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silversatoru · 4 years

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Hello! I wanted to request for a chubby reader x Levi oneshot. I feel like there aren’t many stories that have chubby readers ): As for the storyline, I’m not sure if it falls in the angst or hurt/comfort category. It would be the reader feeling insecure about themselves because they have a harder time training than the others (them blaming it on their own weight) and seeing how everyone is much thinner than them, they start avoiding food. To not make it look suspicious, they’d go into the kitchen alone and put the food away along with the left overs. The reader would act normal with Levi and he doesn’t suspect anything at first. Later on, the reader would push themselves harder to the point where they’d train on their own whenever they had to chance so they can lose weight and improve their training. At this point, Levi starts noticing the reader looking paler than usual and the slight difference in their weight. One day during training, the reader ends up fainting from exhaustion and dehydration. They wake up on Levis’s bed with him looking over them. He asks what happened and the reader lies by saying they didn’t drink enough water. Levi calls it bs and ask if they think he’s stupid and goes on to tell them about how they noticed the reader sneaking off into the kitchen with a plate and coming out without it. He didn’t think anything of it at first, but he started putting the pieces together. They end up telling Levi the truth, the way they feel towards themself and how they don’t like the fact that they’re bigger than Levi. He comforts the reader and lets them know that they’re an idiot for thinking that way, etc. Thank you! I’m so sorry if it sounds so cheesy!

hello dear!! i dont think your idea was cheesy at all, i love it actually. these kind of issues live very close to my heart, so writing about them is always really fun for me. that being said,, this fic definitely got very dark and very real, and i would advise everyone to read the warnings before deciding to read this <33

empty

levi ackerman x gn!reader

synopsis: levi catches you skipping meals and does what he can to help

tags/warnings: eating disorder, skipping meals, hurt/comfort, but it does have a happy ending!

word count: 2.2k

Throbbing headaches and hollow, gnawing pains in your stomach — they’ve quickly become your new normal. You see everything through a hazy fog these days, nothing feels real and everything hurts but it’s worth it — that’s what you keep saying to yourself. You’re tired of lacking the same agility, momentum, and grace that your thinner counterparts have.

Your weight was always something that ate away at the back of your head, but joining the scout regiment multiplied it tenfold. You were constantly working twice as hard as your fellow scouts, and it seemed like it was never enough. Everyone around you was not only ridiculously athletic, but so fucking thin. You didn’t hate your comrades for their bodies and the way they were born, but you made up for it by inflicting all of the hate onto yourself.

You wonder if anyone notices your zombie eyes or the abnormal paleness to your face — god, you hope they don’t. The last thing you want to do is have to confront your feelings and admit what you’ve been doing lately. Every night you shamefully sneak back into the kitchen and pour your plate of food into the large pot of leftovers. You pick at food here and there when your friends are watching, but behind closed doors you haven’t eaten much of anything lately. Your body is running on empty, and it’s only a matter of time before it fully catches up to you.

You hear your last name echo from across the training fields, slowly turning around to see an angry captain sulking towards you. His face was twisted into an unpleasant grimace, his eyebrows knitted together into what almost looked like concern.

“I’m excusing you from the remainder of training, leave,” his words were flat, but there was a subtle emotional edge.

“Sorry, what?” you gave him a confused look — Captain Levi never excused anyone from training, not unless they were practically on their deathbed.

“Go home, and eat a big dinner tonight, your energy has been less than adequate lately,” his face softened slightly, “I expect you to be back to normal by tomorrow. Your skills and abilities are needed here, so go get some rest and be better tomorrow, yeah?”

“But, I-,” you stammered, trying to come up with some kind of valid excuse.

“That’s an order, cadet”.

His words surprised you, and before you could even rack your brain for an appropriate way to respond, he was turned on his heels and walking away. You swallowed thickly, your throat dry and stuffed full with anxiety.

Reluctantly, you followed his orders and made your way back to the Scout’s base early. You grabbed a stack of fresh clothing from your room before heading to the showers and scrubbing yourself free of all the sweat and grime from training. You were careful to avoid mirrors when you navigated bathrooms, and tonight was no exception, your eyes glued to the tiled floor. After showering, you hesitantly walked to the kitchen, preparing a plate of food and bringing it back to your room.

That food stared you in the eyes for hours, taunting you and teasing you and making intense nausea creep up your spine. Tears were stinging the backs of your eyes and your lungs were shaking with heavy, anxiety-filled breaths. You couldn't do it, and you were overwhelmed with shame and guilt. If you couldn’t do it for Levi, you were hopeless that you’d be able to do it for anyone, never mind for yourself.

After making countless pitiful attempts to take a bite of your untouched meal, you decided it was going back into the leftover pot — just like everything else. The other scouts should have returned and been sleeping by now anyway, you’d just silently creep down the hallway, dump the food, and creep back, no harm no foul.

Except for that a certain short, dark-haired captain was standing at the end of the hallway — you didn't notice him, but he certainly noticed you. A boiling anger rippled up inside him as he felt an overwhelming disappointment in your actions. He’d been suspecting this kind of behavior for a while now, but watching you tip-toe down the hall and into the kitchen with an uneaten plate of food confirmed all of his suspicions.

You could barely crawl out of bed the next morning, your ribs aching and your head pounding with a dull pain. You grasped at your tall dresser, catching your balance as you dangerously swayed back and forth for a few seconds. After regaining consciousness and stability you carefully changed into your uniform, having to stop and take breaks every few seconds because you were running out of breath. Your body felt utterly devoid of any kind of energy, and you wondered — when was the last time I actually ate something?

It was far enough back that you couldn’t quite remember, maybe a few days at this point, you really weren’t sure anymore. You’d have to suck it up for training though, because the last thing you wanted was to be confronted by the captain again.

You chugged back a full glass of water before lacing up your boots and throwing on a convincing facade. People don’t seem to notice something is wrong as long as you're smiling, laughing, and going along with what they say — it’s easy enough to fly under the radar of your fellow scouts.

Levi’s radar is a little sharper though, and he keeps a close eye on you from the second you walk up to the training grounds. He’s disappointed in your hand to hand combat — it’s sloppy, slow, predictable. Your hands look shaky too, and maybe it's the light playing tricks on him but it looks like the color is draining from your face.

Things are feeling deplorable on your side — you can barely stand anymore, never mind throw punches or avoid the oncoming attacks. Your vision was starting to tunnel, foggy black surrounding your periphery as you began to lose feeling in your fingertips. You tried desperately to cling onto whatever semblance of consciousness you had left, but failed miserably, your body collapsing to the hard earth beneath you.

The soft glow of warm candles illuminated the walls around you when you finally woke up from the earlier incident. This wasn’t your room, where the hell were you? You uncomfortably shifted to the side and flinched when you saw your captain sitting in a chair in front of you. His arms were crossed and one of his legs was propped on top of the other, an icey look in his eyes.

“What happened today?” His words were very short and his tone was flooded with irritation — he didn’t even give you a chance to take in your surroundings.

“Ah- I didn’t sleep well last night,” you lied, “And maybe I haven’t been drinking enough water or something”.

“I’m offended that you think I would fall for such a pitiful lie,” He clicked his tongue off the roof of his mouth, “I saw you sneak into the kitchen last night, how long have you been doing that?”

Your eyes grew wide with anxiety, your heart abruptly dropping to the floor — you made sure to go extra late last night, why the hell was he still up?

You stayed quiet for a moment, pondering over how honest you should be with Levi right now. The two of you had always been a little closer than he was with the other scouts, but unfortunately there was no room for things like love in this world. You also assumed that maybe he never reciprocated your feelings because of your weight — but that was just more toxic fuel to the fire blossoming in your head.

“Pretty long,” you sighed, ultimately deciding to be fully honest with him, because knowing Levi, he’d continue to see right through your lies anyway.

“I figured,” He grumbled, uncrossing his legs and leaning back into his chair, “Why?”

“Everyone around me is thin, I stick out. And, I’m not as agile or flexible as the other scouts either. I just thought that maybe...,” you bit down hard on your bottom lip, rolling onto your back so you wouldn’t have to look at him, “I thought my weight bothered you too, and also that I’d be more useful to the scouts if I was skinnier”.

“You think I’d like you better if you were dead?” Levi was leaning closer now, heat boiling in his eyes, “Because that’s where you’re headed right now. If you truly think you’ll be more helpful to the scouts when you’re six feet under, you’re delusional. And who the hell gave you the idea that your weight bothered me?”

His harsh words were cold slap in the face, your eyes burning and threatening to spill over with tears. You didn’t want to die, not really, you just didn’t want to hate yourself anymore.

“No one! I don’t know, I just thought, maybe because I was bigger than you-,” You continued to stammer over your words, tears beginning to leak down your cheeks.

“It doesn’t matter,” he waved you off, not wanting to push the issue further, “You’re wrong, and I’m hurt that you’d even think that. I’ve never once thought that you were anything other than the way you should be”.

“I’m sorry,” your voice was weak and shaky, but your heart was pounding against your chest at his words.

“I’m not the person you should be apologizing to, that’s something you owe to yourself” he shook his head and stood up to retrieve two small bowls of food from a nearby table, “I brought you something to eat”.

You watched him intently, pondering over his words about apologizing to yourself.

“It’s only a bowl of soup, so you can start small, yeah?” He offered one of the bowls to you, which you hesitantly took into your hands as you sat up.

He sat down again across from you again, leaning back and taking a sip of broth from his bowl. You were grateful that he was here, that he was eating with you — it made things a little easier. You grasped the spoon in your hands and scooped up some brothy vegetables before lifting them into your mouth.

“Good, finish the bowl,” nodded at you, giving you a reassuring look and lifting his own bowl to his lips again.

The two of you ate in silence until you were finished, and then he sat the bowls back on his nightstand before finding a seat next to you on his bed.

“Stay here tonight,” he stared at you with his signature tired eyes, but there were hints of concern laced through them now, “We’ll have breakfast together in the morning”.

“Okay,” you gave him a weak nod, trying desperately to bottle up your growing emotions, but they were becoming too much to bear.

Small sobs began to rack through your body, your chest tightening and your stomach lurching with anxiety. You were experiencing so many feelings tonight — eating for the first time in days and being here with Levi, it was overwhelming to say the least.

You could barely see the captain through your blurry vision, but you could feel his arms maneuver themselves around you and pull you against his chest. You stayed like that for a while, Levi’s arms delicately holding you in place while quiet sobs worked their way out of your lips.

“You’ve dug yourself into a deep hole, I won’t lie to you,” you heard him let out a tired sigh, “And it’s gonna take time and effort for you to dig your way out, but you’ll get there. We’ll start by having breakfast and dinner together every night, how does that sound? Just you and me, no one else has to watch”.

You nuzzled a tiny nod into his chest, your tears finally running dry. It was a terrifying thought, eating normal again, but you were starting to feel hopeful that you might actually be able to do it.

And so the two of you met every morning and every evening for your scheduled meals, and day by day things began to get easier. You even found yourself staying over in Levi’s room after dinner and into the morning for breakfast sometimes. Spending so much time together was definitely pushing the two of you to address the feelings you’d been hiding for so long.

But not everything was perfect, it would be irrational to think it would be. You still have bad nights, where eating is so hard you break down into tears, and where you want nothing more than to rid yourself of the food in your system. It’s a draining process, but Levi works hard to make sure you stay on track with your progress.

It’s slow, but eventually your face starts to glow again, your skin gets smooth and soft, and the aching pains in your body start to fade. Your war with your body is far from over, but you’re doing what you can, and you’re healing yourself one day at a time.

thank u for reading this, and now i would like to give you a gentle reminder to do something nice for your body today. eating disorders and mental illnesses are huge mountains to climb over, but taking things one day at a time makes it a little easier. try and eat a meal today (even if it’s small), go to sleep early and get some rest, take a shower and rub lotion all over your legs so they feel nice against your blankets when you lay in bed. baby steps are better than no steps at all, so be patient with yourself. n go drink some water, ur body loves that shit

#attack on titan #attack on titan levi #attack on titan x reader #levi #levi ackerman #levi x y/n #levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi x gn!reader #hurt/comfort #angst #levi hurt comfort #attack on titan x gn!reader

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blueflamebimbo · 4 years

Text

Bakugou x Reader - Not Butterflies

Shit hits the fan and you both have to stop thinking like heroes and more like a couple to fix it.

Dedicated to: @silenceofthecookies Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort Word count: 3K

The glare of the television screen only added to the discomfort you felt each time you checked your phone with no good news to show for it. There were no notifications, not a single sign of life that would put your mind at ease and keep you from worrying. You were met with only the changing of the hour as the room darkened around you. You were bundled up on the couch, a fleece blanket wrapped tightly around you serving as the only comfort you could provide for yourself.

Katsuki wasn’t big on texting. Small talk was not something he would actively engage in face to face, let alone through text. Even so, you could always count on him letting you know each time he had finished for the day and would be on his way home. After the two of you had graduated from UA, you had moved back into your parents’ place for a few months in search for an apartment. That was nearly two years ago, and the apartment you shared with your boyfriend of four years was finally starting to look like a home. The television set-up no longer balanced on cardboard boxes, the messy suitcases had been replaced by an actual wardrobe and the cutlery in the kitchen finally matched. Even Katsuki’s reluctantly softened features were put on display throughout the living space in the form of polaroid pictures that had been haphazardly pinned to the walls with thumb tacks. To a stranger it seemed like a cozy home shared by two people who spent their days enjoying each other’s company, which wasn’t exactly the case - not now, at least.

Moving in together had seemed like the obvious next step in your relationship, and it had been save for the slight miscalculation in the quality time department. As pro heroes, you were both doing well. This was definitely a plus when it came to learning how to deal with finances and the like, but working a lot also meant spending less time at the home front than you had initially anticipated. Your mutual friends seemed to be solving this issue through the form of communication, but unfortunately that was something neither Katsuki nor you excelled at.

With Katsuki, communication had always been simple in the sense that there had never been that much to argue about so heavy conversations rarely occurred and, even if they did occur, they were always solved by either one of you simply giving their opinion and, if needed, compromising. The difference was that, back then, there had been more opportunities for the both of you to sit down and have a conversation. There had been more time spent together: between classes, after assignments and even late at night before bedtime, though the latter often poked at both of your bad tempers and resulted in an explosive discussion, excuse the pun.

Right now, Katsuki was letting the pro hero rankings get to his head, causing him to take on the longest and hardest assignments he could get and resulting in him barely spending any time at home. It had come to a point where you felt anxious going grocery shopping, not knowing if you should bother buying groceries for two people, since Katsuki’s serving often lay forgotten in the fridge after he’d get home in the middle of the night, tired and already having eaten on the way home. You barely felt him crawl into bed with you, only to feel him leaving long before the sun was back up. It felt like he was starting to slip. Like he was drifting away from your relationship with him and towards a world that revolved only around his job. It was a very Katsuki thing to do, but, seeing as he’d grown up a lot since his first years at UA, it was disheartening to see him slip back into old habits without a chance to discuss your worries with him.

That same dread filled you as the moonlight streamed into the living room, another indication of how terribly late it was getting. He was supposed to be home by now. Katsuki had planned a meeting with Hatsume, who had become one of the best in her own ways, to discuss some adjustments to Katsuki’s hero costume. That type of meeting wasn’t supposed to take long, so when you came home to an empty apartment after your own assignments, you had felt your stomach drop. Part of you had tried to stay optimistic as you prepared dinner, but as the clock ticked and the hours seemed rush by, Katsuki’s food ended up in the fridge and you had to endure dinner by yourself once again. That was how you had anxiously made your way to the couch with a cup of tea in hand.

You checked your phone once again, but to no avail. It was starting to overwhelm you. This was not what you had signed up for. It wasn’t often that you let yourself get this emotional over Katsuki, because it was rarely this serious, but this time it was starting to feel like you had hit a dead end. Was this really the way things were going to end? With him growing out of your relationship and deciding that that was fine, while you were left feeling empty and staring into the void with the white noise of a once shared television set in the background, alone on a couch where you had spent some of your softest moments together? The Katsuki you knew couldn’t be that cruel...

... Could he?

The sound of the front door slamming shut made your heart stutter and you watched the blond step into the living room, looking stoic and cold as he eyed you. He was standing just a few feet away, but he’d never seemed further away, not even on that day you first made eye contact from across the room back in your second year at UA.

“So much for spending time together, huh?”

The tone of his voice matched his features with an crispness that chilled you inside and out.

Your eyebrows knit together, slowly realising that he was somehow making you feel responsible for the situation you were in. “Excuse you? If you wanted to spend time so much, then you had every opportunity to do so, I’d say. I’ve been waiting here for you all night. I’m always waiting. How am I to blame, here?”

Katsuki’s features hardened even further, evolving into a look you’d never seen him direct at you. “You have got to be kidding me. For once, I was trying to do the right thing here--”

“Do the right thing? By leaving me here by myself again? Do you think I like preparing food I know you won’t eat? Do you think I like going to sleep and waking up in a cold bed?”

“You had a choice--!”

Bakugou was trying his hardest not to burst out into explosive yelling, and you could see that frustration was getting the better of him. You couldn’t understand what he was getting at. How did you ever have a choice in him not being there when you wanted-- needed him to be there?

Before you could say anything else, Bakugou had made a beeline towards the bathroom, slamming the door and locking it behind him. That’s when you noticed your eyes burning with tears you were too stubborn to shed. With trembling legs, you went to sit down onto the couch once again, and you wondered if sleeping in your shared bed tonight was even a good idea.

Bakugou’s POV

The days were becoming longer and harsher as Bakugou barely got any sleep, spending his nights staring at the sleeping person next to him -- the one he wanted to impress the most, the one he so desperately wanted to make happy. But he was failing to do so, he could feel it. You barely spent time together, but Bakugou figured that if he became the best, then he would be able to make you proud of him and then life would get easier. Maybe if he achieved his goals faster, he would be able to spend his life by your side comfortably, knowing that he could provide easily and knowing he was doing the best that he could possibly do. The stolen forehead kisses in the middle of the night were left only for him to remember as he watched your resting form, and they were the only thing that kept him going these days. He needed them to get over the heartache that came with the sight of his dinner in the fridge. He was disappointing you. He wasn’t there, couldn’t be good enough. He needed to work harder, be stronger, be better for you.

Back at AU it was easier to assume that he was the best, surrounded by background characters who turned out not to be too terrible to be around. It was easier to imagine that you were proud of him, back then. Once he became a pro hero, though, it seemed like every time he proved his worth as he defeated one villain, an other, stronger villain would provide an even bigger challenge, one that he sometimes couldn’t tackle by himself. He simply wasn’t the best he could be yet, and you deserved the best. But he could see the dried tears on your cheeks late at night, and could hear the nightmares that he had no way of saving you from. Something had to happen. He had to fix this, because it was tearing the two of you apart.

That day, he had met up with Hatsume, who seemed to notice the way Katsuki wasn’t entirely himself. He seemed tired, too tired to even make snide remarks to some of the adjustments Hatsume had suggested. After she’d left, he’d sent you a quick text, asking you to meet him for dinner at your favourite restaurant, so you could finally have a decent conversation. He then went to take care of a few errands before he headed straight to the restaurant, waiting outside and only sporadically checking his phone for the time.

When at first you didn’t respond, let alone join him at the restaurant, he’d felt his heart break, feeling as though you were giving up on him after all. He knew... He knew you weren’t happy with how things were, but he had hoped that maybe you would still give him a chance to fix things, even though he had no idea how he was supposed to do that without giving up on his goals. If making Bakugou give up on his life goals was the only way you would be happy... You would never be that egocentric...

...Would you?

By the time the sun went down and you still hadn’t replied, he felt his anxiety and despair slowly evolve into anger. The least you could do is talk to him about the situation. You owed him that much.

He become so overwhelmed that he ended up sprinting his way back to the shared apartment, where he felt his last nerve being blown up by your behaviour. It wasn’t like he hadn’t tried to spend time with you. It wasn’t like he hadn’t offered to have a conversation with you, so why wouldn’t you admit that you just didn’t take the chance to fix things?

He needed time to cool off. A cold shower would soothe his nerves. He couldn’t stand watching you fall apart when he had clearly done what he thought was right. It was a two way street, no?

After his shower, he changed into some PJ shorts and a freshly washed shirt. The scent of the fabric softener reminded him of the sheets he found you bundled up in every night, and for some reason it broke his heart once again. He grit his teeth and gripped the edge of the bathroom sink, watching his knuckles turn ivory as he willed himself not to give into emotions that would make him lose control over his composure. He took a few slow breaths and then straightened his back, deciding to clean up after himself and throw his clothes into the hamper. As he did so, his wallet and his phone clattered onto the tiles, making him curse under his breath. He picked them up with a sigh and then checked to see if his phone was still alive.

The clock signalled that it was almost midnight, and he noticed a small crack in the screen right above it, next to the aeroplane icon that signalled...

His phone was on aeroplane mode. How...

That’s when it hit him. Katsuki had put his phone on aeroplane mode during the meeting with Hatsume, and hadn’t touched the settings afterwards. He gulped, feeling a shiver crawling up his spine as he realised just how badly he had fucked up and unlocked his phone.

His text message to you had never been sent.

With dread filling his entire being, he changed the settings and watched several text messages arrive.

[5.21 PM: Y/N] I’m making stew tonight! You’ll be home for dinner, right? [6:45 PM: Y/N] Almost done. Are you close? [7:33 PM: Y/N] I’ll go ahead and eat... I’ll save you some in the fridge... [9:01 PM: Y/N] ...Is everything all right? [10:53 PM: Y/N] Katsuki...?

With a heavy heart, he locked his phone screen once again and unlocked the bathroom door. He padded his way towards the kitchen and made two cups of tea, carefully bringing them over to the living room and setting them down on the coffee table.

He could barely look you in the eye as he pulled out his phone and showed you the message he never actually sent.

His voice was rough when he muttered a soft “I’m sorry. I put my phone on aeroplane mode when I met up with Hatsume. I had no idea. I-- I fucked up. I’m sorry.”

Your POV

When Katsuki came out of the bathroom looking frustrated but infinitely less pissed, you felt a sense of hope bloom in your chest. Even though it was late, you hoped you could at least clear up a thing or two, because you still had no idea what had just happened.

The scent of the tea that hit your senses calmed you down, but it was nothing compared to the feeling of the dip in the couch cushion as Katsuki took a seat next to you. When he showed you his phone, it suddenly became painfully clear what had happened.

After you’d processed what had happened, you felt your throat close up once again. “You idiot...” You looked over at him and watched how he was stubbornly looking at a small stain on the carpet but looking ten different kinds of defeated. “You... absolute idiot.”

He didn’t seem opposed to the insult... not this time.

“Did you wait at the restaurant all this time?”

He reached out for his cup of tea and took a tentative sip, after which he nodded. “At first I thought you were punishing me. Since I’m never home for dinner anymore, I thought you would let me wait a while before showing up, and I wouldn’t have blamed you if you did.”

You scoffed, frowning into the steam that rose from your cup. “I’ve not been... happy about that, but I would never do that to you, Katsuki.”

Katsuki’s nose scrunched up slightly, signalling that he was getting frustrated again. “I just keep fucking up. I keep fucking up and it’s pissing me off because you deserve better, I promised to take care of you--”

“Take care of me?” Your frown intensified, “Katsuki we’re supposed to take care of each other. And that doesn’t mean working so hard you’re barely functioning. I thought you were past all that. I’m behind you and your aspirations 100%, but you know there’s more to life than just proving your worth.”

But he shook his head, “This isn’t about proving my worth anymore, it’s gone beyond that.” He looked up, “It’s about proving your worth. Ours. I want to be good enough for us, and I don’t think I am.”

“Being good enough for us does not include missing out on quality time, Katsuki. It does not include skipping on affection and it definitely doesn’t include not talking to your partner. You are good enough for us, Katsuki, but you have to be around for me to be able to show you that.”

Katsuki looked guilty more than he looked frustrated, then. After a long pause, he nodded in agreement and placed his tea back down onto the coffee table. He kept his gaze fixed on the cup as he tensed his shoulders as if he was bracing himself for what he was about to say. “Y/N... I am really, really sorry.” He looked up, locking his gaze with yours. “I will do better, I promise.”

At this point, you put your cup down as well and placed your hand on Katsuki’s thigh, your features softening slightly. “I know you will. We both will.”

“Do you still love me, Y/N?” He still had a serious expression stretched across his features, but there was a glint of softness in his eyes.

With an unnecessarily heavy sigh, you nodded. “Yeah-- I really do.”

“Good,” Katsuki nodded, taking a moment to remove your hand from his thigh and turn his body towards you, slowly closing the distance between the two of you. The sudden proximity made a shiver crawl up your spine, a sweet smile matching Katsuki’s gaze in softness.

Finally, the sentiment made the corners of Katsuki’s lips curl up, forming a smile that you knew he only shot your way when he knew he was going to make you feel like he wanted to give you the world. The tip of his nose slowly rubbed up and down along yours as his eyelids lowered. When his lips met yours, weeks upon weeks of affection exploded between the two of you, spreading like a frenzy throughout your body. It barely registered how Katsuki cupped you’re jaw as his lips moved along yours. When he pulled back, all you could do was blink up at him, and that did not escape his attention.

“Butterflies?” he asked.

You shook your head slowly, smiling. “Dynamite.”

#bakugou x reader #reader insert #bakugou #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bakugou imagine #bnha imagine #bakugou katsuki #angst #hurt/comfort #domestic fluff #pro hero au #silenceofthecookies #.bimboscribbles

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sithsecrets · 4 years

Text

exchange | din djarin x reader

the crest’s one and only crewmember buys mando a few shirts, and he gives her a gift in return.

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2k words

mentions: none, this is fluff!

this is part 1 of my valentine’s week special! you can find the other parts here!

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You take notice of it when you’re doing the laundry.

Mando’s got the Crest cruising through hyperspace, course set for Nevarro, and you’re catching on up on chores in the meantime. The baby’s three little outfits are clean and stain-free, you’ve set aside a pair of your own pants for mending, and Mando… Mando, you come to find out, has two shirts. Total. As in, two shirts including the one he’s currently wearing under his armor. You know he had more than that the last time you did the washing, but— but shit, he got cut by a quarry last week, and another one of his beat-up long-sleeves ripped and bit the dust shortly after that. So yep, Mando’s small wardrobe is now even smaller, and that makes you sigh. Even now, the brown cloth you have in your hands feels thin and worn, rough fibers catching your fingers every now and then. You think about telling Mando that he needs some new clothes, but you know he’ll just put it off or insist that whatever he has now is fine. And so you decide that you’ll resolve the issue yourself, knowing that something from the bazaar will probably do.

Sure enough, you find just what you need. The textile vendor says he can match Mando’s measurements without a problem after you show him Mando’s singular extra shirt, and a droid whips up the garments for you right there. You come away with two black and two brown, all long-sleeves and all made from the same material Mando seems to preder. Two are a bit thicker than the others— something for him to wear in the cold— and you decide that they’ll do nicely for his needs. Back on the Crest, you leave the stack of clothes on Mando’s bed and then promptly forget about them, distracted by the baby’s antics further back in the hull.

Mando asks you about the shirts later, holding the stack out to you like he’s looking for an explanation.

“What are these?” he asks, and you’re too busy with dinner to make a big deal of it.

“Those are for you,” you tell him, cutting the heat under the stew you’re making. The baby’s trying to get his hands in the pot, so you snatch him up, settling the little green boy on your hip as you add the finishing touches on tonight’s meal. “I realized you had like, two shirts when I was doing laundry on the way here.”

Mando sounds absolutely floored. “You bought these for me?”

That earns him a little laugh, and you hand him the baby. “No, Mando, I stole them off an Imperial transport vessel. Yes, I bought them for you! What kind of crewmember would I be if I let you run around looking ragged?”

“I…” Mando trails off, settling the Child in his arms. “Thank you.”

And then the two of you don’t talk about it again, the matter quickly forgotten in the midst of the evening ritual and your departure from Nevarro.

Week later, the Crest touches down on a distant planet, a place you’ve never been that Mando knows well. He tells you that the three of you will be spending some time here, and that makes you happy. It seems like a nice place, and the locals are kind.

Two days into this little excursion, you’re about to crawl in bed, only or stop short when you see a little satin pouch sitting on top of the covers. It’s pale blue, blue like the sky on your home planet, and no bigger than your palm. Curious, you pick it up gently, examining the little white embroidery on the edge, the way the drawstring pulls the fabric together just so. It pulls open easily, and you dump the contents into your palm without a second thought.

Scores of pale, pearly little beads glint in the light, strung neatly on a thin, delicate chain. Nothing about the trinket is particularly special, but it’s the simplicity that makes it stunning, in your eyes. You’ve had jewelry over the course of your lifetime, naturally, but never anything so dainty and pretty as this. The beads and the way they’re strung are styles unique to this planet, and you’ve seen countless people wearing necklaces similar to this one over the past few days.

There’s only one person that could have placed this here for you to find, and you go up to the cockpit to speak with him not five minutes after his gift falls in your hand.

Mando’s a bit busy when you go up there, fiddling with something on his vambrace in the pilot’s chair. You feel a little shy as you come to stand before him, the string of beads dangling from your fingers.

“Did you buy me this?” you ask softly, and that’s when Mando finally looks up at you.

“I—” The helmet tilts in the direction of your hand, and it’s like he’s a whole different person. Mando becomes nervous, back stiffening in his chair as he looks from you, to the necklace, and then back again. “I, um. Yeah, I did.”

Just hearing him say it makes you feel lightheaded, but you tell yourself not to get your hopes up. “What for?”

Mando stutters terribly, but he does manage to give you an explanation. “You— Well, you got me those shirts a few weeks ago, and you take good care of the baby. And the ship. And me. I just— I thought you’d like it, that’s all.”

You study the beads carefully for a moment, admiring the way they shimmer in your hand.

“I don’t just like it,” you declare, “I love it.”

And then you’re threading Mando’s give around your neck, reaching behind your head to do up the clasp. The jewelry is just as light as you thought it would be, sitting daintily against your collarbones. Mando watches you do all of this, and not the hundredth time do you wish you could see his face.

“Thank you, Mando, really.”

He nods. “You’re welcome.”

---

“Ah, so my suspicions were correct.”

The sound of the fruit vendors voice catches your attention, and you find yourself face-to-face with her satisfied smile when you lift your head up. You’ve been doing business with her every so often for almost a week now, always intrigued by the selection she has to offer. She also likes the baby, and he’s more than happy to coo at her for a free morsel or two.

“Excuse me?” you blurt, completely lost here. The old woman shakes her head at you, white braid swishing from side to side behind her back, and the smile on her face only deepens.

“Your necklace, child,” she says, pointing at the beads strung around your throat. You touch it on impulse, the baby wriggling in your other arm, and grow even more confused.

“I don’t understand,” you tell her, feeling stupid now, but the old woman just laughs. Her wrinkled fingers are soft on your cheek, the mirth in her eyes unmistakable.

“You don’t have to be secretive with me, my dear,” she chuckles, “I knew you were the Mandalorian’s woman from the minute I saw the both of you together. No man watches a woman that closely if he doesn’t care for her. And now he’s gotten you a necklace, so.”

She punctuates this with a shrug, behaving as if the meaning of your new accessory should be obvious, and you think you might actually pass out.

“I—” You huff, grasping for the right words. “I’m not— I don’t know the ways of this planet,” you say finally, mostly because it’s the truth and mostly because you don’t know how to so much as mention anything else the fruit vendor’s said.

It feels like you’ve been slapped across the face, like someone picked you up and shook you and until your brain rattled around too hard in your skull. Mando knows this place, he knows this city... Custom and culture are sacred to him, even if they have nothing to do with his own, and you find it difficult to believe that Mando gave you this gift without first considering its meaning. This is the man who speaks with the Tuskens, a man who has committed himself to a creed, a man who never wants to be rude or imposing unless he’s dealing with an enemy—

No. No, Mando definitely bought this for you on purpose.

In the thirty seconds it takes for you to form these thoughts, the fruit vendor comes to realize that your confusion was no act. You must look terrible, for she puts a hand on your arm as if to keep you upright.

“My dear, surely— I mean, the two of you care for this baby, and he is always watching over you. I simply thought there was something there, several people in this market did. Forgive me, please, I had no idea—”

“No, no, forgive me,” you blurt, rushing to reassure the woman that she has caused no offense. “I had no idea what these meant. I would have— Maker above, I should have—”

The old woman’s bewilderment matches your own, and you realize that you’re raving like a lunatic.

“I have to go!”

And then you are going, going and going until you’re back on the Crest. The baby seems content to laze about in his pram, thank the stars, and you put him down almost without a second thought, mind racing a thousand kilometers a second. You clamor up to the cockpit like a woman possessed, the noise movement drawing you there. Sure enough, Mando’s right where you thought he would be, parked in his pilot’s chair and fiddling with something on one of his blasters. He doesn’t even turn to look at you when you come up, completely calm despite your frantic movement.

“How was the—?”

“Why did you buy me this?” you cut, bisecting his question with one of your own. Mando’s hands still at once, and he tucks the gun back in the holster at his side.

“Someone told you,” he declares, finally turning to face you. All you can do is nod, heart beating so hard it almost hurts. You can almost taste it, this thing you’ve been wanting for months now, it’s right there on your tongue— but you don’t want to speak, don’t want to be the first one to suggest it. It’s never worked out for you in the past, and with a man like Mando thrown into the equation, you’re not sure what that kind of bravery might get you.

Mando sighs, heavy and tired. You watch him more closely than you’ve watched anyone before in your life as he stands, coming to face you. It’s cramped in this little room, and if you took even just half a step forward, the two of you would be pressed flush. He doesn’t say a word to you, just stands there and stands there until you can’t take it anymore.

“If you didn’t mean it like that, Mando, it’s fine, but I just want to know—”

“I… I’m not good at talking.” These first words have you cutting yourself short, and Mando continues like you never spoke in the first place. “To people, I mean. I can do what I need to do to conduct business, but other than that, I’m useless when it comes to things like this.”

“You talk to the baby,” you offer, and Mando nods.

“I do talk to the baby. Sometimes I even talk to you, but not enough.” He takes in a deep breath, seemingly gathering the courage to continue. “That’s why I did this.”

Mando runs his fingers along the beads at your throat, and it takes all you have not to fall down.

“This… This said everything for me. Or it was supposed to, at least.”

You melt at that, shoulders sagging. “Mando, I didn’t know, not until today.”

“I know,” he says companionably. “It’s not your fault I’m a coward.”

“You’re not a coward,” you declare, shaking your head. Mando brings his hand up, pressing it to your cheek like he’s been doing it all his life.

“If I’m not a coward, what am I then?”

All you can do is smile. “You’re mine.”

#din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin fanfiction #my writing #valentine's week 2021

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topazy · 3 years

Text

Silent bloom

Parings: Finn Collins/reader Bellamy Blake/reader

Warnings: Mentions of blood

Chapter: 1.13

Distance was all that mattered. You run through the forest, leaves and branches reaching out to grab you, tearing at your skin and clothes. You weren’t stopping for anything, and sure as hell weren’t going to stop to look behind.

Seeing the night sky was the only assurance that you were still alive, but despite that, there was no help for the sick feeling inside your stomach. The mud and grit had become enmeshed with raw pink flesh and was spotted with blood. You had no idea where you were heading.

Looking over the gates at camp, you spotted some white flowers growing. They were beautiful and pure. You had picked a few and decided to place them on Wells' grave. You weren’t overly close to him when he was alive, but you still felt guilty for not being able to save him that night. If you had gone looking for him sooner, or screamed for help, he might have had a chance to survive. Taking care of his grave was your way of apologising. Octavia had offered to go with you, but you insisted on being alone.

As you made your way back towards the gates of camp, a rustling noise from behind caught your attention. You turned to see two men in hazmat suits crouching close by. They were watching your campmates through binoculars. Gulping down, you slowly started to back away, hoping they wouldn’t notice. But they did.

You tumbled over a branch that caused you to land on the ground with a thump and before you had the chance to move again, men in hazmat suits grabbed you. Your kicks and screams did nothing to aid your escape. You weren’t strong enough to fight them off. The feeling of something sharp pricking at your neck made you scream out for help weakly as the dizziness caused your vision to start blurring.

Suddenly, the man let go and he fell to the ground. The second body quickly hit the ground after. You tried to crawl away from them, not being strong enough to stand, but you didn’t make it far. An older looking woman walked forward and glanced down at you. Her face was covered in black kohl, and she was wearing tribal clothes that were decorated with fresh blood. She was a grounder, and she wasn’t alone.

—

"It’s not safe out here."

You turn around to see Bellamy standing behind you, with an unamused expression on his face. Not that you judged him. He had almost died twice in the last few hours.

"It’s not safe anywhere," you pointed out.

Clarke and Finn returned with grounders not far behind. Monty was still missing. Murphy had terrorised the camp, and now Raven was possibly dying, and Connor was dead.

"Your shift is over. You should get some rest." With a sigh, you accepted Bellamy’s hand, as he helped you down from the ledge you were standing on. You couldn’t help but stare. Even in the night, you could see the bruises around Bellamy’s neck. Without thinking, you reached out and ran your fingers across the dark mark. He flinched only for a moment before leaning into your touch. His gaze fell from your face down to your bandaged thigh, "Does it hurt?"

"No... Well yeah, but it’s getting better." You stepped back from him, "How is your neck?"

"Never better." You snorted at the bluntness of his answer. Something else was playing on his mind. Bellamy tensed again before he spoke. "Octavia told me about you and Finn arguing, a-"

"It won’t happen again. We have bigger issues to focus on."

"I was going to ask if you were okay." You didn’t know what to say. It had never occurred to you that Bellamy would have cared, especially when grounders could attack at any moment. "O never went into detail, but she said it got nasty."

"I would never have taken Bellamy Blake for a gossip," you teased.

Bellamy smirked at your comment, "you're one of the best gunners we’ve got Daisy, but you are useless if you're distracted. I don’t want you to miss a kill shot because of a distraction."

He was right, the argument was a distraction. You only cared deeply about a few people, and in the blink of an eye, you had lost Monty and Finn. You let out a deep sigh, "there’s nothing to tell... how far away do you think the grounders are?"

Bellamy clenched his jaw. You assumed he wasn’t happy that you were avoiding the question, but this wasn’t the time to open those wounds. "They won’t be far," he must have sensed you were unconvinced because he probed you some more. "You’ve been staring outside these gates for hours without flinching. What’s going on?"

"I just... I don’t get it. They only followed Clarke and Finn so far, then they stopped. I’m just trying to figure out why."

"To get reinforcements."

"Maybe," you paused before continuing. "From what we know, grounders don’t give up without a fight. They aren’t afraid of dying. Hell, the bomb at the bridge didn’t stop them. I think something else made them turn back."

"I really hope you're wrong."

—

You opened your eyes to the noise of yelling around you. It had all just been a bad dream. Groaning, you tried to sit up and realised you couldn’t. You had been chained to the bed.

"I’m glad kom see yu laik awake skai raunon."

You turn your head and see the grounder from the forest standing by the doorway. "I... I’m sorry, I don’t understand."

A younger looking girl stepped forward, and translated. "She’s glad to see you are awake."

For what reason would a grounder want you awake? You suddenly noticed the chains attached to your wrists. The memory of Murphy telling you what the grounders did to him played on your mind. You instantly curled your fingers into the palm of your hands.

"Why?" You were embarrassed by the weakness in your own voice.

"We saved you."

You looked between the young girl and the older woman who hadn’t taken her eyes off you. It was true they were probably still alive, "thank you."

"Mochof," the older grounder said before placing a bucket of water down next to you. "Mochof is thank you in our language. My name is Zelda, and this is Ada."

"I’m Daisy." You eyed Zelda suspiciously as she poured a powder into the water before offering the bucket to you. "What did you just put in it?"

"It has healing properties. It will pull any poison from your wounds out."

"Why would you waste your medicine on me?"

Ada took the bucket from Zelda and placed it in front of you, "because we want peace."

You accepted the ragged looking clothes from the young girl and began washing your neck, before moving to your ankles. There was no point in refusing, you had no weapon and physically wouldn’t be able to fight them off with restricted movement. The stinging sensation in your wounds was unlike anything you’d ever experienced before. Soon after, an overwhelming heaviness takes over you.

—

You opened your eyes again to find you were still in the same hut as before, except now it was only lit by a small flame that was next to the chair Ada was sleeping in. You wonder how long you’ve been asleep. The night's cool air made goosebumps appear on your skin, which caused you to notice your lack of clothes. Your trousers were gone.

"I cut them off to change your wound."

Her voice took you by surprise, as you hadn’t realized she was awake. You looked at Ada and noticed she now had war paint on her face that matched Zelda’s. "Who was screaming earlier?"

"They were just reapers."

You tried to rack your brain for any clues about them, but your mind went blank. "What are reapers?"

"Men who are no longer men." Ada stood up and walked towards the ‘bed’ you were still chained to, "You have an interesting collection of scars, Daisy."

You scoffed at the comment, "so I’ve heard."

"Did you get them in battle?"

As Ada moved in the dimly lit room, you noticed the three large scars on her left shoulder. They looked deep and raw. "No, most of them were caused by accidents. How did you get yours?"

"A wild animal," she paused for a minute before continuing. "I have water and food to share if you’d like some."

It amazed you the way you had been treated by the two grounders, considering the stories you had heard. Her offer reminded you of the night you had your wristband removed so you could give Charlotte more food. The memory caused a lump to form in the back of your throat. "Only if you have enough to share."

—

After eating in silence, Ada offered to look at the rest of your wounds to make sure they weren’t infected. You couldn’t decide if she was genuinely kind or trying to lure you into a false sense of security, regardless you accepted her offer.

As Ada cleaned a couple of scratches on the back of your neck, you cleared your throat. "So... what are you and Zelda planning on doing with me? I’m guessing I won’t be free to walk any time I want."

It surprised you when Ada let out a small laugh, "That is the plan."

"Now I’m really confused. You kidnapped me to clean me up, feed me, then let me leave?"

"We saved, not kidnapped," you helped your chained wrists up. "We aren’t stupid. You could have woken up and tried to kill us."

"Good point, but I still don’t understand why. Our people are at war."

Ada sighed before rummaging around in a different part of the room. "We have a common enemy, the mountain men."

"The men in hazmat suits?" She nodded, and it started to make sense. "What are they doing?"

"For a long time, people have been going missing. Many of us believe if we work together we can stop them."

Her comment surprised you, "Does your commander think so?"

"Not yet, but if your people understand we aren’t savages, then maybe they will be willing to fight with us."

You couldn't help but laugh, not because the situation was funny, but because two grounders had saved you from mountain men, then chained you to a bed, but still showed you nothing but kindness. And now they want to use you to help end a war. "How many of your people think this?"

"Enough of them. Do you think your people would do the same?"

You knew Octavia would be accepting of grounders wanting peace. Finn and Clarke would be the same. The problem would be convincing the rest of the delinquents, but you were sure Bellamy would convince them once you explained. God, you hoped you got the chance to see them all again. You let out a deep sigh. The last thing you wanted to do was lie. "I hope they will. They might not listen to me, but I know somebody they would blindly follow."

"I’m going to find Zelda. I brought you this in case you get a cold."

"Thank you," you called after her before throwing the blanket over your legs.

After she left, you laid back down as questions kept swirling around in your head, but you’d have time to ask them in the morning. The last thought you had before falling back asleep was if Monty had been taken by grounders, or mountain men.

—

The door to the hut suddenly burst open and a blood-soaked Ada entered. It had been at least a couple of days since you last saw her. Luckily, she had left enough food and water for you, as well as loosening your chains slightly.

"What happened?" Ada said nothing but unchained you before throwing clothes down beside you, "Are you hurt?"

"Hurry and put them on."

As you pulled your new trousers on, you froze when a gunshot went off in the distance. You turned to face Ada, who was staring emotionless outside the open door. You leaned closer to her and whispered, "What’s going on?"

"Skaikru didn’t want peace. I can’t help you anymore."

"Wait?" You said it a little too loudly as Ada made her way to the door, causing her to turn and frown. "You need to tell me what happened. I can still talk to-"

"It’s too late," she snarled. "Zelda is dead. The war has already begun. Jus drein jus daun, blood must have blood."

You stared at her not knowing what to say. You finished getting dressed in an awkward silence as Ada kept guard. The last few days had felt like a dream you couldn’t wake up from. At any moment, you’d wake up in camp and the dream would become nothing but a distant memory.

"You will need this," Ada handed you a blade. "Be careful, the poison the mouton men gave you can last for days. Mebi oso na hit choda op nodotaim Daisy kom Skaikru."

"I hope we meet again."

—

Days of not walking properly had taken their toll on your body as you kept stumbling while walking up the steep hill. You ducked down low when you heard voices getting closer. Crawling closer to get a better look, you froze when multiple gunshots fired close by.

You stayed in the same spot until you heard the familiar voice of Clarke. You slowly struggled to your feet and began walking to the top. The thought of yelling did occur to you, but you were dressed like a grounder, and would be alerting god knows who to your location. The pain radiating through your body made you want to give up, but you needed to push forward. You needed to know if your friends were safe. Finally, a head of blonde hair came into view, along with thick dark hair. A wave of relief washed over you knowing that Bellamy was safe.

You thought it was strange that neither of them were moving forward as you stumbled towards them. Clarke placed a hand over her mouth and spun to face the other way, the same time you fell to your knees. "Daisy!"

She rushed over towards you, while Bellamy stood stunned for a moment. He quickly snapped out of it. Clarke moved to the side as Bellamy knelt down in front of you. He brushed strands of hair out of your face, "I thought you were dead."

"Ditto," the expression on Bellamy’s face worried you. "So what have I missed Blake?"

Bellamy held the same worried expression as you got back to your feet and walked towards where he stood a moment ago. Nothing could have ever prepared you to see a pile of dead bodies. The sight made you feel sick. Finn and Murphy came into view. Both of them noticed you at the same time. Murphy shook his head as Finn stepped towards you with an almost insane look on his face.

You stumbled backwards and a pair of hands caught you before you fell. Bellamy held onto you tightly as you backed away from the scene in front of you.

Finn suddenly appeared directly in front of you, saying, "I found you.”

Season one

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diavolosthots · 4 years

Note

I remember asmodeus saying he gets cold easily, C-could I just have a cuddle sesh with a cold Asmodeus or Mc?🥺👉👈💕

***REQUESTS ARE NOT OPEN THIS IS FROM LAST TIME***

Honestly I want it to be snowy and cold so bad 😭💕

Baby It's Cold (ASMODEUS X GN!READER)

He hated the winter months for so many reasons. It’s cold, his skin gets dry, his nose is runny… he goes through at least five bottles of lotions and tissue boxes a day, trying to keep from practically dying. Usually he’ll sit in front of the fireplace, huddled up in blankets, until he falls asleep and the fire dies out, making him cold again. He’s just not himself when he can’t look cute and show off his body and winter definitely keeps him from doing so. Belphegor got him a heated blanket one year and he appreciates that thing so much, but it still never gives him the complete warmth he needs. Another time, Lucifer got a heater just for him. People refused to come into his room because it was literally hot as hell, basically a sauna, and Asmodeus still complained about it being cold.

To you, there was something poetic about the cold. It felt nostalgic and sad, but also dreamy and peaceful. To sit in front of a fireplace, a blanket draped around your shoulders, it seemed like the perfect scene. Or to take a walk and have your breath hang in the air as soft snow flurries began to fall around you, nestling in your hair. The cold was nice to you, it was your friend. It was your excuse to drown in warm hoodies and blankets and drink as much hot chocolate as you wanted to, and it was your excuse to cuddle just a little bit closer to Asmodeus, who seemed like he was about to freeze to death. His rose cheeks turned even darker when he laughed, resting his head on your shoulder as little sniffles escaped him, “T-Thank you, love.. You’re my lifesaver…” What a silly thing to say.

You wrapped the blanket tighter around the two of you, resting your head atop of his while staring out into the dancing flames. “Silly… I’m no life saver. You just have a weird body, but you won’t die.” At any other given moment in time, he would’ve gasped in shock and become dramatic over the fact that you said his body was weird, but he had to agree with you here, “none of my b-brothers have this issue… I guess I do have a flaw.” he laughed softly, pulling his head back to look up at you, “(Y/N)...?” your name rolled off his lips, a soft but tired smile reaching you. He had been awake most nights, shivering until his heater was finally warm enough to lull him to sleep, “hm?” you brushed his hair out of his face almost too gently, and for once he didn’t protest or tell you you messed his style up, “can you lay on top of me? They say body warmth is the best kind of warmth…”

Of course, seeing that it’s Asmodeus, you should’ve known that he was going to put a joke in there somewhere, but he quickly pulled your hand in his and yanked you on top of him so you didn’t have too much time to think about it. “Hold on.” You were confused until he rolled over a couple of times, making the blanket wrap around the two of you like a burrito, pushing you even closer to him. You laughed, finding actual amusement in the way he was behaving, causing him to frown, “are you laughing at me! Tch… and here I thought I’d do us both a favor and bring us closer.” he was teasing, of course, but it only made you laugh more, shaking your head at his ridiculousness, “I love you, Asmo.” You realized way too late, after you continued to laugh at what you actually had said, abruptly stopping to match his shocked face, “..what?” He heard your words, but he needs to hear them again just so he knows he isn’t crazy.

You stared at each other, kind of shocked, and for once, he actually was left speechless, “you do?” “I mean… I… it was in the moment, you know? It just… felt right.” It also felt like you were digging yourself a bigger hole, but it’s too late to crawl out of it now. His smile returned, and this time it was he who was laughing, quick to lean up and kiss your cheek, “I love you too, (Y/N)! You’re so cute!” Now it was your turn to stare at him a little dumbfounded, looking at him in disbelief, “don’t look like that… it’s okay. We don’t have to talk about it yet.” He kisses your cheek again, lingering a little longer to whisper into your ear, “although… since you’re feeling the same and you’re stuck to me at the moment… I think it’s safe to say you’re mine.”

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crescentsteel · 4 years

Text

Just Friends - Part 10

plot: fubu set up with Kuroo, model fem reader genre: fluff, smut, slow burn, angst word count: 7k

A/N [More at the end]:

I reviewed and edited Chapters 1 and 2 a bit because I kinda cringed at the errors and my writing was wonky (more than it already is now). No plot changes don't worry.

Thank you for all those who read this, especially to those who took their time to comment and feedback. It meant the world to me who stayed up later than usual and poured my heart out on this.

Part 9 || Epilogue || m.list

You instantly snapped your head up with expanded eyes. Despite the sternness his voice contained, you saw the delicate swirl of complex emotions in his eyes, one that you haven’t seen him display before. You saw how the contrast of heartache and relief graced his features.

“I love you, y.n.”

The quietness gave way for you to hear every single word he said. It was gently uttered, but firm on what it meant.

It was almost magical, if not for the perplexity which came with that statement that enshrouded everything else.

As if the universe agreed with you, another set of lights landed on both of you, popping the enchanted bubble you two were in.

“Let’s go. We need to talk” He moved his hand from your waist to the back of your shoulder and guided you to his car. Still unable to regain your calm from what just happened, you absent-mindedly followed him and went inside the passenger’s seat.

“My place or yours?”

His question made you buck yourself up to the present again. It was the question that started your indecent affairs with Kuroo, and now he’s using it to settle what branched from said affairs.

“Did you really just ask me that?” You were unable to refrain yourself from retorting.

“What?” He asked back even though his eyes had a tender playfulness to them. He clearly knew what you meant but wanted you to elaborate for his entertainment.

You just rolled your eyes and ignored it. “Yours.” You weren’t playing his game. You just rather resolve the issue at hand somewhere not in your place. The last time’s conflict left you feeling vacant when he walked out the door and you stayed there with gloom lingering on every space of your place. You couldn’t do anything because it was your home. You just let it evaporate on its own.

In case things go South like they always do, you wouldn’t want to worsen the state of your already sullied abode.

So you let him start the vehicle and drive off.

“I really thought you were gone again,” he broke the fragile silence.

“What do you mean?”

“I went to your place and they told me you left. I assumed you flew somewhere insanely far away for the second time.” All the involute sentiments he was carrying a while ago dissipated. He’s back to his laid-back self.

“Why would you think that?”

He sneered as his eyes flashed with bitterness even as he stared at the road. “Cause that’s what you do, kitten. You run away when things get too inconvenient for you.”

What could you say to that?

Nothing. He was absolutely right.

You tried to prove to yourself that you weren’t a spoiled rich brat by working your butt off, but it was never too difficult for you. You worked hard, but everything went smoothly like how you wanted them to.

But with Kuroo, everything was in shambles. And in every chance you had to make things right with him, you chicken out. You blamed external factors such as timing not being right or other people were in the way. But you always had your chance. You just despised the fact that you had to cross certain barriers to move forward with your relationship with him. You wanted things easy.

Before you left, you really believed that you wanted to confess to him just to get some clarity on your relationship. So why did you stop talking to him at all? If that was your only goal, you could’ve talked to him the morning after. But you didn’t. Because you didn’t like the pain of facing him again when he was messing around with women other than you. So instead of facing it head on, you ran away.

It was the same when you confessed dead drunk and forgot the next morning. You were scared that he didn’t feel the same way, so you took the safe way out.

And when it was becoming too much again, you were tempted to do the same exact thing you did ago: remove all the complications in your life by getting away from the source of it - Kuroo.

With your mind flooded with realizations, you didn’t notice that you arrived at his place already.

At least that was what you thought because he stopped the engine, but the neighborhood wasn’t familiar to you.

“Where are we?” you asked.

“My place. Duh.” He answered before getting out. It was sarcastic, but it cheered you up. He was back to how he used to treat you before the drunken fiasco. It was just three weeks but it felt like you haven’t heard his taunts far longer than that. That’s how much you missed him.

You followed him and stepped out of his car as well. He must’ve moved out just recently, probably when you weren’t talking much, or else you would’ve known.

“Glad to know you moved out of that dump.” Even with the current situation, you couldn’t just stay quiet when your mind instinctively thought of something to get back to his snarky remark.

“Dump, huh?” He was looking at a certain building that you surmised was where his new apartment was. He scoffed before looking at you.

“Wonder why you agreed to let me fuck you in that dump though.” His grin spread wide enough that his teeth showed, clearly pleased with how he handled your usual battle of sarcasm.

You veered from his playful gaze and pursed your lips from the lack of a good response to bring down that haughty smile of his.

You regret ragging him on. You should’ve just stayed quiet.

“Can we go inside now? It’s cold” You changed the topic being the loser that you were.

“Come on then.” His satisfied smirk was still on his face knowing that he won that quick exchange. He waited for you to go to his side, then started walking towards the building.

When you came back to the country, you thought it was odd that still stayed in his previous place. You were positive that he could afford to get a nicer one. Now it made sense. He was saving up for this.

While heading to his unit, you could tell from the interior and the exterior of the building that the price of the place was above average.

Inside the elevator, there was only you and him. He was about to press his floor number, but his hand stopped mid air before putting it down again.

“Wanna guess what floor I’m in?”

“And if I get it wrong?” He didn’t have to say it out loud for you to know where he was going with it. It was one of your gambling games.

“You owe me nothing but the truth tonight.” Your bets were fun and the stakes were always petty but the weight of his stare let you know that the intent behind it was nothing compared to your previous wagers.

He would demand nothing else but the truth from you when you two start to talk about the issue at hand.

You found it strange. Of course, you would be honest. That’s the point of the conversation you’d be having when you reach his unit.

But since he was acting like candor was of great worth to get from you, you’d ask for something of similar value.

“If I get it right, I’m getting your Nekoma jersey. The one with No.1 on it.”

He was obviously taken aback from what you asked for. “Why that?”

“Why not?” You immediately asked back.

He looked at the numbers on the side of the elevators while he scratched the roof of his teeth with tongue.

“I changed my mind. I want all of them.”

“Huh?!”

“The odds aren’t right. There are 40 floors and the chance of getting it right is only 1/40. If you’d think about it, I’m even being generous.”

He clicked his tongue, acknowledging that your point was valid. “Deal.”

You instantly responded without even thinking twice, “22.”

You wished you could’ve captured his reaction.

“You were already eyeing 22, dumbass. Your hand literally stopped in front of that number.” You shook your head as you snickered from that tiny victory, letting it take some of your tension away. “Say goodbye to your jerseys tonight,” you added.

He usually won’t make such a mistake during your gambles. And because he did, you worked out that he must be distressed too.

“Fuck.” He cursed then pressed the button you just said.

“Ugh fine, you can keep one.” You felt bad cause you even though the probability of you winning was low, the stakes for you were basically a given.

The way on his unit was spent arguing on why the deal should be void because it wasn’t really a gamble since you already knew the answer.

On his doorstep, you both hastenly arrived at a compromise of getting only his captain’s jersey, knowing that the inescapable confrontation is about to take place.

When he opened the door, it was nicer than you expected. It was modern looking with its minimalist interior and gray, black, and white tones. Your place was bigger but this looked more spacious because there weren’t unnecessary furnitures.

The click of the door brought you back to why you were here. All the monkeying around a while ago was just a prelude to this and any impact it had on you was diminishing by the second. Things were about to get serious. You could feel anxiety crawling back to your skin.

You didn’t wait for his hospitality and sat yourself on the couch.

He immediately went after and sat beside you.

You shook your head. “No.”

“What?” A frown creasing his forehead from the ‘no’ that came out of nowhere.

“Don’t sit near me. It makes me uncomfortable.” It might have been rude, but you just had to say it. You want your mind working functionally so you can’t have him anywhere near your personal space.

Instead of getting offended, he eyed you with consideration before standing up. He got a chair from his dining area and sat a good few steps away from you. He crossed his legs and arms.

“So?” He proceeded, imploring you to be the first one to open the conversation that was suspended by the vehicle earlier.

“What do you mean ‘so’?” You laughed sourly. “You’re the one supposed to explain things. Do you expect me to just accept what you said a while ago?”

He threw you a questioning look. “Is it really that hard to believe?” “You avoided me for weeks. When I tried to make up with you, you brushed me off cause you were seeing someone else. So my apologies for being so skeptical,” your last sentence full of uninhibited scorn.

“Who said I was seeing her? She’s just a volleyball player I’m working with.” If this was a normal conversation, he’d definitely have some snide comments to go along with it. But he didn’t swerve to his usual smugness. He remained pensive.

You couldn’t think of a decent reply except for an timid “Oh” that came from your mouth. You’re reassured that it wasn’t like that, but it was overpowered by the shame brought by your incorrect assumption.

He didn’t wait for you to recover as he asked right away, “Why did you ignore me after that?”

But despite the embarrassment, your brain was still running its engine properly. So you skillfully evade his query. “You still haven’t told me why you avoided me prior to that.”

He puffed a heavy breath. “I didn’t know how to get back to that friendship bullshit that you wanted so bad.” He uncrossed his legs and slouched with his elbows on his thighs. “Now answer my question,” he commanded.

“Well.. I didn’t want to intervene with whatever or whoever it is you’re busy with,” you said a bit too quickly without explaining further. “My turn again,” you continued on/

“No. I addressed two things from you so it’s still my turn,” he firmly asserted.

You were about to retaliate but he beat you to it with his own question. “How many times have I made you cry?”

It was an abrupt one that wasn’t in line with the previous questions that preceded it. You flinched from how it hit that certain memory you thought you moved on from.

“Never. What gave you that idea?” You denied as fast as you could. He didn’t have to know that insignificant detail. ‘It doesn’t matter’ you told yourself even though you knew it was your pride that wouldn’t let you answer truthfully.

You’re glad to have won the bet earlier. Even though you thought you were going to be completely honest, there were just some details that need not be known.

Heated stares replaced words as both of you waited until the other withdrew. He was glaring at you, looking for an ounce of deceit. Too bad for him though because you have no intentions of folding.

You arose the winner when he’s the first to concede as he straightened his posture from slouching. He leaned back on the backrest of his chair and sighed exasperatedly.

“Man, I’d like to complain, but I guess your tenacity is one of the reasons why I fell for you.”

You were doing so well but with what he just said, your heart is back to the mess it was when he pulled you to him and said he loves you for the first time.

“Cat got your tongue, kitten?” His smug grin back to its former glory, making you even more flustered than you already were.

“How can you say things like that so indifferently?” You voiced out, irritated at how he’s so relaxed while youre all wound up.

“Look. I’ve been keeping my mouth shut ever since you came back. Now that it’s out in the open, I’ll say it as much as I want to.”

Did you hear him correctly? He said ‘since you came back.’ When exactly did he start having feelings for you?

“What do-”

“Hold it right there. You don’t get to ask anything yet since your last answer was a lie.”

You groaned. He shouldn’t be allowed to call you tenacious when he’s even worse than you are when he wants to be. “It is not. So let’s move on,” you tried to proceed but he cut you off right away.

“Kenma told me.”

Your solid defiance rapidly chipped from your secret being found out by the person you wanted to hide it from. You could only guess that Kenma told him just now. That’s why he was on a rampant chase to find you.

The earlier gamble made sense now. He anticipated your refusal to admit what happened back then, back before you left. So he wanted to ensure that you would be forthright about it.

Even after losing the bet, his goal was still secured for he had Kenma’s story as proof.

You tried to feel any hostility towards Kenma but you didn’t have it in your heart to do so. You trusted Kenma. He must have had a good reason for telling Kuroo now when he’d kept it well for more than a year.

“Fine,” you said under your breath.

“Too many that I didn’t bother counting.”

Guilt darkened the diffidence on his face. He must not have expected that you would be the type to cry over a guy, especially him who started his relationship with you only as a bed warmer.

But you went on with your previous question since that’s what was pervading in your mind. “When did you realize?” You were really curious since when the feeling has been mutual between the two of you.

“Realize what?”

“That you l-,” you hesitated, reluctant to fully spat out the phrase completely even though he already said it first hand. Looking back, you don't know how you convinced yourself to admit your feelings to him when you’re stuttering from a trifling thing such as this.

“That I love you?”

You staved off away from his perfervid stare, not able to handle it as you replied a brash “Yeah” to maintain your tough façade.

“At the very same night you were supposed to confess.”

You harshly returned your gaze to him. “Was that a joke?” You chuckled wryly. “In case you forgot, I was there.”

You were grateful to Kenma being there at that moment, but it’s different when it’s finally Kuroo you’re confronting. You could feel all the unaddressed bitterness you buried deep inside take over you.

“I was hoping to get an honest conversation. Instead, I arrived at the godforsaken bar,” you continued with a forced smile, “and stood watch as you made that first move to kiss her, how you pulled her close like …. like you couldn’t get enough.” The particular scene tore you back then and it does just the same now. Before you knew it, warm liquid pooled in the corner of your eyes without any warning.

You turned your head sideway and let your hair cover your face.

You didn’t want him to see how your lips quivered as you fend off a whimper that was already at the back of your tongue

You sealed shut any feelings you had for that certain chapter of your relationship with Kuroo. So you couldn’t understand the surge of sullenness that flowed through you. It must be from how paradoxical his narrative seemed.

How could he claim to love you when he enjoyed the sultry company of another?

If Kuroo would think of two words to describe your personality, it would be determined and composed, to the point that you can seem cold and apathetic at times. You were the kind of person who didn’t give two shits to anything you found unnecessary or irrelevant.

Since he met you, you constantly had your guard up as if people will find something awful if they get a tiny peek of what you really are. He couldn’t do something about that. He didn’t have any right to. You two were only fucking around. He later figured out that you didn’t want people to know who you really were - an heiress and a successful model.

That’s why you traded carefully around people.

But when you came back and asked only for friendship, you still had your fences up like you were hiding something. He thought maybe because you’ve had them up for so long that you didn’t know how to turn it off, even for him whom you considered a friend.

So to see you struggling to keep your walls up that were slowly crumbling, he realized why you have a soft spot for Kenma. He’s already seen what you tried so hard to protect.

Disobeying your earlier instruction to not sit beside you, he stood up from the chair and moved to your side.

When you saw him do so, you didn’t say anything. You only raised your hand to nimbly wipe your tears that were already falling. He grabbed your hand you were using and held it still on your lap. He replaced it with his own, drying your tears with his fingers.

It was the least he could do with being the cause of it, and he was glad you let him even though you still kept your eyes away from him.

He trailed his fingers down your jaw and slightly lifted your face so he could look at you. What he saw was unrefined vulnerability, and even then, you wore it beautifully.

He finally understood. That wall you built when you met again was exclusively for him. You guarded your heart from him. You created the friends only set up so you wouldn’t get hurt again.

It made him feel like shit. You really did love him back then, enough to cause you this pain.

“I’m sorry. I was half-assed about it at the time. Nothing more happened with me and whoever that girl was. I just,” he trailed off knowing that the next thing he’s going to say is gonna sound stupid. “used her to see if what I felt for you was real.”

You raised your gaze to him with eyes wide with disbelief. “Are you serious?”

“I know it’s idiotic, okay?” His voice took a slightly defensive tone as you were about to judge his line of thinking back then. “But we were only fuck buddies. I didn’t want to start a relationship with you then realize that I was just confusing the comfort of your company with something as serious as love.”

He stroked your knuckles after he explained.

“I really am sorry, y/n. I didn’t mean to hurt you like that.” His words dripping with remorse from every single tear that you shed for him without him knowing.

“Why tell me only now? It’s been months since I came back.”

“You were insanely driven on being friends only. I didn’t think you feel the same way.”

No one said anything after. He couldn’t tell if you’re aware of it too, but he could feel tension in his every vein as his next question dangled on the tip of his tongue.

“Do you?”

You bit your lip as you averted your eyes downwards again.

“You know the answer to that already.”

Indeed he does. You wouldn’t be this affected if you didn’t. But he has to hear it directly from you. He has to hear you say you love him for real this time.

“I need it to come from you.” He gently held your cheek to guide you back to his gaze. He needs to see the entirety of your face, especially your eyes, when you finally tell him how you truly feel about him.

“I… I-” He could see your strenuous struggle to get the phrase out. You eminently tried as you kept uttering the first syllable but nothing after that. “I can’t say it,” you said defeatedly.

He should be frustrated. He laid out all his cards open for you to see, but you refused to do the same when you had one last face down card that would declare the game over where you both win.

But he held nothing but patience. He could wait for the phrase he’d been longing for as long as he made sure of something.

“You don’t have to if you can’t say it. But I’ll be honest. I,” he let out a deep breath before continuing, “I can’t stand us being friends only anymore.”

He removed his light grasp on your face as his hand travelled to the one that he hasn’t been holding. He lightly squeezed your fingers to get you to heed the attention he needed from you.

“Be my girlfriend, y/n. Be mine.”

If you say no at this point, he’d lose his mind.

With his focus solely on you as he waited for an answer, he saw a subtle nod from you.

“Okay.”

It might seem too simple and bland of an answer. But you two had been going on through ragged stops for a year that he couldn’t care about trivial crap like that.

It wasn’t sweet and he found that perfectly okay. Because it was you. He just needed you to finally let him be more than just fuck buddy, more than a friend.

And when your lips tugged on both corners to form a smile that was directed at him, especially for him, it made his heart soar.

“Is this really happening?”

You had the gall to be skeptical when his actions never hid his affection for you. He just didn’t say it out loud.

“You bet your ass it is.” Instead of his usual shit-eating smile that would’ve accompanied his response, his smile mirrored yours.

You were both happy.

Unable to contain himself, he acted on what always wanted.to without anything holding him back.

He kissed you.

No alcohol and no bullshit involved, just taking in that first touch of your lips as officially your lover.

His hands travel up to your shoulders as he scoots over to have you closer. You taste and feel ethereal. It was unlike any kiss you’ve shared in the past. The ache he had for you this whole time was being lulled by how your soft lips cascaded on his.

His one hand goes up to the base of your neck while he parts your lips so he can have better access on the wonders of your mouth.

You sighed helplessly to the kiss before withdrawing just a bit, your warm breaths still mingling with one another.

“Wait,” you gasped inches away from his lips before burrowing your face on the crook of his neck.

“What’s wrong?” He asked worriedly, stroking your neck and shoulder to soothe whatever it is that’s bothering you..

“It feels weird.”

“Weird how?”

You lifted your head and looked at him with the most insane blush he’s seen from you. Your cheeks were a rosy fury that highlighted a foreign countenance in your face. Your orbs were glossy and sparkling with a tiny hint of naivety that he’s never seen from you. Your mouth was compressed in a thin line that he could tell was done to prevent the trembling of your lips that was still slightly evident.

He managed to get another unknown aspect of you to surface, and goddamn what a pleasant surprise it was.

He loves your confidence. It was sexy. But bashfulness was an exceptional look on you too. It provided depth to your character which was already fascinating to him to begin with.

He couldn’t wait until he could fully discover everything about you, even the one you still weren’t aware of.

“It’s like I’m overwhelmed by something until I can’t breathe. But I… I like it?” You glowered right after describing it, probably thinking that it sounded asinine.

He was amused and charmed at the same time from how you tried to put into words how he was making you feel.

“You do realize we’ve fucked countless times already.” He couldn’t resist goading further even when he knew exactly what you were talking about.

“You don’t say,” you riposted, gaining your smart-assery back to which he laughs at.

“God, I really love you.”

He lunges to claim your lips once more, his need to have more of you back with heightened intensity.

You were getting dizzy from how he was kissing you. It was much more needy than the previous one. You still haven’t fully grasped what just happened and yet he’s already filling your senses, making you forget the tiny insignificant details and retaining only one fact that mattered.

You and him.

His hand on your shoulder wanders down to your waist while you grasp his biceps for support as he pulls you even closer until you were straddling him.

His mouth did not linger too long on yours as it impatiently trailed down your neck, interchanging loving kisses with hungry sucks that stirred your thirst for him.

You remembered some parts of the drunken sex you had, but they were just flashes and blurred images. The sensation from the experience wasn’t retained.

It seemed like a far away memory compared to how he was making you feel at the present moment.

You suddenly feel him slip his hand underneath your shirt, palming your bare skin upwards until it reaches one soft mound which he doesn't hesitate to squeeze.

“Haaaa. Kurooo, wait,” you plead breathlessly. You were getting overwhelmed by how he swiftly fanned the flames of desire that was spreading throughout your body.

His lips left the sensitive skin of your collar and met your gaze with restrained hunger.

“What is it?”

You didn’t know what to say. Did you want him to slow down or just have his way with you already?

He must have noticed your conflict so he decided for you.

He chose the latter.

Both his hands scurried to your hips, guiding you to raise them slightly while his lips find their way to yours again. Not bothering to remove or even tug down your leggings, he slid one hand inside which was welcomed by your slick arousal.

“Why’d you stop me when you’re already this wet?” He asked with pride flickering in his eyes knowing that it was him who caused it.

But he did not let you answer as he shoved one finger in your core.

“Aahh,” your eyes closed shut and your thighs tremble from the sudden pleasure as your hands move to clutch his shoulders to anchor yourself. You rest your forehead on his while puffing heavily.

“Kuroo...” you whimpered.

He steadies you with one hand, but does not relent as he inserts one more digit.

“Hmmm?” You could tell that he was enjoying your wanton surrender just from the way he sounded.

“It feels too much,” you admitted.

“Too much? Oh kitten, we’ve barely even started.”

He took the hem of your shirt and lifted it up. “Bite it,” he commanded and you complied obediently.

He hoists your bra down your chest, exposing your unclad breasts to him. He eagerly takes one perk nipple in his mouth while his one hand goes around your waist. He retacts his fingers inside and rubs the bundle of nerves above your slit in hurried circles that were driving you to the brink of madness.

He was right. This was still foreplay, but you were already so feverish.

Your moans were muffled by how hard you were biting the cotton fabric of your shirt.

“Take your shirt off. I want to hear you,” his voice raspy as he stopped everything he was doing that was making you feel good. You quickly yanked your shirt off so he could go back to doing them right away.

As soon as your top was thrown away, he inserted the same fingers back again and started pumping in and out aggressively.

With his request and the absence of your shirt, nothing was repressing the salacious sounds that were coming out of your mouth

The heat in the pit of your groin was building up too fast. It was a very steep peak that he was rapidly coercing you to reach.

“Feels-ahh-so good.”

He groaned in response. He took out his digits and loosened his hold of you which made you flutter your eyes open.

“Let’s take this to my bed,” he said ruggedly as he was about to get up.

You firmly grasp his shoulders to stop him. “Wait.”

A dash of timidness came over you again which you couldn’t understand. Just like he said earlier, you’ve had a lot of sex. You did things more scandalous than what you had in mind, but you feel flustered just thinking about saying it out loud.

“What is it?”

“Uhh,” you swallowed your nerves. “Do you mind getting your couch dirty?”

He raised an eyebrow from your question, but was immediately followed by a riveting smile upon realizing what you meant.

“Not all,” he took off his shirt then proceeded to unclasp your bra that was still lugged your breasts.

“We can get it dirty as much as we want,” he whispered right in your ear.

Sex with Kuroo before usually ended with both of you scramming to get water or go to the bathroom to clean up. Then when you went back to his bed, both of you just settled down in whatever position you were comfortable in.

Holding each other after sex just was never on the table. No one talked about it and no one initiated so you figured both of you weren’t into it. You weren’t sure about him but you found the act too intimate to do between casual sexmates.

You had no idea it felt this good to be cradled by him.

Your head was nested on his arm that he extended for you. His other one was enveloped around your waist and your face and hands were burrowed on his chest.

“This is nice,” was an understatement that you breathed on his skin.

“Mmhmm. More especially since you’re awake and sober,” he hummed on your hair.

“Hmm?”

He chuckles lightly as he caresses your hair delicately, his fingers sometimes grazing your nape.

“Yeah, I held you like this the night of my birthday instead of going back.”

You definitely had no memories of that. You knew he took care of you, but you didn’t think he got cozy in bed afterwards.

“I thought awww poor you. You seemed like you could use a cuddle. You did beg me to fuck you after all.”

Typical of him, he had to be an ass and ruin the moment.

But you didn’t believe him. You knew that’s not what happened. You did kiss him first and asked him to stay, but you did not beg. Even if you did forget everything, you still wouldn’t believe him. You’re not the type of person to beg.

“Don’t invent stories just because you wanted to feel me up after sex.”

His chest rumbles within your touch as he worked up a laugh from your snappy comeback. “You’re really something, kitten.”

“You’re gonna keep calling me that, huh?”

He cranes his head back a bit, creating some space between you. You could tell he was peering at you.

“Don’t like it?”

You smile at his question. You found the nickname tacky at first, but it kind of got stuck with you. He’s never called you any other pet names other than that and it made you feel like it was solely for you.

“No, I love it.”

You tilt your head up a bit to look at him.

“I love you.”

You were so apprehensive earlier because of the torment that still lingered from the many failed attempts to tell him so.

You thought you would need more time, but that doesn’t seem to be the case as he easily whisked your worries away just by being with him like this.

You were finally able to tell him sincerely in your own accord. You didn’t realize keeping these feelings all to yourself was so heavy that letting it out was such a liberating experience.

As you free your chest with the restless burden of secretly loving him, you don’t feel empty because your heart was filled with content from knowing that he loves you just the same.

It reflects on his face, more so now that his smile is growing broader by the second which was accompanied by a noticeable flush on his cheeks that was illuminated by the dim light of his night lamp.”

“I love you too, y/n.” His eyes exuding profound adoration for you.

“I had my chance to tell you the morning after I got wasted. I just-”

“Hey,” he cut you off then removed his hand on your waist to cup your neck, his thumb brushing gently the curve of your jaw.

“I have you now. That’s all I care about,” the elated smile still not leaving his face.

“I can see that. You look too freaking happy,” you said as revenge for how he ruined your moment just a while ago.

“Well, sorry I’m not emotionally constipated like you,” he quickly outwitted your attempt to mock him.

“You scumbag,” you hissed despite his blissful smile infecting you.

He pulls you again closer to him until your bodies stripped off of any clothing are perfectly molded against each other.

“Yea yea, say whatever you want but I’m the scumbag you love.” Even when you couldn’t see his face anymore, you could still hear how enraptured he was.

And so were you as you snuggled with him until you fell asleep.

“Sorry, I’ll be a little late, kitten. I need to be here for a while even though the game ended already.”

You could hear him scuffling around with the dwindling sound of excitement in the background.

You’re already late from your planned time, but he was running even later. Not that you were upset. You didn’t have major plans or anything. You just agreed to go to his place together since you’re spending the night there.

“You have my keys, right? You can go ahead.”

“I can go there and wait for you,” you suggested since you still have some energy left from the orderly photoshoot you had this late afternoon. Also, you’d just be restless waiting for him at his apartment.

“You sure?” He asked even though you were sure he’s smiling judging from the way he sounded.

“Yup.”

“Okay then! Have to hang up now though. Love you, kitten,” then he ended the call.

It’s been almost a month now since you two were officially together but he sometimes still catches you off guard with how he expresses his love for you without reservations. But you have no complaints.

Upon arriving in Tokyo Stadium, there were only a few people inside, and some of those few are heading out.

Thank goodness for that. Even if you weren’t feeling tired, you didn’t wanna get squashed by Volleyball enthusiasts. It would also make your bed-headed boyfriend much easier to find.

You don’t want to call him just yet. He’s probably still occupied so you’ll just look for him.

As you paced the area unsurely, you were starting to doubt your decision to look for him on your own. You had no idea stadiums had this kind of structure on the inside since you’ve never gone in one. You thought it was just one big open area with elevated benches.

Instead of going inside the actual playing arena, you went to the narrow halls that branched to the sides of the building.

Just before passing a certain corner, someone emerged from a room that you weren’t aware was actually there.

“Oy Hinata, I’m going ahead if you keep being a slowtard,” a tall, dark-haired man aggressively stated before walking towards your direction.

“Kageyama, you impatient turd!” A bright orange-haired guy, who’s probably called Hinata, came out right after, hurrying to go after the dark haired one who’s most likely Kageyama.

Before he could even pass you by, you lock eyes with Hinata.

A snap of familiarity hits you both.

“Waah. Ms. Pretty!” He said in English, completely and overwhelmingly affable that it was almost adorable.

Oh right, you spoke in English the first time you met.

“Hello.” You smiled politely, still holding up your non-Japanese speaking facade.

Kageyama stopped walking and turned his attention to you. He bowed then looked at Hinata. “You know her?” He asked in Nihongo.

“Not really. But it was kinda funny, Kuroo-san called her ‘kitten’ but she didn’t really know him,” Hinata grinned from amusement only but Kageyama didn’t respond.

Hinata frowned and took a semi defensive stance. “You better not tell Kuroo-san I said that.”

You just alternate your gaze between the two men, deciding whether you should admit that you could actually speak Nihongo and that you’re looking for Kuroo or just let things play out as is.

“What’s the noise all about?”

Another set of recognizable faces turned up - fake blondie, curly, and black and white.

It wasn’t hard to guess why they were there. They were athletes. They weren’t just guests in the event. They were most likely brand ambassadors too, except for Kageyama. It’s the first time you saw the man.

They must be part of the national team. Kuroo did say it was an international match today.

Fake blondie’s face lit up as soon as his eyes landed on your face. He quickly made his way to approach you, passing by Hinata when he did.

“You lost, pretty girl?” It contained everything Hinata’s previous compliment lacked, pure flirtatiousness together with a come-hither smile.

So the Volleyball national team can somehow speak English. Although, they still retained their heavy accents.

You studied fake blondie in front of you and quickly decided that you wouldn’t date him even if you haven’t met Kuroo. The guy’s hot, but he seems like an idiot.

“Y/n?”

Someone who you didn’t have to identify by his hair entered the scene, Yaku.

You wave reservedly at him for you still haven’t forgotten how you acted around him the first you met.

“What’re you doing here?” He, then, turned to fake blondie. “Cut it out, Miya-san. I’m certain she’s not interested.”

“She can’t understand Nihongo, Yaku-san.” Black and white appeared to be whispering but his voice was loud enough for everyone to hear..

Yaku threw him a confused look. “What? I met her around two months ago. She’s a local, Bokuto.”

The Miya person scowled, “Geez. Could’ve saved me the trouble.”

You just ignored him and shifted your attention to Yaku.

“I’m looking for Tet-” you cleared your throat. He’s been pestering you to call him ‘Tetsu’ every single day until you just succumbed to it and it became normal to you. You almost addressed him as such to these people who you presume he’s working with.

“I’m looking for Kuroo.”

Yaku raised an eyebrow with intrigue twinkling on his whole face. “Oh?”

“Mmmhmm,” you answered obscurely.

“You friends or somethin?” Miya asked with an ounce of wariness, changing your initial thought of him being an idiot.

Yaku grinned. “They’re just friends,” he answered for you, obviously anticipating whether you’d agree or not.

You weren’t ashamed of dating Kuroo, but you’ve had some kind of weird interaction with these people that involved Kuroo, save for Kageyama obviously. Poor guy must be confused at the novelty of what’s happening.

From behind Bokuto and the curly haired guy whose name you still have no idea what, the man you were looking for presented himself and walked towards you.

Those he passed by had their eyes lingering on his back with Miya being the last person to notice him since Miya is the closest to you.

“Not that it’s any of your business,” he puts a possessive arm around you, “ but this lost lady here is my girlfriend.”

You tried to hold off a smile, but it was futile. You didn’t expect that announcing it to other people was that gratifying after more than a year of consistently telling people otherwise. .

Damn it feels good to be more than just friends with Kuroo.

A/N”

I want to cry. This was my very first fic and my very first series as well. I'm so happy to see it through and finish it.

I'm thinking of an epilogue maybe next year, but for now, I'm marking it as completed.

I love you all.

Part 9 || Epilogue || m.list

taglist (thos in bold and crossed out can’t be tagged)

@lia-faerie-queen @mkkhaikyuu @fastidious-and-precise @winunk @feelkindahorny @cece-lives-here @arendizzle @phantomneko0 @ysatrap @babythotshq @ameliaxo @miiy @kurooscoochie @lucifers-luv @suikrem

#kuroo smut #kuroo fluff #kuroo angst #kuroo x reader #Kuroo Tetsurou #haikyuu kuroo #haikyuu series #haikyuu x reader

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nobodyfamousposts · 5 years

Text

Miraculous Salt: Bustier

Fair warning: There are some dark and potentially triggering things discussed. Assault, domestic violence, drug use, overdose, and attempted murder are implied if not outright mentioned.

“Today, class, I’ve asked a special guest to come speak to you!” Bustier greeted them all with a smile. She gestured to the woman next to her, a young adult they hadn’t seen before. She seemed a bit nervous awkward, but was dressed professionally and tried to appear confident.

Bustier clasped her hands together.

“Vivienne is a former student of mine from a few years back. She going to talk to us about positive examples and appropriate behavior in the classroom.”

Marinette slumped in her seat, already knowing what this was about and just whom this lecture was meant for. Bustier’s frequent looks at Marinette weren’t even necessary. The fact that several of the other students shot glances back to her made it clear they knew as well.

Apparently Bustier’s lectures to Marinette about the high road and helping her classmates weren’t enough anymore. Now it just felt like she was making a spectacle to prove a point.

The woman, Vivienne, looked to Bustier in confusion.

“I thought I was supposed to give a lecture about preparation for the future?”

“Well certainly.” Bustier agreed, smiling brightly and indulgently. “And about how a good future for everyone can be started by setting an appropriate example in the here and now.”

Several of the students around her nodded. Lila sent a smug look back at her. Marinette merely wanted to crawl under her desk.

The woman stared at Bustier in open-mouthed surprise.

“Are you joking?”

Bustier appeared startled. “I’m sorry?”

“Are you actually joking? Did you mean to tell me you brought me here. All this way. On a weekday. To give a lecture to students about your downright toxic classroom habits?”

Everyone’s eyes widened. Their mouths opened. Because…no one just talked to Bustier like that. She was a teacher! And she was so nice!

Bustier herself was frozen in shock.

“Excuse me?”

“No. No. You’re right. You had me come to give a speech to your class. Fine. I’m going to talk to them.”

She cleared her throat and turned to the class.

“Listen to me. All of you, but especially you in the back because it seems you are Bustier’s target of the year.” She said, looking around to everyone in the class though her eyes remained mostly on Marinette. “You have the right to feel angry when you are wronged. You have the right to be upset when someone hurts you. You have every right to not forgive the one who does it. It is not your fault when someone does wrong. It is not your responsibility for someone else’s choices. You are under NO obligation—ABSOLUTELY NONE to make the person hurting you feel better about it! And at some point, you need to consider what is best for yourself and your life, even if it means cutting people out of it and letting them face the consequences of their actions.”

“What are you doing?” Bustier demanded, outraged.

“Telling them the truth.” Vivienne stated flatly. “It’s the least I could do after what you did to me and my class thanks to your ‘approach’.”

“But you were a great example for your classmates.”

“No, I was their stepping stone and in some cases, their punching bag. And look how well that turned out! I’m STILL in therapy because of you!”

Bustier gaped in horror.

“Yeah, turns out that constantly pushing myself to take on the burden for everyone else’s choices isn’t actually healthy! Either for me OR anyone else.” Vivienne huffed. “And I have you to blame for a huge part of that.”

She pointed at Bustier in outrage.

“Because of you and your lessons, I lost my ability to be assertive. I became passive to the point of being a doormat, and it’s something that STILL affects me today! Because under YOUR guidance, I was taught that other people’s behaviors were MY fault. That if someone was being cruel or hurting me, it was because I wasn’t trying hard enough. That it was MY obligation to make bad people better rather than their own. And that if I tried to speak up for myself, I was the one in the wrong. Especially when you dragged my parents into things and portrayed the entire mess like it was my fault for not being okay with my treatment instead of concern over how I was being treated.”

“Now now, you’re over-exaggerating.” Bustier argued in that annoyingly placating tone.

“You made it MY job to try and better people who didn’t WANT to be better. I was thirteen! I was a student in your care! How was that supposed to be MY job? My only job was supposed to be to learn, and because of you, I’ve learned all the wrong lessons!”

She rubbed her face, frustrated and exasperated and just done with this whole thing.

“I don’t know what’s healthy or not. I don’t know when I’m being selfish or when I’m supposed to let something go. I still freeze up when dealing with people because even years later, I still have your voice ringing in my head about how I need to be ‘the better person’ regardless of whether I actually CAN.”

She stopped and took a breath. Then turned on Bustier, appearing truly angry with the woman.

“You pushed me to the point of self-destruction and said that was love.”

“I’m sorry that you apparently had a rough time of things,” Bustier fumbled. “But I can’t be held responsible for how every student turns out.”

“THEN YOU SHOULDN’T HAVE BECOME A TEACHER!”

Bustier reared back as if struck by a physical blow.

Vivienne breathed deeply, trying to get herself back under control.

“You had a position of power and authority over me. And you used it to push your responsibility on me. To push the responsibility for EVERYONE in that class on me. On top of my own schoolwork. My own issues. My own responsibilities. I had to deal with yours and everyone else’s. Their well being. Their futures. Their selfish little wants and requests I didn’t have time or energy for but was still expected to fulfill. All of that. On me. And now you’ve even gone so far as to bring me here to advocate for you doing the same thing to someone else? And you don’t see anything wrong with that?”

Vivienne gestured to her chest, agitated and hurt and just…finally letting years worth of frustration out.

“Doing what you did? Pushing things the way you did? You put an unreasonable burden on a child. All in the name of being a ‘good example’ for how other people should be. Guess what? The only thing being a ‘good example’ accomplished was showing people what to expect from others rather than anything they should expect from themselves.”

She glared at Bustier.

“I did some reading on psychology after leaving your class. Turns out the thing you missed about modeling is that it’s the ADULTS who are supposed to model for their kids, not other kids under their care and especially NOT the ones being victimized.”

Bustier forced herself to speak. “But…everyone deserves a chance.”

“You have students that struggle. It’s common. They need extra care. That’s understandable.” Vivienne agreed. “The problem is that instead of being the teacher you are supposed to be and giving them that care yourself, you instead push that responsibility on your other students when it should never have been their responsibility in the first place!”

“They can’t change and do better if everyone is expecting them to fail.” Bustier reasoned.

“Maybe so, but they’re certainly not going to change if they don’t see a reason they should. Giving bullies a free pass and then lecturing their victims on ‘being the bigger person’ after they’ve been hurt because of the bullying is NOT going to motivate the bully to change anymore than it’s going to motivate the victims to keep trying! Was it any wonder so many of your students just gave up?”

Bustier’s eyes widened in shock.

“What?”

“Yeah, it turns out that I’m not the only student who left your class with problems down the line. Big surprise, but being reprimanded for feeling hurt and being told that their feelings are less important than those of the ones harming them isn’t exactly motivation to keep going out of their way to do their best. Not in grades, which unsurprisingly fell amongst students in your class by the final year. Not in activities, which—surprise surprise! Your students stopped being invested in because you kept pushing for everyone else to work twice as hard for something that you were letting other students get full advantage of with nowhere near the same effort! Was it any wonder that I was the only one you were able to browbeat into doing anything by the end? It was because everyone else got disillusioned and stopped trying! Because you rewarded the bad students and admonished the good students if they took issue with that. They weren’t blind! They know favoritism when they see it!”

The class was staring. Unsure what to say. Or if they even should speak.

“Oh, and on the subject of favoritism. You surely remember Candace—my bully whose behavior you defended and minimized? Yeah, she’s in jail. Again. For causing a scene in a public setting. Again. And even assaulting police, which is actually a new one for her this time around. But it’s her standard behavior. It’s all she knows how to do. Because you and people like you catered to her tantrums and brattish behavior, gave her whatever she wanted, and admonished anyone who complained about how she treated them.”

“Well…” Bustier simpered. “Treating her cruelly isn’t changing her now, is it?”

“Because she’s an adult used to getting her way!” Vivienne exclaimed. “The time to teach her better was when she was young. It was when she was still a student under YOUR care! Instead, you solidified her into the messed up adult she is today! Speaking of messed up adults, how about dear old Henrik? You remember him?”

“He…he was…a perfect student…” Bustier muttered, uncertain and wary.

“Sure was. Your model student. He sure road your high horse all throughout school and even all the way to his own wedding to Delia—your OTHER favorite student to coddle. You must have been so proud of how that turned out. And even after she’s cheated on him. Among other things. He’d be the picture of domestic violence at this point…you know…if he could actually acknowledge that the relationship is even abusive.”

She sighed.

“But he still insists he can ‘change her’. That he can ‘help her be better’. And some other reasons about ‘make a bad person be good’ that sounds like the sort of tripe you fed him. You know, most of us just thought he was a wannabe stud who like having girls rubbing themselves all over him. It never occurred to us that he was uncomfortable and just didn’t know how to ask them to stop.”

Several of the students gasped in shock. Adrien in particular appeared uncomfortable, like the story was a point for him in particular. Remembering the way Chloe and Lila hung off him, Marinette had to wonder if Adrien and this Henrik didn’t have a few concerning things in common.

Vivienne, however, continued. And even started to tick off on her fingers. “Elodie joined the police force and is so caught up in her own brand of ‘justice’ that she jumps into things without thinking and a number of her arrests ended up going free regardless of the charge due to her not following procedure. Arthur was always the sort to ‘go with the flow’ rather than stand up for anything, so he ‘went with the flow’ all the way to a strip club where he spends his nights, still waiting on some new job opportunity Delia promised him years ago. Kent and Morgan were arrested for embezzlement of some charity’s funds. Michael works at a repair shop, so he has a steady job at least. Sam’s charged for property destruction from illegal street racing. Again. Vincent is claiming some close relationship with Jagged Stone that I don't even want to consider. Randall died from drug overdose last year, otherwise I’m sure you would have called him up instead of me.”

Everyone gaped at her in growing horror. Alya and Max both seemed to be looking at their phones, only to wince or appear more agitated with whatever they found—Marinette assumed it was likely proof of Vivienne’s claims. Bustier looked almost ready to faint at the news of what’s become of her former students.

Vivienne just tapped her chin.

“And you know, now that I think about it, it makes sense that you called me out of everyone to come lecture your class because I think I’m probably the only former student NOT a complete wreck—if only because I’m a few steps away from it thanks to therapy.”

She sneered at Bustier in downright disgust.

“All these people you said it was my job to save. All of them—every single one of them fell apart when I finally gave up. Though they were admittedly barely hanging on as it was while they still had me to dump on. And I’m pretty sure that I could have been a millionaire by now if I’d held firm on charging people for the things they wanted from me instead of bowing to your insistence on doing things for people for free to be ‘nice’. Or, you know…NOT wasting my time and giving up on my own opportunities to pull everyone else out of the fires they kept starting.”

Feeling the weight of everyone’s gazes on her, Bustier spoke up to attempt to defend herself.

“To make a healthy classroom—”

“Your classroom isn’t healthy!” Vivienne shouted. And it was only now that Marinette realized there was a growing number of people hovering outside the door and listening in. “It says something that we have a magical emotion-based terrorist running around and his most frequent targets other than a guy obsessed with pigeons have been your students! Hell, in the past year the majority of akuma attacks have all been from this very class! If i didn’t already know you were doing this all along, I would think you were grooming these kids to be taken by Hawk Moth!"

“They’re not...that bad...” Bustier weakly defended.

“One of your students is the girl who tried to CRASH A TRAIN! And it didn’t take me all of five minutes after entering to see you catering to what can only be a chronic liar.”

Lila immediately started the waterworks. “How could you say that about me?”

“Actually, I hadn’t pointed you out. But thanks for doing it yourself, and while we’re on the subject, GOOGLE. Five minutes is more than enough to debunk your stories. Anyone could do it if they bothered to. Which might have gone a long way in preventing the classroom from becoming toxic, Bustier, if you had helped to develop your students’ critical thinking skills so they could figure things out for themselves instead of demanding they become doormats to make other people ‘feel better’.”

“I—I—” Bustier looked almost ready to cry.

“Couldn’t be bothered to tell them they’re being lied to?” Vivienne asked, sarcastically.

“She has a condition! I didn’t want to impair her ability to make friends!” Bustier exclaimed, making the class stare at her in growing horror. Others turned on Lila in outrage at the confirmation. Lila in turn started to shrink in on herself, realizing that this had not been the best time to draw attention.

“So you protect one student by letting the rest be used and manipulated. It’s not like that can go wrong! Just ask Henrik…as soon as he gets out of the hospital.”

One student—Rose—actually raised her hand. “What…what happened to Henrik?”

“Officially, food poisoning.” Vivienne replied. “Unofficially, Delia only married him because he’s rich and good as arm candy, but she only needs him alive for one of those two things and his moral righteousness makes him less appealing as the latter.”

Bustier wobbled, her strength giving out. She quickly made it to her chair and almost fell onto it as the sheer magnitude of what was happening hit her.

“But…I don’t understand. It can’t be me. I’m…I’m a good teacher…”

“No.” Vivienne interrupted. “You’re a nice teacher. At least to certain students. For everyone else, you taught pretty words and preached about love and kindness to help build up a rose-tinted view of the world and the people in it. It’s no wonder nobody knew how to deal afterwards.”

“But…it can’t be my fault.” She insisted. “I’m only one influence! There are parents! Guardians!”

Yeah, no. Vivienne was not letting her pass the blame.

“Whom YOU spoke with. Whom YOU influenced with your position to put focus on the wrong problems—not what needed to be addressed but what you wanted to make your classroom easier for you. Parents don’t know what their kids are doing during school hours other than what they’re told is happening. And when they’re told that their kid is ‘problematic’ or ‘causing conflict’ or ‘not a team player’ but they’re not being told WHY? Or not being told that their kid is being mistreated, bullied, or outright assaulted? And those parents then turn on the kids?”

She shrugged.

“Honestly, what were we supposed to think?”

Bustier shook her head, now crying.

“I can’t fix everything!”

Vivienne stared, solemnly.

“But you could have helped. You just…choose not to.”

She looked back to the class.

“Don’t trust blindly. Stand up for yourself without pushing on others. Remember that you are allowed to have limits. And sometimes…” Her eyes fell back on Marinette. “Sometimes, it’s better to just cut out the weeds than hope flowers grow.”

With that, she turned and left the classroom, the various students and faculty listening in parting before her.

It was cold outside. Almost matching the feeling in her chest.

And yet, she let out a sigh.

“Now that’s the closure I’ve been looking for.”

And she carried on.

#ml salt #bustier salt #lila sucks #trigger warning

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marvelgiggles · 4 years

Text

Learning to Be Loved

Chapter 3

It was now becoming the end of summer, which almost time for school to start. You didn’t want to go back to the school you went to last year. You were fairly advanced when it came to your other classmates, especially in STEM related classes plus they were your favorite topics. Peter found out that you loved those types of classes, he wanted you to come to school with him.

Another thing that has happened in the past few months since living with the Avengers is that you’ve broken out of your shell. You were now the person you always hoped you could be surrounded by the family you had always dreamed of. There were still some bridges to be crossed but you were improving daily and the Avengers were very patient with you.

“Y/N you have a guest at the downstairs entrance.” JARVIS announced. You squealed and ran as fast as you could to greet Peter. “Peter!” You yelled and jumped into his arms.

“Hey Y/N/N!” He said hugging you back just as hard and kissed your cheek. He set you down, “What’s everyone up to today?”

“Wanda, Sam, Vision, and Rhodey are on a mission. Tony and Pepper are on a business call and Steve and Bucky are out training, so I’ve been bored. Wanna build a blanket fort and watch movies?” You asked bouncing on the balls of your feet with excitement.

When the Avengers went on missions together or in groups, you were worried the entire time they were gone. You finally had a family and didn’t want to loose any of them. There was a part of you that completely understood why they had to go on missions and you were incredibly proud of them for doing something that brave and knowing that they were helping people. You tried to keep yourself busy so you wouldn’t think about it too much.

“That sounds amazing!” Peter said, “Race ya!” Peter suddenly took off giving him the advantage.

“Peter, no fair!” You giggled running after him to try and beat him to the living room. The two of you were giggling as Peter would slow down to help you catch up but when you were close he would speed up again. When the two of you finally made it to the living room, Peter won by just a hair.

“I win.” Peter sang which caused you to poke his tummy. He gasped and curled away from your finger. “Is that a game you want to start now there Y/N?” Peter started to poke your tummy in retaliation which made you giggle slightly.

“Nohoho.”

“You wanna grab the blankets for the fort? The more you grab the bigger it can be.” You grinned and rushed off to the closet that held all of the blankets, you grabbed as many as you could carry while still somewhat seeing where you were going. You got back to the living room Peter had moved some of the furniture around to clear a spot for the epic fort you were going to make.

“Let’s get started.” Peter rubbed his hands together rapidly, something he did when he was excited about something.

After an hour, you and Peter made the most epic blanket fort in the history of blanket forts. You had the TV set up on the ground, also doubling the use and making it one of the walls of the fort. You also brought some of the extra string lights from your room down and strung them along the ceiling. It was also loaded up with some of the extra blankets you didn’t use and all of the pillows that were from the couches. It also was stocked full of all the appropriate movie marathon snacks.

“What movie should we start with?” Peter asked you.

You shrugged. You didn’t want to accidentally pick a movie that Peter didn’t like and make him want to sit through the whole thing. “Whatever you want to watch is fine.” It also helped you were pretty easy to please when it came to movies, as long as it wasn’t a horror movie or super graphic.

“Are the Lion King movies okay?” You nodded with a smile. You both made yourselves comfortable while also each grabbing a snack. Halfway through the movie Peter spoke up.

“Y/N,” you turned your head to look at him letting him know he had your full attention, “do you wanna cuddle?” Your face all of a sudden got very warm and you avoided his eyes. You slightly nodded and Peter opened his arms, “Well come here then Cuddlebug.” You eagerly crawled into his arms.

While you have broke out of your shell in the last few months, you were still struggling with asking for certain types of affection. You had no issues giving hugs to people, but you were still too nervous to ask for cuddles or kiss someone one the cheek. The Avengers gave you the nickname of Cuddlebug because cuddles were one of your favorite things on the planet.

“Thanks for keeping me company Peter.” You whispered. He drew you closer to him while giving you a chaste kiss on the forehead.

“Of course. You’re one of my best friends Y/N, I love hanging out with you.”

Another thing that all the Avengers have learned about you appreciated words. Growing up you were never told that someone was proud of you, that someone cared about you, or even that someone loved you. Since the Avengers knew a little background of your previous life they tried their best to always tell you what they thought of you.

“I like hanging out with me too.” You teased, even though you had a rough past you still understood sarcasm, which was also something that came to life recently.

“Oh look, it’s miss sassy pants, guess I will have to fix that.” He rolled you onto your back and he laid on your side, crossing his over and under yours pinning you into place, and then he started to squeeze your hips. You burst into giggles trying to twist away but Peter’s legs had you stuck in place.

“Peheheheter!”

“Oh can miss sassy pants not take some tickles? Well that’s too bad, I have to tickle all of the sass out of you.” Peter sang now bringing his horribly quick fingers up to your armpits making you Tickle Me Elmo giggles burst out.

“Looks like miss sassy pants has turned into Tickle Me Elmo, how cute.” Peter chuckled, “Maybe this spot will make you loose all your sass.” He then moved down to your ribs, he hit a particularly overly sensitive spot. It was at the bottom of your ribs but on the backside of your rib cage. You were so shocked at this new feeling that you didn’t even try to squirm it was like you were paralyzed with laughter.

You were trying to tap out or do something to get him to stop, then thankfully he decided to have mercy on you.

“I’m definitely going to remember that spot.” He squeezed it quick again eliciting a squeal from you. “But it’s not as good as this one.” He jellyfished the knee closest to him and you quickly grabbed his hand and wove his fingers between yours so he didn’t get carried away and tickle you longer than you could handle. “I’m done I promise.”

“I like hanging out with you too Peter.” You told him once you finally caught your breath and the both of you got more comfortable and finished your Lion King movie marathon.

———————

It was the first day at Peter’s new school and it would be a lie if you didn’t say you were nervous. You were about to go to school with a bunch of genius kids and a new school, but you were thankful to have Peter by your side.

You were standing outside the building looking at the front doors, “Ready?” Peter said grabbing your hand.

You let out a breath you didn’t even know that you were holding. “Is it weird that I’m nervous?”

“No but I’m going to be with you in class all day. Mr. Stark made a call apparently.” He smiled and you felt so touched that Tony would go out of his way to make sure that you were comfortable and with Peter all day. Peter tugged your hand and you followed him into school.

You felt a lot of eyes on you making you feel really small and uncomfortable. Peter just simply squeezed your hand letting you know that he was there and walked into your first classroom.

You were a little surprised to find a few round tables in the room instead of a bunch of desks. Peter walked over to a table with a few people and sat down, you immediately followed so you wouldn’t have to sit a table where you didn’t know anyone.

“Y/N, these are my friends Ned and MJ. Guys, this is Y/N.” Peter told you while pointing to a girl with curly black hair and the guy who couldn’t stop smiling with no hair.

“So you’re the Y/N Peter has told us about.” You suddenly got really nervous, what had Peter said about you, good things or bad things, that fear of suddenly loose your closest and first friend made it’s way to the pit of your stomach. Peter started to notice your tense state and simply placed his hand on top of yours.

“Hey, I’ve only told them good things. I told them that I made another best friend over the summer named Y/N and that she was super fun to hang out with.”

You smiled appreciatively at him, “Why aren’t there desks?” Peter chuckled at your question but you didn’t feel stupid or insecure at his response.

“It’s supposed to help with learning. We are all facing each other and the teachers have structured their teaching so we can work more in groups and go back and forth with each other, rather than just sit and listen to them talk all the time. Not all the teachers have it but it’s becoming more common throughout the school.”

That made you nervous and a little more excited about school. You were always such a hands on learner but you didn’t really know anyone yet so you were even more thankful that you were in class with Peter and that Tony made a call to the school.

Finally, lunch time came around and you were the first one to sit at the table Peter told you he sat at. You felt a presence sit next to you and you turned to look expecting to find Peter but instead you were looking a boy you’ve never seen before. He was wearing a letterman jacket and he was kind of handsome as well.

“Hi, I’m Brad. What’s your name?”

“Y/N.” Then all of a sudden a large group of guys in letterman jackets sat around you.

“Well Y/N welcome to Midtown High. Where’d you move from?” He was obviously trying to get to know you for some reason and you just wanted to leave but you also didn’t want to be rude.

“I’m just here for today to see if I like it.” You said quietly not liking the pressure you felt from all of the guys around you.

“I hope you stay because...”

“Hey Y/N, wanna join MJ, Ned and I over there.” Peter interrupted Brad, you had never been so thankful to see Peter. You eagerly nodded when all of a sudden you felt a hand on your arm, trying to get you to sit back down and you knew it wasn’t Peter. “Hey Parker, she was already sitting here.”

“I know!” Peter actually looked pretty angry at Brad, “But this is where we normally sit and you didn’t have to sit here plus Y/N is my friend and she’s clearly uncomfortable, so take your hand off of her so she can come sit with her real friends.” You had never heard Peter talk like that and you made a note to never get on his bad side. Brad thankfully did what Peter said and you stood up to follow Peter to where he was sitting.

“I’m sorry about Brad. Are you okay? Did he hurt you?” Peter said as you were making your way to his table.

You shook your head, “Thank you for saving me.” You said quietly.

Peter kissed your cheek quickly and whispered in your ear, “That’s my job Y/N.” Causing you to giggle at his cheesiness and the whisper in your ear tickled a little bit too.

After lunch time was over, you went to all the other classes with Peter and enjoyed your day at the school, but when the bell rang at the end of the day you were even more happy to go home. You were never really away from the compound for that long since you’ve lived there so you missed everyone and couldn’t wait to get back home.

Peter told you he wouldn’t be coming back to the compound with you and he had to go somewhere with his aunt after school, so Happy would be picking you up. Peter did walk you out to the front door and you instantly spotted Happy’s car.

“Bye Peter, have fun with May.”

“I’ll text you later, Y/N.” He pulled you into a hug before you got in the car. Happy and you made light conversation on the way back to the compound.

“Welcome home Y/N.” JARVIS said as you walked in the front door.

“Hi JARVIS! Is Tony in the lab?”

“He’s currently working on a new model for his suit.” JARVIS told you and you ran to the lab wanting to tell Tony about your day. Once you got to the lab you saw a stool right next to him, you figured if you sat there he might even let you help him.

“Hey pipsqueak, how was school with the kid?” He turned from what he was working on and kissed your hair.

“It was fun.” You said simply kicking your legs back and forth on the stool watching in fascination on what Tony was working on.

“Yeah, so is that were you think you wanna go this year?” He set his tools down and stopped what he was doing to give you his full attention.

“No.” You said quietly suddenly getting nervous to tell Tony what you were thinking. You looked up a Tony quick and his head was cocked to the side and one of his eyebrows was raised.

“I liked the school but I’d rather learn stuff from you in the lab and help you with suits and other things.” You were suddenly snatched off the stool in a big bear hug and Tony swung you around in a circle making you laugh.

“I get to have you here all the time!” Tony screamed as he continued to spin you around. When he finally stopped spinning you felt his hands squeeze between you arms and your armpits, he started to wiggle his fingers causing one of everyone’s favorite laughter from you. Your Tickle Me Elmo giggles broke out and you started to kick you legs.

“Tohohohony!” You giggled, you couldn’t help but try to get some momentum to break free of his grasp but you also didn’t mind as you loved being tickled. Tony didn’t acknowledge your protests and started to rub his beard in the crook of you neck. Your giggles got more frantic and your kicking became a little more desperate than before. Tony kept this up for a while, he’d either rub his beard around your neck, or wiggle his fingers in your armpits or even do both at the same time.

He finally had mercy on you after a while and set you back down on your feet and he gave you a long kiss on your forehead. “I would love nothing more than to teach you everything I know. I’ve always wanted a little apprentice.”

“I’m sorry you went through all that trouble of calling the school for nothing.”

Tony waved his hand dismissively, “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for my girl. Now where should we start?”

#Tickling #tickle #ticklish #tickles #tickle tickle #marvel #marvel fic #marvel tickle #tickle marvel #marvel tickle fic #mcu x reader #mcu tickle #tickle mcu #mcu tickle fic #ticklish!reader #ler!tony

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carewyncromwell · 3 years

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“Until the night falls, we're aligned -- It doesn't mean that we're on the same side... Watch your back! Watch your back! Watch your back! Watch your back! Hit 'em hard and hit 'em fast -- They're too heavy to react!”

~“Night Falls” from Descendants 3

x~x~x~x

In the months following Fudge’s failed attempt to expel Harry Potter, the Ministry of Magic took a more hardline stance against anyone who was even slightly critical of its policies. Ed felt very fortunate he’d never been very much into politics and that he didn’t work at the Ministry himself, but he had to feel for poor Chess @cursebreakerfarrier, who was both an Auror and true Gryffindor who’d always had very strong moral convictions that she didn’t like compromising. He couldn’t help but worry what might happen if the Ministry ever ended up side-eying her past association with Sirius -- after all, even if Fudge didn’t believe Voldemort was back, he was still very interested in catching Sirius, and Ed recalled Dumbledore saying in passing that he suspected Sirius might end up being a fall-guy for Death Eater activity at some point, so that Fudge could pass it off as it being the act of “one lone wolf” rather than a bigger issue.

His music had often been an outlet for Ed’s emotions...but lately, his job performing and songwriting for Spellb🔮und had become an escape more than anything from the constant fear he felt both for Chess and for himself, working with Dumbledore’s motley gang of rebel fighters.

Unfortunately it was in early September that his “escape” ended up being compromised. After leaving the studio late that afternoon, Ed without hesitation headed straight to the Order’s headquarters, Number 12 Grimmauld Place.

When he arrived, the songwriter strode through the entrance hall as quickly and yet quietly as he could, not wanting to wake Walburga Black’s portrait. Once he’d gotten to the staircase, he called up in a carrying hiss.

“Hey! Is anyone up there!? It’s Ed!”

“Edmund Rosier has appeared in my Mistress’s house again,” croaked a low voice from somewhere near the floor.

Ed looked down in slight surprise, to see Kreacher the house elf peeking around one of the stair banister, his face even more gnarled than normal as he looked him over beadily.

“The boy who Master Regulus always talked about,” he muttered under his breath, “now cavorting with Mudbloods and half-breeds...oh, the young master would be so disappointed...”

Ed felt like he’d been stabbed right in the heart. His eyes seemed to flinch, visibly wounded and emotional despite the stoicism of his face.

“Kreacher, I loved your master very much,” he said as softly as he could. “Everything I’ve ever done in my life, I’ve done with him in mind.”

Kreacher’s face seemed to contort with suspicion.

“Edmund Rosier is trying to sympathize with Kreacher,” he muttered to himself, clearly not understanding that Ed could still hear him rather than these things merely being his thoughts, “but oh, my Mistress, he is foolish -- Kreacher has always done everything he could to serve the House of Black. Edmund Rosier instead throws his lot in with Master Regulus’s enemies -- the blood traitors and Mudbloods that my Mistress so despises...”

Although Ed managed to keep his face stoic, his steel blue eyes were almost overflooded with pain. “That’s not...”

“Kreacher!”

Sirius had appeared at the stair landing just over them.

“Don’t you have somewhere else to be?” he barked at the elf harshly. “Go crawl under the stove and stop bothering people.”

Unable to disobey a direct order, however callous, Kreacher slunk off, though he shot Sirius a very surly, loathing look as he left.

Ed’s lips came together tightly and his eyes narrowed as he looked up at Sirius.

“You shouldn’t treat him like that -- ”

“You’re welcome,” Sirius shot back very coolly as he descended the stairs. “Now what’s going on? I’m afraid if you’re here to play for anybody, your only audience is me -- Arthur’s on watch and Molly had to skip off to the Burrow, to clean up before Dolores Umbridge stops by...”

“Umbridge?” said Ed, taken aback. “The witch who sponsored that rash of anti-werewolf laws? Why?”

Sirius gave a derisive snort. “Apparently the new ‘High Inquisitor’ wishes to meet all of those families whose children have been selected as Prefect, so as to assess Dumbledore’s selection process. Though I doubt that’s what it’s really about...more likely it’s half intimidation, trying to make sure all those Prefects stay in line, and half intelligence-gathering on Harry -- ”

“ -- since his two best friends were just made Gryffindor Prefects,” finished Ed grimly.

He looked from Sirius to around at the empty rafters overhead. Well, great...now what was he going to do?

Sensing Ed’s restlessness, Sirius cocked an eyebrow at him.

“What’s wrong? You look peakier than Remus on a full moon.”

“That’s not really something to make light of, is it?” Ed said disapprovingly.

Sirius rolled his eyes. “Remus has been a werewolf long enough that he’s past caring when people talk about how pale he gets. And since when do you get offended on Remus’s behalf anyway, Rosier? I seem to recall you had no problem insulting his clothing choices, back in our school days...”

“I’ve already told you -- I’m trying to be better than I was at school,” Ed said, his voice soft and level despite its firmness. “Something you honestly might want to consider doing yourself. Then maybe whenever you end up in the same space as Severus, you wouldn’t immediately feel the need to pick fights -- ”

“Forgive me if my first instinct upon being insulted isn’t pacifying whoever’s attacking me,” Sirius shot back coolly. “Now I’ll ask again -- what are you doing here? Clearly something’s up.”

Ed regarded Sirius silently for a moment. His expression was very closed-off and hard to read, but it was mainly because he was thinking quickly.

Time was of the essence -- he couldn’t afford to dawdle around waiting for anyone else from the Order to arrive. And yet going out into Knockturn Alley, potentially around Death Eaters and completely on his own...as much Ed had always enjoyed wizard dueling as a sport, he knew his dueling skills and reflexes were nowhere near good enough to put him on a level playing field with dark Wizards. His current choice was either letting his lead go cold and protect his own skin...or...

Ed swallowed.

“...I think...the Death Eaters have a mole inside the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.”

Sirius stiffened sharply. “What?”

Ed took a deep breath and started at the beginning.

“I was the first one at our concert venue this morning -- I was there before everyone else arrived. I figured I could start the day off by dealing with one of the lights that had gotten smashed during our last rehearsal. It was left backstage, so I set about figuring out how to fix it, since a simple Reparo wouldn’t recast the charms that had been inlaid into the glass. While I was back there, I heard some of the techs arrive. I’d planned to call out from behind the curtain -- wish them a good morning, ask if they wanted some of the coffee I brewed...but their voices sounded so anxious that I couldn’t help but just listen. I thought it was about the show, so if I heard the whole story, I’d know how best to deal with the problem.”

His steel blue eyes darkened.

“But...it wasn’t about the show. It was about recruiters.”

Sirius’s eyes narrowed. “What kind of recruiters?”

“The same kind as last time, of course,” said Ed dully. “The kind who stopped by to talk to all those ‘good little boys and girls’ who followed in the footsteps of their Pureblood ancestors. You probably would’ve met one yourself, if you hadn’t run away from home and started living with a family of known ‘blood traitors’ like the Potters. Some of our techs are like me -- descended from old wizarding families, but didn’t fight in the First War, for whatever reason. And it seems they’ve already been paid visits...been pressured to join ‘the cause,’ or suffer consequences.”

Sirius crossed his arms, considering Ed carefully. “And you reckon you'll soon be, too.”

“Soon enough, anyway. I reckon the media attention around me has protected me somewhat -- the Death Eaters know it won’t be so easy to pull me aside for a chat without anyone noticing. And we all know they do want to stay under the radar, for now.”

“But what does this have to do with the Ministry?” asked Sirius.

“One of the techs said that the Death Eater who’d approached him said that they had ‘eyes and wands everywhere,’” said Ed, “operatives that would be able to protect and enforce their ideals, from every angle...help promote, or demote, anyone they wish.”

“That could very well be a bluff,” said Sirius, unconvinced.

“It could be,” granted Ed, “but that tech in particular is named Elmer Yaxley -- his mother is a daughter of Charles Cromwell, a blood purist and ex-associate of Lucius Malfoy’s, who was sent to Azkaban five years ago for leading a magical Cabal that sought to break into Hogwarts’ Cursed Vaults. She just barely avoided a lifetime in Azkaban herself. Elmer also said explicitly that his uncle works in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement...from what I’ve been able to gather, he means Corban Yaxley, and I know I’ve heard Kit bring that name up before, in her reports for the Order...”

“Yeah, she said that he’s been on her and Kingsley’s arses lately about finding me,” said Sirius. "Do you think Yaxley is the mole, then?”

“Possibly -- I don’t think there’s enough proof to say one way or the other yet. But the only way we might find that out is through Elmer Yaxley -- he said that he managed to coax the recruiter to give him some time to think, but the recruiter insisted he come to Knockturn Alley tonight, to give his answer. If we can track him down and tail him, then maybe we might be able to find out who the mole is and how much they know...”

“...So you came here, to find someone who’d run down that lead for you,” Sirius surmised. His lips seemed to twitch with something of a bitter smile. “But alas, the only person here is little old me...and Dumbledore’s ordered I stay locked up in here ‘for my safety.’ So what do you intend to do?”

Ed’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Whatever I have to, to protect Chess and her future. If Yaxley is the mole, then that means that he’s surveilling her and Kingsley, and if he’s able to link either of them to you, then their lives will be effectively over.”

“Then there’s the whole risk to the Order and its mission of protecting the entire world from Voldemort,” said Sirius dryly, “but sure, think about paychecks and careers...”

Ed ignored this. Instead he quickly charged up the stairs, right past Sirius.

“I’m going to need some robes.”

Sirius wrinkled his nose. “What for?”

“Well, if you and I are going into Knockturn Alley, I can’t jolly well be dressed like this,” Ed indicated the Muggle-worthy baseball cap and corduroy jacket he was wearing.

Sirius blinked in surprise, and Ed rushed to explain.

“Look -- for all the things you’ve gotten wrong about me, Black, one thing you are right about is that I’m not the type to fight. There’s a reason I’m not an Auror like Chess -- playing around in the Dueling Club is one thing, but even I’m not naive enough to think that’ll be enough, to keep me from getting myself killed if I’m facing off against a Death Eater. And if this lead of mine is right, I might end up confronting one or more of those. You’re an experienced duelist, and you’ve fought these sorts before...and well...”

He looked away uncomfortably.

“...I know...you care about Kit, just as much as I do. I want her to have a future waiting for her on the other side of this War, and she won’t have one, if she loses her job. Being an Auror is her dream...I couldn’t bear it if that dream was ever stolen from her.”

Sirius's gray eyes had gained a determined, almost excited glint at the thought of getting out and fighting some Death Eaters. Ed’s expression of sentiment about Chess, though, seemed to have brought him back down to earth slightly, and he regarded Ed a bit more critically.

“I suppose I’ll have to go in dog form,” he said.

“Unless things go south,” said Ed. “Then I’ll need you to have my back.”

“You realize that for me to agree to that, I’d have to trust you to have my back, Rosier,” said Sirius, his eyes narrowing upon his face. “How do I know I can trust you?”

Ed’s face became much more stoic, as it always did when it was serious.

“...You don’t,” he said at last. “Just as you don’t know anything. You don’t know what tomorrow will bring...or what's in someone's heart...or even whether or not we'll still be alive tomorrow. You don’t know any of it, and you can’t know it, because nobody can ever truly know.”

Ed took a striding step forward so that he was looking Sirius in the eye, straight on.

“But since when has that stopped you, Black?” he asked softly. “You, of all people. You can’t know Dumbledore's intentions. You can't know Moody's, or Tonks's, or the Weasleys', or anybody's. You didn't know Lupin's or Severus’s back in the day anymore than you knew Pettigrew's.”

Sirius’s eyes seemed to flash. “You...”

“Yet even with you not knowing anything for sure,” Ed cut him off before his temper could rise, “you had faith in them. You still have faith in them -- even though Lupin’s been going off on missions he can’t tell you much about, or Molly’s been overbearing about how you interact with Harry, or Dumbledore’s been forcing you to stay trapped in here.”

Ed shrugged and took a step back.

“So that's what I'm trying to do. I don't know I can trust you, Black. But I have faith in Kit...and she has faith in you. ...Maybe one day I'll be able to do the same,” he added with an attempt at a smile that didn’t quite touch his steel blue eyes.

Sirius stared at Ed for a long moment, taking in his answer slowly. Then, at last, he sighed through his nose.

“...What do you need?”

Ed brought a hand up to brush his brown bangs out of his eyes. “I’m pretty good at disguising magics, after how long I dyed my hair...but I’m going to have to dress like a traditional wizard, if I don’t want to raise as much suspicion. Something of your father’s will do, if you have anything...even your mother’s wouldn’t be completely out of the question, though magically disguising my voice might be harder...”

“We already cleaned out the whole of my parents’ room, so that I could move into it,” said Sirius. “That bureau was one of the first things we emptied out, after Buckbeak ripped up some of its contents to make a nest on the bedroom rug.”

His gray eyes drifted up to the landing that led to the topmost floor.

“...There may be something we can use, though,” he said slowly.

Sirius headed upstairs, to the topmost floor. When he returned, he was carrying a set of high-necked robes and pants made out of fine black satin and a pair of handsome black leather gloves.

The sight of them made Ed’s whole frame stiffen.

“Those...” he whispered.

“Regulus’s,” said Sirius.

He watched Ed’s expression carefully. The other man seemed unable to tear his eyes away from the familiar high collar of the robes, even as he tentatively reached out to take the robes from Sirius. His face was stoic, but very pale, but his steel blue eyes betrayed him -- they were noticeably glassy and full of longing and pain.

“Were these...did he leave them behind?” he asked at last. “In his room?”

“Looks like it,” said Sirius. “They’re in pretty good condition, compared to the other moth-eaten stuff around here...but I suppose Kreacher always did have a soft spot for ‘young master Regulus’...”

Ed closed his eyes and bowed his head, silently clutching the clothes in his hands. He inhaled and exhaled slowly, before he recollected himself and looked up.

“...These will do.”

Sirius looked away, his face looking uncomfortable and almost oddly guilty. “Good. ...Meet me in the entrance hall, when you’re ready.”

He turned on his heel and headed back down the rest of the stairs and out of sight. Ed lingered on the second floor landing for a moment, his eyes leaving Sirius’s back in favor of Regulus’s robes in his arms.

It was so long that they didn’t smell like him anymore -- instead they smelled faintly musty, obviously a sign of being locked up in a wardrobe for almost fifteen years...but for a moment, Ed could almost imagine the familiar waft of jasmine cologne that would touch his nose every time he embraced Regulus...and the memory made his heart ache with a longing he’d never completely forgotten the feeling of.

Oh, Reg...Merlin, I know you probably wouldn’t be proud of all of the changes I’ve been through, but...

He clutched the robes a bit tighter, trying to control the trembling of his hands.

...Please...please, if you still love me at all, in whatever after-life you’re in...help me not be afraid.

Within the hour, Ed left Grimmauld Place through the front door, his long hair charmed a greasy, Snape-worthy black, his beard embellished with a goatee, and dressed in Regulus’s robes and gloves, as well as a pair of dark sunglasses. Sirius was at his side in dog form on a lead -- Ed determined it would be least conspicuous for a dog to be in his company in Knockturn Alley if they pretended Sirius was his service animal. Once the two had gotten far enough away from Grimmauld Place that none of its Muggle neighbors might overhear, Ed secured a hand on Sirius’s furry back and Disapparated with a loud CRACK.

The two arrived outside the Leaky Cauldron. No one recognized Ed as he passed through, Sirius leading him, which reassured Ed quite a bit. After traveling down the streets of Diagon Alley, they carefully migrated into Knockturn Alley.

Ed hated Knockturn Alley. He had always actively avoided it, not liking the sour smells and unpleasant wares peddled in the stalls and set up in the shop windows. But truthfully, who could really feel comfortable in a place that sold poisonous candles and charms made out of troll skin? His dislike of the place was all the more justified when within the first half-hour of arriving, someone tried to pickpocket him, only to be warded off by Sirius growling and snapping his jaws at him.

Thank Merlin that wasn’t Mundungus Fletcher, thought Ed. I can just imagine how everyone else in the Order would react to me smuggling Sirius out...especially after the Prophet published the rumor that he’s been spotted in London...

Right now, though, none of that mattered. This was Ed’s only chance to get some intelligence about the Death Eaters’ movements, and if that information could help protect Chess, there was no way in Hell he was going to let that slip by.

It took about an hour of wandering around and “window shopping” before Ed caught sight of pasty, blue-eyed Elmer Yaxley arriving in Knockturn Alley. With Sirius still guiding him, Ed followed along covertly after him, off past Borgin and Burkes. Elmer led them past the undertakers’ shop and the White Wyvern pub, all the way to the far end that held the apothecary. It was here that Elmer stood alone for a while, his knees knocking together anxiously, until he was approached by a wizard with long white-blond hair dressed in elegant black silk robes and carrying a cane with a silver serpent head affixed to it.

Ed wasn’t surprised to see Lucius Malfoy, exactly -- but he was a bit surprised that it was him who was overseeing this meeting. Although yes, he had been suspected of being a Death Eater back in the day, his only ties with the Ministry was his philanthropic work. He had no real access to Ministry secrets, aside from whatever little he might able to wheedle out of Fudge.

“Well, then?” said Lucius. “Have you considered the offer, young man?”

“U-uh,” Elmer seemed to have trouble conjuring up a proper response. “Yes! I mean, yeah, I’ve...considered it. What she said, the...fr-friend of yours, that is. And um, well, I definitely want to help you, of course, Mr. Malfoy -- i-it’s just that I...I-I really didn’t get very good marks in Charms, at Hogwarts...and I’m not very good at dueling! S-so uh, I don’t know if I’d really be the best choice to -- ”

“Dueling skills are not the only thing you can provide us, Elmer,” Lucius cut him off very smoothly. “As your uncle Blaise should have already demonstrated.”

Elmer looked startled. “...U-Uncle Blaise?”

Lucius’s face became almost indulgent. “Ah, then he didn’t tell you...how very like Blaise, to try to ‘protect’ his Clan’s younger members from his business dealings. Well, no matter...Boudicca has already told you about the scope of our influence...”

Ed stiffened. Boudicca...Malfoy couldn’t mean his niece, could he? Evan’s daughter?

The thought, and how likely it sounded, made him feel nauseous.

Elmer looked incredibly intimidated. “Y-yes, sir...sh-she said that you’ve got eyes and wands everywhere...”

“Indeed we do,” said Lucius with a cold smile. “Your uncle has given us valuable intelligence regarding the Order of the Phoenix and their activity within the Ministry -- ”

Ed inhaled sharply. He looked down at Sirius -- the black dog’s eyes were likewise very wide and his ears had gone back.

“ -- but what we truly need now are...foot soldiers, so to speak. People who can carry out special tasks. Not strictly combative, perhaps -- but essential, all the same.”

Elmer swallowed, his almond-shaped blue eyes darting from side to side anxiously like a mouse desperate to escape a cat that had caught its tail under its paw.

“Th-that -- that is...that sounds great, Mr. Malfoy!” he said shakily, trying to smile but having a lot of trouble. “I’m glad everything’s...g-going smoothly...”

“So far,” said Lucius dryly. “So? Can we expect to count you among us, young man?”

“Ah...” Elmer was visibly sweating now. “W-well, um...i-it’d depend on...what exactly you wanted me to do! M-my asthma, you see -- it kind of keeps me from doing lots of physical activity! A-and I got these awful bone spurs too -- ”

Ed cringed. He didn’t know this kid all that well, and even he knew these were blatantly weak lies -- all of the people who worked in Spellb🔮und’s crew had to do plenty of physical activity, from carrying heavy equipment and climbing up into the rafters.

“ -- m-my mum really wouldn’t want me to do anything that might disagree with me -- ”

“I’m sure you can find a way to manage,” Lucius said coolly. “After all...all of this is for a cause greater than ourselves, isn’t it, Elmer? Greater than us as individuals. It’s for the Wizarding World overall -- for our families’ prosperity and safety. You do want those things, don’t you?”

Elmer trembled. “...Y-yes, sir -- ”

“And you do realize that your family’s position is already rather precarious in this current world, do you not?” murmured Lucius. “That your mother’s position is rather precarious?”

Elmer seemed to shrink noticeably.

“It might be less so in a different one,” said Lucius in a voice that attempted kindness, but was far too cold and cruel to sound convincing, “but we can’t expect to get something for nothing -- can we, young man?”

“N-no, sir --”

“Good,” said Lucius, his gray eyes boring into Elmer with just about no effort at all, like a knife sliding through melted butter. “Then you will help us, to ensure that your family’s position and safety are assured. Do I make myself clear?”

Elmer looked like he’d completely crumpled. Trembling from head to toe and looking like he was about to cry, he bowed his head and shakily nodded.

“...Yes, sir,” he said with a mere shadow of a voice.

Ed felt his heart break for the poor kid. Obviously Elmer Yaxley wasn’t very smart, but that almost made the whole situation worse. He didn’t have a chance standing up to a strong personality like Lucius Malfoy’s, and yet he’d so desperately tried anyway, naively thinking that he might be able to reason with him.

Ed had been so focused watching the exchange that he didn’t hear or sense the robed figure that had come up behind him -- but Sirius did, and in an instant, the shaggy black dog had lunged at him with a loud, vicious snarl, clamping his fanged jaws down on his wand arm.

The wizard fell back, bellowing in pain -- Ed whirled around, his eyes wide as Sirius wrestled the man’s arm away from him --

On the other side of the alley, Lucius Malfoy and Elmer Yaxley shot out straight, turning sharply toward the sound of the disruption.

“It seems one of us was followed,” hissed Lucius.

Elmer looked terrified. “I didn’t know, Mr. Malfoy! I swear I didn’t -- !”

But Lucius seemed perfectly disinterested in explanations or excuses: instead he shoved his hand under the sleeve of his robes and clasped his forearm.

Within seconds, more and more black-robed figures began to appear with loud cracks, surrounding the first one who had fallen -- terrible, impregnable smoke started to surround the block, making it impossible to see -- somewhere on the other side of the smoky barrier, Ed could hear the alarmed shouts of passerby running to get out of the way --

Ed, once he’d finally recovered, yanked his wand out of his robes, pointing it at the Death Eater who Sirius was still holding onto with his teeth.

“Stupefy!”

The spell collided with the Death Eater’s chest head-on and knocked him unconscious, but within seconds, Ed found himself completely surrounded.

Sirius dropped the man and phased into his human form just fast enough to conjure a large Shield Charm around him and Ed.

“Might want to pick up the pace, Rosier!” he shot over his shoulder. “You’re gonna get killed if you think too much!”

Sirius lashed out at the Death Eaters, breaking them apart bit by bit as he darted across the alley. He was heading straight for Lucius.

“Black!” cried Ed. “Black, don’t -- !”

Lucius’s eyes flashed coldly at the sight of Sirius. “Come out of your doghouse, then, Black?”

Sirius’s eyes narrowed, glinting with both loathing and something almost grim.

“So Peter told you?” he spat.

Lucius smirked. “Wormtail has told us many things about you, Black -- and about those you have relations with.”

The remark made Sirius’s temper flare. Within moments, the two men were trading violent blows. Elmer dashed off blindly into the smoke, desperate to escape the fighting. Ed meanwhile just barely managed to conjure up a non-verbal Shield Charm of his own and ducked a Killing Curse, trying to get to Sirius.

They were outnumbered. Ed knew he would die here, if he stayed -- but --

Regulus’s modestly handsome face rippled over Ed’s mind -- and then Chess’s face, streaming with happy tears, when they first reunited after so many years apart.

He couldn’t leave without Sirius.

Lucius was truthfully no match for Sirius in a duel, but with how many other Death Eaters were with him, it wasn’t long before they got more than a few hits on Sirius. First a flaming curse grazed his shoulder -- then another collided square with his back. The last ended up cutting his arm open, making Sirius choke in pain as it spurted blood --

“Slugulus Eructo! Langlock! Nasus Vespertilio!”

Once Ed had effectively shaken off the Death Eaters with all of the immature hexes and jinxes he’d learned from dueling at school (the Bat Bogey Hex in particular was so strong it actually made one man’s bogeys attack both him and three of his cohorts), he slid and ducked under the last one’s arm so he could dart across the pavement to Sirius, just as Lucius raised his wand --

“BLACK!” Ed roared. “GRAB ONTO ME!”

Sirius barely had any time to react. Ed had lunged in front of him as if to shield him from Lucius’s attack with his own back -- Sirius grabbed onto the other man’s shoulders as best he could with his blood-soaked hands -- and in a flash of contorting limbs and colors, both men vanished, leaving nothing but a scorch mark on the pavement from where Lucius’s curse had landed.

Sirius awoke in the master bedroom of Grimmauld Place about an hour later. Buckbeak had plopped himself down at his side, resting his head on the bed beside him. Sirius also immediately noticed that his shirt had been taken off and most of his wounds had been healed -- the only one that hadn’t was the burn on his shoulder, which was caked in some sort of orange paste and wrapped with bandages. He could also hear, somewhere down the hall, the sound of a piano being played.

Inching himself up out of bed, Sirius pulled his shirt back on, being careful to mind his wounded shoulder, and headed down the hall to find Ed playing the piano.

“...That’s ‘Yesterday,’ isn’t it?”

Ed didn’t look up from the piano. “Yeah.”

Sirius watched the other man play for a moment in silence. He seemed to be trying to think of what to say, but was having difficulty.

Ed decided to offer an olive branch.

“How are you feeling?”

“Better,” said Sirius.

He paused.

“...Did we get caught?” he asked at last.

“Nope,” said Ed. “Kreacher saw me bring you inside, of course...I asked him not to tell anyone that we left, but you’d have to make that an order, if we wanted it to be binding.”

Sirius’s eyes darkened. “Rest assured, I will.”

“Try to be decent in how you talk to him, for a change,” Ed said in soft reproach.

“I’ll treat him with just as much respect as he does me,” said Sirius very darkly.

Ed looked away with a resigned sigh, turning his focus back to the piano. Sirius watched his hands dance across the keys for another long moment before he spoke again.

“You need to tell the Order what we heard. They already obviously know that Kingsley and Chess are misleading the Auror Department, in looking for me...if they know we’re guarding the Department of Mysteries, then that means they’ll be trying to target those who’ve been tasked to stand watch...”

Sirius’s voice trailed off as his eyes grew wider.

“...Unless,” he breathed, “they already have...”

Ed’s hands stilled mid-note on the piano. He looked up at Sirius, his eyebrows furrowed.

“Sturgis Podmore,” he recalled. “The Ministry caught him trying to break into what they said was ‘a classified area’ -- we thought he’d been caught while doing work for us, but what if -- ?”

“The Imperius Curse,” agreed Sirius, his face very pale and grim. “The Death Eaters knew he was guarding the Department for us and tried to use him to break into it for them.”

“All while knowing that if Sturgis got caught, it would only serve to deprive Dumbledore of an ally, since we’re trying to keep our activities just as secret as they are,” finished Ed.

The musician looked down at his hands on the keys. His mind was racing.

Sirius looked from Ed’s hands to back up at his face. Then, rather uneasily, he strode forward to stand next to him, resting his hand on the piano.

“We have plenty of Order members who’ve practiced how to fight off the Imperius Curse,” he said. “We’ll just have to factor that in, when we determine who stands watch. That way we won’t have to worry about Voldemort’s lackeys sabotaging us from the inside.”

Ed nodded. That did seem wise.

Sirius considered Ed for another long moment. He brought a hand up to rest on his wounded shoulder, adjusting his shirt absently.

“...It’s...a good thing you were able to listen in on Yaxley,” he said reluctantly. “You really came through, Rosier.”

Ed raised his eyebrows dryly. “Coming from someone as bullheaded as you, that’s quite a compliment.”

He got up and walked past Sirius. Before he could leave the room, though, Sirius stopped him.

“Rosier.”

Ed glanced over his shoulder. “Yeah?”

And amazingly, surprisingly, Sirius actually smiled. It was a small one, but it showed a flash of teeth, and it was oddly sincere as he lightly clutched his wounded shoulder.

“...Thanks.”

The smile didn’t look right, to Ed -- such a smile would never look right on such a handsome face. A smile like that, so modest and devoid of arrogance, belonged on a much humbler, boyish face...

Nonetheless Ed’s steel blue eyes softened noticeably. His own lips curled up in a smile too, faintly detached and yet kind.

“...Hm. You’re welcome.”

His smile then spread into a fuller, teasing grin.

“Now go lie down, Mutt. No sense in straining your shoulder while that paste is healing it.”

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jimlingss · 4 years

Text

Sugar and Coffee [16]

Chapter 15 - Chapter 16 - Chapter 17

➜ Words: 3k

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

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

cr.

On Wednesday, you begin to bake, cut, and fill. The ingredients are pulled from the borrowed kitchen — eggs, butter, buttermilk, vegetable oil, sugar, flour, baking powder, unsweetened cocoa powder, and vanilla. The oven is preheated to three hundred degrees fahrenheit and the round pans are greased. The four of you measure and mix together the dry ingredients, and then the wet ingredients. Once it’s all ready, it’s baked while the ganache filling is worked on. Heavy cream, butter, chocolate, and a pinch of kosher salt are melted together with two tablespoons of brewed coffee to deepen the flavour. It cools and thickens, a fluffy texture that melts against your palate. And when the moist cake is out of the oven, it cools too before being cut and filled. “Alright, folks.” Namjoon dusts his hands off, shutting the fridge door. “Now on Friday, we just cover, dowel, and stack. Since the wedding is on Saturday, we want it to sleep overnight.” “We’re going to have to prepare decorations tomorrow,” Sejeong says. If there was anyone’s cake that she wanted to perfect, it was her own sister’s. “Crumb coat the cakes and smooth the frosting, colour the fondants, make the flowers. Just so we can get it prepared in time and not be rushing on the last day.” “Okay.” You offer a smile. “Are we still going with lavender?” “That’s the plan. But we can worry about that tomorrow. How have you two been? Any problems?” You glance at Jungkook, meeting his eye, but you divert hastily. “N-No, we’re fine. We’ve been enjoying ourselves. Thank you for bringing us along.” “That’s not a problem.” Namjoon laughs heartily, practically glowing with a healthy tan. “We’re happy to have two more sets of hands. God knows the wedding is hectic and stressful enough, right, honey?” “Chungha is having it tougher.” His wife sighs. “We’re just glad to get this done and over with.” In between family feuds and relatives duking it out, you don’t need to tell them that you and Jungkook are incidentally sharing the same room over a mistake in booking. They have enough on their plates as it is. But just because you don’t talk about your issues doesn’t mean that they’ve magically vanished. Even if you wish that were the case. “Morni—” The moment you open your sleepy eyes, Jeon Jungkook has manifested in the mirror. You choke on your toothpaste, toothbrush sucked into your throat like a vacuum, lodged in. You choke it out and sputter. Jungkook’s shocked awake, eyes widened as he pats your back. You cough and rinse your mouth. “Oh my god. You scared me to death!” “All I said was good morning!” He shoots you a look, leaning in too close with his still sleepy demeanour, fluffed hair and swollen face. “Are you alright?” “Obviously not! I almost died!” You’re not okay. Very far from any semblance of ‘okay’. For one, you can’t look the bastard in the eye. You can’t stop yourself from perspiring. It’s as if your best friend is someone worthy to be fearful of… No. It’s not that you’ve become afraid of Jungkook. You’re nervous. “I’m going to shower.” “Sounds good.” It shouldn’t be surprising. He even warned you. But the moment Jungkook starts to strip off his shirt, you’re caught off guard at how he didn’t wait for you to leave ⁠— how comfortable he is with you. You have half a mind left to sprint out of the bathroom. Nearly falling over. Barely catching your stumble. Jungkook watches with his brows raised incredulously. The bathroom door eventually shuts and you change as quick as you can, and run out of the room without a word. Like you’re being chased by loan sharks. “Hey, Y/N.” After ten minutes, Jungkook comes out topless, having forgotten to grab a shirt. But he pays no mind, toweling off his head. “We should get room servi—…...Y/N?” The doe-eyed boy looks around, realizing that you’re gone. You’ve headed across the resort to the restaurant for breakfast. Finally, you’re able to have a meal in peace without having to lift your head to see a big nose and brown, doe eyes. You grab a healthy serving of eggs, toast and cereal. And you pick a good table to look out and enjoy the view. But fifteen minutes into your meal, someone suddenly plops down across from you. You’re startled to death again. “I can’t believe you ditched me.” “S-Sorry…” You look away. “I was too hungry to wait.” “Could’ve told me at least. I would’ve hurried up.” He spreads cream cheese on his bagel, ruffled mop of hair flopping as he moves. He’s dressed like a true tourist again, this time with a hawaiian shirt that’s bright orange with blue florals all over it. Jungkook’s eyes are round and buggy as he bites down and he hums in satisfaction at the taste. “So what are our plans for today? It’s the only full day we have left before we have to work on the cake.” “I don’t know.” You stand up. “I finished. Should go back to the room. I have a stomach ache.” “Really?” His left cheek is puffed out with food stored inside. “But I just got here.” “Nature calls.” You run off, leaving your best friend in the dust. It’s horrible being stuck on an island with Jeon Jungkook. No matter where you run or how you hide, he’s always there. “How was the—” You scream. “—bathroom trip.” Jungkook looks at you, brows furrowed deep. “You scared me!” You put your hand over your heart where it’s pounding hard, threatening to jump out of your chest. “But I didn’t do anything,” he defends, mouth drawing open as he gestures around, perplexed at how you could be frightened in broad daylight, in the middle of the day, with this many people around. “Are you sure you’re okay?” “I’m fine. H-how’d you even find me?!” “I don’t know, I was just heading back to the room. The resort isn’t that big.” He shrugs and finally is able to get a good look at you. Jungkook slowly smiles at your one-piece swimsuit. “Are you going in for a dip? I can join.” The thought of Jungkook ripping off his shirt, jumping into the pool and getting all wet with you has your knees weak. It’s not a healthy idea. “No. Changed my mind. It’s kind of….cold out for a swim. I’m probably going to go back inside to change.” “Y/N. It’s hot. It’s like a hundred degrees out here.” You muster stiff laughter. “Well I’m feeling a bit chilly. Gonna go back and change. See ya!” You sprint off again, in a completely disoriented manner. Jungkook shouts your name when you nearly slip on a puddle of water by the poolside and almost crack your head open. But luckily, you catch yourself and throw him a half-hearted smile and an exaggerated wave goodbye. Part of you wishes you would’ve just fallen into the pool or hit your head. Maybe it would finally knock some sense into your brain. There’s no reason for you to be so nervous around him. This is Jeon Jungkook you’re talking about — IU fanboy, the biggest nerd of the universe, officially the worst flirt on this planet. There’s absolutely no reason for your stomach to flip. For you to be unable to retain eye contact with your friend. For you to suddenly be so self-aware and conscious of him that you feel nervous when he’s around and nervous when he’s not. There’s no reason whatsoever… “You need to get your head straight.” You’re muttering to yourself as you walk. You probably look crazy, but need to hear it out loud. If no one’s going to help you by saying it, then you’ll say it yourself. “Focus, Y/N. Focus—” A blood-curdling shriek tears from your stomach when there’s suddenly knocking. You turn to see Jeon Jungkook beside you, separated by a window, but laughing hysterically at your reaction. His nose is scrunched, mouth drawn up into that boyish smile of his. He’s inside the fitness center in a white tank top, sweating enough to make his hair damp, and the dark stands are pushed back against his head. That little shit is scaring you on purpose now. “Are you shitting me, Jeon Jungkook?!” Your fist pounds against the glass and you fail to notice how everyone else in the gym is whirling their heads around at the noise. The resort attendant runs up on you. “Ma’am, please don’t bang on the glass.” “S-sorry.” Jungkook is in bigger hysterics now, bent over and grabbing his stomach, laughing loud enough for you to hear through the window. His smile is excited, eyes lit up. Everywhere. Every corner you turn to. Every path you take. Some way or another — whether you’re talking to Namjoon or Chungha, hanging at the bar, around the pool, on the beach to watch the waves — no matter how hard you try to evade him, Jungkook is always there. You didn’t know it would be so hard to avoid him. He’s truly like the plague. Or maybe a curse. Better yet, it would be more fitting to call Jeon Jungkook the year-round Christmas grinch. He’s here to ruin your life, ruin your holiday, and make your head filled with him and only him. “You’re not avoiding me, are you?” He finally asks after crawling into bed beside you that night. His hands are folded on top of his midsection and he’s staring up at the ceiling even if he can’t see when the entire room is drowned in a comfortable darkness. You muster some laughter. “Don’t be ridiculous.” The sheets shift and from the little light coming through the terrace glass doors, you can see him looking at you. And you can feel his body warmth with the small distance. “I would hate it if you were a hypocrite since you don’t like when others ghost you.” “I said I’m not,” you whine. The lie gives a tickle of guilt in your gut. “You shouldn’t accuse people after they’ve already defended themselves.” “Okay.” The corners of his lips quirk. “Just making sure. I don’t want to scare you off.” You scoff, eyes adjusting enough to be able to look at him. It’s quiet, with him beside you underneath the covers, too close but too far. Yet somehow, in spite of the silence of your room, it’s still very noisy inside your head. “You really think you’re going to get rid of me that easily?” “No. And I’m glad for that. I wouldn’t want to lose you.” Jungkook grins and he teases, “You’re not a coward, Y/N. Right?” “Psh. Go to bed, Jeon.” “Hmm, I’m not tired, but I do know an activity we can do together that’ll tire me right out.” “Yeah, my fist meeting your face.” He laughs and you roll over, tugging the covers up to your chin. You don’t say out loud, don’t admit it, but you are a coward. One big coward who pretends to face the truth with courage, but actually learnt to run and hide in the face of trouble. A coward who can’t face the music, who’s actually wide awake like he is, but won’t say it. Whose heart is stuttering too loud to try to slip underneath the seduction of slumber. You won’t admit the funny feeling you get when your gaze sets upon Jungkook. You won’t acknowledge it even when it’s screaming into your ear drums and drumming against your rib cage. You won’t confess that the nervousness you feel is far from platonic. It’s hard not to feel stuck on Jungkook. These days, the last person you see before you sleep is him and he’s the first person you see when you wake up. He’s both the beginning and the end. “Hey, Y/N.” You’re stirred away by a soft voice calling to you. “Wake up.” When your lids peel back, you see him. The strands of his black hair nearly tickle the skin of your cheeks and he smiles tenderly at you. “We have a long day. Come on.” You’re a coward and you have been for some time now. // Friday is the busiest day of the week. It’s the eve of the wedding and where you’re in the kitchen for hours on end. Between the four of you, the lilac-coloured fondant is rolled out to cover the chocolate cake and ganache frosting. The dowel rods are inserted and the cake is stacked. Once it’s to Sejeong’s satisfaction, the decorating process begins. The sugar lavender that you made yesterday is used, placed delicately in the correct positions and you work on tracing a lace pattern on the bottom most layer. Hours later, with muscles sore and eyes stinging, she’s finally satisfied. It ends up looking magnificent. All the effort is presented in front of you — the cake is a soft purple colour, lavender flowers made from gum paste and real lilacs edible. “It’s too pretty to eat.” “It always is.” Sejeong smiles. “But when we do, it’ll be delicious.” Namjoon stretches his arms over his head, making noises as his bones crack. “I’m starving. What time is it?” He checks his watch. “I think the snack bar is still open. We should go eat now since we have to wake up bright and early tomorrow.” “I forgot how much work it was to be a bridesmaid.” Sejeong sighs lightly. “Let’s just get the cake in the fridge for now.” Jungkook and Namjoon carefully move the cake into the refrigerator area, a whole cold storage, and you take your aprons off, washing your hands. Sejeong turns to you and Jungkook. “Are you guys hungry too? You probably are since we’ve been working so late.” You exchange a look with him. “N-No. We’re fine.” “Are you sure?” Namjoon asks, brows raised. “Yeah, I’m sure. I’m more tired than hungry. I’ll probably call it a night.” “Same here.” Jungkook offers a smile, following your lead. “Well alright, I’ll see you both bright and early then! Good job, you two.” Namjoon smiles and both he and his wife leave the kitchen, talking to one another until their voices fade away. Jungkook then turns to you with his brow raised. “Are you really not hungry?” You look down at your stomach and it rumbles. You wonder if he can hear it too. “I thought I’d give them alone time since we’ve been busy all day….” An extended sigh pulls from the man’s lungs. Jungkook smiles and as he passes by you, he ruffles your hair. “You’re so unnecessarily thoughtful sometimes….” You turn around, trailing after him. Jungkook opens the fridge and hums, eyes searching. “What are you doing?” you ask curiously. “Looking for ingredients since a little someone said they weren’t hungry and now we can’t go to the only place still open.” He grins easily. “So unless you want to go back to the hotel room and wait half an hour for room service, I’ll cook.” Jungkook sounds so self-assured that you comply, finding your place on a stool as he begins to pull out mushrooms, shallots, parmesan cheese, butter, and starts digging around the cupboards. “You can cook?” “’Course I can. I’m a master of the kitchen.” His eyes flicker up and the little shit mocks you. “Why? Can’t you?” “The pan always burns,” you mutter. “Is that why you can’t melt chocolate over the stove?” he questions with a glint of mischief. “For the record, I’m getting better. It’s not like I do it intentionally anyway. But are we even allowed to use these ingredients, Jungkook? Won’t we get into trouble?” It’s not your kitchen after all — just a small space the resort was willing to let you use. He merely shrugs. “We have to live a little.” You sit on the other side of the island, watching him closely. Jungkook finds a can of chicken stock and heats it over the stove in a small saucepan. Then he moves to chop shallots and mushrooms, sleeves pulled up to his elbows, forearms revealed as he works the knife in a constant motion that’s therapeutic to listen to. Jungkook fries the shallots and mushrooms over the hot oil and butter in a skillet, tossing and flipping them as they sizzle. He works fluidly, in a rhythm without needing to stop and think twice. It’s fun to watch. “What are you making?” “Mushroom risotto.” “Sounds fancy.” “It is,” he lies. In your ignorance, you’re unaware that it’s actually an easy recipe. You’re also oblivious to the fact that Jungkook is secretly beaming with gratitude that his dad taught him this recipe years ago. His dad was right that he needed to learn how to cook basic dishes to one day impress. Jungkook adds the rice, coating it in the butter before adding a cup of white wine he found in the cupboards. Once it’s fully absorbed, he puts in the chicken stock and adds salt to taste. All the while, he’s watching you from the corner of his eye. He can read you like a book and your amazed expression feeds directly into his ego. When Jungkook turns around to throw something in the sink, he lets his enormous smile slip. “If we ever have the time, I’ll make you shrimp or chicken risotto.” “You can make that?” “Of course, cooking isn’t hard.” “Pft. You really know how to do everything, don’t you, Jeon?” “You said it, not me.” He serves it on a big plate, even taking the extra step to clean the edges up with a napkin. You’re amazed and when he arrogantly urges you to take a bite, you can’t even tell him off. It’s delicious. And once you say so, he can't deny how happy he is. Jungkook is over the fucking moon. He would cook for you for the rest of his life if you’d let him.

#bts fanfic #bts scenario #jungkook fluff #jungkook fanfic #jungkook scenario #jungkook reader insert #jungkook baking AU #jungkook baking!AU #sugar and coffee jungkook #JUNGKOOK AS BAE what's new #also looks like a little someone special is catching something #and it ain't corona

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meg-noel-art · 4 years

Note

Why do you believe that Catra never got over her what you called "obsessive and selfish love" for Adora? Because I didn't see that.

-gestures vaguely to all of the show-

Okay, you know what, let’s get into this. Because I’m honestly tired of it all. First let’s start with this: In popular media, is there a common theme of erotic subtext between rivals? Uh, yeah. Hell yeah. Tension between two people looking to one up each other that can be read as romantic or sexual? Oh absolutely. So, let’s, for the sake of argument assume that was the type of dynamic that Noelle and Co. were going for all along, as they’ve stated. Because they weren’t the first to play with this dynamic and they won’t the last.

So again, tension and subtext between rivals that escalates into passion or eventually real love? Yes.

On the other hand: betrayal, emotional manipulation, physical maiming and injury and outright seeking the utter demise and failure of you ‘rival’ because they made you sad by making a better choice than you did? That doesn’t equate to love.

But, for the sake of argument, let’s approach Catra’s motivations as all based around this deep love she has for Adora, which I will argue through this post is more of as passionate and selfish obsession than actual love. (And honestly, that’s a super cool character motivation, but pretending that it’s an epic love story is gross and I hate it.)

So, let’s return to Season 1

One of the first real battles we see Catra and Adora in takes place at the end of the season. This comes after ‘The Promise’ wherein Adora tries again to get Catra to come with her, but Catra doubles down on her desire to spite Adora for hurting her and leaving her, by being as nasty as she possibly can and putting Adora in just as much emotional pain. Here, she not only fights Adora, but cuts her down to her deepest insecurities. Catra knows Adora and she knows how desperately she wants to be a hero. It’s an aspect of Adora that Catra has always disliked because it made her feel lesser. In order to fully cripple her rival here, Catra tugs at the strings she knows will hurt the most.

“You will fail them (you failed me)”, “You’re friends will hate you (Just like I do)” “You will never be the hero you want to be (I will be the reason you can’t)”. If you want to talk about subtext in this scene, Catra’s unhealthy and obsessive desire to be the only thing Adora needs/wants/thinks about is literally all over the place. If you want to argue that she’s saying all of this because she’s hurting, then it’s literally the cruelest possible way she could say it. And the show doesn’t bother selling us on the fact that Catra is in pain here, it just hammers home the idea of how badly she wants Adora to fail so she can feel that pain too.

In no universe, would I call that treatment of someone love.

Next up, this moment in Season 2:

I remember everyone losing their minds over this scene, and again, arguing a sexual tension between rivals, then yes, that makes sense. But in the context of this entire episode and the ones leading up to this point? This statement from Catra is disgusting. And it gets worse.

In the next scene, we see Catra literally planning to use Adora as her own personal weapon (an aspect I find personally icky when considering the struggle Adora has with destiny/her own autonomy at the end of Season 4 being use by Light Hope as a weapon. Catra literally has the same idea.)

And moreso than that, Catra won’t just use her as a weapon. She will use Adora to cut down anyone else who has ever cared about her or shown her affection. It’s a new level of jealousy/possession that is touched on even moreso as the series goes on. But what’s crazy to me is that it seems to have developed from Season 1. In the Battle of Bright Moon, Adora could only fail them. Now, however much later this is, Catra wants her to hurt them too. Adora will hurt, her friends will hurt. Everyone will hurt like Catra does. Because she’s possessive of Adora’s affection. It makes her feel like she has meaning. Which is an entire other can of worms about Catra’s motivations and character, but we’re gonna move ahead to season 3.

This is a fascinating moment to me. At this point, Catra has essentially flunked out of the Horde, but she’s NEVER been more determined to prove herself to Hordak, to SW, to Adora, to everyone. But here, Scorpia points out how truly happy she is when Adora isn’t even in the damn picture anymore. The poisonous environment of the Horde is gone, Catra is claiming respect for her abilities and personality. Adora has nothing to do with it and she’s happy.

And then:

Look, I am remise to sound like a total asshole, but the entire show is pointing this out for me through even it’s dialogue. Catra’s pain and hate and obsession returns when Adora mentions that their shared abuser Shadow Weaver has chosen her yet again. Suddenly, nothing matters. None of Scorpia’s kind words, or the achievments she made in the Waste. All that matters, is beating Adora. Hurting her. Being better and more loved than her.

Honesty, at this point I’m losing the thread of ‘love’ entirely. Now it just feels like a total mission for vengeance. But, once again, okay, let’s argue she’s really just angry and wants Adora’s love back. So what does she do to get it?

She opens the Portal to hurt Adora. As Adora screams don’t, begs her not to, tells her what it will do to their world, Catra does it anyway. Because Adora must hurt. She broke Catra’s heart and Catra must break it back. That’s how love works, I guess.

Once again, if the show was working on selling me on Catra’s motivations being sympathetic and fueled by love all along. It is failing.

Now, let’s talk about the Portal world that it takes them into. What everyone called their “perfect universe”.

So we have this moment, where Adora gets to the heart of the issue and asks Catra about her real pain. Catra avoids it, once again. Yes, of course she’s wanted this, they both always have. I suppose at this moment you could argue her true motivations come through, but it also just emboldens my point that Catra is not growing. She’s not gaining any character development. If she did just always want Adora by her side, this scene shows us that Adora has moved past these Horde induced childhood dreams they have. She has seen a bigger world and a bigger issue and Catra is still holding onto the hope that they will keep this promise to always have each others backs.

Which, is an ironic thing to hold onto considering Catra was the first to break this promise, by not going with Adora when the time was right. And yet she believes Adora is the one who owes her the apology. Now, this would be great set up for an arc about Catra coming to terms with the fact that she is the problem and Season 4 seemed ready to set that up but then... didn’t.

This line in particular has always stuck with me because it broke their relationship entirely for me. At this point, Catra could apologize all she wanted in a possible redemption arc, but the damage was done. She admitted a pain so deep that it would change her and Adora’s relationship forever. Her hurt ran so deep that she would rather die, see everything end, than see Adora find happiness outside of her.

I could stop this post here and honestly, my point would have been made. But we’ve got more to go.

I was so excited after the moment. After an entire season of snapping under the weight of her own choices. It is the image of Scorpia, who loved her unconditionally, who tells Catra that she is the problem and she always has been.

At this point, I was ready. Catra had hit rock bottom, there was nowhere to go but up. She would approach her pain and figure out who she wanted to be as a person. She would team up with the Rebellion because she knew it was the right thing to do, she would atone for her mistakes. By the end maybe she would go on her own adventure to find herself?

And.... No?

She doesn’t.

Season 5 rolls around and suddenly she is right back where she started, scrambling up the ladder for power and respect. It sure doesn’t work for Horde Prime, putting her in real danger. She even gets a few moments to connect with Glimmer (maybe apologize for the Portal...no... oh okay.)

In fact, she saves Glimmer! But.... why does she do it? Certainly not for Glimmer’s sake, a character who has been stated by the crew to be literally her narrative foil, her other half. But...

Like...? At this point I don’t even know what the show is going for anymore, it’s a fucking mess. You could even argue that up to this point, Catra HAS been manipulating Glimmer to trust her so that she could in turn save Adora. Which is all kinds of fucked up, as we see in the conversation with the BFS squad that Glimmer WANTS to save Catra, and trusts her.

And then this memory that incited Catra’s desire to save Adora was:

I could have just answered with this screenshot and saved myself an hour. You wanna argue love? Fine.

Then Catra has NEVER let go of her frankly concerning obsession with Adora’s attention and affection and that is no more clear that this memory where she also physically assaults her and steps on her, and Adora goes crawling after her trying to comfort her.

Oh? Are you, Catra? Well that’s cool. You are allowed to be sorry. But that doesn’t mean Adora owes you literally anything at this point. No one is ever obligated to accept any apology no matter how heartfelt it might be.

At the end of the day, this love story their trying to sell me on is so twisted I can hardly stand to watch the final season. Because it’s never worked out!! Adora immediatedly forgives every moment I’ve listed in this post and more. Catra never apologizes to someone who deserved it most, Scorpia.

And more than that, Catra never grows into who she should have become as a character. She is stuffed into an OTP the show wanted from the beginning but failed for 5 seasons to make convincing or compelling.

Also Adora has such a huge heart she deserves someone who would treat her better than Catra could. Catra can’t. Catra can’t even treat herself right.

Like... Yeah. I don’t even know what to say anymore. Hope this answered your question.

Obsessive, possessive....Gross. I’m tired. C/A won at the end of the day I guess, but at what cost?

428 notes · View notes

starr-fall-knight-rise · 4 years

Text

HASO, “The Veil.”

More things are slowly being revealed about my universe, and I hope you like it. This was an interesting exercise in writing.

Deus

...

Adam freezes in place.

The red mist swells and churns around him as the monoliths tower high overhead.

The word echoes and repeats down the vast streetways and up into the high reaches of the cavernous spaces overhead blending with the moaning of creaking metal.

He turns in a sharp circle and immediately begins a broadcast to the ship, “Omen one this is admiral vir calling for immediate backup. I am not alone, I repeat, I am not alone.”

He got only static back.

Frozen in place and staring into the res haze, he becomes very unsettled as he notices a thickening in the clouds, great billowing resthat presses downward from above, covering the monoliths where they had once been rather visible.

He couldn’t see more than a few feet in front of him now, and hugs the wall tight with fear gripping his chest. He reaches down to his hip and unholsters the gun that is strapped there.

The advanced sensory systems in his gloves transfers the feeling of hard metal directly into his fingertips. He kept his finger outside the trigger guard, worries being jumpy would lead him to doing something stupid.

He looks up and sees nothing but resmist.

It continues to billow around his feet, and now it is getting hard to see his hands.

He presses his back against the wall as he scoots back in the direction he had come following the map on his wrist indicator.

The Geiger counter on his wrist blinks to life and inside his helmet he begins hearing the slow rattling clicks as he is given an audio indication of the radiation. It seems to be rolling in with the fog.

That hardly makes sense as he hasn’t been detecting any hint of radiation before this, but he supposes small concentrations of smoke is nothing like the billowing mist that now surrounds him. He keeps his back against the wall as the clicking grows faster.

The radiation is rising, though he isn’t much worried about its effects on him. The suit was designed to withstand radiation in the direct light of a star, so it doesn't much concern him.

What concerns him is the slowly invading ressmoke, and how he can no longer see his own hand in front of his face.

His breathing comes hard and fast inside his helmet creating a surprisingly humid environment inside the climate controllessuit.

He turns off all of his lights as the billowing smoke keeps interfering with his line of sight, and he has a horrible feeling that the light is only giving him a halo effect, and making him more obvious to whatever could be watching him.

That voice hasn’t spoken in some minutes, and in a way he almost begins to believe that it was some sort of hallucination. Perhaps it was all a figment of a torturesimagination on a strange alien world, and nothing was watching him after all. Maybeit was some sort of auditory hallucination brought on by an imbalance of atmosphere inside his suit.

He looks down to check his wrist indicator, but pauses halfway there. If that isn’t the case, he isn’t sure he wants to know. The thought of the voice being real scares him more than he would like to admit, so he stays quiet and keeps his way along the wall.

If he can just make it back to his ship, then he knows he ill be fine.

He feels better in the air than he does on the ground after all.

He is a pilot, and any issues he could run into while in the air are things than he is comfortable dealing with.

He has reached the edge of the monolith now, feeling it’s cold steel pressing against his back.

The red mist swirls before him so thick that the scattered light reaching through to him is no better than the last fingers of twilight.

He stares into the abyss.

He is breathing hard and his fingers tingle inside his gloves with his back pressed against the wall.

He takes a deep breath glancing quickly down the side passage as he hears a deep and low groaning. He knows it is probably just the metal monoliths creaking overhead, but he can’t help but think about the Ancient Greek Labyrinth and the minotaur that wandered it's corridors.

Quickly,he kicks the gravity fields on his boots to life,and presses back against the wall in preparation to launch himself forward into the mist.

He is just readying himself to push off the wall when...

Suddenly his fingers are touching nothing.

His breath catches in his throat, cutting off a scream as he silent pitches backwards into darkness.

His hands flail and his feet kick for a second before a hard impact reverberates through his suit, knocking the wind from his body.

His vision is completely obscured by blackness.

He can’t breath.

Adam rolls onto his side gasping and choking mouth opening and closing like a fish as his stunned diaphragm struggles to take in air.

A warning light on his suit begins going off as his blood oxygen content takes a sharp downward spike.

He rocks from ide to side in a panic trying to find his breath again, and finally gasps in a loud wheeze of air.

The warning light in his suit slows down before finally stopping.

He lays on his side in the darkness gasping and taking long, slow deep breaths groaning slightly as he regains his breath. The suit’s warning lights fade and then vanish.

He is left alone in the dark breathing heavily.

Adam rolls onto his stomach and then onto his hands and knees. The sensors in the suit’s gloves can detect the hard smoothness of the metal under his hands. He doesn’t see anything else at first, and is about to turn on his lights when a soft resglow begins out of the darkness. At first, he thinks it is just a hallucination or his imagination like he assumes the voice had.

But the light continues to grow, and, as it does, others join it.

A hundresmaye even be a thousand glowing resorbs about the size of his fist or a little bit bigger.

They line the hallway before him clustered on the walls and on the floor in groups that reminde him, not so comfortingly, of alien parasitic spores from popular science fiction.

He tries to crawl backward, but his foot hit something hard, and he turns to find a dark metal surface slick and impenetrable lit up by reslight.

He swallowes hard.

He was alone,

He tries engaging his comm though nothing works, and he was simply left alone in the silence.

Inside his chest, his heart pounded, and he does his best to breathe slowly and evenly.

With some trepidation, he stands and begins forward into the hallway.

The one mission he had actually wanted to bring other people on, and he couldn’t. The shuttles were to clunky to handle an atmosphere like this and far too large to navigate all of the strange obstacles that he had spotted on his way down. It had been a one man job to make it here, and it looked like it was going to be a one man job getting out.

Sure the marines could take the pods down at his request, and they probably would if they receive his transmission, but he would rather they didn’t it is far too dangerous.

Red light spills in through his face mask and glows off his skin.

The little red orbs pulse slowly brighter and then fading away giving him the foreboding impression of a beating heart or blood rushing through veins. The very thought itself sends shivers up his back as he makes his way down the dark hallway.

He doesn’t realize it at first, but the expanse was much larger than he had thought, and the hallway in which he walks spannes quite wide, across a great entrance hall -- or so it seems to him.

As he walks, the hallway seems to morph until it is no more a hallway but a large room.

Pillars rise up at the center, covered in the clusters of little red pulsing orbs.

The room is massive, so large in fact, that he can barely make out the ceiling in the darkness aboe, it seems to rise up into the very tops of the monolith itself.

The vastness of the room makes him feel very small, but he continues walking, knowing there is no point in going back.

If he is going to find a way out, it is going to have to be forward.

His heart continues to hammer in his chest as he passes massive pillar by massive pillar.

Again he is struck by how large the room is, and consequently, the size of the pillars, which are larger than redwood trunks and spout the little red obs like barnacles sprout on the bottom of a boat.

He doesn’t realise it until he exits the forest of pillars that he has not even reached the center of the room yet. He is just at i’s fringes and now that the pillars are gone, he can see across the vastness of the room to where an alien structure stands dormant.

He shivers as soon as he sees it.

Whatever it is…. It is wrong…. alien …. And unknowable.

His eyes try to follow its outline, but make it only a few feet before becoming confused and going nowhere.

It is a mass tangle of metal, constructed like a strange alien protein or some kind of warped sea creature.

The more he looks at it, the more his eyes churn in confusion.

He tires to look away, but that doesn’t help much.

He shakes his head.

The weird tangled structure sits at the center of the room, all alone.

He wants to stay away from it, but at the same time he feels pulled towards it. He knows it is completely irrational, like all of the teenage girls in cheep horror movies going into the dark places instead of following their instincts.

He had always thought that those were unrealistic, but now he can see that he was wrong.

He understands the feeling as he is pulled across the open floor and towards the structure.

Like everything on this strange planet, he has immediately underestimated the size of the structure. As he grows closer, it towers over him, a massive twist of wicked metal swirls, infinite and completely unfathomable in the human eye.

Its almost two, maybe even four stories tall, and stretches out far enough to completely encompass a small building or even a house.

His skin prickles.

The same feeling as if he is being watched.

He glances over his shoulder but sees nothing.

He then looks towards the structure wonderin if something could be hiding in it. Is it some sort of alien nest? Are hose things on the wall its offspring.

Is he going to die here.

He stands there for many minutes, unsure of what to do or where to go.

Where is he going to find a way out?

He turns back to the structure.

It sits quietly.

He shivers.

Its a strange feeling, it seems as if it is watching him, in the same way a person watches you or an animal, but as if you know that the animal can speak but is simply choosing to withhold that ability.

Like it was being INTENTIONALLY silent.

He takes a step back but stops.

Krill would kill him if he knew.

He always warned adam against the kind of impulses he is getting now, but he cant seem to help himself.

Before he knows what he is doing, he reaches out a hand his fingers splayed wide as he reaches towards the strange object.

His fingers remble a little.

And then they make contact.

At first he feels nothing until a sensation registers through his gloves.

The object is soft…. And warm….

…

Organic

….

He only has a split second to register this feeling before he is assaulted by a force so powerful he can barely comprehend it.

Knocked out of his mind.

Completely out of space and time.

His vision is obscured by blackness, though he feels as if he is spinning, his body whirling repeatedly end over end in some sort of eternal cartwheel. Though he cannot see he can sense a void of eternal blackness all around him stretching out to infinity on all sides

He cannot fathom how long he spins it could be a simple moment or it could have been a thousand years. His body does not register time in this palace, almost as if there was no time to register.

He is simply a conscience in a void of eternal darkness.

And then…. Light.

All around him an eruption of light, a massive expansion outward that begins from everywhere and nowhere all at once. His vision is filled with blistering heat though there is no pain. He is simply enveloped by a wall of white. And where there once was eternal darkness, there is only light.

It fills his vision and spills through him like a river of molten gold, rushing through his veins with a wave of fire and ecstasy incomprehensible by the human mind: a feeling no drug could ever touch.

He can feel it burning at his fingertips and toes, pushing his skin till it seems to burst and light leaks out through the cracks.

He is one with the light.

Part of it.

Enveloped completely.

There is no time, and no space, just the burst of light.

Then before him the light begins to condense, collapsing inwards to show the darkness once more, but, this time, instead of just one or the other, the points of light cluster together on a backdrop of blackness, sharing the space neither one dominating over the other.

The light continues to unfold, curling outward like a swirling sinuous body before outstretching great wings of stars.At once it seems like a massive dragon is stretched across the sky before its silhouette fades and it is gone, its body fading backwards into the illuminating mass.

He can finally comprehend what he is seeing as he watches stars form inside fields of gas at billions of times the speed. He watches them swirl together in great spiraling forms.

His body is shot through space at what must be trillions of times faster than the speed of light, though it seems to be no more than a gentle float through the vastness,, passing by towering spirals of stars and gas making galaxies and trails of stars hung like ribbons.

He reaches out a hand, feeling though not seeing and feels hot embers of flame across his fingers as he takes his hand through a field of stars causing them to burst away from each other like scattering dandelion fluff.

Infinity continues on below him and above him and to all sides of him.

The stars spin and so does his mind.

His thoughts are still even as they race, held together simply by the gravity of his own consciousness.

Stars take up his vision.

His mind can neither comprehend or begin to comprehend what he is seeing, but instead of confusion or collapsing inward on himself, he feels.

At home.

A warmth begins in his chest welling up into his throat and then behind his eyes.

The relief of returning home after a long journey,

Of seeing loved ones again.

Of returning to ones childhood stomping grounds and lifting their head to the wind as memories come rushing back on the breeze.

He takes a deep breath, though there should be no air to breathe.

The vacuum of space has no hold on him.

He is immune.

Powerful.

He is carried across the universe pulled towards it’s edge watching as stars fly past on either side.

A pinprick of light, just like the others, and then it expands filling his vision.

His eyes widen as brightness envelops him, and he can sense something just beyond the veil of light.

He feels as if he could reach forward and cast the veil aside like a gossamer curtain.

And then.

Nothing.

The light stops, and he is no longer moving. The curtain seems to wave before him, and he can sense shapes beyond, or at least he swears he can.

He reaches out desperately.

But is pulled backwards.

His heart shatters.

Like a glass sculpture thrown to the ground with violent intensity The pain of it is immense and incomprehensible, and he doesn't understand why, which only makes the sensation all the worse, all the more confusing.

He is a child, lost and alone, left outside cold and alone.

Unprotected.

He is lost in a well of agony.

Until a soft voice.

You Are Not Ready

The voice is, gentle, filled with concern, as if consoling a child.

It is not unkind, quite the opposite, and it acts upon him like the soft caress of a mother or father. Though he has no body, it almost feels as if he is enveloped, wrapped in protective arms, or a thick blanket during cold winter as the snow falls from above.

The veil fades back into darkness.

His body hurts for what he is leaving behind, but the arms lead him gently away, and where they touch he feels heat and light just as he did when approaching the barrier.

He can no longer understand what he is seeing.

Tears leak from his eyes, spilling outwards as points of white light to drip down and join the stars.

Then he stops moving.

Hands, gentle, and consoling cast him backwards to float out into space.

As soon as the fingertips are gone, the light vanishes with it.

He wants to stay.

He desperately wants to.

But the voice comes again.

You Are Not Ready.

And then blackness. The voice echoing in repeated circles around inside his head.

He hits the ground hard, and is knocked breathless for the second time. Eternity collapses in on itself back to a pinpoint focus so tight it seems claustrophobic and crushing.

He gasps for air feeling as if he is dying for a moment, though his body soon regains control over his own senses. The limited pinpoint of consciousness and sensation being his own, very limited body.

He is lying face down on cold metal, and the sensation of what he has lost wells up even more. He curls into a ball, his hands around his chest, knees brought up. Tears roll down his face and drip onto the screen of the helmet.

He sobs quietly, unable to control the overwhelming feeling that something profound and irreversible has been taken from him, though he doesn't know what.

Through his tears, and through the face screen he can see the swirling mist of red. The structure is gone and so is the monolith.

The ground rumbles below him though it is a distant thing, only a rattle.

He lays there for a long time as his consciousness slowly squeezes itself back inside his skull feeling confined and cramped in a sensation he would never be able to explain in words or in writing.

More vibrations though these ones are uneven.

“We found him!”

“Omen respond, we have found the admiral.”

“That doesn't make sense! How did he get here.”

“What do you mean.”

“This is nearly thirty miles from his last broadcasted position.”

The voices help him stitch his mind back into place.

A hand on his shoulder, barely noticeable through his space suit.

“Admiral, admiral can you hear me…..” he has forgotten where his mouth is, “Adam!” More mumbling voices, “His vitals are clear, heart rate is elevated, reparation elevated.”

“Picking up some abnormal cerebral activity curving towards normal.”

That’s Krill’s voice.

He remembers now.

“Adam.”

Ramirez?

Arms grab him around the chest and force him into a sitting position. His head lolls to the side.

A hand catches him and holds his head up. He leans heavily against Ramirez as he tries to remember how to move.

“Adam, can you hear me.”

A light passes through his mask and onto his face.

He cringes away from the light. It hurts much more than the other light he remembers.

“Come on, buddy, talk to me.” Ramirez pats the side of his helmet.

He blinks hard and takes a deep breath.

“Ramirez?”

“I’m here, I’m right here.”

His tongue feels like lead and the insides of his mouth are coated in sandpaper. He coughs.

“Adam, what happened.”

His vision spins, “I…. I don’t remember I…. I was…. Inside, and then…”

“The monoliths collapsed, they just fell out of the sky and…. We thought you were dead.”

“But I…. I was inside and then…. And then I was everywhere.”

The marines looked at each other in some confusion.”

“Your GPS cut out almost ten hours ago and shortly after that the monoliths began falling from the sky and collapsing in on the structures. It was chaos, destroyed everything. And then an hour ago your GPS coordinates appeared here…. Did you walk?”

He looked up confused, “No…. I… I don’t know how I got here.”

“Someone get him up and into the shuttle. He probably hit his head in the collapse.”

“Good idea.”

Two marines moved forward and helped to drag him to his feet.

His legs didn’t work, so they had to drag him to one of the ground shuttles and then back over the open planes of the planet before they were able to find an atmospheric opening that would allow a less experienced pilot to fly out.

His head continued to spin.

He stared down at the planet and it’s red haze as he was carried away.

In the back of his head a soft whisper.

You Are Not Ready

209 notes · View notes

quinncupine · 4 years

Text

It’s Never Easy

Word Count: 2,272

Link: A03

Summary: "I lied to her." His voice was just a broken whisper. "She...she asked me if she was going to die, so I lied."

Young Pro Hero Deku deals with his first civilian death and a certain retired hero helps him cope.

Warnings: Mentions of death, blood.

Notes: I wanted to write some Dadmight because I love their dynamic and I wanted to explore that. I've never really written Dadmight before so let me know what you think. Anyways, thanks for reading and enjoy friends!

Quinn's Masterlist!

...

Izuku trudged into the empty apartment and sluggishly pulled off his boots, tossing them haphazardly on the floor then stumbled to the sofa where he plopped down. He hadn't bothered with the lights, preferring the darkness, it was easier to hide in it than face reality at the moment. The street lamp glaring through the window provided the sole source of light, though it was far from comforting.

In the darkness he finally sunk down into the sofa leaning his head back into the plushy cushions. A grimy hand ran through his messy green locks as he let out a shaky breath. All that raw emotion he'd somehow managed to suppress for the last few hours was dangerously close to crawling up his throat. It had taken everything in him to keep it together, but now that he was in his apartment- alone and in the dark- that wall he built was crashing down faster than he could say disaster.

The silence was quickly becoming overwhelming. Hands covered his eyes as a stifled choke slipped out. That scene just kept replaying over and over and over in his head and each time he kept going over all the things that went wrong, all the things that he did wrong. For each mistake, a thousand other possibilities of what he could of done differently, but as much as he wished, he couldn't change what happened. This train of thought was only driving him deeper and deeper and there wasn't a reverse gear to back him out of this miserable pit he'd driven himself into.

A buzz in his pocket startled him out of his morbid derailment and he reached for his phone, barely glancing at the name before turning it off and throwing it on the couch next to him. He knew people would call, he knew they would want to talk, but he didn't. All he wanted was to just sit in the dark, to suffer a little longer in his own guilt. It's what he deserved, at least that's what he kept telling himself.

Wait a minute...

He froze, eyes darting over to the phone. The name of the caller suddenly clicked in his mind. All Might. He'd just hung up on All Might, or as the older man kept telling him 'Toshinori.'

With a small groan, he brushed the hair out of his eyes and sat up, debating on whether or not to call the man back. All his emotions were so scattered at the moment. He wanted to talk and not talk at the same time. He wanted Toshinori to be here and yet he also wanted to just be left alone. He wanted the world to just stop closing in on him. He wanted everything to be okay, but that was never going to happen.

Leaning forward, he buried his face in his hands and took a deep breath, then another, then another. After a while, his breathing evened out and he closed his eyes, resting his head back on the couch and straining his ears to hear the distant echoes of the trains that ran near his apartment. Eventually, exhaustion overtook him and he fell asleep.

A loud knock on the door nearly sent him toppling off the couch. Fingers fumbled around for his phone, turning it back on, and flinching at the too bright light that glowed over his face. It was nearly two in the morning, he'd only been asleep for less than an hour. Once his phone had fully powered back on, the small device flooded his notifications with several missed calls and numerous text messages, most of them being Toshinori. Another pang of guilt dripped into his chest at the thought of ignoring his mentor. He didn't want to be rude, something he feared might happen if the retired hero found him in this sorry state.

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he stood up and all his muscles immediately complained. They were overworked, not that it was really any surprise, the still rookie hero always went overboard on missions. This time, he welcomed the pain. It gave him a nice distraction as he stumbled to the door. On the other side was exactly who he was expecting, although the timing was a bit late, or, he supposed, rather early in the day.

"What are you doing here?" He didn't realize how rude that sounded until it actually came out. "I mean," he sighed. "It's two in the morning All- Toshinori."

"You weren't answering." The older man simply said. "I was getting worried."

Izuku finally took the time to look the man over. He was dressed in a plain pair of sweats and a heavy coat, holding some sort of small box. His hair was a mess and his face, although always sickly and pale, seemed even more so tonight.

"I wanted to check on you." He rubbed the back of his neck, glancing around the empty hallway. "Maybe...talk a little?"

Talking was the last thing on Izuku's mind, but he couldn't just shut out Toshinori, no matter how upset he was. The man even drove all the way here in the dead of night. It would be downright villainous to turn him away. With a sigh, he stepped aside and let the man in.

Toshinori knew the layout of the apartment well; he'd been here enough times by now to have it memorized, but the complete darkness was making it hard to navigate. His hand smoothed along the wall until he found the switch and suddenly the apartment bloomed to life. It was a basic place with just the necessities and of course all the All Might merch Izuku had acquired over the years. Once a fanboy, always a fanboy.

"Um, Izuku," He said quietly, slipping the coat from his lanky form. "Why don't you go change and I'll make us some tea." Toshinori hesitated before continuing. "Maybe take a shower, that might do you some good."

The young pro blinked and looked down at himself. His costume was filthy and littered with dirt smeared cuts. The most glaring issue was the giant blood stain that ran from his torso down to his right leg. Even more disturbing that the blood wasn't even his. He'd been too lost in his thoughts when he got home that it didn't even cross his mind what he looked like.

"Yeah, okay." He murmured, carding his hand through his tangled hair.

A shower actually did sound pretty good at the moment, so he trudged to his room and stripped the soiled garment off, well tried to. The blood had fused the fabric and his skin together so he slowly peeled it off, trying not to look at the mistakes that were literally written in blood and woven to his skin. When he finally did get it off, he stared at the fabric lying limply in his hands. It might've been beyond repair this time, or maybe it was that he just didn't want to see the tainted suit ever again.

The warm water felt nice on his sore muscles, but the moment he looked down and saw the water pooling around his feet turn red he had to steady himself against the wall and take a deep breath. Those haunting images popped back in his head again so he turned the shower on the coldest setting and stayed there until his skin felt raw.

It was about ten minutes before Izuku came back out, flat hair dripping down onto his hoodie, and hands shoved into the pocket of his sweats. He would've looked comfortable if not for the permanent grimace on his face.

Two cups of tea had been set out on the dining table with Toshinori behind one, gingerly sipping the dark liquid. Izuku slipped into the empty seat and stared at the steaming cup.

"Feel better?" Toshinori wrapped his hands around his own cup, savoring the warmth it brought.

"I guess."

A tight silence settled over the two. Usually Izuku was all smiles with Toshinori, the man was his idol, how could he not be, but tonight was different. Tonight held a heavy, more somber mood, one Toshinori was well acquainted with, just not on his protégé.

"What's that smell?" Izuku perked his head up, his curious nature taking over as the scent of cinnamon wafted through the room.

"Oh, right." Toshinori hurried into the kitchen and came back out with a plate full of sweet smelling desserts. "I picked these up when I was in Kyoto the other day. I thought you'd appreciate them."

He set the plate between them. "Yatsuhashi?" Izuku picked up one of the crisp sweets and examined it, glad to have something else to focus on. "Thanks."

"Izuku, my boy," Toshinori gingerly sat back down. "I saw what happened on the news, but I...I wanted to...are you alright?"

Alright wasn't even in the same universe as him. He squeezed the yatsuhashi between his fingers, the hard shell cracking under the pressure. A grim frown pulled at his lips. "How did you handle that...the first time it happened?"

Toshinori folded his hands on his lap and pursed his lips. "Not well, I can tell you that."

That surprised Izuku. To him, All Might could handle anything, no matter how big or small, and always with a smile. The man seemed invincible, even after his retirement, it still seemed like he could accomplish anything. That was probably all the biased sentiment he held in his heart for the man who had filled a role much bigger than 'mentor' could even encompass. Growing up without a father had left a blank spot, something he was able to ignore for a long time, but it was one that Toshinori seemed to fit into perfectly.

"Listen Izuku," he took a deep breath and forced the boy who wasn't so much a boy anymore as he was a young man, a prospering hero, to look him in the eyes. "There are inevitably going to be times where you can't save everyone. That doesn't mean you failed as a hero."

Giant green eyes searched Toshinori's bright blue ones. "Not to her. To her, I did fail." He dropped the crushed treat back onto the plate and sunk his head into his hands. "I lied to her." His voice was nothing more than a broken whisper.

"Lied?"

"She...she asked me if she was going to die. She was crying. She was bleeding out in my arms and crying. I've never seen someone so terrified, so I lied." All that emotion he'd somehow been suppressing came rushing to the surface and he choked back a sob. "I had her, I had her in my grasp and I still couldn't save her. What kind of hero can't even save one life?"

"Did you forget about all the other lives you saved today?" Toshinori set a bony hand on his shoulder and leaned in close. "If anyone gets to call themselves hero, it's you Izuku. Out of all the people I've ever met you are the most selfless and determined person to ever walk this earth. I know I made the right choice in you Izuku, you are the truest version of a hero."

When Izuku didn't respond, he knelt next to his chair, grabbed the boys shoulders and pulled them up gently so he was facing him. "I know exactly what you're going through my boy. I've been there more times than you can count, but carrying around that blame, that, that guilt will only weigh you down." Izuku could only stare at him through tear stained eyes. "I'm so proud of the hero you've become. I'm certain that one day you'll be the very best and all the world will know-" he tapped Izuku's chest- "that you are here."

There was a moment of silence before Izuku lunged forward and collapsed into Toshinori's chest with a crushing hug. They both nearly toppled to the ground before Toshinori managed to regain his footing. It didn't matter that it was an awkward position to kneel in there was no way he was letting his boy go. His gangly arms wrapped around his boy.

His boy.

His son.

The one person whom he considered family, someone to call son, although he couldn't recall a time he'd ever actually told Izuku that, or anyone for that matter. It was more of an unspoken understanding, at least, he hoped Izuku understood. Toshinori never had any family ties and before he met Izuku there was a void he'd buried in the recesses of his mind, but now he couldn't even think of a life without Izuku in it.

"I'm sorry." Izuku sniffed into his chest and Toshinori ran a hand through his still wet curls. "Thank you Toshi...for being here."

To say that that simple nickname hadn't affected the old man would be an outright lie. Izuku had always tried so hard to be respectful, which was why he always had trouble calling Toshinori by his name instead of his title. This might've been the first time he's ever used that nickname and Toshinori, no, Toshi only squeezed tighter.

His heart couldn't help but swell and he smiled, but it wasn't his generic 'All Might' smile, no, this one was reserved for only one person. This was a smile that he could pour his entire being into. A smile that could say so much more than he ever could. This was a smile for his son.

"My boy, you don't have to thank me. It's what family does."

#midoriya izuku #pro hero midoriya #yagi toshinori #All Might #bnha #mha #slight angst #comfort #pro hero Deku #dadmight #izuku midoriya needs a hug #dadmight to the rescue #deku #crying #this boy just needs so much love #can we please get some love for poor Izuku?#he's the best

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