room, slipping under the covers with you, wrapping his arms around you. You roll over when you feel him pulling you close, resting your face in the crook of his neck, breathing in the sweet smell of his soap.

Your legs tangle into each other’s and your arm wraps loosely around his waist as his hand rubs your back in gentle movements. For the first time in three weeks, he feels relaxed, falling asleep almost immediately.

𝄖

One day, Jungkook’s waking up in the dark of Suga’s apartment, where the paint is peeling off and it’s vacant save for the couch he sleeps on. The next, he finds himself waking up to something dreamlike; his room in a nice orange glow from the morning sun streaming in, his legs tangled into yours, and you softly tracing your finger over his skin.

A smile forms on his face and he groans sleepily. Even though he’s tired, he chooses to wake up. You feel his hand slide down your back, down to your butt where he rubs circles. You look up and see him smiling, eyes still closed. You scoot up and give him a peck on the lips and get an approving hum from him. Once you’re free from his hold, you roll off the bed to wash up. He watches under sleepy eyes as you undress, stealing glances at him when you slip out of your nightwear.

“Missed you so much.”

You turn, smiling. “I missed you too.”

“Not you,” Jungkook replies, “her.”

You turn, looking around the room. He must be sleep-talking, you think. “What? Who?”

He grins, then throws the blanket off himself to sit on the edge of the bed, reaching out for you. He pulls you in and turns you around so your back faces him. His hands up both sides of your butt. “Her.”

You erupt into a fit of giggles, playfully hitting him with a pillow and he holds his hands up to defend himself. “You’re so stupid.” You laugh, ending up on top of him when he grabs you. “Missed you.”

You stare at each other for some time and he traces your bottom lip with the pad of his thumb. You can’t help but to lean in for a kiss. It starts off as gentle pecks, until he places his hand on the back of your neck and slips his tongue into the kiss. You’ve both missed this. It seems silly when he thinks about it since it’s only been a few weeks. Makes him feel guilty too; all the time he’s gone off the grid and you’ve had to put up with it.

“Mmkay, I’m gonna wash up.” You pull away too quickly but he doesn’t stop you, and his eyes don’t leave you, or your butt, as you put his oversized shirt on and head for the bathroom with your clothes and toiletries.

It’s a short shower, since you figure the rest of the guys might wake up soon. Most of them are back by now, though probably not up yet. So when you hear a knock on the bathroom door, you think it may be Jungkook. Thankfully, you had enough sense not to open the door without getting dressed first.

“Hoseok. Hi.” You try not to sound awkward. By the look on his face, he wasn’t expecting you either. “Sorry if I was taking too long...shower..” You gesture vaguely and he nods.

He must have just gotten home, still dressed nicely but with bags under his eyes. You grab your bag of toiletries and towel before slipping out the door and heading straight for Jungkook’s room. But a hand on your elbow stops you before you can get to safety. You jump a little, surprised at the contact. “Sorry,” he says, “um, so how was your break?”

You look in the direction of Jungkook’s closed door just a few steps away, then back at Hoseok. “Good. It was nice.” You nod and he nods, shoving his hands in the pocket of his jeans. You turn to the door again. And back at Hoseok. It’s not that there’s anything wrong with talking to Hoseok. Afterall, you’ve made it clear to Jungkook that it’s just a normal friendship. But you don’t want him catching on to what really happened between Hoseok and you that evening.

“Can we talk? Maybe in my room, just in case he hears us.” Hoseok speaks softly and gestures to his room at the end of the hallway, in the opposite direction of Jungkook’s.

“Okay but make it quick.” You say, following behind.

You leave the door slightly ajar, so you can keep an eye on Jungkook’s door. “Look,” Hoseok starts, “I wanted to say sorry. I shouldn’t have told you about...everything.”

You cock a brow at him. “Why?”

“I know it got you all stressed out.” He sighs. “And I feel bad.”

“I’m fine now.” It’s not entirely true but it’s not a lie either. You’re still worried about the entire thing. “Don’t worry about me, alright? I’ll figure out how to help Jungkook.”

Hoseok looks at you in surprise. “You will? So you’re going through with my plan?”

“Not really. I’m figuring things out as I go.”

“Huh.” He blinks. “So you don’t have a plan.”

“I’m trying okay!” You hiss. “Give me some time. You can’t expect him to quit his job and turn into a missionary all in one day!”

He breaks into a tiny smile, “Your plan is to turn him into a missionary?”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.” Your cheeks heat up when he holds back a laugh. Sounds from outside distract you and you look through the gap to see Jimin, entering Jungkook’s room. He makes a ruckus and you hear Jungkook telling him to get out. “Anyway, I’ll update you once I get any info. Anything from your friend?”

“No.” Hoseok shakes his head, brows furrowed and looking worried. “He’s been really quiet as of late. Bit weird.”

“Maybe he’s busy.” You shrug and Hoseok chews on his bottom lip. "Okay I should go."

"Right right, you should." Hoseok rubs the side of his neck as he manages a small smile. He's acting weird. You quickly slip out of his room and head straight for Jungkook’s. Only to bump straight into Jimin who’s exiting the room in a hurry.

“Y/N!” He breathes, hiding behind you. “Your boyfriend’s trying to kill me.”

“I’m sure he has a good reason for it.” You giggle, just as the door swings open and Jungkook sees you, then turns his attention to Jimin and lunges forward. Jimin screams but Jungkook’s only reaching for you to get you away from him.

“Stay away, demon.” Jungkook hisses.

“What is going on….” You mutter to yourself while you hang the towel behind the door.

They get into a scuffle as Jimin tries to enter the room again and Jungkook holds him back. It barely takes any effort on Jungkook’s part and all you hear is Jimin grunting. You sit on the bed, waiting for it to end.

“I just⎯ need,” Jimin huffs, then kicks Jungkook in the nuts. Jungkook bends over and falls on his knees, groaning. “I’m sorry! I need to talk to Y/N!” Jimin says, taking the chance to jump over Jungkook and step inside, bending over to catch his breath.

“Oh my god,” You gasp, hands to your mouth. “Jungkook are you okay?”

“Don’t worry about him, he’s immortal.” Jimin says, stopping you from going to Jungkook. He sits you down again and pulls out a piece of folded paper from his back pocket. “I need you to look at this.” He hands you the paper and stands in front of you with hands on his hips.

“Um? An STD test?” You ask. It’s his and you’re confused as to why he’s handing you this.

“Now that you’ve seen this and know that I’m clean, would you say it increases the chances of you going out and or, having sex with me?”

Jungkook gets up just then and goes straight for Jimin, tackling him to the ground. “How dare you.” He grunts, pinning Jimin’s arm behind his back. “She’s my girlfriend!”

“You’re hurting me!” Jimin cries. “Let me go, I’m not interested in Y/N!”

Jungkook releases his hold, reluctantly, when you tell him to. He stands with his arms folded, watching Jimin carefully. Jimin breathes hard, holding on to his right shoulder. He glares at Jungkook from the floor and punches his thigh, only to hurt his own hand doing so. He screams when Jungkook fakes a kick.

“What are you up to?” You ask Jimin, sighing.

“I’m not trying to sleep with you.” Jimin huffs. “I just wanted to know if it’s a yes or a no.”

“Well, I honestly don’t know. It depends.”

Jimin gasps. “On what? I don’t usually get rejected…”

“Usually?” You eye him curiously and he avoids your stare. “Ah...I see what’s happening.”

Jimin furrows his brows at you. You only smile back knowingly. It’s amusing to think about how he’s older than you but behaves so childlike sometimes.

“You asked a girl out and she rejected you.”

He remains stoic for a beat until he can’t take the silence. “Fine, yes! She mentioned something about me being a fuckboy. So rude.”

“She’s not wrong.” Jungkook mutters, going to sit next to you.

“So anyway, I took the test to show her that I’m safe.” Jimin says, pouting. “But she still won’t go out with me.”

“Maybe it’s not about that?” You shrug. “She probably just doesn’t like you. No offence.”

“That’s crazy, I’m so lovable.”

“You’re disgusting.” Jungkook comments.

“Look, just leave her alone.” You say. “If she likes you, you’ll know.”

“But I need to know why she doesn’t like me...” He whines and you chuckle.

“Why does it matter if she likes you or not?” You ask, eyeing him again. He fidgets under your stare. “Unless...you like her?”

“I don’t!” Jimin jumps to his feet. “I just don't understand why she would not want to hang out with me.”

You watch him with a knowing look. Jungkook furrows his brows and puts a hand up to him, “Wait. Did you take this test and force me to get it done with you, then show it to Y/N so you can get some advice, all for this girl? Wow.”

“Shut up! I hate you guys!” Jimin yells, storming off.

Jungkook smiles, “Yeah he’s definitely into her. I know from experience.” He leans in to capture your lips in a kiss, one which you smile into. Your hands move down his bare front, teasingly tracing his abs. “Any plans today?” He asks breathily when he pulls away.

“Hm...I have a lot to unpack. Let’s go back to my place.” You smile, noting the way he pouts. “You can help me.”

“I have a better idea.” He smirks, hand around your waist as he moves back and pulls you on top of him. “We can stay in bed.”

“Sure I guess.” You shrug. “But you know Hana’s not around right? So we have the entire place to ourselves, to do whatever we want.” You whisper the last part against his lips and he knows you’re just trying to lure him in, but he’s so weak when you use that voice on him.

“I’ll go get ready.”

𝄖

“Why are we here again?”

You turn and stare quizzically at your boyfriend, whose sulky face leaves you in giggles. There’s nothing more fun than watching a grumpy guy pushing a cart through the supermarket. “To get groceries, duh.”

“Why?” He frowns.

“What do you mean why? Cause we need food. You know, to survive.” You tilt your head. “Have you never gone grocery shopping?”

“No.” He shakes his head.

“What? Then who gets the groceries at the house?”

“I don’t know.” He blinks. “Probably everyone else.”

“God, you are such a horrible housemate.” You mutter and he doesn’t react, suddenly wondering, who does get the groceries?

You hear him grumble once he realises you’ve walked ahead, followed by the sound of the wheels of the cart against the floor, speeding up to catch up with you. You don’t actually need the cart, you just wanted to make him push one. It’s amusing, especially since he looks so cute doing it.

You breeze through the supermarket, already knowing what to get since Hana and you follow a strict list of things to get. Only the necessities, to save cost. It’s only when you reach the jam and spreads aisle that you get stuck. “Hm...chunky or creamy?” You think to yourself.

Jungkook waits patiently as you decide. He’s standing next to you with the cart in between. He stares as you tilt your head and pout a litte, then smiles at how adorable you look even when you’re just standing there. He pulls out his phone and snaps a shot of you. Just as he shoves the phone back in his pocket, you turn to him. “Chunky? Or Creamy?”

“Why not both?” He shrugs.

“Because we have a budget.” You shrug.

He sighs, then leaves his position from behind the cart to stand next to you. He looks at your two options. "Chunky."

"Hm," you pause, "I think I'll get creamy."

Jungkook stares at you, puzzled as you reach for the jar and move around him to place it in the cart. You smile up at him innocently and get on your toes to give him a kiss. Maybe he'll forgive you this time. When you see a tiny smile forming, you skip away down the aisle and turn into the next one.

It suddenly hits Jungkook. Would this be how it's like to have a normal life with you? Whatever normal is. He's still in the same spot thinking about how domestic this all seems, when he sees you return with a stack of tissue boxes, a grin on your face when you see him.

"You alright?" You ask when he doesn't move or say anything.

He manages a smile. "Yeah, I'm fine. I was just thinking."

"About what?"

"You." He says almost immediately.

A shy smile makes its way onto your face and you bury your face into his chest. He chuckles and kisses the top of your head. When you pull away, you stare at him for a while, giving him a once-over.

"I love your outfit today."

"You chose my outfit today…" He rolls his eyes but there's still a smile on his face.

You decided on a white sweater with blue jeans for him. He looks less intimidating and absolutely adorable when he's not decked in all black or his favourite leather jacket. It's not like you went out of your way, he already had these items sitting in his closet.

"Come on," he says, pushing the cart and holding your hand at the same time, "let's finish up and go home."

"Okay. Actually I think we're done."

"No, we need one more thing." You look at the items in the cart and tally them against your list. Everything's there. Still, you follow behind as Jungkook speeds up and finally stops in front of⎯ "We need lube." He says way too loudly.

You shush and cover his mouth, looking around. "What are you so loud for?" You whisper.

He chuckles and kisses the palm of your hand. Then he reaches for a bottle of lube, reading its description. "Look, this one has a warming effect."

A man walks past just then and you hide your face in embarrassment. Jungkook tries to hide his smile but fails. He's obviously enjoying this. He grabs your waist and presses you against his side. "Should we get this?" He asks, winking.

You snatch the bottle from his hand and return it to its place on the shelf, grabbing another instead. "I think," you bring your face closer to his and lick your lips, "I'd enjoy the cooling lube more. Should we try this?" You ask in a sultry voice. And he knows you're only doing this to get back at him but that voice is really getting him going. He gulps, then takes the bottle from you and places it in the cart.

You walk ahead when he doesn't say anything else, thinking you've won.

"Babe! They have flavoured lube!" He yells.

𝄖

"Why are your clothes so big?" He asks, unfolding a black sweater that looks oddly familiar and holds it up in front of him. When he lowers it, you're staring at him with an amused look on your face.

"That's yours, Kookie." You say. "I borrowed it."

"Oh." He scratches his head and tosses it into the pile of laundry before him, focusing on unpacking the other clothes. "Kookie?"

You smile, separating the colours from the whites. "I like it. It's cute."

"Just don't call me that in front of the guys, okay?" He stops unfolding. "Especially Suga."

"No promises." You shrug. "Speaking of Suga, how is he?"

Jungkook pauses for a while, then says, "He's good. Why?"

"Just wondering." You still remember the way Jungkook held you that night you met Suga. As if he was afraid of you getting any closer to him. Even during the cab ride home, he intertwines your arms and interlaced your fingers as if you would slip away if he wasn’t holding on to you.

"I have to tell you something about Suga." He says seriously. You watch him carefully and gesture for him to go on. "It concerns you. But you have to promise you won't get mad."

"You're making me nervous. What is it?"

"You know that video you sent me?" He starts, eyes suddenly glazed over. "The one where you're in bed, looking like a whole meal, and you start touching yourself⎯"

"Jungkook, focus"

"Sorry. You're so hot. Anyway," he smiles sheepishly, "Suga may have caught me watching that video…and he may have seen everything."

"What?!" You shriek.

"You promised you wouldn't be mad!"

"I did not!" You throw yourself at him, shoving him to the floor and placing your hands around his neck in a choke. If anything, he’s enjoying it. "You're dead to me."

He grins, hands sliding up your thighs wrapped around his middle. "I didn't know you were into this."

"Ugh!" You throw your hands up in the air. "That video was for your eyes only!"

"I know!" Jungkook sighs. "But I didn't know Suga was behind me. I'm sorry baby. I didn't do it on purpose."

You whine and let yourself drop onto him. "Were you at work? Why were you watching it at work?"

"Because. I was at work when I saw those photos you sent me. And I missed you."

His voice is soft and gentle. Your heart swells a little knowing he thought about you while you were away. Even at work. You lift your head up to kiss him, sighing into the kiss. "Don't do it again." You say, pointing a finger at him and he nods. You draw circles on his chest for a while, "What did Suga think about the video?"

Jungkook looks at you, amused. "He thinks you're hot." A tiny satisfied smile forms on your lips and he chuckles. "And he's right. I've missed being with you."

His hands roam your body, from your thighs to your chest. "Me too." You bite his bottom lip, sucking on it then press your mouth to his in a wet kiss. He moans into it, hands already digging into the flesh of your skin. Until you push yourself off him. "But as punishment, we’re not having sex tonight."

"What, no!" He whines, shooting up from his position. You almost fall over if not for him supporting your back. "Baby…don’t do this."

You giggle when he pouts, pinching both sides of his cheeks. He tucks a curl behind your ear and you flinch slightly when it tickles your neck. The silence that follows as you stare into each other’s eyes causes the beating of your heart to intensify. And you can feel, from your bodies pressed together, that his is the same. He’s smiling sweetly up at you, a look you wish to engrave into your mind forever. When you think about the past, you’d never imagine you’d find yourself sharing moments like this with Jungkook. He always seemed so distant and cold. Yes he was playful and still is, but you never thought you’d be able to have a relationship with him like one you have now.

The kiss that follows is slow and gentle. His lips move so carefully against yours, as if they’re savouring every touch. There’s longing in his movements and his touch, hands holding you gently over your clothes, but you can tell he’s holding himself back.

"I almost forgot, I have something for you." He says.

“You got me a gift?” You ask, eyes lighting up and he nods.

You move to sit on the bed as he leaves the room momentarily, fetching it from his bag outside. You're excited, legs shaking as you sit at the foot of the bed, until he's walking back into the room, hands behind his back. You let out a tiny squeal when he joins you. "What is it?"

You can barely contain it any longer, chewing on your bottom lip and eyes trained on his hands. He chuckles when you stare at him and raise your eyebrows, gesturing him to reveal it.

"I wanted to get you something nice." He says. Your eyes go wide when you see a box in his hands. There's no mistaking what it is, a jewellery box. "I don't know if this is your style but I hope you like it…"

You're silent when he opens the box, revealing a lovely rose gold necklace with a sparkling red heart-shaped pendant. You're more surprised than anything. You hadn't expected him to get you such a fancy gift. Maybe it isn't a big deal to him, but it is to you. He watches you, waiting for a reaction and worries when you don't give him one.

"Do you not like it? I can return it⎯"

"Jungkook," you say softly and gently run a finger over the necklace, "you got this for me? This is beautiful."

"Really?" Jungkook says, relieved. "I couldn't decide on a design, so I made Jimin come along to help me."

He removes the necklace from its box and unhooks the clasp. You turn, lifting your hair for him to put it around you. It settles nicely around your neck and you run to the mirror to have a look. It's so pretty. And probably expensive. "This must've been expensive." You look at him from the mirror.

"Don't worry about it." He reaches for your hand when you walk back towards him. "I got a bonus at work. I was actually going to get you matching earrings. But Jimin said you would think it's too much, so I didn't. If you do want it though⎯"

You shut him up with a kiss. "This is more than enough, Jungkook. I love it. Thank you."

"I'm glad." He grins wide, his tiny dimple showing.

"I actually have something for you too." You say, walking over to your luggage. You unzip a compartment and with your back to him, pull out his gift and slip it under your shirt. He watches you curiously when you walk back.

"Great hiding place." He chuckles.

"Shut up. Listen." You sigh. "I should've gone first. My present looks really lame now compared to yours."

"I love it already. What is it?" He grabs at your hands under the shirt and you resist, laughing.

"Okay, okay!" You hesitate for a moment, then remove the present from underneath your shirt, holding it out in front of you. "Ta-da! I made you a sweater."

"You made me this sweater?" He takes it from you, running his hand over the soft material. It's a blue knitted sweater that you spent hours on back home.

"Yeah. I knitted it when I was home." You bite your lip as he looks at it in silence. "Do you like it? I'm sorry it's so lame. It's such a grandma present. As in literally my grandmother helped me with it. Maybe I should've gotten you a watch or something. It's not too late, I could run some errands and get you⎯"

"Y/N," he says, voice low and gentle, "this is the best thing anyone has ever given me." You would think he's exaggerating except for the lack of mischief in his eyes. Only sincerity. And if you're not seeing things, maybe there's a gloss in his eyes that wasn't there before. "No one's ever made me anything before." He says softly, looking at the sweater again.

It drops to his lap when he swoops in to cup your face and kiss you. Starts off gently, but he picks up the pace. You return the kiss, trying to keep up with him. He gets up from his position to lift you up, moving further up the bed.

He wastes no time in removing the bottom half of your clothes, throwing your pants and panties on the floor, then spreading your legs so he can take a good look. "I know you said no sex tonight. So it's okay if I don't get my orgasm but I'm about to make sure you get yours." He kisses your inner thighs, then moves dangerously close to your cunt. Before doing anything else, he moves back up to kiss you on the lips. "Do you want me to stop?"

You shake your head and he smirks down at you before going back to his position, making himself comfortable on the bed. He shifts your thighs over his shoulder and you tremble with anticipation. "Ready for part two of your present, baby?"

𝄖

Jungkook breathes out a sigh looking at the notifications on his phone. Missed calls and messages, mostly from Suga. He dials Suga's number and braces for the yelling he's about to receive.

"Where the fuck are you?" Suga seethes on the other end as soon as the line clicks. Jungkook winces. His calls and messages had come in while he was in bed with you earlier and no way was he about to answer the calls while he was making you scream his name in bed. “Why didn’t you pick up my calls?”

“Relax.” Jungkook says calmly. “I was busy. What’s up?”

“Busy?” Suga scoffs. An uncomfortable silence follows before Suga speaks again. “Don’t tell me, you’re with that girl again, aren’t you?”

The lack of response on Jungkook’s part confirms it and Suga groans. He can’t understand it; the vast difference he sees in Jungkook in the last couple of months blows his mind. He’s known Jungkook since they were kids. But now, Suga feels like he doesn’t even know him, not since you came into the picture.

“Does it matter?” Jungkook sighs. He knows it does. “What happened?”

“We got a lead and needed backup.” Suga says.

“Did you get him?”

“What do you think?” Suga yells over the phone. “He got away, you fucking idiot.”

“I said I was busy, didn’t I?” Jungkook fumes, keeping his voice down so he doesn’t wake you.

“Dude, what is up with you?” Suga’s voice is calm now. It’s even more worrying when he’s not yelling. “Last night, you were talking about not wanting to be captain. Is this what it’s all about? Y/N? What exactly are you trying to do here? Get married to that bitch, have kids and live a normal life? Do you seriously think that’s gonna happen?”

“Don’t. Call her. A bitch.” Jungkook clenches his teeth, trying not to let his anger get the best of him. But he knows whatever Suga’s implying is true. Being part of the organisation they’re in makes things complicated.

“You think you can just waltz out of this establishment without any harm coming your way? You know too much already. And you don’t think that if the guys find out about your girl, they’re gonna come after her? It’s just not realistic Jungkook.”

He steps to the door of your room, watch as you sleep soundly, blankets covering your form.

“Look I seriously don’t give a fuck about you having a girlfriend.” Yoongi clicks his tongue. “But I’ve seen her. She’s not about this life, is she? If you think she can handle it, then hey by all means you can do whatever you want. But you can’t even pick up my calls when I need you, you’re missing work...this isn’t going to work out. You need to make a choice. Are you in, or out?”

Jungkook steps away from the door and over to the small window in the living room, overlooking the street below. He thinks, silence on both ends of the call.

You stir from your sleep just then, feeling warm. The heater must be up too high. You roll over to switch it off, then realise the empty spot where Jungkook's supposed to be. There's no light from under the toilet door, so you look for him outside. And you find him, standing by the window, a hand on the window pane with his forehead against it, and the other holding a phone to his ear.

“I’ll do it.” You hear him say. You were about to go up to him, but curiosity gets the better of you and you wait for him to finish. “You can trust me.”

It’s all he says before he exchanges greetings with the other person on the line and hangs up the phone. He sighs, dropping his arm to the side, forehead still leaning on the window pane. You go up to him before he turns and finds you standing there. He jolts in surprise when you walk up to him and wrap your warm arms around his waist. His skin feels cool, probably from standing at the window, which means he must have been there for a while.

“What are you doing?” You mumble with your cheek pressing against his back.

“Baby, why are you up?” He asks softly, turning around to hold you. “I had to take a call. Didn’t want to disturb you.”

“Oh.” You say, looking up at him sleepily. “Do you have to go? Don’t go.”

“I’m not going anywhere baby.” He slides the window down and lifts you up, wrapping your legs around him. He carries you back into bed and crawls in right beside you. “I’m gonna stay right here. With you.”

"Good." You hum, settling nicely in his arms.

"I love you." He whispers into the night and it's the last thing you hear before you're drifting away into a deep sleep where you dream of him.

#jungkook fics #networkbangtan #kwritersworldnet #jungkook x you #jungkook smut #bts scenarios #bts fic #jungkook scenarios #rainworks #myfic #sorry if this is boring lol #love u

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