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starlightxsvt · 3 years

Text

3 dates | c.sc

pairing ➳ badboy!Seungcheol x female!reader

genre ➳ badboy au, romance, some fluff, angst, bad attempt at humour, gets spicy at the end.

word count ➳ 12.4k+ (i have NO idea how this became so long so strap in for a ride)

warnings ➳ cursing, mentions of killing, mentions criminal activities, slight violence(non explicit), smoking, ma man Seungcheol ain't your typical badboy, self doubt, blackmailing, reader does all sorts of risky things cuz she's a SIMP, blood(nothing explicit), kissing, marking, some breast worshipping, grinding, reader is horny lol. (Please lemme know if I forgot anything.)

synopsis ➳ after one fateful encounter with him you cannot get him out of your head. so you opt to do some crazy things to catch his attention and even snag a few dates with him. only trouble is he isn't the type to stay after the whole disposition is over.

Swirling the third drink in your hand you heave yet another depressed sigh. You are so tired that you feel like you can just slump on the counter and pass out. Maybe it wasn't a good idea to stop for a drink, you alcohol riddled brain thinks.

The plans you had with Katelyn was cancelled last moment; she called to tell you that her thesis submission date was moved forward and so she couldn't hang out with you tonight. You're in the middle of an existential crisis quite literally, the too many part time jobs yet still lack of money and copious amounts of study getting to you. Staring hard at your drink you contemplate if it is worth giving up on college and your dream of becoming an arts major. It sure feels tempting right now, the long hours at the diner and not enough sleep at night proving to be the worst nuisance.

Sighing you put down your drink. It's still early, you should go home and try to catch up on the much needed sleep. You really had no intention of grabbing a drink tonight; you have morning classes tomorrow but you made a last moment decision to stop for a drink on your way back home. You didn't take your usual route to home today, and while trudging through the streets tiredly you came across this bar called Seventeen's. You've heard stories about this place, how it is the home to local gangs and how it's bad people's turf and what not. Your curiosity, probably too much of that made you get inside for a drink even though all the bones in your body ached. The inside is what you expected, nowhere near fancy but dingy, just decent enough. The people inside didn't look friendly and if the chains and tattoos on them gave any indication you'd say the rumours are true; this is the turf of gangs. The drinks taste decent, not the best but not the worst and from the overall look of this place you don't really have a reason to come back.

You're about to stand up from your stool when a large, clammy hand grabs your wrist out of nowhere, making you jump. "Hey sexy, sit down. Let me buy you a drink," the owner of the hand, a large, tattooed middle aged man slurs making your nose scrunch out of disgust. You're wearing nothing that can be called sexy; a plain cardigan and jeans and the way he looks you up and down makes you want to poke his eyes out.

You really shouldn't have come here. Clenching your jaw, you meet his eyes, "What makes you think I'm interested to have a drink with you?"

"Oh come on, why would you be here then, lookin' all nice? Just sit down," the man drawls, an ugly smile on his face. He still hasn't let go of your wrist and it's making you impatient. Looks like you're gonna have to kick his balls tonight. Maybe the self defense classes didn't completely go to waste.

"Get your disgusting hands off me while I'm being nice, sleazeball," you hiss at him, trying to get his hand off. The man stands up growling, "What did you say you bitch?" You're preparing to break his nose when out of nowhere a punch lands on his face that sends him tumbling to the ground. The attacker gets on top of him and twists his arm and you can literally hear a bone snap.

Shit.

"I think she said she is not interested," the man hisses, landing yet another another hit on his face before kicking his groin and getting up. When he turns around and his eyes meet yours, your heart skips a few beats and you almost The man is drop dead gorgeous, someone you would not expect to see here but probably on the cover of a high end magazine. His blond hair is long, crossing the nape of his neck as well as some covering his forehead. What takes your breath away the most is his eyes, the most beautiful pair you've ever seen. They seem to have their own galaxies in them, so deep and mesmerising and decorated with lashes long enough to make you jealous. His dress up, black jacket and jeans, immediately tells you what he is; a gang member.

"You should get home, lady," He speaks in a no nonsense tone, his face cold as ice. But you're offended. "Excuse me? Who are you calling lady? You make it sound like I'm old." You puff your cheeks and cross your arms, trying to appear intimidating. "Besides I had the situation under control, you didn't need to butt in." The man keeps looking at you with that no nonsense look, his features displaying annoyance if you are right and he's clearly not intimidated. The dude on the floor grunts and makes an effort to get up, only to be kicked by your saviour once more. "Hey Mingyu, get him out of here. What was this piece of trash doing here anyway?" The man orders to someone before turning to look at you, "Do you live far?"

"Uh- no, a ten minutes walk from here maybe," you reply unsurely, surprised at his question. The blond haired man nods before grabbing your wrist, "I'll walk you home. Hurry up, lady." You have a feeling he's purposely calling you that and though you start following him out of the bar, you make grunts of protest.

"Oh yeah, why? Trying to find out my address? So you can come later and hurt me like that guy?" You would not be this brazen if it wasn't for the alcohol in your system, after all the man next you isn't a friendly one if the rumours are true. The man raises a brow at you, "Did you do something that requires me to beat you up?" You hiccup at his serious tone. Does he not get a joke? He lets go of your hand now that you're at a safe distance from the bar but still stays close enough to you as your steps are rather stumbling and messy. You aren't fully drunk but your body is tired and feels like will shut down any second.

You really need some sleep.

"You know I'm not that drunk. You don't have to walk me home." You complain. "I'm walking you home because this isn't a nice place you should be alone at night. What happened earlier could happen again." He says not looking at you. "Mhmm," you keep on trudging behind him, "Thank you so much for your kind gesture, sir." You mock him but he doesn't reply, staring straight ahead, completely ignoring you as he walks quietly. In silence you two walk the rest of the path, before finally stopping as your apartment comes into view. At this point it feels like your bones will break and you will plop down on the concrete any second, but you manage to keep standing. "Well, thanks for walking me home." You shift your weight from one foot to another. "And for helping me back there." He shrugs coolly, a bored expression on his face. He's turning to walk away when you call, "Hey- I didn't get your name."

"What do you need it for?" He side glances at you. You shrug, "I don't know. You helped me so I thought it'd be nice to know your name." "You don't need to. Go inside, lady." He says, his tone final and starts marching away. You wait a couple moments before yelling, "Asshole!" and quickly rushing inside your building, partly afraid he's gonna come back.

You won't be surprised if you get killed tonight.

"So you are telling me Choi Seungcheol walked you home?" Katelyn screams in your ear, jolting up from her seat, earning glares from other people at the library in the process. "That's his name?" You whisper-yell, grabbing her hand to pull her back down. "I'm guessing from the blond hair you said," Katelyn shrugs. "Uh huh." You mean back in your chair, "He was hot though."

"Is that seriously all you have to say?" Katelyn whines exasperatedly. "No, I mean, if it wasn't for the way he dresses or talks I would have thought he's a model or something." You murmur.

"Are you sure he didn't hurt you?" Katelyn questions. "Hell no!" You frown. "He saved me from that creepy old dude. I was surprised too. I wish I didn't drink so much, I could have gotten a better look at his face," you sigh. "Seriously?" Katelyn raises a brow at you.

"Girl, you should have seen him. His aura and the way he carried himself was...so hot." You grin to yourself. Katelyn watches you like you've grown two heads. "Are you trying to tell me you have a crush on that gangster?" You smile sheepishly, "Maybe, I mean it's harmless. He was broody yet charming and I'm a girl so.... Also, it's not like he likes me too and is gonna come running whenever I ask him to bang me." You mutter.

"Oh he's gonna break your bones and bang your skull against a wall. That's what he's gonna do."

"Come on! Maybe he isn't so bad. Maybe the rumours are just rumours. Maybe he just looks intimidating and dresses up like that and people thinks he's a gangster." "Really? His name is on every bad thing that happens around here. From illegal racing to murders. Do you know that people say he has killed too?" "Like I said, rumours," you shrug being your stubborn self. Katelyn holds her hands up in surrender, "You know what? It doesn't matter. I'm glad you're alive so let's just put this behind us, shall we?" You don't reply but wiggle your brows at her, a conspirational look on your face. "Oh no, don't look at me like that," Katelyn warns. "Let's go to that bar tonight. Please?" You give her your best puppy eyes. "What are you? Fucking crazy? You wanna get killed?" She whisper-yells, scowling at you. "No. I just wanna take another look at him. Without the alcohol in my system you know. Besides, the place isn't that bad." You reply.

"Well then get killed by yourself. I'm not coming with you."

"I'll help you with your papers for the rest of the semester."

"Shit."

"Well, looks like your wish won't be coming true," Katelyn muses chugging down her fourth glass as you keep playing with your first one. It's nearing an hour since you've come to the bar and there has been no sign of the man you desperately seek. The place is exactly like it was the other day, filled with people who you wouldn't want to mess with.

Yet here you are.

"Let's call it a night," Katelyn sighs. "We're just wasting our time." You know that too but you don't want to leave; not just yet. You are well aware that this is just pathetic but you've this crazy urge to see that man once again. You don't know why you feel this way; you never felt like this before. Why are thinking yourself to death about a complete stranger? Has some kind of spell been casted on you?

"Yeah, let's get going," you murmur half heartedly. You help your friend stand up as she's a little wobbly on her feet and together you make your way through the door. "Should we call a cab?" You ask Katelyn. She shakes her head no and you nod, you arms wrapped around hers to support her in case she looses her balance. You start stepping away from the bar and towards the road to her place until a noise from behind makes you stop in your tracks.

"Did you hear that?" You ask, whipping your head behind. There's no one around and the street is mostly dark other than the light flashing from the name of the bar. You hear the sound once again and this time you can locate where it's coming from. There's an abandoned playground at the back of the bar and you've a feeling that's the source.

Katelyn hisses as she sees you step towards there. "What are you doing!"

"Didn't you hear that?"

"Yes I did. That's why I say we leave!" You ignore her and cautiously keep on stepping forward, mentally cursing yourself for wearing heels. Katelyn follows behind you murmuring all kinds of warnings. "You know curiosity killed the cat, right?" She whispers.

You roll your eyes, "Well I'm not a cat. Just- be quiet. It can be nothing." You both move past the bar gingerly and towards the playground at the back. There are old gallons of oil and abandoned materials just around the corner and you two quickly hide among them. It takes you a while to get adjusted to the low light after you poke your head up from the hiding spot.

You're eyes fix on him immediately. His blond hair makes him easily recognisable amid the darkness. There is a few more people around him, all kicking something in the ground. Not something, but someone. The man lying on the ground groans in pain and you realize this is what you both heard. "Shit," You hear Katelyn curse from beside you. "We need to get going." Instead of replying, you keep your eyes trained on the scene unfolding, holding your breath. You're tranced. Seungcheol lands continuous punched on the guy laying below him and after a moment his writhing frame seems to stop moving as it falls limp.

Fuck.

"You know in movies this is the part where people get caught." Katelyn whispers, her voice hoarse and her hand clutching yours in a tugging motion. "Uh-huh. But I can't seem to move. I wonder if he's... really dead." You whisper back. "Are you fucking crazy!" She hisses. "You wanna witness murder?"

Before you can reply you hear a sound that echoes through the empty field and it takes a second for you two to realise that it came from any one of you two. You don't have the time to figure out who made it as you both are crawling away from the playground without looking back, head crouched low to avoid being seen. You don't know if they heard that or if they're coming behind you, you both just keep scrambling, moving until you're past the corner. As soon as possible you both get on your feet and run like the grim reaper is chasing you, stopping only when you are far enough from the bar.

"I am never listening to you again!" Katelyn yells.

It's been a good few days since your near death experience and you somehow find yourself in front of that bar once again. You and Katelyn have not brought up that incident after that night. You made yourself believe that it was over and came to a conclusion that it is better to forget that man and leave all of it behind, no matter how much your heart disagreed. But it's easier said than done; you may not mention him out loud but in the back of your mind you think of him. He's like a ghost, haunting you all the time, plagueing your thoughts when you go to bed at night. It felt like he was ever existent and there was an itch in your heart that drove you insane.

Maybe that's why your subconscious brought you here, in front of Seventeen's, once again. You were on your way back home from library and you thought you took your usual route, until you realized you were standing in front of that place. But what is even terrifying is that the man haunting your mind stands in front of the entrance of the bar and you blink a few times to make sure you are not hallucinating. He's leaned against the entrance door, cigarette between his lips and from his pocket he fetches a lighter to light the poison in his mouth.

Damn, lighting up a cigarette never looked this sexy.

He hasn't seen you yet and you contemplate running the other way. That's the sensible thing to do but you, not being a sensible person, start walking towards him. Your footsteps make him look up and notice you and like the last time, there is no expression on his face. It's the same bored yet handsome face except now in daylight you can take a better look at him and this time, you notice a little mole on the left of his face, by his nose. Realising he's gonna stay silent you decide to speak, "Hi... It's me... Do you remember me?" Wow. That's such an intelligent thing to ask.

With the monotoned yet serious expression on his face, he goes, "Why won't I? I don't have Alzheimer's."

So he can joke.

You laugh, an awkward, probably exaggerated laugh. "What are you doing here? Did you not learn your lesson last time?" He cuts to the chase, his voice brassy and deep, almost threatening. You want to roll your eyes. "Who are you to say? I can be wherever I want whenever I want, thank you very much." "Well then, have fun getting in trouble like last time." He's nonchalant as he blows a smoke right past you and stands up straight, turning away. "Wait!" You almost grab his hand, desperate to stop him.

What is wrong with you? Your subconscious slaps her forehead. What are you holding him back for? To say 'hello sir, I think you're hot, can you please put your dick inside me'? Seungcheol turns his head back, his eyebrow cocked up.

Why do you find everything about him so attractive?

"Um...I know your name, Seungcheol." You speak, trying to sound intimidating, like knowing his name gives you some power over him. There's something definitely wrong with you which is why you don't want him to leave just yet and which is why you're stalling time. But it seems to have done the job as he pulls the cigarette out of his mouth and turns towards you, an annoyed look on his face. "How do you know that?" The timbre of his tone is deep and it rakes shivers down your spine. "Well, you've built quite a reputation for yourself so it isn't hard to get your name." You shrug coolly. "Well, if you know so much about my reputation, you should know what I'm capable of." His lone is low, almost threating as he starts to take slow steps towards you making you step back out of reflex.

Maybe this wasn't such a good idea. Maybe you will also end up like the curious cat.

"Oh yes, I know. People have got a lot to say about you," you try to sound unfazed, not meeting his eyes that you feel are burning holes on your face. "What are you doing here, lady?" he asks slowly, pausing between each word and glaring at you as he continues to step forward. You can feel his patience thinning.

"I swear to God if you call me that-"

"What are you doing here?" This time his tone is scary, too scary. It makes you lose the ability to speak for a second as his dark gaze bores into you. He has backed you up against the wall behind you and you swallow. Right, what are you doing here? It probably has something to do with a very hot individual and his insanely attractive aura. Scratch that you are a hundred percent sure it has something to do with the blond haired, enticing man in front of you. He's driving you mad and you need to get your fill of him.

"Go out with me," you state and you are sure you've never spoken words more stupid than that. Internally, you cringe and pray that the ground below you would open and take you straight to the fiery pits.

This is the first time you see some sort of expression come across his face; surprise. He looks utterly shocked and somewhat confused. His mouth opens just a little and he squints at you, "What?"

There's no going back now.

"Go out with me. Let's go on three dates." you say once more, looking him in the eye. He seems to appear even more surprised, a dumbstruck look sitting on his face. He observes you quietly for a while and you can feel the gears in his head shifting. You wonder what he's gonna say next. Or maybe he won't say anything but bang your head on the wall and leave you to die alone. "I'm sorry I'm not following," he looks genuinely perplexed. "I want to go on three dates with you. They say after three dates you can figure out whether you like that person or not and I think I like you so..."

I think I like you.

The biggest understatement of the year.

Seungcheol tilts his head, an amused expression on his face as he studies you, those sharp eyes of his settling on yours, "What is your deal, sweetheart?" He crosses his arms, a brow raised. Sweetheart? That's new. And definitely better than lady. You can't deny how hearing him call you that makes your insides melt. "Nothing. I just want to date you," you shrug, trying to keep your wits together. His proximity is driving you wild; you can sniff a faint smell of cologne and cigarette, him being inches away from you. This time he laughs loudly, a mocking laugh you'd say. "Who sent you?"

Oh my god.

You roll your eyes. "Nobody sent me! Do I look like I'm a gang member or something?" "Then I don't see a reason why you'd want to date me," He states, throwing a challenging look at you.

"What if I said I have a thing for bad boys?"

He snorts. "You don't look the type to date bad boys," he mocks. "Who are you to say that?" You cross your arms. "I want to date you because I think you're hot, okay?" You can not believe you just said that. Looks like you don't have control over your mouth anymore. Warmth spreads throughout your face like a forest fire.

Seungcheol narrows his eyes on you, his tongue poking his cheek as he stands in front of you as if trying to read your mind. After a beat he sighs before looking at you, his eyes becoming darker than usual and his gaze unforgiving. "Hey. Does it look like I'm playing house here? Do you have any idea about the shit I do? The dirty work I do? I don't care if you have a fucking fetish or whatever but this is the last time I'm warning you. I don't want to see you around again. If I see you here once more, you're in fucking trouble," he spits and starts stomping away. His tone is serious and you know very well he is not joking, which is why you use your last resort. You're embarrassed at yourself for being so desperate but at the same time you feel shameless. It has almost turned into a game at this point, you want to make him surrender. That's right, you want him to give in. "You shouldn't be like that with me. I saw you, a few days ago. That night, when you and your friends were beating up that guy...in the playground," you casually stroll to come stand right behind him.

You can't believe you are blackmailing a gangster. Your death must be near.

Seungcheol whips his head back, his eyes glaring at you and you can almost see fire in them. Finally, you got his attention.

"My friend also saw it, we both did. You killed him, didn't you? Me and my friend witnessed a murder. What do you say? Should we go to the station?" You can see his jaw clench and you can't hold back a victorious smirk. Moments pass by as your words hang in the air and the tension between you gets thicker. Yet once more he surprises you, breaking the silence with a chuckle, "Well I killed one person, what makes you think I can't take care of another?"

You swallow.

"Well, my friend already knows so if I go missing you can be sure that the cops will come to you first." You throw back at him.

When did you get so wreckless?

Seungcheol stares at you for a few more seconds before shrugging and moving his hand dismissively, "Well then go tell the cops. I don't give a shit." He starts walking back to the bar leaving you starstruck. He stops and turns towards you before opening the door, "Also, I meant it. I hope I don't see you around. Otherwise I may just have to hurt that pretty face."

You don't show up after that.

Mostly because you are embarasssed.

It's been a good while after your last encounter with Seungcheol and you didn't go to the police, obviously. Because you don't have evidence and from what you've heard Seungcheol is pretty influential around here and you don't need to go to an extent to get on his bad side. You're definitely gonna end up dead if you do so, which you don't want just yet.

Classes have just finished and you and Katelyn step out of the classroom together, walking through the hallways and into the main campus. She rambles on about some bad sushi she ate yesterday while your mind remains preoccupied. Maybe you need to get laid. Maybe that'll make you forget about Seungcheol. You just need good dick that's probably why you were so desperate for him.

That's just a stupid lie.

You don't realise Katelyn is calling you until she shakes you by the shoulder and you snap back into reality. You notice her face is as pale as a ghost and following her line of sight your eyes stop on him.

Him. Seungcheol.

What?

You double take, blinking furiously to confirm your vision. He's standing there, in the parking area of your uni, leaned against a convertible Ferrari, a cigarette between his lips. He looks relaxed, like he does this regularly. Students whisper in each others ear while gawking at him curiously. "What did you do!" Katelyn yells. "Nothing!" You hiss back.

"Then why is he here!"

"I don't know!"

Your eyes meet with Seungcheol's and a smirk spreads across his face making you shiver. He stands up straight and tilts his head, an indication for you to come closer to him. "Fuck, he's here for me," you mumble. "Of course he's here for you, dumbass," Katelyn snaps. "Well, if I don't return, you know who killed me." You sigh starting to walk towards him. "Wait- you're going with him?" She asks incredulously.

"Don't worry. I'll keep my phone on. I don't think he's gonna murder me, I mean there are so many witnesses." You inhale deeply, leaving behind a lost looking Katelyn.

Seungcheol says nothing as you stand right in front of him raising an inquisitive brow but he only holds open the door for you to get in. Deciding to follow him you enter the car quietly and a wave of gasps go through the crowd.

There's gonna be talk about this tomorrow.

Seungcheol, still smirking victoriously for some reason rounds the car and gets inside and within seconds you're hitting the road. There's a thick silence for a while, which feels like ages to you. You're overwhelmed, bewildered to say anything; your poor brain still processing what is happening. You're nervous, jittery as you fiddle with you bag and look out on your side, for some reason scared to look at him.

What if he really kills you? He wouldn't, right?

"You're awfully quiet," Seungcheol says matter of factly as he spares you a glance while driving.

"I'm... processing."

"What are you, a robot?"

"Why are you doing this?" You question instead.

"Doing what?"

"Okay, you know very well what I mean. Why are you picking me up from uni all of a sudden? How do you even know I'm a student there?" "I have resources and...you didn't protest at all. You came along nicely," Seungcheol raised a brow at you, a cocky smile on his lips. You don't answer but continue to stare at him, trying to pin him down with your gaze. He finally sighs and pulls the car to a stop by the side of the road, the sudden brake making you slightly jerk in your seat. "I've decided to give you those 3 dates. That's why," He is calm, unreadable and you wonder if this is a prank. Then again, he has no reason to prank you, does he? "Really?" Your voice comes out breathy. "Yes. I thought I'd give you a taste of how it feels to be with someone like me. I can scare people without physically hurting them you know," He says in a menacing tone.

"So what? You're taking me to an underground fight or something?" You question. "Nah, we're keeping it simple today." He smirks as he starts the car again and turns on the radio, an indication that he doesn't want to converse anymore.

Shamelessly you take a good look at Seungcheol; he's dressed in another jacket today paired with a black tee underneath. Today, you notice he has upped his accessory game, his fingers full of rings and chains dangling from his neck. But what catches your attention is a tattoo, something like a dragon and words written in a language you don't understand, peeking from underneath his sleeve. You almost ask about it but decide it'll probably be too much and he wouldn't answer you anyway.

As you do so, in the back of your mind you think you should have dressed better, something cuter, more appropriate for a date rather than a plain blouse and jeans. But then again who knew Choi Seungcheol was gonna show up out of the blue. You're gnawing at your lower lip, lost in your thoughts when the car is pulled to a halt and you realize your ride is over. You're parked in front of a diner called Lacy's and from the vibe that the place is giving, you can tell that this is place where people like him hang out. You raise a questioning brow at Seungcheol who says, "I know it doesn't look fancy but trust me I has some of the best food I've ever eaten." Taking his words for now you quickly type out a text to Katelyn letting her know you're in one piece and get out of the car.

Once you're seated you look around the place which is relatively empty except some men playing pool at the far end. You watch Seungcheol who has gone to the reception booth to place your orders; his posture relaxed as he leans against the counter and talks to the girl standing there. They seem to know each other because their chat takes longer than it should and the girl has a shy, almost flirty smile on her face.

He probably fucks her.

You shake the thought off your head as the gangster comes back and sits in front of you. There's silence for a second as you wonder if you should just ask the questions that run free around your mind. "Are the rumours true?" You blurt out. He's raises a brow.

"About you. You know..."

"Do you want them to be true?" He asks back. "I don't...know," you reply. "Well, I think it depends on each person. If you want it to be true it is true, if you don't it isn't," he shrugs, leaning back in his chair. "Why don't you just give me a straight answer?" you snap. He smirks as if he's having fun but doesn't reply, watching you with his arms crossed. You roll your your eyes, blowing out an exasperated breath. "You know, I haven't seen one like you. Willingly hanging out with dangerous people, going to dangerous places. You say you saw me kill someone yet you're here. You're almost desperate to get in trouble," he observes. "I'm not desperate to get in trouble. I just...I'm just- attracted to you alright?" This is so embarrassing. You need to shut your mouth. "You've been on my mind ever since that night. I wanna see exactly how deep I'm into you." You bite your lip.

That's enough. You will boost his ego through the roof like this.

Seungcheol studies you for a bit before grinning cockily, "Well, if you didn't know, I am trouble baby. Just you being with me might end you up in a mess." Before you can reply, your food is served, that same girl from the booth setting down your plates and looking at Seungcheol for a bit too long with that same stupid smile which he returns. You don't know why but you feel jealous, jealous of whatever these two share, whatever she has with him.

You've lost your mind at this point. You're on a high that is Seungcheol. He has made you forget your morals, made you completely lose your mind. Or maybe you've been too good all your life and seeing him brought out that crazy, thrill seeking part of yourself.

Silently you dig into your food and as Seungcheol said, the food is really good. This is one of the best meatloaf you've ever had and you can't help but moan. Seungcheol watches you with an amused smile before popping a fry in his mouth.

"What's your major?" Seungcheol asks out of the blue.

"Uh- sociology."

"Mmhmm."

You're about to ask him what he studied in college but you assume he probably never went to one so you seal your lips. You wonder what his background is and who his parents are but you don't want to get too personal on the first day. So you ask something else, "How old are you?" He laughs out loud before he deadpans, "Thirty five." "What!" You almost choke.

There's no way he's-

"Why? What did you expect?"

"I... I don't know! A few years older than me? You're kidding right? You don't look thirty five." He has to be bluffing. "And how old would you be?" "You shouldn't ask a woman her age," you try to make a point. "Don't you have any manners?" He smirks,"I don't, sweetheart. To answer your question, I'm twenty eight."

Uh huh.

"Well, I'm twenty one," you mutter under your breath. You don't know if he hears it because he doesn't give any reaction, busy twirling a fry in sauce. The rest of your meal is full of silence as you wonder if your date will end like this; dry and boring. He's awfully silent and seems to be lost in thoughts as he doesn't engage in a conversation. You're about to take your last bite when the silence is broken by him.

"What did you see that night?" He leans over, his elbows resting on the table as he suddenly regards you with a sombre look, his earlier cockiness vanished. His eyes have once again gone dark and his demeanor says he's not being superficial right now. You're caught off guard as you cough loudly, reaching for your glass to take a sip of water. "What?"

"You heard me. What did you see that night? Exactly how much did you see?" He repeats. You're confused. You thought he didn't care about it. He said it didn't matter. So why is he bringing it up now? You've worked hard to push that night in the deepest part of your brain, pretending it didn't happen.

And then suddenly it clicks.

"You!" You point an accusatory finger at him as you catch on to his plan. "You've agreed to go out with me so that you can find out what I saw that night!" Seungcheol groans, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Ugh, just fucking tell me!" He snaps, annoyed that you've found out his little scheme. You scoff, "I thought you said you didn't care? Besides it's not like I'm going to tell the police." He rolls his eyes and leans back into the couch. "Just tell me and let me go."

You're baffled. His actions didn't make any sense and you actually thought he had no other intentions behind dating you but holy shit this sneaky bastard. "You sly little asshole!" You hiss at him. "Call me that once more and you'll regret it." He threatens. You roll your eyes sagging back into your seat, "Whatever." Then an idea hits you. "You know what, I'll tell you exactly how much I saw that night." You have Seungcheol's full attention now as he stares intensely at you, waiting for your next words. "On our third date. When this whole deal is over, I'll tell you. But in return you'll have to keep your promise and take me out on two more dates."

"Oh fucking hell," he groans rubbing his face in frustration. His state makes you smirk and you feel accomplished.

Choi Seungcheol is stressed because of you.

What a day to be alive.

You murmur, "Besides this isn't even a proper date. This was more like an interrogation. But I'll go easy on you and won't make you redo this date." You give him a sweet smile and he sees red. You can literally see fury blaze in his eyes. "Whatever!" He yells and abruptly stands up. "I don't have time for this. Your stupid play date is over. I'm dropping you home."

Before you can reply, he's marching towards the door. You've to admit this wasn't the best date but at least you've trapped Choi Seungcheol.

It has been a good week after your so called date at the diner and you haven't heard from him. You expected him to call or text you since he was gracious enough to ask for your number but he didn't. You now realize it was a mistake to not get his number; you had asked him for his when he took yours but being the prick he is he denied to hand over his number to you. You should have forced him to, you sigh. As you sit in the library the ping of your mobile distracts you from your racing thoughts as you realize you have a message. Picking the device up you tap on the notification. Even though it was from an unknown number, you have no trouble figuring out who it is from. A smile graces your lips as you read the words over again.

I'll pick you up from your house tomorrow evening at six.

That's all it says and that is good enough to send a thrum of excitement throughout your body.

You have not held back in dressing up today and you realize it's been a long time since you've dolled up yourself. A long before the clock strikes 6 you are ready; dressed in a cute pastel top and a matching skirt. You've also went ahead and applied makeup, not too much but just enough to maybe catch his eye. Maybe.

You wonder what he has planned for today.

A text from Seungcheol saying he's here has you flying out of your apartment as fast as your feet can carry your desperate self to see him. He stands in front of your apartment with his convertible, dressed in a white jacket that matched his pants. You take a deep breath before walking towards him, trying to calm all your nerves down.

"You know I expected to hear from you earlier. I've been waiting all week," you voice makes his head turn around to meet your eyes as you are skipping towards him with a teasing smile in your face. "I've been busy," he shrugs coolly, his eyes going over your whole body, from your legs to your face. He doesn't hide that he's taking a good look at you, in fact does it unashamedly.

You wonder if he likes what he sees.

Someone dressed up today," he comments. "Too bad we aren't going to a place where you can show off your pretty clothes." You frown, "Where are we going?" Seungcheol holds open the door, a mischievous smile on his face. "I've decided to grant your wish." With a confused face you get inside the car, the gears in your head running. What does he mean?

"I'm taking you to an underground fighting ring," he says with smirk as he reaches for something behind his seat. He pulls out a large hoodie and tosses it towards you, "Put this on. Otherwise you are going to attract a lot of attention and you don't want that." You gulp, taking the hoodie and putting it on you. You're slightly embarrassed. You were so excited to try this outfit but it's not like you knew he was taking you to a fight club. Hell you would have dressed like a guy if you knew. You shrug on the hoodie and it falls almost to your knees but it's huge and comfy and most importantly it smells like him. There's a hint of cologne, nothing too strong; a subtle, expensive scent that makes you want to take a deeper sniff. You wonder if you can keep this with you.

Stop it, pervert.

Seungcheol's voice pulls you out of your haze, "You can take it off later. Just wear it until we're out of there," he says and brings the engine to life.

Then you actually think about it. Underground fighting ring? Holy shit. You were only kidding when you mentioned it. Admittedly, you're shocked, somewhat horrified. Everyone knows it isn't the best place to be at especially for someone like you who never had such an experience. Seungcheol must have seen your expression because the smile on his face gets bigger, "Why? You not up for it?" His voice is teasing.

He's challenging you.

Oh well.

"Of course I'm up for it," you square your shoulders, keeping your voice cool. "Bring it on."

Seungcheol leads you into a bar and then through a door at the back that leads down to a lot of stairs, reaching a place similar to an underground parking lot. Quietly you follow Seungcheol, staying as close to him as possible, your bodies occasionally touching. He leads you to a pair of double doors and from the other side you can hear men shouting and chanting.

This is it, I guess.

Seungcheol throws one more smile at you before pushing open the doors as you scramble to follow him closely. The sight that greets you something you only see in movies. There's a boxing ring where two people are throwing punches at each other and surrounding them from all sides is a wild, loud and excited crowd. They continue to cheer loudly as the two men in the ring continue to box and you hear their grunts and groans.

Holy shit.

Swallowing your eyes meet Seungcheol's who is regarding you with curiosity. "What do you think?" He has to speak loudly for you to hear over the screaming throng. "Uh... It's loud," you say dumbly as you try to think of a reply. But it's too loud for you to even think properly as you take in your unfamiliar surroundings. You see a tall man approaching towards you and out of reflex you shuffle closer to Seungcheol until you realize it's his friend. The guy from the first night. He and Seungcheol grin at each other, patting their backs as they talk close to each others ears. You gawk at them curiously and realize they must be talking about you because his friend takes curious glances at you occasionally. His friend is tall, really tall and well built but unlike his body his face is sweet and puppy like, almost cute. When he grins his canines pop up just like a puppy and you wonder if all his friends are good looking.

After he's done chatting with his friend Seungcheol pulls you close and says, "This is my friend. Mingyu. Always stay near him, you hear me? Don't stray away unless you wanna get hurt." His eyes are stern as he pins you down with his stare but you have other thoughts running in your head.

"What do you mean? Where are you going?" You yell over the noise.

He just smirks at you and starts taking his jacket off. "About time you see how we do it around here." His tone is cocky as he hands his jacket to you, "Hold this for me. And stay close to him."

Giving a look at Mingyu Seungcheol starts walking away towards a door that you're guessing is the changing room.

He's gonna fight.

"Wait- but-" Mingyu stops you with a hand on your shoulder and offers you a kind smile. "It's fine. Just stay with me." He then ushers you towards the crowd, spotting a place where you can get a good look at the ring. "Do you guys do this often?" You look up at Mingyu. He smiles sheepishly, "Not me. I tried a few times and I always end up beaten to a pulp. But hyung does this often, he's really good."

"Uh huh, I'm sure he is," you smile dryly. "This is your first time watching a fight, no?" "Definitely." He grins, "Watch carefully then. It's really fun."

You have your doubts on how watching people beat each other up can be fun but you don't comment anything, instead chew on your lip anxiously. Seungcheol really didn't have to go this far? What if he gets hurt badly? Is he trying to impress you?

Don't flatter yourself, your subconscious rolls her eyes.

As the loud cheering that had died down ensues again, your train of thoughts are halted as you see Seungcheol in shorts and his hands covered in boxing gloves, step into the ring. You can't help but ogle at his naked torso, his finely defined and chiseled muscles. He has the perfect body, not too bulky, not too lean just the right amount that gives you a hard time taking your eyes off him. He seems to have noticed your gaze because the second your eyes meet, he throws a haughty, knowing smirk at you. Embarrassed you avert your gaze elsewhere.

His opponent is a muscular man who's growling and banging his chest with his fists, a gesture of intimidation, you suppose. You are definitely intimidated and you wonder if Seungcheol can actually win against him.

The fight starts with a whistle and in mere seconds they are on to each other, throwing punches left and right. Your eyes have a hard time keeping up with them and their fast reflexes and your hands fly to your mouth as a punch lands on Seungcheol's face, followed by repeated blows as Seungcheol falls back. There's a moment of silence as he wipes his bottom lip and you realize there's a cut.

He tilts his neck, popping the bones and glaring at the other man before launching himself on top of his opponent. The next moments are a blurry mess, Seungcheol beating the guy repeatedly until he ends up on the floor but he doesn't stop there. Seungcheol ends it with a sharp jab to his spine and you have no doubt the other man has broken bones with the ways he howls in pain. The match comes to an end like that as the people cheer wildly while Seungcheol steps down from the stage. Mingyu grins at you happily as if what you witnessed was just a regular occurrence, something you should be cheerful about. Shaking your head at the situation, you let out a deflated sigh.

Their life is really so different than yours.

Seungcheol seems to be in a very good mood after the fight as he buys you both some sandwiches and drinks from a deli after you both step out of the bar. You both sit down at a park nearby to eat and watch the night sky. "You know, I thought you were gonna lose," you speak after taking a few bites of the sandwich. Seungcheol scoffs, "You underestimate me, sweetheart. I've been doing this for a long time."

"Do you enjoy it?" You ask quietly, focused on peeling the wrapper from your food. You feel Seungcheol's stare on you. "Yes. Why? Are you scared already?"

"No. I was just... curious. Your definition and my definition of fun is totally different." You murmur. "Of course. What did you think? I go to the mall and shop and watch movies with my friends when I'm bored?" His tone is sarcastic. You bite your lip. "No I didn't. It's just...I feels different now that I have experienced it first hand." Seungcheol offers nothing more, taking a sip of his coke and leaning back into the bench. A silence stretches between the both of except the rustling of the wrapper of your food. "How long have you been doing this?" You blurt out. He frowns at you and you don't expect him to answer but he surprises you.

"For a long time."

He doesn't offer anymore and you don't have the heart to prod him for an actual answer. "And how long do you plan on doing this?"

"What?"

"I mean... don't you have any other plans. Like...do you wanna keep doing what you are doing for the rest of your life? Don't you wanna like... settle down maybe?" Your voice is soft as if you are talking to a child. Seungcheol looks annoyed. He doesn't speak for a while as he stares at the ground, a frown etched to his face. You're about to take back your question when he replies, "I really don't think you understand. I've been trying to tell you that my life is completely disparate to yours. So I don't think like you. I don't have plans like you but neither am I expected to follow a certain pattern like you. I can do whatever the fuck I want, ___. So don't look at me like you pity me. I'm the last person here that should be pitied. " His tone is sharp and it makes you feel bad, like a sensation of needles pricking your heart. "I didn't mean it like that. I'm sorry," You whisper, feeling timid as you look down at your lap. He mutters, "Don't go poking your nose in other people's business. Specially people like me."

He's right. You shouldn't have asked that. You are not close enough to ask things like that. After that there is a silence, this time, an awkward one. There's palpable tension in the air and you feel jittery. Should you just ask him to take you home?

It's still early and truth be told, you don't want to leave him just yet. You only have one more date to go and judging by his reaction, he is in no way interested in a relationship. You heave out a long sigh. You knew very well what you were getting into, yet you couldn't stop yourself. Seungcheol is like a poison, the sweetest one, the one that has you addicted and unable to let go, no matter how much it hurts.

This is a fucking mess.

"Let's get going. I have plans," Seungcheol announces, standing up. You want to protest but you feel like you have ruined the mood, so you follow him mutely to his car.

The drive to your house is awfully quiet, to the point you want to scream out of frustration. Seungcheol seems to be lost in his head as he makes no move to talk. It's like you are alone, but you're not and it's worse, the air full of tension. Soon you have reached your house and he stops the car but keeps the engine rolling, indicating his rush. He keeps still and stares ahead while gripping the steering wheel as you step out of the car in silence. "Thanks for dropping me home," you say lamely, your voice meek. You turn around to walk away but his voice stops you in your tracks.

"I promised you three dates and I will keep my word. I expect you to keep yours, ___. I hope you will tell me what I want to hear when we meet next time." His tone is sharp with an edge of threat and you barely get to nod before he drives away.

It's not until you're inside your apartment that you realize you still have his hoodie on. Quickly fishing out your phone you type out a text.

I'm sorry, I forgot to return your hoodie.

After a while, his reply comes.

Keep it.

You watch Katelyn as she fills her lunch tray with food before walking over and taking a seat opposite to you. She looks extra radiant today, which probably has something to do with the way she's dressed; a bright colourful outfit which undoubtedly she put a lot of time into considering. She has a date, with a guy she has been talking to for the last few weeks. It reminds you of your pitiful situation and you sigh, trying to shrug off those thoughts.

It has been a good couple weeks since you last saw Seungcheol and you have not exchanged a word after that night. In the back of your mind you wonder if he is even alive. You want to message him, you really want to because you are going crazy but after how your last date ended, you can't bring yourself to. You are scared, exactly of what, you can't put your finger into.

The entire situation you have put yourself into is fucking scary. They say you become sure of your feelings after three dates but it did not take that much for you. You already are very certain about your feelings for him and how deep they run exactly and you also know that in the end you will be left scarred. He would never be yours. He has probably forgotten about you or decided that it is not worth another date to figure out what you saw that night.

You let a desperate, pitiable sigh.

"I know you are hiding things from me but I understand that you are not ready to talk yet. But I want you to know I am here for you okay?" Katelyn's voice makes you blink your way out of your thoughts. She squeezes your hand tightly and gives you a reassuring smile and you're left feeling guilty.

"I ...I will tell you. Soon. Just give me a bit more time," you whisper. She nods in understanding. A grateful smile touches your lips as her words make you emotional. Then there's a ping from your phone letting you know there's a message. Without giving it much thought you open the device and your eyes go wide.

I'll take you out for dinner tomorrow night. Wear something formal.

You wait outside your apartment for Seungcheol. Your day has passed by in a flurry of excitement and nerves as you carefully picked your outfit and did your hair and makeup. A soft baby pink dress that stopped just above you knees adorns you as your hair rests just above your neck in a loose bun.

You are fiddling with your fingers as you think about how this night is gonna end and wether you will ever see him again when a car screech that grabs your attention.

Seungcheol's convertible has taken a stop in front of you and you see the man getting out the vehicle and take big steps towards you.

You're mesmerized.

Perhaps there is not enough word in this world to describe his looks or perhaps you've simple lost the ability to speak; either way, you just stand and stare, drinking the godly man that stands in front of you. He looks delectable, completely flawless and agonizingly gorgeous in his sharp black suit and pants, with a silk black shirt underneath, the top couple buttons undone that reveals a beautiful porcelain skin. His hairstyle completes the look, parted to one side in a sleek way and showing his forehead and oh god is it sexy. You realize you have a forehead kink, if there is anything as such.

If you weren't in love with him before you are now.

He looks ravishing, and you wonder why it isn't illegal to look this good. It should be because you have completely lost control over yourself. Nothing exists in your world except for him and you feel paralyzed, unable to do anything but drink him in. You wonder if you are even worthy to stand beside him.

"____?" Seungcheol calls you, snapping his fingers in front of your eyes. He must have been calling you while you were eye fucking him. "Oh! Um, hi." You're flustered. "You- you look really, really nice." It isn't enough but it's what you can get past your lips. A knowing smirk kisses his lips before he teases, "Well, you look really, really nice too." Motioning you to his car he says, "Shall we? We'll be late for our reservation."

"Yeah, of course," you say, hurrying over to his car, embarasssed at your foolery. Seungcheol must have noticed you ogling him like that. But you don't really care when he looks like that. It is his fault for looking so devilishly handsome and idly you wonder if he did that on purpose. If he's deliberately teasing with, trying to make you the most miserable before letting you go with a slap of reality to your face. Pushing away those plagueing thoughts, you sit up straight and clear your throat as Seungcheol comes to sit beside you and brings the engine to life.

A decently long and quiet (except for the music from the radio) but not quite uncomfortable car ride later, Seungcheol stops in front of a really fancy and expensive looking restaurant just by the sea. You did not except him to take you to a high end restaurant, otherwise you would have put some more effort in your looks.

Feeling slightly out of place you quietly follow Seungcheol into the beautiful European styled building after he hands his keys to a valet. The interior is dripping with polished furnitures and extravagant chandeliers and marble floors as guests dressed elegantly have their dinner. As you look around the place in awe Seungcheol talks to the receptionist who then guides you towards a staircase that leads to a pair of large double doors decorated with gold which then, opens to a large balcony. In the middle of it sits a table with two chairs and an unceremonious gasp escapes your mouth as you realize this is where you will be having dinner.

The man from earlier takes his leave as Seungcheol helps you sit down before taking a seat for himself while you take in everything, overwhelmed with all your surroundings. Why did he put so much effort for a lousy and fake date?

"What do you think?" He asks with a smirk as he rests one of his elbows on the table.

"I'm overwhelmed," you reply quietly, honestly. He chuckles, "Well this place has really good food and a fantastic view so I thought it wouldn't bad for our last date."

Last date.

"It's really beautiful. I don't know why you did this but thank you, really," you murmur, eyes on the satin table cloth with intricate golden lining. Everything about this place is so pretty.

"Well, I decided it would be beneficial for me to extract words from you if you are wooed," his words have a teasing tone to it and his demeanor is completely different from last time, giving you a whiplash but you are not sure if he's fully joking. Before you can say that you are definitely wooed, a waiter appears to take your order and you leave the duty of ordering to Seungcheol since he seems to frequent this place. Prior to his leave, the waiter pours you Seungcheol's champagne of choice and then, you two are alone once more.

Reaching for the flute, you quickly gulp down the champagne to soothe your dry throat and to calm all your nerves.

Over dinner you talk about your uni and your parents back home and the farm they own. While Seungcheol mostly keeps quiet he doesn't ignore you but listens carefully, occasionally passing glances your way or commenting. He does not offer anything about him, which you expected and you don't ask any questions about him either. Instead you try your best to keep his interest in your words despite the lack of it from his side.

After a hearty meal of poached lobsters and wagyu beefs and creamy soups comes dessert; a chocolate orange mousse with spiced fruits and yogurt sorbet. You start eating your dessert in silence, the occasional crashing of waves filling the complete lack of sounds.

This location is truly magnificent and breathtaking, almost having a feel like you're in a fancy resort in a luxurious tropical island. It is undoubtedly the most beautiful place you have ever been, let alone have dinner at and you wonder if you would ever have the chance to visit some place like this had you not met Seungcheol. The man in question, continues eating quietly, seemingly lost in his thoughts. He looks lovely as always, if not more and you try to burn this image in your mind for you to look back at later. You want to ask him so many question, you want to tell him so many things but you're scared. Sacred if you do so this moment will break, scared it will annoy him and end your final date all too early. So you bite your tongue and finish your food as he does and after your plates are cleared away, you are served another expensive champagne as an end to your luxurious dinner.

Even though Seungcheol doesn't say anything, you assume it is time to spill the beans, to say what he has been wanting to hear from the beginning. You have teased him enough and it is time you give him what he deserves. Taking a deep breath, you open your mouth. "Me and Katelyn heard noises from the playground that night so we decided to check. It was pretty dark and we were tipsy but I recognized you and you were... beating someone up. We stayed there and watched until one of us accidentally made some noise. We were scared that you heard us so we ran. That's all that happened."

You have Seungcheol's full attention now as he listens cautiously, his sharp eyes trained on you. Gulping, you clench your hands together underneath the table, waiting for his reaction. There seems to be an eternity of silence as Seungcheol simply stares at you as if he's debating whether your words are true or not. It's torturous, awfully agonizing and when you can't bear it anymore you're about to speak but he beats you to it.

"I didn't kill him." His voice is quiet. You let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding. Somewhere in the back of your mind you believed it, you believed he wouldn't be cruel enough to kill someone just like that and as soon as he speaks those words you believe him, without a doubt, without a second of delay.

"I believe you." You whisper, holding his gaze. "That asshole deserved what he got. He shouldn't even be alive but I let him go. He's in a hospital now, if you are wondering." You nod quietly. It's scary how much you believe him, how much you trust him even though he is pretty much a stranger.

There's a moment of silence as you bask in his presence before he speaks, "____, men like me, we aren't the nicest people. But we are needed, the cops need us around. People like me do the dirty works for people like you so y'all don't face troubles. We do things in an unconventional way but that's just who we are. We aren't as bad as the rumours say but we definitely aren't someone you should be with." You open your mouth to protest but his sharp gaze makes you stop. "If you have not understood it yet, let me say it out loud. I am trouble. People like me is always bad news. Whatever we did until now, I hope you forget. That's the best, ____ trust me. I think we both got what we wanted so let's call it a night." Just like that, he stands up, not waiting for your reply.

You gawk at him, baffled as he pays the bill and starts walking away. Tears burn the back of your eyes and you bite your lip to hold them back. The ending that you had expected has taken place but you are having a hard time accepting it. Your subconscious reminds you that you deliberately got yourself into this even though you saw this coming. So there is no one to blame for it but you. Grabbing your purse, you stomp your way out of the restaurant and towards Seungcheol's car.

Seungcheol barely acknowledges you as you both get in the car and he presses the key to the ignition. You are fuming in your seat, his words and the way he dismissed you cutting you deep. His words come to you, I think we both got what we wanted. You want to laugh. How can he possibly think that? Is he really so stupid or is he deliberately ignoring your interest in him? You want to smack his perfect face, curse and scream at him but all you can do is sit still with your arms crossed as steam comes out of your head. Is he really not curious about your feelings? Does he possess none for you? Does these few days with you mean nothing to him? You have so many unanswered questions. Leaning back into your seat, you close your eyes and let out a frustrated sigh.

It feels like in the blink of an eye the drive to your place is over as Seungcheol halts his car in front of your apartment. He does not utter a single word, doesn't even spare a glance at you while patiently waiting for you to get out of the car.

Asshole.

You inhale deeply, trying your best to gather yourself together as you take off your seatbelt and turn towards him.

"Seungcheol?" Few seconds pass before he looks at you. Words are stuck in your throat. When your eyes meet his, you become mute, overwhelmed with emotions as your words die in your tongue. He keeps staring at you, not opening his mouth but waiting for you to speak. "Is this goodbye?" Your voice breaks.

"I believe we don't have any reason to see each other. We both got what we wanted," He says without batting an eye. You're left bemused, one step away from landing a slap on his face. How dare he say that?

"Do you really believe that?" Your words come out as an accusation. "I wanted to go out with you because I thought I have feelings for you! And I do! And my feelings have only increased since I first saw you. I want to see you again, Seungcheol. You may have gotten what you wanted but I didn't." Your fades into a whisper as tears burn the back of your eyes.

Seungcheol stays quiet, staring ahead, his brows knitted as if he's annoyed. "I promised you three dates, ____. And I gave you that. It's over. Your feelings? You'll get over them. It's better to be in pain for a while that be with someone like me."

"You can't say that! I get to decide for myself!"

"____," he sighs, rubbing his temples. "I'm a bad man. You should leave while you still have a good image of me. You'll get hurt because of me and I've caused enough pain to enough people. Just...go. Just forget me." You stare at him as frustrated tears roll down your cheeks. He doesn't meet your gaze but turns his head the other way. You are angry, infuriated and heart broken all at a time. Clenching your fists you inhale a shaky breath before reaching for him.

Before you can chicken out, you tilt his face towards you and quickly press your lips against his. Seungcheol seems to be shocked as a small gasp leaves his mouth but you don't let him push you away. Instead one of your hands come to rest on his thigh as he other cups his face to keep his mouth against yours. You kiss him with all you have left, pouring in every bit of passion and love for him as your tongues intertwine. By the time you are both breathless, Seungcheol gently pushes you back and peers into your eyes. "That's all I can give you, ____." He says, his voice the softest you have heard. You are broken into a million pieces and as much as your heart wants to cling to him, you suddenly feel tired, deflated like a popped balloon. Your emotions have drained you out and left nothing and right now, breathing almost seems too painful for you. Taciturnly, you grab your purse and step out the convertible. You hear another door shut behind you but you don't look back as your heavy steps carry you to the entrance of your building. When you are about to enter your apartment, you accumulate all your strength and courage to spare one final glance at him.

Turning around you see Seungcheol standing by his car, hands in his pockets, simply watching you. Even though your eyes are locked on each other, you don't see any emotion in them. He looks like the same expressionless, mysterious man you saw the first day. The man you fell in love with. Taking in his gorgeous features one last time, you bite your lip and turn away, forcing yourself to walk inside your apartment building.

Your chapter with Seungcheol ends here.

Epilogue

A/N : Okay so idk why this fucking app is being like this but it says I reached the maximum of 250 blocks but I thought tum1r didn't have a word limit?? Anyway so I've decided to break it up and put the rest of the fic in another post. Please click epilogue to read that.

Taglist: @koo-18 @shiningstar-byulxx @pcisonedhaos @happyvitamin @yoongischeeksluv @haluim17 @nayam14 @horanghae-gumanhae @cottonsthings @hotcheetosnorter99 @peekabooseoksoon @acapellaanna @amixoferrthang

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apocalypticgargoyle · 3 years

Text

𝙎𝙐𝘾𝙆 & 𝘽𝙇𝙊𝙒 ☆ 𝙨𝙖𝙥𝙣𝙖𝙥 𝙨𝙢𝙪𝙩

∘ request:

goddamn your writing is so good 🥵 any chance you’d be able to write something with sapnap where you’re both at a party and know each other through friends but not well and you’re both a bit tipsy and he just can’t control himself and drags you into a bathroom? kinda fluffy where there’s lots of kissing but also desperate and accidentally rough (because the idea of someone wanting me so much that they lose control is a major thing of mine)

∘ pairing: sapnap x fm!reader

∘ warnings: nsfw (18+), party scene, drinking, crude language

∘ links: ao3

∘ word count: ~2000

a/n: Thank you so much for the request! I literally have the exact same thing so i think we’re soulmates or something. I hope you enjoy!

For the duration of the day, you’d been waiting for this moment. Your hair tangling amongst itself as you danced to the music with a group of your friends was almost a baptism for you. No longer were you restricted into your business casual attire and socially acceptable behavior. Now you were free to forget your name and responsibilities as mashups of different genres of heavily bass boosted music pulsed in your ears.

The large house was swelling with people, melding together as if their lives depended on the superficial human connection the beat could bring them. Many of them you recognized from some of your lectures; it had been a day where your classmates had planned a party for someone’s birthday. You hated to admit it, but you didn’t know or care whose party it was, you were just happy to have an excuse not to study.

You’d already lost one of your rings and your clothes were sticking to your body from the layer of sweat glistening against your skin, but you wouldn’t trade it for anything. As cliché as it sounded, going to random college parties had equated to your own kind of religion. These senseless addresses were homes to a different kind of worship, but one you had quickly become devoted to. The smell of another girl’s perfume rubbing off on you and the nameless identity of the boy that offered you hard liquor were your new sacraments.

As the song died out, beginning a new string of beats to thunder around the room, you found yourself out of breath. You gestured to your friends that you were refilling your drink, but really you were in search of air that was a bit fresher. You wove through the heavy crowd, ending up in the kitchen and beelining for the fridge. There was a small group of boys standing around the keg, one of them filling his cup as they discussed something a few of them were getting heated about.

You tucked a cold water bottle against your side and grabbed a clean solo cup. As you got closer, you would hear what they were talking about. “I don’t know how you don’t remember that. It was like a big thing a few years ago?” One of them grumbled as his eyes narrowed at the liquid streaming into his cup.

“Sorry, Nick. I forgot they were selling kids on eBay. I honestly don’t see-” They continued on into overlapping ramblings that you couldn’t help but laugh at. One of them, that had been referred to as Nick, looked almost too familiar to you. Yet as you stood there, you couldn’t remember even if your life depended on it.

Nick’s eyes drifted to you as if just realizing you were standing there. “Sorry, do you refill?” He asked, mustering a somewhat shy smile. You snapped out of your train of thought, handing your cup to him.

“I didn’t mean to seem like a creepy, sorry,” you stated, sending him an awkward laugh. His lips parted in a smile. His dark hair was slightly ruffled, probably just from the weather earlier in the day. You weren’t sure if it was your slight buzz or the close proximity, but God, he looked good to you.

“No, I was hogging. It was my bad,” he answered. You brushed your hair off of your warm forehead and he looked up at you from what he was doing, his eyebrows furrowing slightly. “I think I know you from somewhere,” he mumbled before something clicked behind his eyes as he handed you your cup back. “Oh, you’re Clay’s friend, right? I’m his roommate, Nick.” At his words, your brain clouded with embarrassment as memories of him finally fled your brain.

You smirked slightly. “Oh! Yeah, sorry I didn’t recognize you. You look…” You paused for a second. Where were you going with this statement? Hotter? “Grown-up,” you wheezed, making him chuckle again. “- I mean, since freshman year English, I guess.”

He chewed the inside of his cheek, attempting not to grin wider. “Yeah, you look… grown-up too,” he offered, sending you a slight smirk. “It’s weird how close you and Dream are and I never see you around anymore,” he continued.

You chuckled a bit, wetting your lips. “Yeah, I told Clay I had a crush on you and he kicked me out,” you joshed, making him laugh. For as quiet as you remembered him being, you were shocked he was engaging with you in the way he was. Maybe it was just the atmosphere and the alcohol that had him loosened up. Whatever it was, you found yourself partnering with him in beer pong and spending most of the night at each other's side.

You sat closely to him on a couch in one of the several living rooms, your heads set close together as you listened to what he was saying over the music. “Hey, you too found each other,” a deep voice bounded, making you jump slightly, almost spilling your drink on Nick. Clay plopped down on the other side of you, wrapping his arm around the back of your section of couch to tug on Nick’s ear.

“Why didn’t you tell me Nick was a stud now?” you joked, slightly cringing about how bold you sounded. Nick chuckled at your words, swatting Clay’s hand away from him and taking another sip from his cup.

Clay setted further into the spot beside you. “You guys wanna play ‘suck and blow’?” He stated, more to the group of people around you guys. You furrowed your brows at him, almost wanting to roll your eyes at Clay’s blatant mission to set you and Nick up together. But who were you to avoid his attempts.

The card was passed successfully around the group, until it got to Clay, whose breath you could practically feel on the other side of the thick paper. You turned to give it to Nick but dropped it at the last second, making his lips press against yours. It was almost like he was expecting it because he was utterly calm at your action, nearing leaning in on his own accord. There were cat-calling noises made from the group as the kiss ended briefly. “Ope, looks like you guys are gonna have to leave the circle,” Clay stated with an almost sing-song tone in his voice. You were thankful that you had turned towards Clay enough that Nick couldn’t see your jokingly scornful look.

“Well, that’s just too bad. We were so good at this,” Nick chided as the two of you stood to leave. You ruffled Clay’s hair as the two of you left, following Nick into another room. “Would you want to… go somewhere quiet?” Nick asked, his eyes flashing to yours. Your eyebrow perked in his direction before you wordlessly slipped your hand into his.

You found yourself in the bathroom, Nick's hands settling on your hips as he pressed his lips against yours. You let out a sharp moan as he ground his hips against yours, yearning for more friction. Your fingers dug into his hair as his tongue slipped into your mouth, hungry for your taste. His breath was like a drug for you as he groaned into your mouth, moving against you.

His lips left your mouth but only to caress your jaw before settling against your neck, sucking on the skin with a slight sting. You tilted your head back, giving him more access to you before wrapping a leg around him, begging him to go further with you. He chuckled at your neediness, his warm breath fanning over your neck. He tugged the strap of your dress down your arm, pressing his lips against the newly exposed skin, grinding against you. The taste of cheap beer passed between the two of you.

One of his hands slipped beneath your dress to squeeze your ass, pulling you tighter against his jeans, encouraging you to ride his thigh. "I want you," he moaned unevenly in your ear, sending heat straight to your core. You wanted him to completely ruin you, to show you what was hiding beneath the surface of his reserved nice guy barrier.

You answered his words by attending to his zipper, slipping your hands into his jeans and stroking him against his boxers. A moan broke through his teeth, his lips crashing against yours as you egged him on. His erection grew stronger with each of your movements. You could tell he was becoming desperate to ravage you with each of his restrained breaths.

Your teeth dug into his bottom lip, your fingers pushing his pants to the ground as he pressed himself against you. He pushed your underwear aside, answering your silent pleas. Pressing his lips against your neck again, he drove himself into you, earning a blissed out moan from you. A breath of pleasure and relief escaped his chest at the feeling of you instantly tightening around him.

He thrusted into you, as if testing the waters as you moaned his name against his skin. One of your arms tightened around his shoulder as he held you in place, setting his pace. The mix of alcohol and pleasure you were feeling with each snap of his hips was sending your head reeling. He pushed his tongue into your mouth, fingers digging into your skin. You moaned against his lips, sending him to speed up his movements. A sense of roughness came out in him as he pounded into you harder, and you were eating it up. You fingers dug into his hair, pulling tightly to earn a groan from him.

Your hands slipped beneath his shirt, raking against his back, urging him to use you like a flashlight. "Fuck, you feel so good," he groaned, voice husky with some type of forced restraint as if he wouldn't let it come out evenly. You tightened around him, moving in what little space he'd given you to grind against him.

With that, he began to thrust into you harder, as if he was finally giving into whatever he was attempting to hold back. His teeth dug into your shoulder with each pulsing movement, driving himself deeper into you. Ungodly moans left your lips, only confirming his actions as he hungrily chased his high, dragging you with him.

His paces became less rhythmic and more sloppy as he gripped onto you, your fingers digging into his skin as you felt your orgasm was just within reach. You tightened your leg around him, your head swimming as he began to hit your sweet spot repeatedly. With a nearly choked out moan of his name, your body flushed with relief, your climax ripping through you. Nick succumbed to his own as if he'd been waiting for you, the two of you leaning against each other for support as you rode out your highs.

After you caught your breath, you reapplied a layer of lipstick, eyeing Nick through the reflection of the mirror as he stood behind you, straightened his clothes. "Let's not tell Clay about this, purely because he'll make it weird," you stated, turning and evening out his hoodie strings.

He chuckled slightly. "Oh, I agree completely. Don't tell Clay." His sly smirk nearly drew you in as you pressed your lips against his again, a promise that you'd definitely be seeing each other again.

#sapnap x reader #sapnap imagine #sapnap x y/n #sapnap smut #sapnap fanfic #mcyt imagine #mcyt fanfiction #mcyt x reader #mcyt smut

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t0wnspersonb · 4 years

Text

Rest (Bakugo Katsuki x Reader)

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 2,515

Warning: SMUT, LANGUAGE

I’m literally in love with Bakugo Katsuki. I’ve had this idea in my head for a while and I might make this a small series, I love me some domesticated shit and I hope you guys do too. This is the first smut I’ve ever written so please keep that in mind as you’re reading lmao. I hope you enjoy it!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bakugo sighed deeply as he dropped his duffle bag to the ground with a soft thud. His red eyes burned with exhaustion, his body felt incredibly heavy tonight after his shift.

It wasn’t that he disliked being a top pro-hero, far from it.

In fact, if someone were to ask him if he hated or loved being a hero he would scoff at them and blast their ass.

Of course he loved his job.

Becoming a pro-hero was his dream, the ultimate goal in his life. The amount of hours, blood, sweat, and tears he had put into his training was not for nothing.

Of course he fucking loved his job.

But sometimes.

Sometimes he wouldn’t mind being able to rest.

Like now.

Now, all he wanted to do was eat and sleep.

Bakugo flipped the light on in the kitchen, taking notice of the just washed dishes in the dish rack and the scent of cleanser lingering in the air.

Y/n must’ve cleaned up before she went to work. He thought briefly before opening up the fridge to see what was available to eat.

His expression softened once he laid his eyes on the plate of food wrapped up with a note on top.

Missing you a lot today, don’t overwork yourself.-Y/n

After reheating his dinner he sat down at the table, sighing deeply once more now that he was finally off of his feet.

It had been a long couple of days. A couple of weeks of nonstop back-to-back hero work. Which meant that Bakugo was rarely home, either arriving far too late into the night, or leaving far too early in the morning. There were only small traces that he had actually been there, a coffee cup left in the sink, the bathroom being damp still from a shower.

It was weeks like this one that were incredibly taxing on Bakugo, and that was because he never got to see you.

His wife.

It also didn’t help that your work schedule at the hospital was just as busy. Almost seemingly as the exact opposite of his.

He figured you had another night shift tonight as he headed to the bedroom.

But he froze at the doorway.

The tightness in his body melted completely as he gazed at your sleeping figure.

You were curled up under the blankets, fast asleep, and completely unaware of the tall man staring at you.

Bakugo couldn’t move fast enough.

All he could think about was curling up against you tonight, holding you close, and burying his face into your hair.

He had missed you too much.

He stripped down to his underwear and moved to slide under the blankets, his expression further softening as he noticed that you were wearing one of his t-shirts.

Carefully coming up behind you, he moved to wrap one of his arms around your waist. He pulled you in close, tucking you into his chest easily.

But you were roused awake from the sudden movement.

“Katsu?” you mumbled softly, eyes still heavy with sleep but you shifted your body so that you were facing the warm solid man now next to you.

“Go back to sleep.” he grumbled, both of you settling down against one another. He peered down at you with a gentle expression.

He had never seen anything more beautiful.

“How was it today?” you hummed softly, slinging your right arm around his broad shoulder, your leg kicking up to wrap around his waist.

Bakugo wrapped his fingers around your thigh, tugging you closer. His hand was big and warm, the roughness of his palms and fingers felt perfect against your soft skin.

A touch you were desperately craving the past couple of weeks.

“Dumbass Deku got overrun with the villains we were chasing down, I had go and save his stupid ass.” he grumbled, moving his hand up to slide into your shirt, his fingers tracing patterns into your back.

“Hmm.” you sighed softly, nuzzling your nose against his collarbone, inhaling that familiar burnt caramel scent.

Both of you were quiet for a moment, enjoying each other’s company. It was clear that both of you were exhausted, but neither of you had gone to sleep just yet.

There was a hum in the air.

A familiar one.

You looked up at the man that you’ve known your entire life. His eyes were closed, but you knew that he wasn’t asleep.

Your gaze started at the top of his head. His spiky hair was more disheveled than usual, but you knew that it was incredibly soft and perfect beneath your fingers.

Moving your eyes further down you took in his perfectly arched eyebrows and long lashes, but beneath that you noticed the dark circles framing his lower lids.

Frowning softly at your husband’s apparent lack of sleep you continued your search against his face.

His nose was perfect, and just below it, those soft full lips.

Your stomach flipped pleasantly. A familiar feeling bubbling in your lower stomach.

He was fucking beautiful.

And that was just his face. You knew that his body was just as perfect, if not better.

It was as if Bakugo Katsuki was sculpted from the gods themselves.

How you were married to such a beautiful man, you didn’t know. It was then that you started to be more aware of those muscular arms that were wrapped around you. Those strong, thick fingers gripping your upper thigh tightly.

Your heart rate picked up, and you shifted slightly, attempting to get closer to him.

“Stop staring at me, shitty woman.” he grumbled, cracking one eye open to peer down at you. “It’s fucking creepy.”

Now you remember how you ended up with this beautiful man. His shit fucking personality.

I guess it’s true when they say you can’t have it all, you thought dryly. Of course your husband couldn’t be a gorgeous man without having some kind of flaw.

It was actually a wonder how you guys had been together so long.

Childhood friends turned lovers.

You had been by his side since birth it felt like.

Considering your mother and his mother were good friends, it was bound to happen that you two would be as well.

You were the complete opposite of Bakugo.

Kind. Sweet. Gentle.

You weren’t in the hero course when you had gone to U.A., rather you had gotten into the support course.

Which wasn’t a problem for you. You didn’t want to become a hero. Rather, being able to help behind the scenes and being able to support those that wanted to be on the front lines, protecting and saving people, like your husband.

“Don’t be mean Katsu, I haven’t seen your grumpy face in weeks. Can’t a wife just look at her husband?” You grumbled pinching and pulling his cheeks.

He huffed angrily, grabbing your wrist and attempting to pull your fingers away from his face. “Let go, that fucking hurts.” he growled. “Stupid woman, you think I want to come home and be pestered like this?”

You snorted, an amused expression on your face as you ignored Bakugo’s increasing insults and attempts at stopping you from pulling his cheeks, increasing the pressure of your fingers on his face.

“You little shit.” he growled. He gripped your wrist tightly and shifted one of his legs to be between your thighs and moved, heaving you onto your back. Your wrists were pinned on either side of your head, Bakugo above you.

Oh fuck.

The position you were in caused your heart rate to pick up once again. Your eyes flickered down his body, appreciating the bulging muscles and the way his boxers now hung lower on his hips.

The smirk on his face wasn’t helping the situation either.

“Like what you see?” he sneered.

You rolled your eyes and moved your leg, shifting it up so that you could press your knee carefully against his crotch.

You could feel his growing bulge. You felt the rising blush in your face and looked away from him, going to move your leg down from its current position. But Bakugo was too fast for you, he grabbed your leg and hitched it over his hip and settled himself between your legs. Pressing himself to your center.

You couldn’t help the whimper that escaped your lips.

“Why are you getting all shy now?” he teased, rolling his hips against yours.

“Sh-Shut up.” you gasped, lips parting in arousal. “You haven’t even kissed me yet Katsu.”

He chuckled slightly, and released his grip on your wrists, allowing you to slither your arms around his neck, sliding your fingers into the back of hair. He leaned closer down to your face, one his hands grabbing at your jaw, the other one propping himself up to keep most of his weight off of you.

And then he was kissing you. His lips hot and urgent against yours, his tongue already poking through your lips, eager to taste the inside of your mouth.

You moaned softly, arching your body into his as your grip in his hair tightened.

Bakugo growled against your mouth, grinding into your core harshly.

All thoughts of sleep are now gone. All Bakugo could think about was you, and how much he wanted to be inside of you. It had been far too long since the last time he'd had you, and now, he wasn’t going to wait any longer.

“Fuck, what do you want?” he growled, pulling away from you and seeing your swollen lips. Your eyes were wide and bright, full of want and need.

His stomach churned pleasantly.

Before you could answer him his fingers were already where you wanted them the most. He rubbed at your clit in harsh controlled circles, his red eyes dark and filled with need as he gazed at your moaning flushed face.

“K - ah - Katsu. Please,” you whimpered, gripping his hair tightly between your fists. Your hips moving along with his fingers.

“Please what? What do you want?” he sneered, applying more pressure before he pushed your panties to the side, his middle finger sliding against your wet slit, but not fully penetrating you.

You felt tears gathering at the corner of your eyes, it had been too long. All you wanted was him to fuck you already.

“You. I want you please.” you moaned out, bucking your hips up, urging him to enter you already. “Please Katsu, I missed you so much.”

Fuck.

He missed you too. He was tired of the foreplay already, he needed to be inside you.

Snarling loudly he all but ripped the clothes off your body before removing his boxers. His member stood tall and gorgeously thick against his stomach.

Your mouth watered at the sight, you wanted it in your mouth.

“Later.” he growled, noticing the look on your face. “I want to fuck you already.”

He spread your legs apart, gazing at you hungrily before taking his cock and rubbing it against your glistening slit, and then he rammed into you.

You cried out loudly as Bakugo set a brutal pace. Hard and fast, and incredibly deep inside your pussy.

It had been too long, your body needing time to adjust to his intrusion, your walls stretching to fit his thickness.

But he wouldn’t let you. Bakugo gave in to his desire and set a pace that had you gasping to keep up.

Fuck did it feel good though.

The familiar pressure building up within yourself, ready to snap at any minute.

Bakugo was snarling above you, lost in the pleasure of your warm, wet walls gripping him tighter and tighter. He knew you were almost at your limit, he was too.

He knew he wasn’t going to last long, it had been too long since the last time he was inside of you, but he needed you to cum first.

His grip was bruising on your hips; his mouth sucking and biting at every inch of skin that was within his reach. You knew you were going to have marks in the morning, but you didn’t care.

His cock rubbed into the deepest parts of you, leaving you breathless and shaking. He always made you feel so full.

“You gonna cum on my cock princess?” he growled, reaching down and rubbing your clit again.

Your back arched, your head thrashing against the pillows as your pleasure began to build further up. “Katsu - ngh - I’m close.” you whimpered out.

He smirked, pulling out of your pussy before slamming himself back in.

And that was it.

You came hard, crying out and trembling beneath him, your wetness gushing out and staining the sheets below.

He snarled loudly, jackhammering his hips into yours as he chased his release before groaning lowly in his throat and spilling himself inside of you.

His hips finally stilled, he leaned forward and pressed his mouth against yours softly before trailing delicate kisses against the bites he had left scattered across your throat and collar bone.

He stayed buried deep inside of you as he continued to soothe your battered body.

Bakugo knew that he was never gentle when you guys made love. He knew that his pace was always rough and harsh, but the aftercare was a different story.

After the intense fucking he always gave you, it was important for him to take care of you tenderly. He carefully pulled his softened cock out of you, hushing you softly as you whimpered from the loss.

He watched as his cum seeped out of you, smirking slightly to himself before he pressed a gentle kiss to your hip and got up to the bathroom to get a warm wet cloth to clean you and himself up.

When he came back you were already on the verge of falling asleep again. He sat near your legs, pressing a soft kiss to your knee as he cleaned up the mess he made between your legs.

You hissed softly, your lower body sore and sensitive. He hushed you once more as he finished cleaning up, tossing the cloth somewhere behind him, he’d take of that in the morning.

Starting at your hips he trailed his soft lips up your body, pressing the sweetest kisses into your skin, gazing at you with gentle eyes.

The aftercare was his favorite part.

You were so fucking beautiful like this, completely drained after all the pleasure that he had given you. Your skin littered with his marks, your lips red and swollen from his intense kisses, your hair a ruffled mess around your head after moving it back and forth so much.

He pulled the blankets over your bodies as he settled next to you, wrapping his arms around your body tightly.

He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head, your eyes closing automatically, sleep ready to take you under.

“I love you Katsu.” you breathed softly, pressing your face into his chest. “So much.”

“Go to sleep.” he grumbled tenderly, placing another kiss to the crown of your head. “I got you."

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jarofstyles · 4 years

Text

Crush

A/N: this one.... biiiitch.... giving you all a little college!harry, he’s so cute 👉🏼👈🏼 enjoy hehe 😈 - n + d

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masterlist

pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

warnings: smut. FILTH.

word count: 9.7k

Harry felt a bit creepy.

It wasn’t as if it was on purpose! No... but she was at all of the places he went. At first he had thought it was a coincidence, but as he developed a routine for his classes, he found that they were often around each other for similar reasons. And usually? He would try and go up, introduce himself, and make a friend. The problem was... she was pretty.

Not like normal pretty. Pretty as in, holy fuck you make me so nervous and perhaps I’ll word vomit, pretty. He was shit at making the first move. She was in his Monday and Friday classes and sat not far from him, he noticed. And they always ended up at the Coffee Bean on Tuesday and Thursdays, sitting not too far from one another again. She got tea with a few cookies, and he got a black coffee and an orange scone. They’d work on their coursework and Harry would wait for her to leave and see her make it to her car before he would leave, not wanting to make it seem like he was following her. He’s found out her name through friends stopping in to see her. It was Y/N. Gorgeous, just like her.

Funny enough, Harry wasn’t the only one who had a bit of a crush. Y/N realized in the second week of classes that Harry was in fact one of the most intimidatingly cool and attractive men she’d ever seen. College boys weren’t supposed to look like that, but he was all soft in his sweaters and baggy pants. She wasn’t sure how he pulled it off so well, but she could admit she was jealous.

Seeing him at the Coffee bean was a relief because well, he walked in after her every time. She assumed it was because he had a class that ended later or something, but it didn’t go unnoticed that he was there. Usually it wasn’t too busy or loud so she could glance at him from the corner of her eye as they sat at one of the big tables. She felt like it would be too weird to talk to him, he seemed so... quiet. She’d never heard him speak, hell, she’d only ever locked eyes with him for milliseconds. Y/N wished she could be one of those girls that could effortlessly flirt, ask for a pencil or something, but she knew she’d freeze up and forget her rehearsed line.

Today however, when Y/N arrived, Harry was already there at his usual spot. Okay, Y/N... act natural. She thought to herself, going to order her usual before walking to boldly take a seat across from him. It would have worked out fine if her tote bag didn’t accidentally catch the corner of one of his books, sending things flying.

“Shit— sorry, I—” Y/N swore, setting her bag on the table before bending down to get the book and a few papers and a pen. Real smooth.

Harry was slightly startled when his shit went flying, but when he saw who had knocked it over, his heart picked up. Oh, shit.

“Oh— it’s okay, don’t worry about it.” Harry’s voice was a bit gruff from not using it much today, pushing his chair back and bending down to grab the stuff with her. “S’my fault for putting it so close to the edge. I used to do that at home and my cat would knock it all off.”

Great. Already rambling.

Y/N didn’t register it at first, but he was british? Fuck. If she wasn’t already on her knees she would dropped down anyway, biting her lip to stop any noises that could have escaped. She giggled when he said his cat used to knock things over, “mine too.” She mumbled and went to stand up, feeling a tug at her arm.

“Ah, shit.” Harry had caught his ring in her sweater, pulling one of the threads. “Damn, I’m so sorry.” He blushed slightly, knowing how annoying it was to have a pulled thread. His collection of sweaters was immense, thanks to his nan— and he felt terrible. Damn his chunky things. “They always get caught in mine too but I wear them anyways. I can replace the sweater, if you need.” Damn it. He was trying to come off as smooth... not so nervous. But he was. She was so pretty and she was up close, she smelled like peaches and vanilla and a bit of sweet mint and her hands were so soft.

“Oh no, It’s fine! it’s old anyway— I can just cut it off or tuck it in or something.” Honestly, Y/N would figure it out. The last thing she wanted was for him to feel bad, it was an accident after all. She let him untangle it, holding her hand still though it seemed like he needed some help. “Smaller fingers...” She mumbled, using her nails to get the thread gently off of the ring. “‘s a nice ring.” Y/N complimented, finally meeting his eyes and feeling the breath leave her lungs at the close proximity. Her lips parted naturally, scanning his face for any signs of discomfort.

She was beautiful Harry though he may get sick because wow. Wow. He had imagined holding her hand and kissing her but this exact moment he hadn’t a clue on what to do. So he improvised.

“Are you in the 8 am psych class on Mondays?” He tilted his head. “I know I’ve seen you before.” Oh, he had seen her a lot. Especially in his dreams, day and night. It had been a bit intoxicating, really. At her nod, his grin came on his face. “Sick. S’that what you’re gonna study for?” He didn’t bring up the other class because... it would be embarrassing if she hadn’t noticed him before and he knew all too much. He needed a refill of his coffee though so he grabbed his cup, gently taking her things and placing them on the table next to his. “At least let me buy your stuff though. I feel awful about your sweater.”

“I’m actually just waiting on them to finish making mine, I was on my way to secure a spot but—” Y/N blushed, realizing the mess she had made. “Could you get it for me while you’re up there? It’s for Y/N. I can sit here and watch your stuff.” She felt like that was a subtle way for her to tell him her name.

This was the most she had ever spoken to him and it had been about a month or so that she’d been eyeing him up. She knew he was in her English literature class as well, but psych was her major. Y/N wondered if maybe he too was a psych major, maybe that’s why they sort of had the same schedule? Regardless, she felt a bit nervous making conversation so she spent the time he was away coming up with what she was going to ask him and how she was going to keep the ball rolling. Hopefully she didn’t interrupt his studying, if anything she’d leave him alone.

“Y/N?” He tested it on his tongue out loud for the first time. It tasted good. “Yeah. M’Harry. I’ll be back.” He nodded, going towards the front. His heart going a mile a minute, he couldn’t believe how quickly his luck had changed. He ordered an extra cake pop today, for her. she had said it didn’t matter but to him, it did. Eventually he hoped he could buy her a replacement. Or... maybe she could wear his around. Wow. That would stroke his ego and his fragile heart to the core. He could already see her on his lavender fishermen’s sweater, in front of his fireplace back at home. She would be so cute. The voice calling her name snapped him out of the fantasy, Harry grabbing it and then his own shortly after before returning to the table. “Here. I got the last cake pop for you. Don’t tell anyone I’m the offender.”

“Ooo you’re a dead man if they find out.” Y/N said, looking around before gently taking it from him. “Thank you... that’s sweet.” She blushed, taking a bite of it before taking a sip of her chai latte. Now that she had stuff to fiddle around with she could take a breather and not have to worry about filling space. “But um.. did interrupt something? Don’t want to distract you...” Y/N nodded over to his laptop, secretly hoping that he wasn’t up to much so that she could chat to him. She just wanted to know the basics, literally anything would satisfy her craving. Harry was quite literally her wet dream, she’d been looking all around campus for someone like him to come around. “I uh... I think I’m also in your English lit class? I feel like I see you around often.” Y/N spoke, pushing a piece of her hair behind her ear. “What’s your major?” She felt like this conversation was light, something that would eventually lead into other things like... if he was single and looking for a girlfriend.

“Oh, you’re not bugging me. I’ve kind of been staring at the screen and zoning out if m’honest.” Harry chuckled, embarrassed a little to admit it. But everyone could relate to that, right? “And yeah... actually I think so.” He smiled lightly before taking a sip of his drink. Victory! She had noticed him too. He wasn’t the lonely creep who stared at the first who had no idea who he was. She knew who he was, kind of. He gently drew his sweater over his hands like little paws before going to her question. “English. I want to write and stuff, edit maybe. My dad has a publishing company so, I’m lucky I like a bit of the family business.” He tried to joke, looking at her. God. It was unnerving how beautiful and also, how fucking comfortable she was to be around. What a contrast. “And you? What major?” He took a nibble of his scone, not wanting to make a mess.

English? He’s a writer? Goodness. She was going to lose it.

“That’s cool, any specific genre you like to write?” Y/N asked curiously because well, it would actually tell her a lot about him and the kind of person he was. “I picture some mystery or possibly poetry, could go either way.” She said and squinted her eyes as she looked at him, pretending to size him up. “I can’t say I’m all that interesting, a psych major. Just like every other artsy person who doesn’t exactly want to commit to an art degree.” Y/N chuckled, “still deciding between criminal justice or counseling but... either way I’d be happy to get to pick someone’s brain. She did have the habit of analyzing people but only so she could understand them better. Y/N knew that all people wanted at the core was to be understood and loved for who they are, for the most part. Harry seemed reserved, calm and relaxed, secure in himself that’s for sure. It was extremely attractive.

“Oh? That’s really cool though.” Harry was genuinely interested in what she had to say either way. The major didn’t matter in his interest in her but it gave him information and something to talk about. If she was marketing or math he would be just as interested. “Criminal seems particularly interesting. Like that criminal minds show then? You’ll learn how they work and all of that?” He didn’t really know what it meant or why she had chosen it. “But close. I write romance novels.” He blushed fully. “Don’t judge me for it. But s’easy for me and I’m good at it, or so I’ve been told. I’ve been writing for a while.” He felt himself loosen up as they talked. Even if she intimidated him, she was really nice and sweet. “Poetry too, lots of it. But romance is my main thing, I’d like to do novels and that sort of stuff.” He could see she didn’t think it was lame, rather interesting. Which was a major relief. He wanted to impress her, so so badly.

“Sorta, yeah. Like... being able to predict a criminal's next move, psychologically.” Y/N explained and shrugged, “feel like it’s really fun and interesting but terrifying all at once. Dunno if I could actually interview a criminal without feeling like it was going to cry.” She let out a laugh, knowing she was quite soft. Her face lit up when he said he wrote romance novels. Wow. Well, as if he wasn’t a character right out of a romcom himself! She felt like that’s what this was. A romcom. Bumping into him at a coffee shop like a scene straight from one. “Really?! So you’re a proper romantic then? Buy the last cake pop for every girl, hmm?” She gave him a bashful smile. The very last thing she was doing was judge, she was more so thinking about their wedding. Yep. Already. Daydreaming because she swore she’d hit the jackpot. Wasn’t even sure if he liked her yet, but she was hopeful. After all, she’d turned on her charm.

“I guess I am.” Harry smirked to himself slightly at the good reception. Damn. He had been so worried and hesitant- he should have just talked to her. She wasn’t... that scary. Only a little bit.

He let her talk a bit more about her degree and Harry went on to speak about his favorite authors, and then the conversation shifted towards their classes and how he had been struggling slightly in psych— which led to her offering to help. Harry was shocked because honestly he hadn’t expected it from her, but he was pleased. He was happy to have an excuse to hang out with her more. See more of her and be able to teach himself to relax properly around her. He felt like a damn wind up toy, giddy and excited.

“That would be so helpful, if you could. And if you don’t mind.” He stressed. “I have a place off campus, if you’d want to go there? I’ll buy you some pizza or something for your help.” He was a giver and if it meant getting a $20 pizza for her because he wanted good quality, then he would!

“Yeah, that sounds good.” Y/N was practically jumping up and down with joy in her mind, this was a turn of events. She went from secretly crushing on him to being invited over his house in only a few hours. “I can never say no to pizza, but it’s really no problem. They say if you can teach it to someone else then you truly understand it so it’ll be a good test for me. Y/N also knew that they wouldn’t just study. Come on. It was a Friday night and study was practically code for hook up, especially considering he had invited her to his place and not the library. She had to prepare, had to make sure she looked cute and everything. She’d shower before hand too, the whole nine. “I can be there around 6?” Y/N suggested, checking her calendar app even though she already knew when she could come. She had to at least look like she wasn’t jumping at the idea.

“That’s cool. Uh— here, if you want I can put my number in your phone and whenever you want I can text you the address?” Oh, fuck. How, how the tables have turned. He had gone from wistfully staring at her every day to having a scheduled study session with her, the girl he’d been practically having wet dreams about. Having a full conversation and then her having his number! He was giddy and playing with the sleeves of his sweater as a result of the excited nerves. “Do you have any allergies? I do have a kitten at home.” He wanted to make sure he wouldn’t have to put Marie away. He loved his baby but he wanted to try something and see if she would be cool with him in a private setting. It would be less hard to talk about deeper things without people around. He took her phone from her and typed in his number, adding his name with a little 📚 after it. That wasn’t too much, right?

“Aw you do! I have one too, well... he thinks he’s a big boy.” Y/N shook her head at the thought of her sweet little Milo. Despite not doing anything she planned to do at the coffee shop, it still felt like a productive day in her eyes. Finally getting to chat with Harry felt like a breath of fresh air and he wasn’t all that scary now that she got to chatting with him. She took her phone back and smiled at the cute little emoji, sending him a text to let him know it was her before hesitantly getting up. “Alright well, I gotta get back to my kitten... but, I’ll see you tomorrow.” Y/N smiled, watching him stand up as well. The two of them walked out of the coffee shop and to their cars, Y/N being bold enough to give him a hug before opening her car door. “Night!” She was surprised with herself. Y/N was proud, completely over the moon and honestly she wasn’t sure how she was going to sleep tonight.

-----

Harry laid out on the bed that night with Marie on his chest. He had told her all about how the pretty Y/N had met him and that she would be coming over. The pretty cat was a long haired white kitty, and she purred along with Harry as he spoke. She liked hearing Harry be happy. It made him want to squeak when he heard his phone buzz and a little text from her popped up— he saved her as ‘Y/N 🌼’ because he felt like it fit. Part of him wanted to put a heart but he would be mortified if she saw and thought it was weird. She wore a yellow flower shirt one day so he figured that’s what he could excuse it as.

‘Hey, happy to hear from you! :) I hope your kitty is doing well. I meant to ask, you aren’t vegetarian are you?’

Y/N smiled at his text and attached a photo of her gray kitten laying across the top of her head while she laid down.

‘Yes, he’s quite cozy.’

‘I am actually! But I’m not too fussy.’

She couldn’t help it, she loved animals and she couldn’t bring herself to do it anymore. Occasionally, she would indulge in a chicken nugget or seafood, but for the most part she didn’t feel like she had to.

‘I’m going to get some sleep though, Good night Harry 💓’

That wasn’t too much was it? It was just a heart! She sent them to everyone. Y/N stayed up for a good ten minutes just digesting the day. Tomorrow would be even better, she had a feeling.

——

Harry was... well, he wasn’t sure how to describe the emotion. When Niall inevitably quizzed him on why he was acting strange, the best he had come up with was a mix of nerves and giddiness, also terror and extreme happiness. He was going to hang out with the girl he had been silently crushing on— and they had been texting quite frequently in the short time they had each other’s numbers. Was this going to be a regular thing? Was it going to blossom into more? He knew that he had wasted time before, not talking to her. She wasn’t scary! No... she was so sweet and kind and beautiful and everything she said made him a literal heart eye emoji. She had taken to sending him random photos, even so quickly in and it felt comfortable. He had even sent her a shot of Marie on the counter this morning, on top of his school notes. It was odd. The excitement he felt when he heard the bing from his phone of the vibration in his pocket... it was incredible. He liked this feeling. Damn it. This was such a new thing. He wanted to do more.

He saw her in class, watching as she crept in a bit after the last call should be with a sheepish smile on her face. He waved to her silently and watched her climb up, his heart beating quicker when she chose a seat closer to his than before. She wanted to sit near him? He clutched the rainbow patchwork sweater by the sleeves and fiddled with the cuffs, nerves and excitement swirling in his tummy.

If class wasn’t already on, Y/N knew she would have tried to spark up some conversation with Harry, but for now all she could manage was passing him a note.

‘I like your cardigan :)’

It was really cute. Most of Harry’s wardrobe was and in her dream world she already stole a few to wear. English literature wasn’t exactly the most exciting class, but Harry seemed invested. Y/N enjoyed watching him focus and take notes while she mostly doodled some random flowers and bears in her notebook. Her mind was thinking about what she was going to wear to his house and how she definitely needed a shower before and that she had to put on the lotion that matched her perfume. Was she overthinking this? Maybe. Of course it was just a study date, but you could never be too sure where things could go. And if they did— she wanted to be ready.

He knew that he needed to contain himself but his smile made it hard. She liked his cardigan. The random compliment had him feeling mushy and happy and there was definitely a blush on his cheeks as he clicked his pen and wrote back to her.

‘Thanks :) my nan knitted it for me. I like your little head band.’

He passed it back before opening his notebook back up. Her stare could be felt and he wanted to smirk a little at it because, well, who wouldn’t? She was so great, and he wanted to experience more of her but he was trying to not rush shit. He was a romance writer after all. All of it felt so in tune with his own wants and he had a hard time believing it was real. Sweet little Y/N wanted to hang out with him and she complimented his cardigan!

‘Awe!! That’s cute and thank youuuu 🥰’

She drew him a little smiley face with hearts around it, felt like it was very on brand for her and her emotive texting. Y/N felt all giddy because she had made a new friend but she was really hoping they wouldn’t just be friends.

Y/N knew she was hard to read because she was generally nice to everyone and honestly, Harry seemed to be the same way. She could only assume he liked her because he asked her to hang out so quickly. And he’d bought her a cake pop and was planning on buying pizza tonight. Was it a date then? Gosh, she needed to stop reading into it. Her leg kept bouncing up and down, mind trying to refocus and thankfully, their professor was discussing something she too had noticed in her reading. She still managed to steal quick glances at Harry for the rest of the class, giving him shy little smiles. It wasn’t till class ended that she ended up speaking to him, but even that was quick. She needed to get home and get ready.

Harry had gotten a quick hi, and a ‘see you tonight!’ With her hand brushing his arm before she skipped off to.. wherever she went. And that had him nearly sprinting home. Cleaning top to bottom, vacuum, scrub, vacuum again. Changed his sheets— why, he wasn’t sure— put his laundry in the basket, filled up Marie’s food and water, fluffed the pillows, cleaned the windows and coffee table... he did it all. Even cleaned out the fridge! Like she would care? Harry didn’t know. All he did know was that he was finally showered and smelled nice, hair fixed and the pumpkin patch candle was lit! The tv was on low because he was nervous and needed some filler noise to keep himself from overthinking.

Y/N was doing the same, not cleaning her apartment but cleaning herself. She stripped out of her clothes when she got home and immediately got into the shower, taking one of those full maintenance ones for good measure. Once she was positive she was squeaky clean and smelled nice, she jumped out to take the next steps. God, she really wanted to impress him. He’d been her crush for a while and she needed this. She wanted to look like she didn’t put in my effort when she did so she decided to put on some light makeup and chose an outfit that was more laid back. Usually, she was seen wearing sweaters and jeans, nothing too fancy, so that’s exactly what she settled on. Y/N wanted to look warm and inviting.

Milo mewed beneath her feet as she collected all her study supplies, rubbing against her ankles in need of attention. “I’m sorry bubs, I know I didn’t get to spend lots of time with you today but don’t be too mad.” Y/N pouted, picking him up and giving him a cuddle for a few minutes. She held him up to her chest as she finished up, deciding she needed to leave now.

‘Leaving now, be there in 20 ✨’

She sent, hopping into her car with nerves bubbling up in her stomach. God, she really hoped tonight went well.

——

When Harry heard the knock at the door he shot up, wiping his sweaty hands on his pants before forcing himself to be slow, walking to the door. And when he opened it, it really did feel like being hit in the gut. Seeing someone so beautiful, so up close? It got to him. He had to admit that. Y/N has this natural beauty that he drooled over. That felt like a hit. Every time he saw her he swore she got more beautiful.

“Hi.” He spoke with a smile, opening the door up for her. “Come inside. Marie is wandering around so I have to close the door. A little escape artist, she is.” He joked, letting her scurry in and close the door behind her.

“Hey! Oop— okay!” Y/N giggled and stepped past him into his apartment. It was very cute and very tidy. Y/N felt a little flutter in her belly, it was freshly cleaned. She stepped out of her shoes before further examining the decor. The style was something she very much expected for Harry, it was cozy and artsy. Lots of earth tones and that sweet autumn smell coming from the candle made her feel that much more excited. “It’s so nice in here! I love the pillows.” Y/N complimented, liking how some were fluffy and some had funky patterns on them. It was then that she heard a meow from below, Marie sniffing at her sock covered toes. “Oh hi there... sorry if you can smell Milo on me, gave me lots of snuggles before I left.” Y/N cooed down to the kitten, dropping down so she was closer to the ground and extended her hand for her to sniff and get used to.

Y/N realized this was very real now, especially because he had gone out of his way to make his place look nice. Most guys wouldn’t care, but maybe Harry did this for everyone. When she stood back up and turned to face him, she got a whiff of him and noticed his semi damp hair. He showered too. Oh—

Harry smiled at her and Marie, happy his kitten seemed to like her. Usually she would sniff his friends and run off but she began to weave over her legs and beg for pets. He was in awe. Christ. She had him by the balls already.

“Do you want anything to drink? I’ve got diet soda... apple juice, lots of teas. And water.” He hummed, going into the kitchen with her behind him. It was an open concept though, the kitchen the first thing near the door and it opened into a large living area, the hall down going to the master bedroom. It was simple but perfect for him in college. He gave her a moment to think it over as he looked at her. So cozy and... cuddly. He wanted to slide his hands under her sweater and feel her warm skin and nuzzle into the crook of her neck, let her fingers play through his hair.

“Apple juice sounds good.” Y/N smiled, having picked up Marie at this point to carry her into the kitchen with them. She had a feeling she’d get along just great with Milo if they ever got to meet. “You’re a sweet little thing, aren’t you?” Y/N cooed at the kitten, seeing her comfortably settled against her. “Does your Daddy spoil you with snuggles too?” She asked toying with her little paw before looking up at Harry with a smile. He had fumbled a bit with the lid of the juice at her words which made her giggle, “How are you? How was your day today?” Y/N was genuinely curious, deciding to make some small talk before actually sitting down. In her head she could already imagine the two of them hanging out here constantly, tangled up in one another, kissing and laughing and doing all the cute things that Harry likely wrote about in his stories.

“I’m— im good.” Harry’s mouth was dry. He knew that she hadn’t meant anything by it, but he heard her say ‘daddy’ in reference to him, and his stupid cock had jumped, tummy felt hot. Damn it. He wished he wasn’t so deprived but... she had been at the forefront of his mind. “It was a good day. I was happy to talk to you. You’re fun to talk to.” He meant it too. She was so interesting and funny and he was completely whipped and okay with it. Damn. He wished he had maybe a bit more restraint with his imagination but he didn’t. Not at all. “I have a harder time meeting people... i can be a little shy sometimes. I’m in my own head a lot you know? I have my core group of friends but... it’s hard to get to know people. I want to know them.” Her. That translates to her.

“Yeah?” Y/N felt her heart jump. He was happy to speak with her even just a little bit? He wanted to talk to her and get to know her? It wasn’t just a one sided thing. They were both making an effort in their own way and she was thinking someone had to break the tension. “I’m happy you think so.” Y/N blushed, “I um... I also like talking to you.” She had her little friend group as well but she never thought she’d actually end up being friends with Harry. Listening to him explain how reserved he was definitely made her feel special though. He chose to open up to her, she was special enough for that and that made her cheeks grow warm once again. “I’ll tell you just about anything you want to know.” Y/N smiled, hesitantly placing Marie down before taking a few steps closer to him to get her glass of apple juice.

“Ooooh, a little daunting. Anything? Your social security number?” Harry was joking. Trying to clear the air and make her relax because she was a bit shy too and he wanted her to be comfortable here. This place should be a good spot for her. He motioned for her to come sit on the couch with him, Marie trailing after Y/N. Little traitor had a new favorite already but... he couldn’t say he could blame her. “I dunno... it’s hard sometimes, in this age to make genuine friendships. Feels like everyone’s already got their friend groups and you don’t want to infringe upon them yeah? And... I write a lot. I’m not a partier. Not to sound cliche but again.... I’m a writer.” He chuckled.

“I said just about!” Y/N chuckled, shaking her head to herself at his joke. She felt like she was an open book, she was pretty open with the things she liked and generally she aimed to spread positivity and love where she could. Her hobbies included lots of things, music, knitting, reading, gardening. That kind of stuff. “But yeah, I get that... I’ve been pretty content with my group of friends, though I think most people are open to making new ones. At least I am... I am a bit shy though.” Y/N took a sip of her apple juice before setting it down on the coffee table again. “Yeah, you said. Romance novels.” She smiled and leaned back into the couch, getting comfortable. “What sorts of romance novels?” What? Could you blame her for wanting to know what sort of content was in them? Maybe it could give her some insight on what he wanted.

“Oooooh. Hard hitting stuff.” Harry huffed out playfully. “I’m... it’s a variety, I think. I’ve done supernatural, classic tropes, historical romance was very fun. I am partial to enemies to lovers or forbidden romances though. They’re the most fun to write.” Y/N genuinely looked like she cared so he continued. “I’ve been trying out different stuff but....” he blushed again. “I’m... looking at erotica right now.” It wasn’t something he usually would blurt out but hey, she seemed trustworthy. Plus she didn’t seem like she would judge either. It was a new favorite of his. The rawness of it and writing sex scenes... it was amazing. Reading it, writing it, he thought he could do some on the side and sell it under a pen name. It would be a fun thing to try.

Erotica. This man sat down and wrote detailed sex scenes, likely kinky, for fun? Thankfully she didn’t have any juice in her mouth because it surely would have been spat out.

“H-how are you finding it?” She asked, reaching for her apple juice because she felt like she couldn’t sit still now. How else was she supposed to go about things when all she could think about was sex. Sex with him specifically. Y/N wasn’t blind, she knew that Harry was very attractive and very much gifted with beautiful hands. She could only assume he would have a wonderful cock as well. She knew there was no way someone so quite couldn’t have the filthiest of minds, she knew hers was. Her fantasies were where she roamed free.

“I mean... I do like it a lot, actually. I hope that doesn’t come across as creepy or pervy but I like to be able to write something like that. It’s freeing, in a sense.” Harry couldn’t really properly describe why but, he was a kinky dude. You’d never think it. He was soft and wore sweaters a lot and drank tea at home from a kitty mug but he was.... a kinky fucker. And he loved sex. There was just something about it. He wanted to try more and more of it but he had a tendency to get attached to his partners, even hook ups... so he had put that on a hault.

“I’d like to read some...” Y/N felt like at some point, she’d want to read his writing. If he felt comfortable now she didn’t mind. It was just writing, wasn’t it?

“You want to?” She looked at him with bright eyes and her a fast nod so Harry decided to say, fuck it. If they were going to work as friends... or lovers, which is what Harry really wanted... she would need to accept this side. He grabbed his laptop and boosted it on, letting himself grab the latest completed scene. “Here. You can read this, i'll order the pizza.” There were obvious nerves in his belly from letting her read filthy smut from his computer but Y/N... she was different. He couldn’t put his finger on why, but she was.

They were meant to be studying.

That was long forgotten though as Y/N nodded and got comfortable on the couch with his laptop sat in her lap. It felt a bit taboo, but she figured she could separate the writer from the story.

The scene was from a male character’s perspective, describing him having a long and hard day at work where all he could think about was his partner. Y/N felt her face get progressively warmer as the character spoke about his partner, she couldn’t help but imagine this was how Harry was when he was horny and needy.

Y/N knew that if she was his, she would certainly brighten up his mood after a tough day at work. Seeing her own name in the document however proved that Harry thought the same. Her eyes nearly bulged out of her head, her eyes lifting from the screen to look up at him as he ordered the pizza completely unaware of her discovery.

This is what he imagined? This is what he wanted to do.... with her?

Harry ordered two cheese pizzas and some cinnamon dessert thing because there was a a special going on. He had thought about getting more but he didn’t want to go overboard with it, so he finished the order. Thank god for online ordering.

“Okay... it’ll be here in 25 minutes I think.” He hummed, looking up and freezing slightly. She looked blushy and her eyes wide as she read the post and he wondered why she looked a bit startled. “Hey... y’alright love?” He asked quietly. God damn it. Had he freaked her out too much? Was it just too much in general for the first time they properly hung out? He couldn’t remember exactly what scene he had pulled up. Just that it was recent, a billionaire type of thing.

Y/N casually moved the laptop on to the coffee table without answering his question. She didn’t think twice before she climbed on to his lap, hands settling on his shoulders. Sure, it was a risky move, but after what she’d read? She felt like she had to make her move. She wanted to be just as hot and sexy as he had imagined her to be. Harry’s shocked expression made her smile, hand going up to cup his cheek.

“You left my name in the document...” Y/N’s voice spoke low and slow, thumb brushing over his now parted lips. Never did she think she could be so bold so soon, but fuck did it feel good. She felt so powerful, so sexy, and so so horny. “Thought about me riding your cock so much you wrote about it?” Y/N whispered, leaning in to kiss the skin just below his ear before nibbling at the skin. “Noticed me before we properly met... thought about me... is this what you wanted, baby?”

Harry blanked.

Oh. fuck.

He hadn’t expected her to climb into his lap. Climbing on and straddling him, cupping his cheek, talking in that hot little voice that had his cock filling a bit. Holy fucking shit.

“Oh—” He was cut off by her thumb over her lip. She was into it, into him. How had this happened? He had to be dreaming. But... no. Her heat was too real to be a dream. Her eyes too clear and dark, her smell too real. It was real. “Y-yeah...” He whispered, gasping when she kissed his skin, hand grabbing her waist. Oh, hell. Under his pants, his cock was quickly hardening. You couldn’t blame him, his dream woman, his crush, was straddling his lap and kissing his neck. Talking like this.

“Thought about it ‘lots.” He muttered. She was so bold for this and that was something he found so sexy. When her teeth scraped his skin and bit down a bit harder, a dark groan left his mouth, hand on her waist tightening. “Holy shit... Y/N.”

“Hmm... feels good?” Y/N questioned, licking over the spot that she bit before moving to a new one. “Think I can make you cum in 25 minutes?” Y/N felt like she could take on the challenge, his cock was already hardening beneath her and she was a bit of foreplay away from being completely soaked. “Wanna try all of it, yeah?” Y/N muttered, nipping at the spot just where his jawline met his neck. “Riding your cock.... you bending me over, can choke me too. Please do...” She moaned at the thought, her hormones completely taking over. He still seemed to be frozen, despite his hand now on her waist so she moved her hips forward a little bit and tugged at his hair. “Wanna make you feel good.”

Y/N had a kink for giving but it seemed Harry did as well. She expected a needy hook up, rough touches, quickness, pure lust. It’s exactly what she needed. It’s been a while since she’d hooked up with anyone and she was desperate for Harry to break her dry spell.

“Ah, shit.” Harry hissed. The tug at his hair sent a shock of hot arousal down his spine. That got him going so quickly. She wanted to fuck? Right now? He would be a fool to say no, and he wasn’t raised a fool. “Yeah? Y’want to ride my cock?” He asked lowly. “Fucks sake... I didn’t know you were so dirty.” He never would have guessed it from her either but... they were here. And he was snapped out of his shock by the tug, and now he was ready to do whatever the fuck she let him. “What did y’want the most, love? Tell me.” He had taken into account that she wanted to be choked, raising a hand to gently cuff her throat, bringing her close to his face. The confidence was soaring now, and all because she was leaking it. She wanted it, desperately. “I said, tell me.” He gave a quick squeeze to her throat. “Want to know what you need.”

“Need your cock, daddy.” Y/N moaned out, eyes blown and glazed over with desire. Y/N could feel the tension in her bones, cunt throbbing and aching to be touched. “Need you so bad, please— wanted you for so long, please make me cum, please!” She pleaded, fully giving into the fantasy. Y/N was never one to hold back and from what she had read, he certainly didn’t want her to. Her body felt like it was on fire, hands grabbing fist fulls of his sweater in hopes that he’d just take it off. Y/N wasn’t sure what type of body would be beneath it, but she didn’t care. She just wanted to feel his warm skin, lick and kiss all that she could while she worked her magic. Y/N waited for his directions, falling into the submissive role easily despite her initial approach. “I’m gonna fuck you so hard you’re gonna have to re-write that scene.”

Harry was going to give this girl any fucking thing she wanted. He let her guide his sweater off, the cool air hitting his skin not even getting a chance because her hands and mouth were all over him. It was like she had fallen into a heat, and Harry.... he loved it. He placed his hands under her sweater, feeling her hands smooth over his chest as she kissed at his neck and over his jaw. Her skin was hot under the sweater, his hands gripping her waist and smoothing over her hips, going up and sip to her ribs where he realized— fuck.

“Not wearing a fucking bra?” He hissed. “Jesus... you’re a little minx, aren’t you? Off with this.” He spoke lowly, grabbing the ends of it but barely had a shot before Y/N ripped it off of her body. Fucks sake. She was sexier than he had ever imagined. “My god... you’re so sexy, baby.” He whispered, sitting up and burying his face between her breasts. Kissing the hot skin between them, working his way up with the wet, open mouthed kisses to her throat.

“Oh Daddy...” Y/N’s body shuddered at the feeling of his mouth on her, head falling back as she let out a happy sigh. He seemed to like her hand in his hair so she happily gripped at his locks as he scattered kisses over her skin. “Come ‘ere...” She whined, guiding him up to her lips. “Wanna taste your mouth.” Making eye contact with him in this moment felt intimate. All those quick glances in classes and at the coffee shop, all the day dreaming, it all built up to this moment where she fully felt she could let herself let go. The both of them wanted this, it was so reassuring, this was a safe space and they could do whatever they wanted. Y/N’s body rolled forward, pushing him further back onto the couch and angling her hips so she could tease the both of them before she let herself have it. Fuck was he hard... and full. Another moan left her lips, sounding more like a plea and cry for more.

“Fuck me... you’re needy. I love it.” Harry hissed, pulling her mouth to his. It wasn’t soft. No, this kiss... it was hot. Heavy. Her mouth opened and immediately he dragged his tongue inside, meeting hers. She tasted like the apple juice and a bit of mint, and he could groan just from how good it was. Sweet little Y/N wasn’t too innocent at all. “Fuck— keep teasing me like that. S’like you want to end up crying.” He had a feeling now that she did. She wanted his cock inside of her pussy, thrusting in and out and letting herself soak him. Yeah... he wanted it too. “Keep calling me daddy. You’re so dirty. Who would have fucking... known.” He spoke between the kisses, hands going for her jeans. He wanted them off, like hours ago. He was finally going to get her. “M’gonna lay you out in my bed after... first m’gonna fuck you, but M’gonna clean out your cunt with my tongue. And then M’gonna take you again. Yeah?” She has come for studying but was staying for hot sex and he hoped to turn it into a nice marathon. He had all weekend and he was hoping she wouldn’t have to go. He had too many idea for her. “Gonna let daddy lick it up?”

“Fuck— yes, gonna let daddy have his way with me...” She kept her hips rolling against his slowly, keeping the rhythm in check with the passionate kiss they were sharing. Y/N already knew this was going to be the best sex of her life, the kiss alone let her know that. His tongue would work wonders on her cunt and she’d be more than happy to return the favor. Hesitantly, Y/N began to stand to get her jeans off, one of her hands staying put on the back of his neck so the kiss didn’t break. She let him fiddle with the zipper, feeling his fingers hook both her jeans and underwear before yanking them down to which Y/N let out a little squeal.

Y/N knew she had to pull away from the kiss for air but she didn’t want to, waiting till the very last minute until she couldn’t anymore and went to get his jeans off.

“Come on. Be good.” He murmured against her lips, brushing his hips up so she could get his pants off. She tugged and easily they came down, Harry kicking them off as he pulled her back in his lap. His hands gripped her bare ass and groaned when she pushed into them, not thinking twice before pulling his hand back and smacking it the sound rang in the room and she let out the most sexy noise against his mouth, making him hiss. Fuck. He wanted her so fucking badly. This girl... she was everything. One hand went to feel and fuck. Fuck shit, motherfuck, it was wet. She was so, wet. “Jesus— you’re so wet. Baby— holy shit, you’re soaked.” He whispered. “S’cause of me? You wanted daddy’s cock this bad?” He pulled his fingers off slightly, the arousal still stringing to his fingers. He placed them at her mouth and pushed them in. “That’s it. Clean them up, sweet girl. You’re so filthy, y’know that? Precious little thing. So slick and hot, want cock so fucking bad don’t you?” He cooed, feeling her suck on the digits. “Now.... rub it against your pussy. Don’t put it in yet. get it wet.”

Y/N sucked at his fingers as if it were her job, making sure to treat it like she would his cock which included eye contact. She loved looking at him, seeing his hungry expression and his eyes that seemed to say so much more than he did. Even the feeling of her cunt sliding over his cock sent tingles up her spine. It had never affected her this much with other guys, but she assumed it was different with Harry because she had wanted him for so long. Y/N let out a whimper, feeling a gush of wetness accumulate when he pushed his fingers in farther. Harry was hot in ways she couldn’t explain, there were little things he did that just hit the spot and made her want to fuck him even harder. Y/N was practically bouncing on his cock, aching for him to let her have it inside.

“You’re such a good girl. Listening so fucking well.” Harry took his fingers from her mouth, smirking at the whine and slight chasing of his fingers when he placed it on her breast. She gave it all to him and honestly, he was ready to just... lose it. “Go ahead. Take what you want.” It was not even a moment later that he felt her begin to sink down. She was tight— so damn tight, and he choked slightly at just how good the squeeze was. He let out a hiss, head thrown back in the couch as the slick, hit cunt sucked over him, squeezing hard as she stretched open slowly. “Holy fuck.” He growled, gripping both hips now and looking at her with a darkness in his eyes. “You’re so bloody tight— Christ, you’re squeezin’ me so good.” He whispered.

“Daddy!” She whimpered as she slid farther down on his cock until she couldn’t fit anymore of him in. “I’m so full— feels so good.” Her eyes rolled back a bit as she began to bounce at a slowed rhythm. Small moans and little huffs came from her throat with every stroke of her hips, it wasn’t until she felt warmed up that she actually went for it. Y/N shifted so that she had better balance, keeping her hands on his shoulders before dropping back down on his cock. “Fuck!” She squeaked, making sure to clench one her way back up before repeating the action at a quicker pace. It felt incredible. He was touching every little part of her, feeling small waves of pleasure spread throughout her body. “Daddy! Fuck— feels so good ahhh!” Her moans were pornographic, whiny, desperate and needy. She didn’t even know she could sound like that, but apparently it was possible when she was as thirsty for cock as she was.

Never would he have guessed that this would be the outcome of their hang out. He had hoped, sure. Dreamed? Absolutely. But the reality was so much better. He had the hot, wet and extremely tight pussy gliding up and down his cock. She was moaning, tits bouncing in his face, and she was vocal. More than he could have asked for. The infatuation he had with her was only growing.

“Fuck, you’re a good girl. Such a perfect little cunt. Like bouncing on my cock, hm? Knew you’d be the perfect girl for me. Keep going.” His hand squeezed her ass, encouraging her to work herself on him. “Feels so full, yeah? Such a big cock filling such a little pussy. A nice stretch for you hm? So eager to be filled up...” her face was of pure bliss and Harry couldn’t help but take a mental photo. He hoped this could happen more than this once. “Knew you’d be good for me. Throwin’ yourself in my lap and begging to be fucked. Never guessed you’d be such a little slut, but I love it.” He took his hand, bringing it down sharply on her ass.

“Fuck!” Y/N gasped, her own hand moving to cuff his neck. It wasn’t as effective as him doing it to her, but it got the point across. The both of them grabbing at each other roughly, him thrusting up into her each time she slammed down. It could only be described as pure ecstasy, surely the hottest sex she had ever had. She needed him, she needed him to cum. Y/N couldn’t stop herself from leaning down to kiss his mouth again, making a mess of the two of them. “You’re so fucking good— love your cock, daddy... fucking love it!” She moaned between kisses, increasing her pace just enough so she could fuck him hard and steady. “I want you to cum for me daddy, wanna feel it nice and deep.” Thank fuck for IUDs. “Want you to fill me up while I cum all over your cock, can you do that for me? Can you cum with me?”

He was panting, lowering himself so he could properly thrust into her sopping cunt. He hadn’t gotten any in so long but this blew any and everyone out of the water. No one could ever understand how good this was. All the pining and imagining had come to an even better conclusion.

“I’ll do it... but you... gotta promise me.” He growled, giving a particularly sharp thrust inside of her, making her wail. “Promise me I can do it again. Let me have this pussy more.” He didn’t want it to end if it was the only time he could get it. It was too good to let go of. Drooling all over his cock and her soft whimpers and dirty words had him more worked up than anything else. “Promise, baby, and I’ll let you have my cum.”

“Promise— I promise— fuck!” She felt her breath get caught in her throat at the particularly hard thrusts Harry was giving her. “Please Daddy, please give it to me.” Y/N whimpered, moving her hands so they cupped his cheeks, keeping eye contact with him as they continued to relentlessly thrust into each other. There was nothing more satisfying, nothing that managed to hit every part of her both physically and spiritually and made her feel so alive. When you’ve wanted something for so long it makes getting it that much better and she knew that she’d always be chasing this high that only he could give her. “I’m so close, fuck, daddy—“ She mumbled between kisses, squeezing around him and continuing at her pace to bring herself to the perfect high. “Cum with me daddy, please— ah!”

Harry would work on his stamina next round. But after the whole thing, he was close to losing his mind. She was giving him the most tempting offer and he wasn’t going to give it up.

“Oh— fuck me.” He thrusted in again and again before he let himself go. Feeling her clench up around him and sob against his mouth, he let out a deep growl as he buried himself deep. Hot cum shooting inside of her cunt, rocking his hips in to get it all in there. There was no doubt that this was some of the most intense sex of his life but he was almost ready to go again, as soon as it ended. Holding her shivering form, her orgasm was tapering, he could feel her clenching still. “That’s it. Take all of it inside of you. Good girl.”

Y/N gripped Harry’s shoulders, loud screams of pleasure coming straight from her throat. There were no words to describe the high, she almost felt out of her own body as he showered her with praise. With her body shaking and face contorting with a silent scream, she found it in her to come back down letting out a pathetic whimper.

“Daddy—” She swallowed thickly, mouth finding his messily, pressing kisses to his lips and his face. The two of them were both lightly covered in sweat, breathing heavily and enjoying each other’s company. Y/N was far too blissed out to think about what just happened, but blissed out enough to know there would be many more rounds of this tonight. Y/N smiled as she nuzzled against his neck, still sponging kissing to his dampened skin. “Better?” She mumbled, smirking against his skin a bit.

“Mm.” He hummed, hands holding her hips still. Holy hell. This was the beginning of an amazing weekend- because he didn’t plan on letting her out at all, if he could help it’ he wanted her to stay, to let him indulge in her. “So fucking good.” He muttered lowly, rubbing his hand up her back and smoothing over her skin. Fucks sake. This was paradise. Nothing could pop him out of this.

At least, that was until the doorbell rang.

“Ah, fuck. The pizza.”

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masterlist

#writing #harry styles smut #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #Harry Styles #harry styles imagine #college!harry #harry writing #college!h

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twst-campos13 · 3 years

Note

ah hello!! i'm literally so excited to see a blog for enby and male readers sodjfoijf,,could i maybe request a scenario where male reader is a staff member (idk?? like a librarian?? a nurse??? do they need nurses over there???) and is crushing on crewel but is too scared to confess because he's both Too Dense to pick up any signs of potential reciprocation and also just isn't sure if crewel likes men??? maybe. maybe with a happy ending though because i am a fool,, thank you very much!!

One hopelessly cheesy scenario coming up!! Thank you for requesting! I hope you don’t mind I made reader a librarian who may or may not be a bit of a romantic because i listened to a particular playlist while writing this- (commentary in notes!)

Warnings: none! Tags: male!reader, fluff!

A simple man such as you live a simple life. As simple as life can be in Night Raven College, that is. A prestigious school that holds a student body that can barely tolerate each other. It would be typical for a librarian to be the observer than the observed, but hey, if it means getting out of trivial matters of the school and enjoying the show in your personal bubble, then you have no complaints.

This attitude of yours did come to have its own consequences. You were seen as timid by most students as you were quite closed-off, taking it as a reason to poke fun at you sometimes. You proved them wrong when they step out of line with their fun. Most of the time you choose to ignore them. However, you lived up to your introverted nature, especially when it comes to him.

Tall, dark, and handsome. Approachable but also not at the same time. Sharply dressed and sharp attitude. This man that visits the library ever so often had become your daily motivation to keep on working at this school despite the wage that Crowley gives you.

Divus Crewel, feared and admired by staff and students—also known as the man who stole your heart.

You feel so small compared to him. That would not be so farfetched. He is a remarkable man, and what about you? You are just a librarian at this school. You are like mere dust to him.

Yet, despite this, you continued yearning for him no matter how ridiculous it seems. Perhaps you have fallen too deep in romantic fiction that you make hopeless wishes. You are known to be excellent in reading people but for some reason, you find it hard to read Divus. His perfect posture whenever he would scan the Applied Sciences aisle showed that he is focused on his reading. However, it is his expression you find hard to decipher. He looks dashing as ever, of course, but his thin lips and neutral gaze makes it hard for you to know what he is thinking.

If your life is a novel it would be so easy to know what runs in his mind. What he feels for you. Maybe he could even know what you feel for him. In a story, what makes characters likable is knowing what their emotions, their feelings, their ambitions, and their dreams are, for they are already laid out in ink on pages. Implicit or explicit information, simple or complex structure of personality, it does not matter. You would easily know about them for they are just sentences away from understanding.

And in romance novels…oh, how dreamy they are. How easy they make it seem to fall in love, to confess, and to achieve a happy ending. However, as a librarian, you know the reality of your situation. Your relationship with Crewel is a professional. Strictly, if you were to add an adjective. Is it really strictly professional? Your right brain points out the moments in your life where you interacted with him. At faculty meetings, reunions, at the library…moments like those just feel surreal you almost believed that you made those up on your own. Probably because you initiated each of those interactions yourself.

The only time, where Crewel would come to you himself, are rare. One time he came to the library and checked out a book to read in his spare time. His voice distracted you. It was like cherry wine. Sweet, smooth, enough to make your throat dry and your cheeks flushed. Oh, you could listen to him talk for hours in that tone of his, and he could even make you do anything he pleases.

You greet each other good morning or good afternoon when you pass by each other, and he would smile a teasing one at you as if you two shared a secret with each other. Well, technically you did, for one time you bought him coffee under the pouring rain, and he repaid you for your kindness. Soon enough your coffee exchange became a routine for both of you. It was sweeter than the cream in his coffee. It was more refreshing than the rainy day you shared with each other.

His gaze. His posture. His voice. His smile. Despite those small interactions with each other you are still troubled by what he thinks of you. A friend? A colleague? A special someone? Why is this so hard? Why was it so easy to fall in love? And when things could not get worse for you, your left brain argued that he might not be interested to mingle with a man.

Well, you could find out for yourself, but that would be creepy. Your workspace is in the library! You could not just leave when you please just so you can observe him. You could not use the staff files to your advantage—that is being a borderline stalker. Whatever Crewel’s orientation is, is his to keep and his to disclose to you. Oh, but still. If this were a novel, you could easily analyze the situations that give off evidence of him liking men. Or liking someone like you.

If that were the case you would not have a hard time trying to decipher his words, his gaze, his tone, and his actions towards you. If that were the case…if that were the case…then…well, there’s no then. Divus Crewel is not a fictional character to analyze. He is your coworker, your colleague.

It is hard to know what he thinks of you, at all. You really wished that you could…but the thought of knowing what he thinks to scare you, as well.

Rejection is not that far from reality. Who are you compared to him again? A nobody. A simple, ‘timid’, librarian that enjoys reading romantic and fiction novels and inserts himself in scenarios he makes up for himself just so he can…find the happiness he wishes to have.

But Divus is your happiness. Became your source of happiness. Ironic how he colors the muted floor of the library with his monochromatic appearance. Maybe it is better that you keep your feelings to yourself. You avoid the risk of rejection and humiliation as well as ruining whatever it is your current relationship with Crewel is.

You barely registered the visitor in front of your desk until a familiar red leathery gloved hand rested atop of yours. The contact of the leather sent a spark of electricity through you that you snapped your head up to meet alluring silvery blue eyes. There is only one person in this college that owns those distinct, beautiful, silvery blue eyes.

Divus.

“Have I interrupted your moment of peace, sir?” He asked in that cherry wine voice of his. It made your throat dry up and your face warm. “N-No—no!” You squeaked, shaking your head to brush off the embarrassment. Quickly, you fixed your composure and appeared presentable. As presentable as you could be under his stare that is. You just hope that he found some amusement in your haste. “D-Div—Mr. Crewel, what can I do for you?” You smiled as you speak in a professional tone. The edge of his lips curled into a familiar smirk and still you could not determine what was running through his mind at the moment.

“I came to return the book I borrowed last week,” he said, placing down the novel on your desk. Sense and Sensibility. Jane Austen. Right, he borrowed that last week. It is not your place to judge whatever it is he desires to read. “Of course,” you nodded, “did you enjoy reading it?” You started on a small talk as you take out your logbook for the check-ins and outs of books. “Somewhat,” Crewel shrugged, “I had my eyes set on another book I would like to borrow.”

“Oh? What is it? I’ll go get it for you.” You stood up after sliding the logbook back to its drawer. Crewel did not leave from where he was standing. His eyes were simply on you. You had to hide your nervousness under his gaze. “I had my eyes on it ever since that rainy day, when you offered me shelter in the library until the rain passes,” he mused. “General fiction, I believe, was the genre.”

“If that’s the case then you better tell me the title,” you joked, taking a stool to the genre’s aisle. “Are you certain you can find it?” Crewel coolly challenged. You almost laughed but did not fight the smile on your lips. “Mr. Crewel, I spend most of my time in this library. I know every book and I still have the Dewey Decimal system memorized…” You kept your eyes distracted by scanning the spines of the books on the shelves. You are aware that he is still looking at you that is why you refused to look back at him. You are not sure what will happen if you look back at him while conversing.

“If that is the case—” why does he suddenly sound a bit close? “—may you find ‘How to Ask your Dense Colleague Out to Dinner?’”

What a lengthy title. It sounds very basic and almost like a rule book than a novel. Well, that is General Fiction for you. Though you are quite unsure if such a book exists in the library. “Hm…” you hummed, a finger on your chin, as your eyes scanned the shelves. “I don’t think I have that here…Crowley pays me enough to support my rent and meals, but not enough to buy new books. Plus, the students…”

You heard him chuckle beside you and fought the urge to turn to him. “I believe I was not frank enough. Ah, well, I will put all subtleties aside, then…”

His warm breath tickling your skin was what made you finally turn to him. The proximity of your noses startled you that you nearly stumbled out of your stool if it were not for Divus’ hand grabbing yours to pull you to him. You gasped, shocked, as you landed close to his chest. His other hand supported your waist, and your eyes widened his silvery blues. You can feel your heart hammering against his. Your legs feel like putty when he gave you that teasing smirk. Your name—your first name—sounds surreal from his lips. Your entire world was a confusing mix of vertigo and bright lights.

“Will you go to dinner with me?”

You stared. You stammered. You are flabbergasted and flustered. You were unsure how to react to such a forward question that your brain completely shut down. But you cannot embarrass yourself—you must not. Not when…not when…not when…!

Oh, he will he stop saying your name with such sentiment?

“Is your silence a rejection or a consideration?” He rose a brow and your face flushed even more. “No! I mean yes—I mean—no, it isn’t a rejection—”

“Then you have been anticipating this?”

“Divus!”

He laughed. He laughed at your state. He laughed at your awkwardness. But most importantly his laugh sounds so pleasant. Like he was teasing you and you liked him teasing. You grew shy, averting your gaze from his and fidgeting with your fingers. “I mean…I mean…why?”

Crewel stopped laughing and looked at you. “Why what?”

“Why…me? Out of all people?” You asked as fear and denial keep you from grasping the fact that this is all real and not another scenario you made up during rainy days. Crewel’s face remained passive. Neutral. It was eating at your heart and you just wish what is going through his mind.

“Is it not obvious, puppy?” He raised a brow at you. The hand holding your wrist now tilted your chin in his direction. “It is not by fate or destiny, but a mere law that dictates the gravitational pull of similar atoms that is programmed by the need to chemically bind together.”

You suddenly felt stumped. “W—What?”

“I like you, puppy,” Crewel clarified, adoring the way your confusion turned to pure surprise, “and I would like to have dinner with you. Perhaps another, if the first went well.”

You need some time to process this. Your head felt so light you might pass out in his arms. Actually, you would not mind that in the slightest. His coat is just so soft it feels like heaven. A proper response of agreement failed to come to your mind so instead, you asked him again, “And what if the first does not end well?”

Crewel smiled at you. “Then we shall try again with the next dinner. Mind you, puppy, as a man of science, I am not afraid of failure if trying means more chances of perfecting my goal.”

“And what’s that goal?” You asked and physically stopped yourself from combusting when he leaned closer to you that your noses touch and you smell his cologne, and his bold scent.

“The goal to become yours.”

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whatifxwereyou · 3 years

Text

The Oncoming Storm Part 18: Nemuri Hime

Liu Kang x Reader and Kung Lao x Reader (gonna do both, two paths!)

Kung Lao gets serious. But forgets to tell you all the important things. Boy, he's good at talking. Lol. Hope you guys are still loving the Lao time! Liu will be back soonish. Planned out his whole part last night and then the future. Question! Are you guys READY for the choice or do you want it drawn out more? Also, for the future of this tumblr, is anyone interested in oc x reader stuff? I have so many ideas that I have never shared Lol. Anyway, thanks for reading. Much love. Update Sunday!

Part 17 Part 19 Chapter Index

“They’re going to have someone in there keeping an eye out now.” Kung Lao kicked a loose stone on the walkway, arms folded over his chest. “So much for that idea.”

“For now. We weren’t getting anywhere anyway.” You were still in wonder that any of that had happened. It felt like a fever dream. Your whole life kind of felt like a fever dream now. “Maybe I was wrong. Maybe it isn’t in there. I tried to trust the vision and my gut, but it led us in circles. Nothing looked the same as it did back then.”

“Why would it lead you there otherwise? Maybe this shrine has changed more over the years than we thought.”

“You think so?” You furrowed your brow. He had pushed you like you’d been doing something wrong for a small moment inside the shrine but there he was, preaching his belief in you. It’d been easy to escape the frustration of not knowing where you were going with all that had happened in the shrine, but it was back in full force now. You were grateful to Kung Lao for not making it weird, but it was also a little weird to act like it hadn’t happened. You had a feeling that he knew exactly what he was doing.

“I trust your gut, Y/N.” He shrugged as if it were nothing. That was nice. You weren’t sure anyone trusted you those days so to hear it put so plainly as if it were no big deal was wonderful. “Let’s take a walk and rethink our strategy.” Together you walked around the shrine and along the path slowly, making your way toward the volcanic cauldrons.

Some were surrounded by posts and signs, expressing what they represented and why the water was the way that it was, but you didn’t stop to try and read any of them. Many of the cauldrons had small statues lined up surrounding their edge, placed there for prayer. You didn’t speak much. It seemed that rethinking your strategy was mostly just thinking. You were okay with that. Your head was still buzzing.

It was important to try and clear the fog from your mind. Between the disorientation of this place being so different from the vision in your head and then everything with Kung Lao, you were dizzy. You stopped before one of the cauldrons and Kung Lao read the sign above it.

“One of the hells of Mount Osore…” He was not good at silence, it turned out. He hadn’t been when you were younger either. You’d asked him once back then and he’d said silence was too loud. The dizziness became a buzzing, and the buzzing became darkness. You thought that you’d drifted to sleep to the hum of Kung Lao’s voice.

When you opened your eyes again, you gasped for breath. Your lungs were on fire, as though you had been deprived of oxygen for too long, as if invisible hands had reached into your chest and grasped your lungs to force all the air out. You lost your footing and stumbled forward but before you fell, Kung Lao had his arms around your middle and was pulling you back to him with a forceful yank. You lost your balance and collapsed into him, grasping his arms in surprise with a yelp. He held you upright.

“What the hell, Y/N? You can’t just do that!” He scolded. You gasped to refill your sore lungs and the ache began to fade. You weren’t where you’d been when you’d been listening to Kung Lao but you recognized the place immediately. It was the lake of blood from your vision. You turned in his arms to apologize but the words didn’t come. How did that happen? How had it happened? His expression went from frustration to concern quickly. You wanted to ask what happened, you wanted to ask him how you’d gotten there, but in your mind’s eye, you could see your body falling into that pool and the horned creature staring over you as you drowned beneath the red water.

You shuddered and covered your mouth. Maybe Raiden was right. It hadn’t felt like there was a shadow hanging over you until then when your body had moved beyond your control.

“Y/N, did you hear me?”

“What happened? What are you talking about? What did I do?” The words came out extremely fast, all at once almost. Bless Kung Lao for understanding a word of it.

“I was reading about that cauldron over there.” He gestured down the path. It seemed so distant now but that was the last thing you remembered. “And you walked away. I followed you and you stepped up and just went to jump right in. Right into the blood lake. Didn’t respond to me when I called you.” He tried to joke but there was an underlying concern that neither one of you could shake. “If you wanted to take a dip, Y/N, then you just had to say so. There’s those bathhouses.”

“No, no Kung Lao. I… I’m confused, that’s all. I don’t remember coming here. I closed my eyes to listen to you talk.” His low and deep voice was soothing, but you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing that right now. “Then I felt like I was falling, and I couldn’t breathe. Then you and… here we are.” You gestured to his arms that still held you and you felt his fingers sink a bit further into the clothing at your waist as if that would protect you somehow.

“You really don’t remember walking up to the creepy blood lake and almost throwing yourself in?” His face was flooded with concern. You shook your head no. “Okay.”

“You believe me?”

“Of course I do, Y/N. You’re white as a ghost. Why would you lie about something like that? Also, you’re terrible at lying.”

“Thank you?” You couldn’t decide if that was a dig or not.

“Okay.” He exhaled and you watched his face contort as his tongue ran over his teeth. “In that case no more wandering away from me. You stay with me at all times. Got it? We tell Raiden as soon as we can.”

“Okay except that I don’t remember wandering away from you, Kung Lao. You were reading and then…”

“What do you think caused this?”

“I don’t know. I really don’t. Honestly, afterward I saw this part in my vision. I’d been choking on ink but in my head, I was drowning.” You pointed toward the red volcanic cauldron. “In there. And I could see that creature. He was watching me. I… I thought it was just my brain interpreting the ink in my throat but… what if… Raiden’s right?”

“You doubted that Raiden was right?”

“This has been a lot, Kung Lao. Accepting it all at face value is difficult.” You responded somewhat defensively.

Kung Lao finally let you go and turned away. He pulled off his hat, pushed back his hair, and then cursed. That would have been funny had you not still been coping with almost drowning because your body had decided to try to kill you. “Okay. We’ll deal with that as we go. I’m changing the subject now because I’m not sure how to process what you just did without talking to Raiden.”

“Smart. Avoiding the problem. Like it.” You were happy to go back to thinking about literally anything else. Up until now you’d handled all this nonsense with relative poise. You’d like to keep it that way.

“Let’s discuss strategy. What do you remember from your vision about the room where this artifact is supposed to be?”

“There was a well. The creature placed something inside of it and I heard this horrible ringing in my head. It was… sad?” It was difficult to describe a ringing as having emotion, but it had been sad. You’d had the distinct feeling that it was sad.

“Back up. What about the well? There was no well in that room. In fact, the whole shrine is elevated. There was a step down in the back for dining, maybe? Could the well have been in that area?”

“I think the floor of the shrine used to be level with the ground. Maybe they built over it? I read that it was abandoned here for some time.”

“That’s a very distinct possibility. Great. Now we get to desecrate a holy place. Loving this more by the second.”

“Or we can hope there’s a hatch above the old well or a way to get beneath the shrine without destroying it.”

“There are way too many people here for us to search that thoroughly without being caught.”

“You’re right. We need privacy.”

“And I’m all out of excuses, honestly.”

“The excuse you came up with earlier only really works the one time before it becomes incredibly suspicious.” You felt your face flush despite yourself. Kung Lao stood just behind you and bent over to be closer. You could feel the smirk on his face.

“You kissed me back so… didn’t feel like much of a lie.” He made a kissy sound near your ear and you tilted away and swatted at him.

“Stay focused, Kung Lao! So, we spend the rest of the day and then pretend to leave ahead of everyone. Then we can sneak in after the monks are at rest, right? Hopefully, we find an easy way to get to where we need to go.”

“That’s as good a plan as any.” Kung Lao began to lead you away from the volcanic cauldrons and you were grateful. The air was thicker there and, quite honestly, the more distance between you and the blood lake the better. “And if we’re caught tearing up the floor of the shrine in the middle of the night, then I’m pretty sure that no amount of making out will get us out of it without getting into trouble.”

“If we’re caught then we could try to be honest about it like I wanted to be in the first place.” You stuck your tongue out at him. “You could try it every so often. It works.”

“Wow.” Kung Lao sounded truly insulted but also laughed as if surprised you had the audacity. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Let’s just talk like adults for a few seconds. I’m not that little girl that you teased all the time. You don’t have to come up with crazy fake-date schemes. Hell, I’m surprised that you didn’t say we could only afford one room at this point.”

“Oh.” He straightened his posture and furrowed his brow. You nodded as if to confirm that he was far more obvious than he thought he was. “Does it really bother you?”

“Bother is a strong word, Kung Lao. Sometimes you’re just… all over the place. You go from pushing me too hard to not listening to me to having unwavering faith in me. Sometimes in a span of like ten minutes. I don’t mind the teasing, honestly, but it’s difficult to focus when I can’t tell what’s going on with you.”

“Okay.” He puffed up his cheeks as he thought and then exhaled deeply. “So, I don’t quite know how to act around you.” You were genuinely surprised that he was speaking so candidly. You’d expected him to laugh it off and move on. He didn’t.

“Why? I only expect you to be yourself.”

“I know. That’s not on you. I’ve had a lot on my mind.”

“You don’t always act like there’s a whole lot going on in there.”

“Wow.” He winced.

“Sorry, it was easy. I get it though. I have a lot on my mind too, but you are all over the place since you got back. You tease me like we’re kids, then you flirt with me like we’re very much not kids, then you push me when I tell you that I can’t be pushed anymore. It is a rollercoaster spending time with you.”

“I guess I didn’t realize I was so all over the place.” He laughed and you walked together again. The further you were from the cauldrons the better you felt. “It’s funny. I’m still a little shocked that you’re here with me. Little Y/N. My Y/N. Weirder than that is that you are the person I found peace in when I returned home to clear my mind. I never thought I’d see you again. I can’t believe I didn’t recognize you.” He avoided your eyes, and you got the chills but refused to shake them off. Him speaking so fondly of you in such a serious tone was freaking you out. These were things that you probably should have talked about far sooner. Instead, it felt as though he’d gone into some weird unspoken competition with Liu Kang for your attention. It wasn’t a competition. You just wanted to talk to him. “Your hair threw me off, I think. You didn’t keep it white. Same face now that I know. Cheeks aren’t so chubby anymore, though.” He pinched your cheek playfully and you scrunched up your face and swatted his hand away.

“I… didn’t recognize you either and you came into my store at least a dozen times over the last couple years. And the dojo just as many. I remember you fondly. You were always very kind with the students. And you look way different, I mean I can still see it, but you had these… dimples as a kid.” You poked the sides of your mouth. “They were so deep then. You still have them but they’re much more subtle.” It was funny. Something about his honesty cleared the air at least for the time being. “Also, I thought you were dead. So, I never considered I’d see you again.”

“You would have been crazy to have guessed it was me.”

“Sometimes I think that I have gone completely crazy and I’m in a hospital somewhere. That this is all an elaborate fantasy that my mind has conjured up to help cope with my madness.”

“I could see that.”

“What? The wild improbability of the truth?”

“No. You being in a nuthouse somewhere.”

You laughed and shoved his shoulder. He nudged you in return. “Some things don’t change, I guess.”

“I defaulted to sarcasm with you. Being together reminds me of when life was simpler. It’s easy to joke and get carried away but I understand that there is also distance with time and age and that this is extremely complicated. And that we haven’t talked about it. Talking about this kind of stuff makes me feel… uncomfortable.”

“What? No. I couldn’t tell.” You walked peacefully along the stone path. Across the way the monks were giving a demonstration and others were setting up tables for a meal near the white beach.

“Can I confess something?” He led you off the stone and down onto the white sand that bordered the beautiful, but absolutely artificial looking, lake. He offered you his hand to help you down and you took it. He didn’t let go of it as you walked together. Fun new game again: fake date or Kung Lao being affectionate? Your brain hated this game. Your heart hated it even more.

“That depends. Is it appropriate to say? Will I smack you when you make this confession? Will you be getting smacked and are you ready to risk being smacked?”

“Maybe. It’s hard to gauge how grown-up Y/N will react to most things.”

“Go ahead, Kung Lao. I’ll try not to smack you but no promises.”

“I uh…” He hesitated and then let go of your hand in favor of grasping the air in front of him as if trying to reach for the words to say what was on his mind. “I hate that you have the dragon mark.” You stopped in your tracks and Kung Lao stopped with you. Of all the things you’d expected, it hadn’t been that.

“What?”

“Yeah. Little Y/N. The girl with the gift, mom called you. You had enough problems. Now you’re here. A warrior chosen to fight for earthrealm alongside me and a bunch of other misfits with the same mark. Lost your home. Your life.”

“I could see your logic, Kung Lao, but I’m tough.” Your heart was racing again. Was this serious conversation better or worse than the rollercoaster ride that was Kung Lao? You couldn’t decide.

“Yeah, Liu showed me the bruises you’d left on him. I was a little impressed. However, you, just moments ago I might add, unconsciously almost drowned yourself in a lake of blood. Went completely gray, weren’t breathing, just walked over and almost threw yourself in.”

“Yeah, that is concerning.” He was right. The dragon marking and your arcana had awoken things within you that were beyond anyone’s control, especially yours. You were scared. You couldn’t imagine how it had to have felt to be watching it happen to someone you cared about. “You know, Lao, it’s probably not actually blood. I’d guess it’s algae making the water red…” You tried to joke but it was a feeble attempt. Kung Lao didn’t even smile.

“That’s not the point.”

You stepped in front of him and offered him a tired and forced smile. “I don’t regret where I’ve wound up, Kung Lao.” It was your turn to speak honestly. To say things that you’d meant to say and had been afraid to say for a long time. You’d kept waiting for the ‘right time’ but the time would never be right. “I’m terrified.” You searched around them just to make sure no one was close enough to overhear. “I killed people, Kung Lao. I never thought I’d be capable of such a thing. My dojo? My shop? They’re gone. I probably won’t see my family ever again or any of the people I associated with home. That life is gone. It scares me. Everything I knew is… being unlearned and relearned. At the same time? I feel like this is where I’m meant to be.”

“Yeah. You didn’t really get to process much of that, did you? Just went straight to studying and training with Liu Kang.” Kung Lao sounded almost bitter. You hadn’t thought about it that way. Liu Kang had been a beacon of comfort to you but was that healthy? Maybe some of what had escalated your whatever-it-was you were had something to do with your sudden lack of control. You were attracted to him, sure, in a crazy way even, but you were also vulnerable. Maybe the attachment between you had gone from big to huge because of it. You felt guilty. Liu. Oh, no. You’d kissed Kung Lao. Not just kissed him but kissed him. Things were instantly that much more complicated and messy. You had to talk to Liu. You had to sort out your thoughts. You had to do the same with Kung Lao. But you didn’t know how and just kept kissing them. It wasn’t like you’d ever been good at romance.

“It’s been difficult. But also surreal. Easy to forget some of it.”

“I get it. Really, I do. Because I’m not done confessing things yet.” He still sounded uncomfortable but urged his hand to your back and continued your walk. “I’m also super grateful that you have the dragon mark.”

“Well, that’s conflicting as hell. I’m having a hard time processing that.”

“I never would have gotten to know who you were or get to know you again at all without the mark. It’s brought me closure, in a way. I never thought I’d see you again.” You walked in silence and you felt your eyes burn just enough with tears that you thought talking was a mistake. You breathed through the sudden urge to cry until it faded.

“I’d like to state for the record, that you being this serious is freaking me out a little.”

“It’s been known to happen now and again.” He bowed his head politely to you after tucking his hat beneath his arm. “I’m sorry that I’ve been weird since I got back.”

“It’s okay, Kung Lao. This has been difficult.”

“Y/N?” He started, as though he had something important to say. He hesitated then exhaled and replaced his hat back on his head, tucking the strap under his chin. “Let’s keep walking.” He turned away and did just that as though he’d said nothing at all. There was clearly something on his mind that must have been difficult to share. You caught up to him.

“What aren’t you saying?”

He turned to you and searched your face with a glint of worry that faded so fast you weren’t sure if you’d imagined it or not. Then he smiled.

“I’m starving. That’s what I’m not saying. The sun is going to set anytime now and they’re setting up food so we should grab some.” He started back across the sand. You grasped his hand and pulled him back. That was not what he’d struggled to say.

“Lao, really. You can talk to me.”

“I know, Y/N.” He smiled so you let go of his hand. Whatever it was, he wasn’t ready to talk about it and who were you to say he should be? “Let’s get some food. You’re still gray so I’d like to see you eat.” If nothing else, he at least seemed less all over the place. What were you going to do? You didn’t know so you couldn’t think about it right now. You’d take everything one step at a time. It was all you could do.

#kung lao #kung lao x reader #mk kung lao #max huang #mortal kombat 2021 #mortal kombat movie #liu kang x reader #love triangle #liu kang #ludi lin #romance #angst #drama #intrigue #action #fantasy #fanfiction #mk liu kang

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pink-flame · 3 years

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Juke Bodyguard AU Pt.3

Here it is! The third and final part of the Juke Bodyguard AU inspired by your requests from the trope game. I reserve the right to do a standalone in this universe at some point but this wraps things up nicely for now. Enjoy!

Part 1

Part 2

Bodyguard AU + Love Confessor (Character A confessing their love for Character B to Character C)

Julie was used to change.

Bad change like when her mom got sick and she had to learn who she was when she couldn’t see it reflected back at her through her mother’s eyes. Bad change like when music felt like a stranger and everything she had ever wanted seemed suddenly pointless.

Good change like when she found her way back to it with a vengeance, Alex and her dad and Reggie and Carlos and Flynn refusing to give up until she started chasing her dream again. Good change like when against all odds those dreams actually started coming true, the record deal, and the hit albums and now her first national tour, a new city every night.

What she wasn’t used to was waiting for a change that didn’t seem to be coming.

She had been so sure after what she now internally referred to as “the flu incident” that things between her and Luke would change. That their vaguely flirty dynamic would transition naturally into more flu incident level expressions of affection and then a love confession, marriage and 2-3 obnoxiously good looking babies. Not right away on those last two or anything but still.

And yet here they were, three months and 24 shows later, and they were right back in vaguely flirty territory. Only she was finding it harder and harder to flirt back now that the realization that flirting was all it might ever be started to sink in.

And maybe that was the way it was supposed to be.

After all, he was her bodyguard. She was technically his boss.

She was a strong, independent woman with a thriving music career. She didn’t need some floppy haired boy to complete her life.

Didn’t stop her from wanting him though.

She didn’t bother to go to Alex for advice since he was firmly on what he had taken to calling “Team Juke”. Reggie wasn’t much better, asking her if Luke was there every time she called and never believing her when she told him she was alone. So she did what she always did when she needed someone to tell her the harsh truth.

She called Flynn.

“Look, girl, I haven’t met him but I’ve seen him on tv hovering behind you so I get it. He’s so your type. But he’s not real. He’s a fantasy you can get invested in because you know nothing will ever come of it.”

“It could,” She grumbled into the phone.

“Are you planning on confessing that you’re madly in love with him any time soon?” Flynn countered pointedly.

“I can’t,” Julie answered quickly. “Not when it’s so obvious he doesn’t feel the same.”

“Then he’ll always be a fantasy. He’s like air.”

Julie sighed.

“Cute air.”

“You wouldn’t have called me if you weren’t tired of feeling like this,” Flynn insisted. “I’m not going to let you get your heartbroken. And right now you’re on tour with Luke. So the key is avoiding those big, beautiful, dangerous eyes.”

And as much as the idea of avoiding Luke, eyes and all, seemed ridiculous when he was literally paid to follow her around, she knew she had to give it a try.

Because Flynn was right.

If she couldn’t have him then she couldn’t let him consume her life.

She was sure she would get a great song out of the situation one day but for now she just needed to pull back a little until she could see him as just a coworker she was friendly with. She could do that. Right? Of course she could. She was Julie Molina.

Only it was easier said than done.

Because Luke did not seem to take the hint.

She came stumbling off the stage after a particularly epic encore, vision blurry from the blinding lights, every muscle weak from hours of exertion, yet feeling incredible. At least she was feeling incredible until she tripped over her own unstable feet and Luke was right there, like he always was, to catch her. His hands latched onto her forearms gently, steadying her even as he grinned directly and dangerously into her eyes.

“You ok there, Boss?”

Julie managed a nod, the pounding of her heart combined with the still echoing roar of the crowd leaving his voice sounding far away and yet annoyingly clear.

“They were loving you out there,” He told her in that specific, Luke way. “You were amazing, Jules. Insane, spectacular, rad!”

This guy and his insistence on using slang from two decades ago. She definitely didn’t find that endearing.

She had to stick to the plan.

Julie ducked her head and pushed back from his grip gently at the same time.

“Thanks.”

She glanced up just long enough to see a confused and slightly hurt look on his face before she pushed past him and headed towards the green room, Alex falling into step next to her.

“Are we going to talk about why you just kicked that helpless puppy over there?” Alex asked.

Julie punched him in the arm.

“Keep your voice down, he’s right behind us! And that helpless puppy is literally the very capable bodyguard tasked with keeping me alive, so.”

“So you admit you kicked him,” Alex responded in a completely unhelpful manner.

“Ugh, shut up,” Julie groaned, glancing back and catching Luke’s eager eyes for a split second before quickly facing forward again. “I have a plan.”

“Flynn has a plan,” Alex corrected. “A stupid plan that she never would have suggested if she had seen for herself how crazy he is about you.”

“Has he said that?” She turned her head towards her best friend sharply.

Alex tilted his head.

“Not in so many words but Julie…”

“Then we stick to the plan.” She interrupted determinedly.

Alex sighed.

“Idiots, I’m surrounded by idiots.”

A couple of weeks later, Julie was starting to think he was right.

She had been doing her best to keep her relationship with Luke strictly business and it was somehow more exhausting than the two shows a week and all the time spent trying to sleep in a tour bus cot. She pretended to be busy when he offered to work on a song. She said she was tired when he tried to get her to join him for a beer with the roadies. She pretended she didn’t see him trying to catch her eye during the thousand little moments during the day when she had grown used to making eye contact with him to laugh at something Alex had said or roll their eyes when her manager tried to talk her into something completely dumb.

It was exhausting.

And the thing was it wasn’t even working.

Because every sad, kicked puppy look (as Alex called it) he gave her only left her more distracted and in more emotional turmoil. Part of her was a little mad at him. How dare he look so hurt that she wasn’t playing their usual game when he clearly didn’t want anything more? She wasn’t just a convenient outlet for his excessive flirting energy. But mostly she was just mad at herself for thinking that this ludicrous plan could ever work.

She had thought he was trouble since the moment she met him.

And she was definitely in trouble now.

It was the night of the last show of the tour and they were back in LA to finish things off. Flynn was too sick to come (ironically she thought she had the flu) but Julie’s family were out there in the VIP section. Even Reggie had come down from San Francisco to catch the show.

Julie was feeling oddly nervous for some reason. She had grown up dreaming of playing the Orpheum. It was the smallest venue she was playing on the whole tour, her manager had tried to talk her out of it, but she had insisted it was the Orpheum or nothing. Reggie and Alex had taken her to so many shows there when she was a teenager, it’s where she had discovered rock. Somehow even after everything she knew it wouldn’t fully feel like she’d achieved her dreams until she played there. It was time. Only she had finally made it there and she felt like she was going to throw up.

She wanted desperately to seek Luke out so he could tell some dumb joke to distract her or give her one of his borderline too intense pep talks. But she wasn’t doing that anymore. In fact she had insisted he go take his break now before the show, promising not to leave her green room just to keep herself from giving in to the urge.

“You doing alright there, Jules? You look kind of green.”

Julie spun on her heels and barreled directly into her big brother’s arms.

“Oof!” He huffed as she knocked the air from his lungs, his arms still coming up to wrap around her despite his shock. “You ok?”

“I’m fine,” She told him, her voice muffled as she buried her face against his chest. “It’s just that it’s the Orpheum and you know what that means to me, and the whole family is here to see me play and I’m so nervous and I’m missing Mom and I’m totally in love with my dumb bodyguard.”

Reggie pushed her back by the shoulders until he could see her blotchy face.

He reached up to ruffle her hair affectionately.

“First of all, Flynn and I totally called it,” He said with a smirk. “And Alex swears the two of you have taken ten years off of his life with your stupidity.”

“Alex talks too much,” Julie grumbled. “And Flynn is the one who told me to stay away from his annoyingly pretty eyes to begin with.”

“That’s only because she wants you to be happy. So do I by the way. And this?” He waved his hand to indicate her current state. “I hate to break it to you, Jules, but this isn’t happy.”

Julie sighed as her shoulders sagged and all of the fight went out of her at once.

“I know,” She said defeatedly. “But what am I supposed to do? I can’t force my feelings on the guy especially when I’m his boss. That’s creepy on top of being pathetic.”

“Funny,” Alex broke in from the doorway. “That’s exactly what he just said to me.”

Julie just gaped at him for a few long seconds while Reggie and Alex exchanged amused yet exasperated looks.

“Wait...what did he say exactly?” Julie finally managed to get out.

Alex rolled his eyes.

“Oh you know, ‘What did I do? Why is Julie mad at me? I’m so in love with her do you think she figured it out? Did I come off as a creep? Do you think she’ll have my babies?’”

Julie felt her mouth drop open.

“Dude!” Reggie protested.

“Ok, so the last part was more implied than said directly,” Alex admitted.

“But he said he loves me?” Julie asked hurriedly.

“Yeah,” Alex confirmed. “I’ve been telling you he does for months by the way, but nobody listens to me.”

Julie ignored her best friend’s statement and sprinted for the door.

“Where are you going?” Reggie called after her.

“You go on in ten!” Alex added frantically.

“I’ll make it!” She shouted back without slowing down.

She ran down the hallway, dodging makeup artists and promoters and so many people she’d wanted to impress just a few minutes before. There was only one person she wanted to see at that moment.

Julie kept going until she found the exit that led to the alley outside and burst through it. Luke felt caged in if he was inside for too long, something about living in a garage for a year as a teen. He stuck by her side and did his job perfectly but any chance he got she knew he could be found breathing in the fresh air and feeling like his lungs could fully expand. Sure enough, there he was, leaning against the probably filthy wall humming some song that she knew would be amazing if he ever really gave it life.

He stood straight and took two steps towards her as soon as she emerged from the door, a look of concern immediately taking over his features.

“Julie? What are you doing out here? You’re about to go on…”

She closed the distance between them and stopped just a half step closer than she normally would, her sudden proximity shutting him up for a moment.

She just looked up at him for a few seconds, just to enjoy it after weeks of denying herself. He broke the eye contact first, chuckling awkwardly as he looked down briefly.

“What?”

“Can you do me a favor?” She asked seriously.

He answered instantly.

“Anything, Julie, you know that.”

“Tell me what you just told Alex.”

His face drained of color, almost ghost like in appearance.

“He promised he wouldn’t say anything,” He mumbled.

Julie shrugged.

“He probably wouldn’t have if he hadn’t walked in on me telling my brother pretty much the same thing.”

Luke’s eyes widened comically as he took in her words.

“You told your brother that I did something to make you hate me and that I don't know what it is and it’s eating me up inside?” He asked in confusion.

“I told him I love you,” She said bluntly, all the bravery she had inherited from her mom giving her the nerve. “And that I’ve been trying to distance myself from you because I didn’t think you felt the same.”

“That’s...that’s...Jules, that’s crazy!” He exclaimed, bouncing a little to emphasize his words. “I’m head over heels, crazy in love with you. Always have been.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” She asked softly, managing to step even closer to him.

His eyes softened as he reached down to tuck one of her curls behind her ear.

“Because you’re my boss, and you’re totally out of my league. You’re this super talented, total force of nature. I mean you’re Julie Molina and I’m…”

“A big fan?” Julie interrupted, raising one eyebrow teasingly.

Luke froze.

“How did you…”

“I’ve been in your apartment, remember? When you had the flu I snooped a little. Sorry. The fact that you have my first album on vinyl is one thing but to have a cd of my first EP is really impressive. I didn’t know hard copies of that still existed…”

Like groaned.

“Ok, ok. You got me. I didn’t want you to think I was a pathetic fanboy, alright?”

Julie grinned.

“Isn’t that what you are?”

Luke smiled softly down at her, brushing the back of two fingers over her cheek.”

“Only for you, Boss.”

Julie instinctively stretched onto her toes, raising her face towards his, her eyes starting to flutter shut…

BANG

They sprang apart and spun to face Alex who had just emerged breathing heavily into the doorway behind them.

“You know no one is more Team Juke than I am but Julie you are going on in 2 minutes!”

“Oh crap,” Julie said. “I’m coming.”

Alex shot her a skeptical look.

Julie glared at him until he sighed and disappeared back inside.

“Team Juke?” Luke asked.

Julie giggled, already backing towards the door.

“Don’t ask. I’ve got to go but later we should talk about your future with the company.”

Luke’s eyebrows shot up.

“You’re firing me?”

Julie grinned.

“Well, I think we both might find your current duties a little too distracting. I think I need a stoic, middle aged man built like a linebacker. But we’ve been looking to hire a new songwriter to help me with the next album if you know anyone who might be interested.”

Luke grinned back.

“I might.”

He bit his lip and stared after her with those big, beautiful, dangerous eyes.

He was such trouble.

Julie ran back to him wrapping her arms around his neck and leaning up to a plant a quick kiss on his lips, pulling back before he could fully register what she was doing.

“Hold that thought,” She whispered with a smile before turning and running back through the door and towards the second dream come true of the night.

She was Julie Molina. She was about to play the Orpheum. She was in love with her bodyguard.

She was in trouble and she couldn’t be happier about it.

#trope prompt game #my fics #juke #jatp #fanfiction #writing

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cloud9in · 3 years

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The Half of It

A Mc x Poppy fic inspired by the film

Summary: Bea, the town’s outcast is recruited by the school jock to win Poppy’s heart. But what happens when she starts falling for her as well?

Author’s Note: So this will be a multiple part series that includes scenes heavily inspired from the movie “The Half of It”. I certainly recommend watching it. My version will have different twists and a different ending, and definitely more angst. It will include mature themes as the story progresses.

Warnings for this chapter: Swearing. This is a good thing for now.

Chapter 1-

“Love is simply the name for desire and pursuit of the whole.”

- Plato, The Symposium

It is said that when one half finds its other, there’s an unspoken understanding. A unity. And each would know no greater joy....than this.

...Except this is highschool. And in my opinion, there is no other half. Maybe the other half is a paper on Greek God philosophy due at midnight. But make that four papers, including mine.

My name is Bea Hughes and let’s just say...this is not a very happy story. Well maybe some parts are, but you’ll have to read to find out. I come from a small town called Farmsville, and when I mean small, I mean really small. Except the highschool seems fucking huge, with never ending hallways and when you do somehow find the end, there’s usually two inbreds eating each others mouths off. Lucky for me I am the epitome of antisocial, reserved, an introvert, or whatever the inferior beings, aka every other senior, calls me when they think I can’t hear. But I hear everything, including that one time Bradley Denbrough, upcoming hotshot actor, or so he claims, found out about a crush a poor unsuspecting freshman had on him. Everybody knew what Bradley and his goons did to that boy, even the adults, but no charges were pressed. This town is as conservative as it gets, but no one knows of my secret. I carry this school on my back when it comes to having everyone graduate, but that’s all I am to them, a pawn. And that’s all I wanted to be, nothing more and nothing less. I preferred to be in the shadows.

***

...Except the mandatory Senior Talent Show forced Bea out of her hibernation hole. The thought haunted her as she sat in the dance studio, the last fucking place she wanted to be. Dance was so not a Bea kinda thing, but the blonde knew exactly why she granted herself the misery of picking the class. Poppy Min Sinclair, the golden girl of Farmsville High, the preacher’s daughter on a more serious note. She is...the most fascinating girl Bea ever laid her eyes on even if her boyfriend was a complete asshole who sermonized his duties as her future husband. Like seriously? Poppy has got to have some screws loose to date such a fake loser who plagiarizes all of his speeches at sunday church, and once literally begged Bea to write an apology letter to his father for him after completely upending their summer cabin. Except the blonde wrote the opposite of an apology, it went something like this…

Dear beloved donkey, I mean dad,

I am terribly sorry for inviting 20 hookers to the summer cabin. I have these strange impulses and you should at least be grateful I didn’t invite the big boss as well. His wife came though, in many, many ways. You should get the carpet changed.

Sincerely, your STD free son

It was safe to say that Mr. Denbrough had a near heart attack after reading it, and Bea did kinda feel bad, kinda. He never mentioned the letter to Bradley though, instead silently calling up the owner of Teopoli Catholic Summer Camp and essentially deporting the boy to Canada for the summer. No son of his would end up in hell was what the old man preached everyday from then on. It was the quietest summer Bea had ever experienced.

Being the towns outcast, Bea could have her fun when she so chooses to, but that didn’t pay the bills. In fact, the multiple essays that people paid her to write was her way of surviving and taking care of her mother. They weren’t very rich but Bea worked with what she had, helping her mother manage the farm, which included getting on her knees and wrestling the pigs. And that’s how she was gifted the name “pig girl”, stupid Bradley and his fake friends just had to wander too far and catch Bea in the act. She swore a remixed video of her hog calling surfaced the web at one point and that gave the blonde her five minutes of fame. Boy was it an awful time in her life.

Bea worked her mother’s previous job as station master or signalman for the trains that passed through, even if it barely paid her shit. The secluded feeling of sitting in that booth and having a moment with her thoughts was enough to give her purpose. Bea was fond of poetry and it usually helped her come up with song lyrics.

Song lyrics…

That she would have to sing at the talent show. A huge sigh escaped her lips as she slumped further into the ground, maybe hoping she could bury herself six feet under. It wasn’t that Bea hated singing, no she absolutely loved it. Playing her guitar at night and belting out lyrics that only resulted in her mother banging on the ceiling below in efforts to shut the blonde up. But the mere fact that she’d have to sing in front of the ruthless seniors rubbed her the wrong way. Something would go wrong, it always did. Bea was shaken out of her thoughts when Poppy crossed the center of the room, moving her hips slowly to the sound of Rihanna’s voice. The class chose a slow r&b song to choreograph today and of course all eyes were on Poppy.

If i’m your girl say my name boy

let me know i'm in control

Her silky blonde locks swayed as she danced to the beat, hands thrusting sensually along her sides. Bea stared in awe, almost like Poppy was the only one in the room and a spotlight illuminated every movement, every curve. Except she definitely wasn’t the only one picturing Poppy in that way. Carter, the school quarterback leaned against the railing, arms crossed and eyes trailing the rise and fall of her chest.

Got me wondering, I’m wondering if i'm on your mind

Bea sat up straighter but nearly lost her bodily functions when Poppy locked eyes with her before spinning away. It was simple eye contact Bea, don’t let it get to your head. You already have multiple lyrics inspired by Poppy offering the bare minimum in human interaction. She doesn’t actually like you. Poppy is popular and has the perfect life...and boyfriend, even if Bea heavily disagrees. Poppy was a bitch of course, but not a bitch bitch. Unlike the other wannabe mean girls, the blonde didn’t give Bea hell, well that was because the girl paid her zero attention. She seemed distant, off in her own world, or well in her parents world learning the strategies of business. Poppy was expected to follow in her parents footsteps and keep up with her reputation of being the richest in town, and of course a faithful future wife. So fun. But the blonde had other prosperous dreams of travelling and following her passion of music and dance. Highschool was her only outlet and she took advantage of it any chance she’d get. Bea knew this because she would ride her bike every friday night to the school and watch Poppy dance from outside the glass window. Maybe Bea realized it was kinda creepy, but she’s dumb enough to not realize her obvious growing attraction. I mean who pedals miles just to watch someone trip on their feet?

***

The sound of the bell caught everyone's attention and the teacher slowly lowered the music. Bea watched as Bradley approached Poppy and smothered her with kisses and praises. She rolled her eyes painfully, this kind of PDA definitely wasn’t it, she could have gone her whole life without seeing that. She walked silently through the crowd of kids in the hall, everyone was laughing and talking to their friends. All Bea could allow her mind to focus on was the very intimidating billboard of names a few feet across from her.

Winter Talent Show Sign-Ups (Mandatory For Seniors)

Bea glared at it quietly before signing her name on the sheet, sealing her inevitable fate. Through the hustle of students, Carter watched the blonde with a yearning look from afar. This should be great…

The next few classes were a blur and Bea eventually found herself getting up to hand Ms. Kingsley her paper. The older woman looked at her with a knowing glance as she took a generous sip of her coffee, which was 75% tequila.

“6 different interpretations on Plato? Colour me impressed Miss Hughes.”

Bea shrugs nonchalant, “yeah well would you rather read their actual essays?”

“Oh hell no.” Kingsley feigns shock as she looks at the stack of papers with a comical expression. She takes another sip, watching her younger, prodigy of a student carefully. “You know there are places outside of this godforsaken town where you can put your talents to use... Real use. I teach at Belvoire University occasionally.” Ina winks and slides Bea an application, studying her initial reaction. “It’s...in New York.”

“Damn right! The Big Apple.”

“Kingsley you know I have to stay here. It’ll be easier for me to manage the farm and be close to home”, Bea says confidently even though her body language displays otherwise. She predicted the big sigh filling her ears before it actually happened and it still managed to faze her. “Who ever said you had to do anything? What about what you want to do?” Bea doesn’t make eye contact with Ina, that woman could convince you to do just about anything with a certain look. “No we are not doing this. You can take your reverse psychology and shove it where the sun doesn’t shine. I’m outta here.” The blonde stomps out of the classroom, the sound of Ina’s chuckles still ringing in her ears.

“Hey! Everyone in this town fears God, but you know what God fears? My ability to hide a bottle of Don Julio in my left boot.” Ina pulls out the newly bought bottle and cradles it. “Come to mama.”

***

Bea rode her bike alongside the dirt road, Kingsley’s words on replay the entire ride. Maybe she did deserve to experience something more than what this town had to offer. But would her mother manage without her? Sacrifices, sacrifices. Bea was used to making those for her mother after her father’s death. What would her dad think of all of this?

“Hey!”

He’d surely smack Bea upside the head for the little antics she pulled occasionally. And then he’d buy her vanilla coconut ice cream and ask for every single detail of what happened as they sat and laughed together. That’s the kind of relationship Bea would have had with her father, she liked to assume so. She also liked to assume that she’d get home safely everyday without a scratch, but then there’s Carter.

“Hey wait up!”

The jock seemed to be running ridiculously fast and crashed right into the rear end of Bea’s bicycle, sending her face first into a mount of dirt. The initial impact was enough to boost the blonde straight back up like nothing happened and into a fighting stance, fists out and eyes wild. Very scary Bea. When she realized it was him...well it only pissed her off even more. “What the fuck Carter! You asshole!”

“I’m sorry Bea! Here let me help-”

“No! Move away! You- my bike- I…” Bea groans frustratingly, stepping away from the wreck as she tries to catch her breath. Carter watches her sheepishly, rubbing an envelope between his fingers awkwardly. After a few minutes of painfully uneasy silence he speaks up, “Okay...I didn’t want to ask you this way but I was wonder-”

“Oh, so you practically break my ass and now you want me to do you a favour? Real nice way of communication you have there Mr. Quarterback. What is with you and those freakishly large muscles anyways? Maybe it’s my fault I didn’t hear your avalanche built ass coming from behind.”

“Hey! They are not freakishly large!”

“I hate to break it to you Jackson but mine are significantly more appealing to look at.” Bea smirks widely, flexing her arm as best as she could. It’s a work in progress… just bare with her.

It didn’t take much effort for Carter to break out into a smile and look at her fondly. Maybe there was more to this girl than just being a human dictionary. Well that’s what people called her, and he maybe believed it at first.

Bea noticed the lack of response and shifted awkwardly, clearing her throat. “Listen, its $10 for three pages, $20 for three to ten, I'm not in the over-ten-page biz.”

“No..no I’m not here to cheat!” Carter blurts out. “But I’ll let you know if I do plan on- anyways. I uh..” He hesitates before handing her the envelope. “What’s this?

“Well you see it’s a letter..”

“Yeah but who writes letters these days?”

“I thought it seemed romantic..”

“And I thought women writing Jeffrey Dahmer letters in jail seemed romantic”, Bea says sarcastically, her smile dropping instantly after catching a glimpse of Poppy’s name at the top of the paper. It was like the blood stopped flowing through her body for a few seconds as her mouth went dry. This had to be the work of the so-called God everyone praised in this town, or it was one cruel coincidence. Bea wasn’t sure why seeing her name made her heart beat ten times harder, but it also wasn’t a necessarily uncomfortable feeling…

“I- I can’t help you.”

“But if you just add a few more words-”

“I’m not writing a letter to Poppy Min Sincla- to..to some girl for you. Letters are supposed to be authentic, from the heart, your own words, your...feelings.” Bea hurriedly turns to grab her bike, suddenly losing all interest in being social.

Carter was afraid this would happen. But he was stubborn. “But I can pay more for authentic!”

Too bad Bea was stubborn as well. “Just get a thesaurus...Good luck, Romeo.”

***

Bea sat in her room, strumming away softly at the strings of her guitar. Some of the keys were off but the old thing still worked, and that was good enough for her. She could hear the tv blasting downstairs, her mother most likely watching the news. There’s something about old people and news, were they secretly ogling the news anchors? Just like Bea ogled Poppy any chance she could. The blonde frowned to herself, her eyebrows crunching together in question. What so hard about writing a letter to Poppy? It’s not like it's coming from her. Well it technically is, but Carter is taking the credit and Bea never had a problem with people taking credit for her words. So why did this very thought prove to be such an inconvenience? Lucky for Bea, her mind drifted elsewhere when she heard a painful snap. Even if it wasn’t physically connected to her body, she felt a horrible ache. Slowly peering down at the guitar in her hand, Bea found that the neck of the guitar had miraculously split almost clean off, a splinter of wood just holding it intact. She wanted to scream but nothing really came out, except air of course. Much to her disapproval, this was definitely a result of her strength. Stupid muscles couldn’t contain themselves at the thought of Carter being with Poppy. Now how could that be?

But now she had no guitar. And no guitar means no strings to strum, and no lyrics to sing, and no talent to show at the talent show. Now she was in trouble. Probably because she knew that the only way to get the money to replace the guitar would be through sealing the deal with Carter. Oh fuck it!

***

“One letter. And enough money to buy a new guitar.”

“Deal!”

Bea turns away with a sigh, completely ignoring Carter’s high five. Now all she had to do was write this letter, and pray that Poppy wouldn’t completely consume every fiber of her being in the process.

-------------------------------------------

End note: So how we feelin’? Carter and Bea Brotp??

Tags: @samanthadalton @somewillwin @clowneryme @baexpoppy @zigxryanz @uselesslesbianfr @aleiramacaii @thedaft1 @alexlabhont @iamsimpforpoppy

#queen b #poppy min sinclair #poppy x mc #mc x poppy #playchoices #I couldn't come up with a unique title #throw some ideas if you have #do share your opinion on this #it is valued #oblivious bea is a pain in the ass #but certainly fun to write

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cousinwingding97 · 3 years

Text

Silver Memories

Chapter Five: Corvus

Warnings: Description of killing someone. This one is a long one as well, so the next chapter will be shorter since this took a lot out of my brain. Enjoy!

Mando listens as you describe the nightmare, or possible vision for lack of a better word, with rapt attention. Every detail is seared into your brain much like the memory of being whipped that keeps playing over and over; this one feels different, though, like an out of reach dream rather than a bone deep memory. You don’t know which is worse and you wouldn’t mind some happy memories to play in the darkness of your mind while drifting to sleep.

He shrugs it off saying it’s just a nightmare or memory before turning back to the flashing lights of hyperspace. You want to argue considering the details seem more recent and there was no sign of pain and destruction while you two were on Pollis Massa, but he cuts you off with a, “We’ll find out from my friend what it is. For now, try not to let it bother you.”

Yes, brilliant idea. Can’t believe I didn’t think about not letting it bother me, you think to yourself. Even with his words, you can’t help but notice that Mando seems much more tense in the shoulders. You’re wondering if he is just trying to make you feel better in his own way.

“Do I have enemies?”

“W-what? Why do you ask?”

“Well, I mean the dream made it seem like that guy wants to kill me or capture me at least, I was found in a cell; I can’t help but feel like people don’t want me around.”

“Everyone has enemies. Yours probably grew in number just from hanging out with me.”

“Why? Do people not like you?”

Mando lets out a small sound like a disbelieving laugh, “Most people aren’t too excited about a bounty hunter sullying their place of business In case we end up causing a mess or chasing after them. I’m not welcome to most places.”

Something twists in your heart. It feels like pity or just discomfort with the idea of people judging based off the armor and job Mando performs. “Don’t you get lonely?”

Mando shifts in his seat, “I’ve never really thought about it,” he says, but you can’t help but feel a wave of sadness wash over you. A desire to fit in and be loved, but only ever being held at arms length or feared. The emotions don’t feel like your own; in fact, you know they aren’t since you can’t place any experience to that feeling. It feels more like Mando’s due to the tinge of anger underneath it all. Why wouldn’t a child be loved unconditionally and why should anyone be untouched by the love and kindness of others?

“You have,” you breathe out more to yourself. The realization hitting you like a punch to the gut, slamming all of your emotions out to be filled with his. “You’re lonely. No one gave you what you really wanted.”

You can almost see the faceless warriors demanding excellence, violence, pure fight from every child instead of the love a child needs. A desire for every child to perform perfectly without any thought or care towards what actually children need to develop and thrive. It hurts. You don’t know why, but your heart feels like there are claws hollowing it out from the inside. Your breath starts to burn in your lungs.

“Stop it.”

“You just want the gentleness and love, you want to be loved, yet you can’t have it now.” The words flow out of your mouth, unwelcome.

“I said stop.”

“Everyone is too scared of you. Mandalorians are warriors first. Nothing else.”

“Snap out of it!” Mando literally snaps his fingers in front of your eyes and just like that, the spell is broken. You can breathe again and once you can, all you feel is numb, as if all of Mando’s emotions took your own, leaving you with nothing. Your eyes focus on Mando again. He’s staring at you. The T Visor reflects the stars of hyperspace making it look like there’s a mini galaxy in his visor instead of the black void you had grown used to. You know he’s angry by his tone and the stiffness of his body language, but you aren’t scared of him now. He won’t hurt you because he’s not angry at you, just exposed from your earlier invasion into his mind. His walls are up even higher now, you can’t help but feel like you’ve backtracked in his trust of you.

“Sorry, I just... felt you. I couldn’t stop it. I didn’t mean to invade your privacy.”

He tilts his helmet subtly. Something has changed between you two and he senses it now. Less fear and mistrust on your side and more on his side now with more questions for each of you.

“The sooner we find my friend, the better. Maybe she can help you control whatever this is.”

The rest of the flight is spent in awkward silence.

———————————————————————

Corvus looked absolutely dreadful from the viewport of the Vanguard. A foggy, barren dead planet. Dead trees, fog that clouded everything like a cloak of death. Your mood was already sour from the flight with your emotions plus Mando’s silent brooding now adding to the ever growing list of negative emotions about the current state of affairs. You absolutely hated everything about this place already. The dark gloom ate into your soul.

Mando was quiet as ever. The rest of the flight he remained silent and didn’t even look at you. You figured it was probably the invasion of privacy, but you couldn’t help it. You couldn’t help any of this! He had a right to be angry, but it still pissed you off that he seemed to be taking it out on you when you couldn’t even control what was going on.

Only when the ramp lowered and you were standing on this new planet did he finally speak to you, “Last I saw, Ahsoka was this way.” He hadn’t even stopped walking to say that, so you had no choice except to follow. Begrudgingly, you did. Like I have a choice in which way.

As if this planet couldn’t get worse, there was a silence weighing heavily around you, broken only by animalistic grunts and growls every so often. You jumped each time, scouring the area for any threat. The thought of holding on to Mando’s arm entered your mind once or twice, but his lack of reactions gave you an ounce of courage. Even if he still didn’t speak to break the heavy spell of this planet.

“Are we in danger?” You whispered into the fog.

“No.” Was the short reply.

“Then why are you not speaking?”

“Because I don’t have anything to say.”

“Even back on the ship? We are about to see a friend of yours, I’m apparently able to feel emotions through unknown powers that may be growing, I have creepy visions or dreams and you have nothing to say?” You abandoned the whispering for full volume talking, but still keeping it from yelling just in case.

“Until we know more, there’s nothing I can say.”

“More like won’t.”

The Mandalorian turns to you with a sigh, “We’ve been over this once. I’m not going to trigger you if I can help it and there’s not much to say. I hate to say it, but I’m just clueless as you are and I’m taking a shot in the dark hoping that she can help us. I’m sorry, but this is the best I’ve got right now.”

It hits you like a laser shot. Mando doesn’t know and that terrifies you. This whole time you had been following his lead thinking he knew what to do in order to bring back your memories, but he’s just as lost as you. You had been blindly trusting this man to help you and he doesn’t even have the answers. Sure, he knows more about you than you do, but the visions and emotional tune-ins are new to him as well.

“Did I not have these abilities before?”

“I don’t know.”

Mando leads you through the dead forest. Over logs, around boulders and deeper into the fog. This planet may have flourished at one time, but it looked like a graveyard now to you. There were shapes in the distance of creatures, but the lack of light coming through the fog didn’t show much detail, letting your imagination draw up horrible images of what may lie beyond the fog.

“Why does your friend live on a creepy, haunted planet?”

“It’s not haunted, just damaged. When I met her, she was freeing the locals from a tyrant who tortured those within her walls.”

“Do you think she’s still here then?”

“Maybe. The locals should be able to tell us more. If not, we can at least stock up on supplies.” The idea of people living on this planet is a tad bit surprising to you.

After hours of walking, the forest seems to give way to a grey wall. There are people posted along it, and upon seeing the silver armor, there’s a sudden rush of noise and clamor. A gate housed in the middle of the wall opens revealing an elderly man making his way towards both of you.

“Mandalorian! Welcome back! Come in, come in! Night is falling. You can rest within our walls.”

Mando doesn’t say anything, but does reach up and clasp forearms with the man who now notices you. “Oh, miss! We hadn’t expected you to be back as well. Glad you both could join us.”

You immediately looked to Mando in surprise. You had been here with him too. You must’ve have met this friend while she was here. It made sense, but you were starting to wonder how long and for what reason you stuck around.

Mando kept walking without even noticing you. The village within the walls was lively. Houses lined the main street and bustling with activity. Vendors shouting their wares, children playing in the street and racing off down the winding streets veering off to the rest of the village. Even with the plain grey and brown neutral tones of the buildings, there was life within these walls that made you smile. It was a complete night and day difference compared to outside the walls.

People were happy here and happy to see you and Mando. Villagers would point at you two and wave. Some even clapped Mando on the back or hugged you. It was starting to overwhelm you. Did you know these people? Were you from here?

Mando noticed your growing concern and cut off the old man’s ramblings, “I’m sorry, but I need to find Ahsoka Tano. Is she here? My friend here lost her memories and needs her help.”

The old man looks to you in surprise and sorrow, “Oh, you should have said something earlier! My apologies, miss. Unfortunately, Ahsoka is not here at the moment. She’s taken up a new adventure outside of our walls. She said she would be back in a few days though.”

“And when was this?” You blurt out in despair.

“Two days ago. She will most likely be back very soon if you can wait.”

“Did she say where she was going? Maybe we can find her quicker.” Mando asks.

“No, I’m afraid not. To be honest, I can’t even say if she’s on this planet with absolute certainty.”

It takes all the strength in your body to hold your mouth shut to keep from screaming.

“You and your friend are more than welcome to stay with my family in the meantime, if you wish. After everything you did for us, it’s the least we can do in return.”

Mando accepts the offer for both of you. The man leaves to go tell his wife and family in order to prepare the house for you two. When he’s left, Mando turns to you.

“I’d rather not wait if we don’t have to. Are you alright staying here while I scout out the area and see if I can track her down myself?”

“Mando, I don’t know these people despite their knowing of me! Do you trust them? And what if this Ahsoka lady comes back and you’re not here?”

He holds a hand out as if to calm you, “I won’t leave tonight. That will give me time to see if these people are fully trustworthy and let you get comfortable with them. Is that better?”

You roll your eyes in annoyance. It was, but still not fully satisfying. “Again though, what if she shows up? I won’t know her. What if we miss her?”

Mando tilts his helmet in thought. His hands settle on the belt on his hips. As if the answer came to him from touching his belt, he suddenly reaches in a pouch and grabs something. Gingerly, he reaches out his fist to you. You lift your palm and he drops a black device into your hand. It’s small and round with an oval end and a piece that juts out from the bottom. There’s a blinking blue light on the oval end.

“Here. It’s a communicator that connects directly to my helmet. It may look small, but as long as it’s on and in your ear, it will connect to me. I’ll tell the old man to let everyone know that if Ahsoka shows up, to come to you. If she does, you just press the oval end and tell me. Does that help?”

You look at the device again and gently put it in your ear. The fit is perfect and light. You press the button to test it and Mando nods in confirmation that it worked.

“Okay. That’s fine. Just don’t be gone too long. If I have another episode, I’d rather it be by someone who is already used to my weirdness.”

If you hadn’t turned on the device to test it, you never would have heard the very small breath that passed through your ear. It was a laugh. A gentle huff, but a laugh that you could hear due to the connection to Mando’s helmet. You smiled fully in pride knowing you secretly made him laugh.

———————————————————————

The old man returned to find you and Mando shopping for new supplies. Both of your arms were full by the time he came back and showed you to his house that was within eyeshot of another gated larger house in the middle of the street. You didn’t get a good look at it, but you felt like that place held a lot of sorrow and pain within its walls.

The old man, whose name you learned was Ko, introduced you to his family. His wife, Leeda and their eldest son with his wife and a young grandson. They were extremely polite to you and Mando, catering to anything and everything. They took your bags and set them on the table by their laundry room and ushered you into the kitchen for dinner. The food smelled delicious, permeating the whole house with spice, meat and melted butter. You had no idea what it was, but sitting down to eat the seared meat and baked vegetables brought you to the most light-hearted you had felt since waking up. You ate with vigor and listened to the family speak of anything and everything.

The grandson brought up something you had forgotten until he piped up, “Mr. Mando, why aren’t you eating? Mom says that we have to eat if we are to stay strong!”

You had been distracted with the food and hadn’t even noticed the hunk of metal sitting next to you not saying a word or eating. His creed not even allowing a meal in the presence of others, but there he sat in silence, forgoing any part of impoliteness to even mention that he couldn’t eat. Everyone’s eyes were now on Mando as he sat in awkward silence. You set the silverware down in shame. How could you forget something like that? The poor guy hadn’t had food in who knew how long? He’d been with you this whole time.

“Jax, hush! That is impolite to ask of a Mandalorian.” His mother piped up.

“No, it’s okay. I ate recently. If I can, I’d like to take some to my room for later.” You knew it was a lie. He hadn’t had food recently. There was no way unless he had hidden tubes beneath that armor, but the family seemed to buy his lie.

You suddenly stood up announcing, “We are actually really tired from traveling so much and shopping, I am afraid we must retire. Can we see our rooms?”

Ko looks up startled, but laughs it off, “Oh yes! Of course! I should’ve known you two would be so tired. Come, come. I will show you to your room.”

You smile at him as he stands to show you to the rooms. You were just relieved that Mando would eat soon. He must have been starving! It was astonishing you that he was still standing without a hint of exhaustion or shaking.

Following Ko out of the dining room, you were led down the hall full of family photos, to a door at the end. One door. “Here’s where you two will be staying. I’m sure you will find it comfortable.” The two of you. He meant both of you. He meant for you to stay in the same room as Mando. Oh, please have two beds. You opened the door hesitantly and lo and behold, one large bed. It was so cliché you couldn’t help the small giggle that tickled out of your throat. Before you could protest, Mando chimed in that it was perfect and thanked Ko for his hospitality while gently pushing you further into the room to close the door.

You immediately went on the defense, “Why did you tell him this is fine! You need your privacy to eat! I can’t stay here.”

Mando had been holding up one hand while balancing the food in his other, preparing for a fight. He seemed to pause at your words. “You want to leave?”

“Yes! If it means you get to eat, then yes, I will leave or hide in the bathroom, whatever you need. I know you haven’t eaten for at least a day.”

He sets the food on one of the side tables next to the left side of the bed. He shuffles on his feet thinking about his next move. You move to leave thinking he was trying to come up with a nice way of telling you to get out. Before you can, “You can stay. If you want. Just as long as we sit on the floor facing the opposite way. Only if you’re comfortable, though.”

You can’t tell if it’s a plea or just him trying to make it seem like all of this is no big deal. You have no idea, you can’t really deny the fact that you want to stay. The idea of being out there with people who act like they know you makes you far more uncomfortable. “Alright.”

You cross the room to the right side of the room, pretending to notice all the details of the room instead of thinking about his heavy gaze. He watches you the whole time. You try not to fidget or trip over yourself in the midst of his watchful gaze. You turn your back to him and slide down the side of the bed until your legs are in front of you straight out and your butt hits the cold floor. You awkwardly give him a thumbs up over the side of the bed, “Anytime you’re ready.”

You hear a hiss and a clank of armor onto the wood table. You freeze. Your body immediately wanted to turn towards the noise. The curiosity alone makes you want to look. Maybe you had seen his face before all of this had happened and it would help trigger your memories. The thought leaves as soon as it enters. You weren’t about to betray his trust with something this monumental to him.

The quiet sounds of him sliding down to the floor and then starting to eat greet your ears. It’s so quiet and you can’t help but fill the tormenting silence with anything to distract yourself from what’s right across the room from you. It would be so easy to take a peek and the temptation leads you to studying everything around you. The room is large compared to the small compartments of Boba’s ship and the Vanguard, not large enough to distract you though. The view of the wall and its single picture of Ko’s family isn’t entertaining after a few seconds. The only window is right above the bed so you can’t look out of it without risking seeing Mando.

Boredom finally reaches its peak within your brain so you call out to the other side of the room, “How do they know me? They keep treating us like we are gods. What did we do?”

There was no way to prepare for the voice that greets your ears. You hadn’t thought about how Mando’s voice would sound and even if you had, it would never compare to reality. A warm rumble of whispered honey caresses your ears and slides down your body in a comforting bass, “This planet was under the control of the Empire. The ones that ripped your memories from you. We helped free them.”

“We?”

“Ahsoka, you and me.”

“How’d I do anything?”

There’s a pause for faint chewing. You felt kinda bad for insisting that he eat and then not letting him have that luxury by constantly asking questions.

“You think that trick you did to catch that little guy on the flying lizard was an accident? Luck? You helped a lot in that fight.”

As if hearing your next question forming, he interjected, “That’s all I will say. Why did you care so much about me eating?”

The change in topic throws you. All bubbling questions leave your mind as you try to focus on the answer.

“You still don’t seem to fully trust me, you haven’t shown any concern earlier, so why now?” He asks as if to clarify his question.

“I don’t know. I’m still struggling with it. These people act like decent people, the Empire must be the bad guys here for what they did to me and this town. I guess you are the closest thing I know to be good. You are trying to help me as far as I can tell, putting in more effort than Boba or anyone else so far, but here I am not offering any sort of help back. I get that I don’t know what I can and can’t do; however, that shouldn’t stop me from making sure my pilot is in fit condition. Maybe I hate your guts with my memories, maybe we were best friends. I’ll try to stay more in the moment and trust you until you prove otherwise, as long as you are more open with me about yourself. And not about your personal stuff, just tell me if you need rest or food, okay? It won’t ruin your scary image, I promise.”

He’s quiet as you hear him finish his food and set the plate back on the table. When you hear his voice again, it’s the blasted coder instead of sweet honey, much to your disappointment.

“Alright. Only if you do the same.”

You take that as permission to look at him again, so you stand and turn to him. His thighs are pressed to the bed as if trying to be close to you without crossing to your side of the room.

“We are pretty much on our own. I’m not used to counting on others, but you are too selfless and caring to be a burden. If I ask you something, I want you to be honest. I can’t help you if you end up passing out, having an episode, or worst of all: dying. I’ll do what I can to earn your trust.”

Your cheeks warm unwillingly. It sounded like Mando cared about you, so maybe you could trust him fully after all.

“Alright. Two-way street. Neither of us breaks these rules.”

“Fine. First question, is it alright if I sleep in here? Just as a precaution. I'll sleep in the chair, so you can have the bed."

The question catches you off guard. You honestly didn't know. The idea of him just watching you while you tried to sleep didn't sound like a lot of fun.

"Uh, are you actually going to sleep or just watch me the whole time?"

He seems to realize the way that sounded stutters a little, "I-no, uh, I meant, stay in here and sleep so I can be here in case something happens. Which it shouldn't, but just in case."

"As long as you promise to actually sleep. You need rest just like anyone else, you know that right? As far as I know, you aren't an android or anything. Are you a species that doesn't require a lot of sleep?"

He sighs and makes his way to the refresher off to the side of the bedroom, "Just get some rest."

Rectuantly, you lay down to get some sleep. The bed is cold from lack of use along with the night temperatures. You can hear water running as you lay there staring at the ceiling along with soft clanging as you imagine Mando removing his armor. You couldn't sleep with that kind of stuff going on. The mental image of what Mando might look like under the armor paired with that voice had your thoughts racing.

Once the door opens again, you catch a glimpse of Mando in just sleep clothes and his helmet before he turns off the light. It's a startling sight. Casual clothes and only his helmet? You never expected this. It was like seeing a rare creature out mythology in comparison to this. Almost intimate. You could see some tan skin barely peeking out of his tunic. He was still broad and large, yet more human. The skin looked human at least.

This was going to be a long night.

Sure enough, the next morning had left you waking up exhausted. Even knowing you were safe with Mando, the thought of a strange man at the foot of you bed still left you feeling restless, almost exposed. You had tossed and turned all night only catching bits and pieces of sleep every so often. When you awoke, Mando was already gone from the room. His weapons and armor were gone as well.

Leaving the room and entering the kitchen brought you back to a life outside of Mando and traveling with possible threats following you everywhere. Ko's family was already up and fixing breakfast together. The grandson, Jax, looked up to see you enter the kitchen. He grabbed your hand and dragged you over to help fix food with them. They were nice people that went to lengths to make you feel safe and at home with them.

You tried to make efforts to get to know them. It felt awkward with the almost hero worship they treated you with though. You had no idea how you had helped these people and if you even deserved it. What if Mando had just made it sound like you had helped so you wouldn't feel worthless?

They all had their own things to do after breakfast. Jax went to school, Ko's wife went out back to tend to her garden, and Jax’s parents, Lillian and Idris, went to visit another family. Ko at least invited you to drink tea on the back porch while watching his wife work in the garden. You gladly accepted.

"It is nice to have you and the Mandalorian back in our city. It's a good reminder that we are not easily forgotten. Mando did tell us you have been forced to forget everything, including yourself.”

You hum into your tea mug, noncommitedly, "Some Empire jerks took my memories. All of them. I don't remember ever being here."

"Well, I'm sure a part of it would be gladly forgotten. We were not a happy place until you and Mando came along. Ahsoka as well. Of course, it's not hard to expect from a Jedi. That is what they do."

"A Jedi?"

"Yes, the guardians of peace in the galaxy. You really have forgotten everything." His gaze of pity just makes your stomach turn. You didn't want pity. You didn't blame anyone but the people who did this to you.

"Is there anything you can tell me about myself? What was I like?"

Ko laughs in response, a genuine belly laugh, "You were a spit fire. You saw the injustice that was going on and you personally wanted to take on every guard and mercenary yourself. Mando had to hold you back. If it hadn't been for the need to find Ahsoka, you would've killed anyone in your way."

You couldn't help your eyes bulging our of your head. You? Killing people? Fighting in general? It was a crazy idea. You wanted to think this old man was crazy, but there was plenty of lucidity in the old man's eyes. He was telling the truth.

"What did I do? How'd I fight?"

"In any and every way. You didn't hold any punches. You used anything within your range. Blasters, staffs, even your fists. You were a sight to behold. You were kind to everyone in the city that was being held hostage here. You did whatever it took to free us. We are extremely grateful. We will do what we can to help you."

Once you had finished your tea, you left Ko to his own devices in order for you to think over everything he told you. You retreated to the solitude of the room you were sharing with Mando to rummage through the thoughts flying through your brain. The fear of accidentally triggering another violent memory had you curled up on the bed. Nothing happened though. You had taken a hot shower to calm down and changed into the clean clothes Leeda provided, yet now here you were with the spear you had stolen from Utapau. Mando had let you keep that at least. You were holding it trying to see if it felt familiar in your hands like a hidden instinct or muscle memory. Nothing was coming to you though.

You waited until night to check in with Mando. Perhaps a tad bit reluctantly, but you did worry about him being out there by himself.

"Mando, you there?"

The crackle in the communicator filled your ear and then his voice filled your head, "I'm here. Is everything okay?"

"That's what I was going to ask. Everything's fine. Just a little boring. It's almost strange to be living a quiet life after the past few days."

He chuckles lightly into the communicator, "I'm sure we will be on our way into trouble eventually. It's typical for me."

You smile tightly. You could wait on the trouble. "Any sign of Ahsoka?"

The answering sigh tells you enough, but still he answers, "None yet. I'm just trying to pick up any sort of trail. I'm found her camp from last time I met her and it looks abandoned. The only clue I found so far. It looks like she dismantled her camp fairly recently so that’s a sign she’s been here at least.”

"Hopefully she's okay and this isn't a wild bantha chase."

"I'm sure she is. She's a powerful warrior."

"Yeah, Ko said she's a Jedi. Apparently that means she's some sort of warrior."

"What else has Ko been telling you?"

"Just that apparently I know how to fight expertly as well." Your tone turns accusatory.

"Yes, you do. Don't ask though, I don't know where you learned or even all the things you can do."

Your pettiness still gets to you a little as wish him a quick goodnight and cut the line. It still frustrated the amount of information everyone knew. You really needed to stop taking it out on Mando. You felt a little guilty as you went to bed that night.

------------------------------------------------------

The next morning brought your regrets to the surface again as you awoke to a sudden boom and shaking of the house. Screams followed the explosion as the reverberations faded away. You practically fell out of bed running towards the door to find where you hoped the others would be.

You call out for Ko and the others but there’s no response. You look throughout the house and finally find them all gathered by a door offset from the kitchen. Ko had gathered his family and was leading them down through the door down a set of steps leading to what you assumed was a basement when you cried out to them, "What's going on? What was that sound?"

Ko turns to you and grabs your arm leading you to the basement, "The Empire is back. It's a small party, but they are bombing the city!"

Your heart freezes. Is this because of your vision? Is this all happening because of you? Guilt flares in your heart. If you caused all of this pain and suffering, kriff, probably some deaths, all because of your presence, you didn’t know how you would forgive yourself. You reach up to the communicator in your ear only to find it missing. In your confusion and haste to find the others you had left it behind in the bedroom. You left it on the table like a mindless wamp rat.

You turn to run back to the bedroom all the while Ko tries to yell at you to come back to the safety of the basement. You hear more explosions outside, but you have to let Mando know. The basement won’t be safe for long if the house falls down around them. Mando may not be able to do much, but you have to warn him so he won't walk into a trap and possibly find Ko and his trapped family should the worst happen.

You reach your room and pratically fling yourself onto the table to grab the communicator. Stuffing it into your ear, you immediately open the channel. "Mando!"

"What's wrong? Are you alright?"

"The Empire's here!"

#din djarin x female reader #din djarin #pedro pascal #pedro pascal owns my heart #mando #bounty hunter #star wars #the mandalorian #fanfic #im a simp #mandalorian x you #the mandalorian fanfiction #mandalorian x reader #mando x you #din x reader #din djarin x reader #corvus #fanfiction

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amyscascadingtabs · 3 years

Text

when all your heroes get tired (i’ll be something better yet)

She realizes Jake and Amy have never gotten to keep anything about their relationship secret; not their pining, not becoming a couple, not getting engaged, or even trying for a baby. She supposes they deserve to keep something to themselves for once, even if they’re worthless at it.

Or, Rosa has always been strangely involved in Jake and Amy's relationship, and the two of them becoming parents doesn't appear to change this.

read on ao3 ✨

...

“You’re really not going to drink that?”

Amy gives the glass of Shaw’s finest - and only - charbonnay a look like she's worried it will bite her.

They’re having a celebration, Holt has announced, to one month without Madeline Wuntch. Then he’d seemed teary by those words, telling the squad it was also to honor her memory. No one’s certain what's going on, but no one minds the free alcohol either.

Except, it seems, Amy.

“I’m driving.”

“Don't you and Jake always take an Uber home?”

“We’re trying to save money.”

“For what?”

“Fertility treatments are expensive,” she says, too quickly and too comfortably. “I don't want to talk about it, Rosa.”

Rosa knows she’s being rude, but she can't help it. She had to be sure. She’s both a detective and a master of secret-keeping, skilled enough to sense from fifty feet away when someone else is guarding them, and she's had a feeling about this particular secret for weeks.

She’d give herself credit, but it’s not like it’s been difficult to figure out. Amy literally told Rosa the day after she and Jake decided to start trying, whispering the words to her with a giddy smile as soon as they were alone in the break room. It became public knowledge rather quickly, and it’s not like the couple was working hard on keeping it a secret when they got wasted during Hitchcock’s wedding, high-fived after Amy’s drunken toast, and proceeded to try and fuck in the guinea pig-closet.

(Honestly? Rosa was impressed.)

They took a break from it shortly after that. Then, Amy started eating some kind of hormonal stimulation medication and morphed into one of the most emotional, irritable Amy-s Rosa had ever seen. Then she got weird.

It started with her and Jake avoiding Shaw’s. Sometimes Jake would show up to have a drink or two with Charles, but he'd never stay longer than half an hour. Terry asked about it once, joking that he wondered whether Amy just didn't like the squad anymore, at which point Jake laughed nervously and changed the topic.

Now, Rosa’s noticed that Amy’s coffee intake has gone down from three or four cups a day to one and a half at max. She makes a point of sitting as far away from Boyle and his lunches as possible. She’s begun to seem distant, always slightly distracted in conversation, and she gravitates towards Jake even more than usual. Several times now, Rosa’s found them in a corner of the corridor, whispering together and stopping the moment they notice her.

So yeah, she’s figured their secret out alright, and no, she doesn’t believe they’re planning to adopt a monitor lizard and that’s why Jake was searching baby names on his computer the other day.

What Rosa doesn’t understand is why Amy doesn’t tell her. She can keep a secret. She was the one who bought every kind of pregnancy test she could find in the bodega when Amy was freaking out at the manhunt, and the one who listened when she finally admitted that trying to conceive was starting to stress her out. If Amy can share something so personal with her, venting her little heart out over a drink in a lone corner of Shaw’s late one evening, Rosa doesn't get why she can't share this.

“So you're doing the treatments, then?”

“I just said I don't want to talk about it,” Amy snaps, then sighs and leans her head in one hand. “Sorry. Tired.”

“You’ve taken a bunch of days off recently, haven't you?”

“I had a family emergency,” she says, and Rosa knows she's lying through her teeth. No one ever uses that line when they're really having a family emergency. “Hey, why are you interrogating me?”

“Just making conversation,” Rosa shrugs. If Amy can lie, so can she. “You want a soda or something instead?”

“I’m good. Thanks for the gesture, though.” She lifts the wine glass in her hand, still looking at it warily. “I’ll just... give this to Jake. Talk to you later?”

“Sure. Later.”

Amy gives her a careful smile, sliding off the barstool and heading towards the table where Jake has joined Terry, Sharon, and the Captain. Rosa watches as Jake makes space for her, his whole demeanor lighting up when he sees her. She places the glass next to his beer, whispering something underneath her breath, and Jake nods before taking it from her and swallowing half of it in quick sips. It’s not even subtle, Rosa thinks.

She's just about to wonder where Charles is and why he isn’t in that same booth asking overly invasive questions when he joins her on the same barstool Amy just left.

“Hey, Ro-ro.” He must’ve had a few drinks already, she deduces from the nickname.

“I’ve told you never to call me that unless you want your tires slashed.”

Charles ignores her. “You're noticing it too, right? With Amy?”

“You mean her acting even weirder than normal? Yep. Pretty sure everyone’s noticed.”

An elated grin appears on Charles’ face, so wide it shows his teeth. Rosa scrunches her nose. “I think I know why.”

“It’s really not hard to guess.”

“That's not why I know!” The shrill, drunken voice earns them a confused glance from Jake, and Rosa shoots Charles a warning glare to make him lower his volume. “Sorry,” he whispers. “It's just - I woke up one night, and I knew.”

“That you're unhealthily obsessed with your best friend's marriage and it's creepy?”

“Pfft. No. I already knew that. I woke up, and I could feel it. Amy’s -”

“Pregnant, yeah. We all figured it out.”

“I can sense it, Rosa.” He gives her a serious nod, the eye contact almost unnerving. “This is not about some groundless guess, some circumstantial evidence… this is real.”

“... yeah. So?”

“So? So! We have to tell them we know! I don't understand why they're keeping this to themselves!”

Rosa bites her lip. She knows where Charles is coming from. She was thinking it too, watching her best friend get nervous just from holding a glass of wine and scrambling to come up with a fake excuse to avoid it. She doesn't get why this has to be a secret. Everybody knows they've been trying, and it's so obvious something is up that even Hitchcock and Scully seem to be taking notice at this point. She could walk over to that table right now and tell Jake and Amy she knows, everyone knows, and they don’t have to pretend or keep this a secret when everyone is happy for their sake.

And yet Rosa stays where she is, because while she laughs at their futile attempts of keeping it on the down-low, she knows why.

It feels like it’s never going to happen at this point, Amy had whispered to her just two months ago. Like it’s not meant to be.

That’s bullshit, Rosa replied, but Amy shook her head.

She knows this has been a long journey for Jake and Amy. She also knows the fear that comes with gaining something you’ve spent a long time fighting for, then worrying that the universe is messing with you, and you’ll wake up tomorrow finding it was all a dream. There’s a reason Rosa’s kept nearly all her relationships secret until her partners have been begging to meet the squad, and it goes beyond her just being a private person.

“We can’t tell them we know,” she decides. Charles opens his mouth to protest, but Rosa hushes him.

“But -”

“Nope, Boyle. Look, I get that it's obvious, but it's their choice. Just because you told everyone the moment you decided to adopt doesn't mean Jake has to tell every perp he arrests that he's going to be a dad.”

Charles looks down at his shoes and swallows the last of his free wine. “I just want to celebrate with them. Seven years I’ve waited for this - ”

“You’ll get to celebrate with them. They can't keep it a secret forever. Maybe they're just waiting until the twelve-week mark or something.” Rosa takes a swig of her whiskey. “It can't be that much longer anyway. She's going to start showing at some point, right? Makes no sense to hide it from us after that. I mean, what’s she going to do? Wear a hazmat suit?”

Charles sighs. “Yeah, yeah. You're right.”

He gives Jake and Amy a longing look. Jake has his arm around Amy now, and she’s resting her head on his shoulder, eyes closed like she’s moments from falling asleep. Jake whispers something to her, lips brushing against her forehead, and she blinks before mumbling something back. Small, tender gestures of affection, the kind that would drive Rosa crazy if it was anyone else, but ones she’s gotten used to with them. After the stress and lack of romance Amy described to her during the months they were trying, it even makes her happy to see.

It must be making Charles happy, too, because he’s tearing up.

“Anyway,” he says before Rosa can tell him to stop crying. “I’m going to go vent about this over the phone to Genevieve so I don’t go crazy. Good talk, Ro-ro.”

“Don’t”, she warns him, but he’s already halfway out the door.

Jake and Amy stand up only a minute after, grabbing their jackets and saying their goodbyes. Amy meets eyes with Rosa for a second, mouthing a quick bye, and Rosa nods in return. She watches them as they make their way out of the bar, arms still around each other, and hides a smile when she sees Jake’s hand rest softly against Amy’s stomach through her sweater. It's only a second before Amy moves it away, looking around in fear that someone will have noticed, but it’s enough for Rosa to know.

She might be a good detective, but Jake and Amy also happen to be the world’s worst secret-keepers.

...

There was more than one reason as to why Rosa Diaz dropped out of medical school, but right now, as she’s flipping through the pages of the very detailed and very graphic book she found on Jake’s desk, she can only remember the one.

It was the second day on her final rotation in third year - obstetrics and gynecology - and for some reason, her supervisor thought it’d be a useful and educational experience for her to be part of a birth. She wouldn't have to do anything, just observe and learn. Not one to complain, Rosa had accepted, put on her gloves, and entered the delivery room with a forced upbeat smile on her face.

At the end of the day, that smile had since long been wiped off, as had what felt like a bucket of blood, goo, and other equally gross, slimy stuff. Also, Rosa had dropped out of medical school.

She’d observed during surgeries, been puked on by sick and screaming children, and once met a patient with a broken arm where the bone was sticking out, but childbirth had been the final straw. Three years of medical school and thousands of dollars in student debt went down the drain. She applied to business school in hopes of making up the money and told herself she hadn’t been that crazy about med school in the end. Having to put on a smile and be polite to needy patients wasn’t her thing anyway, and at least in business school, people were upfront about being jerks.

Sixteen years had passed since the day Rosa almost threw up from watching the so-called miracle of life. Tonight, it seemed she was about to unwillingly witness it again.

A drawn-out, pained moan brings Rosa back to reality, where Amy has since long given up all attempts of hiding her contractions. She glances at her watch, grimacing as she realizes it's the third contraction in five minutes coming to an end. Amy's started leaning with her elbows on the pool table for the duration of them, muttering a creative string of curses in mixed English and Spanish, and it might have looked funny if it wasn't seeming like this baby was about to be born in the break room.

“Fuck this shit,” Amy mumbles, and Rosa can only agree. “Fuck everything about this. This wasn't how it was supposed to - fuck.” She goes down on her elbows again, swaying from side to side. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“Well worded.”

“Shut up.”

“They're getting worse?”

“Mm-hmm.”

All traces of the confident sergeant that insisted she didn’t need to go to the hospital, who’s spent the blackout answering every offer to help with a razor-sharp remark about how they could help her best by following her orders, seem to have disappeared. When Amy exhales, Rosa can see tears in her eyes, a reserved expression of panic amid the frustration.

“This wasn’t how it was supposed to be,” she repeats as she sits down on the well-stained couch. “Look. I wasn’t even that picky, okay? I didn’t need a super wholesome and peaceful dream experience or anything. As long as everything went well, the baby was okay and I was okay. But I wanted a hospital,” she sniffles. “And I wanted Jake there. I didn’t think that was too much to a-aa…”

She leans against the side of the couch this time, closing her eyes and gritting her teeth through another contraction. Rosa feels helpless. It’s not a feeling she has often, and it’s not one she's a fan of. She reaches out to gently pat Amy’s back, but it feels awkward, so she stops.

“It wasn’t too much to ask,” she says. “But you’re not going to make it to the hospital. So we're going to need another plan.”

“The firefighters.” Amy blushes. “I know we hate them, but…”

“They’re basically a bunch of glorified EMTs who sleep in bunk beds. Meaning, they can deliver a baby in an emergency.”

Amy nods, drawing a shaky breath and rubbing her hand against the top of her stomach. “I don’t want to do this to him, Rosa.”

“What do you mean?”

“What if this doesn’t go well? What if he won’t be okay? What if something happens and it’s my fault because I couldn’t go to the hospital? What if this makes me a terrible mom?”

Amy’s eyes are wide and she’s chewing on her lip, and Rosa thinks she would start braiding her hair if it wasn't already in a messy ponytail. Most of her worries sound like straight-up insanity to Rosa’s ears, but she supposes that wouldn’t be the right thing to tell Amy at this moment.

“You think you’re the first woman ever to give birth outside of a hospital?” She asks instead. “Because you’re not. That baby’s going to be fine. He’ll probably plop right out onto the floor -”

“Oh my god, don't let him touch the floor!”

“Fine. No floor. Whatever. But you can do this.” She stares right back at Amy and channels all the persuasion she has inside of her. “Okay?”

Amy hiccups. “I don’t like it.”

“Yeah, well, neither do I.”

Amy groans and stands up to lean against the pool table again, doing the same rhythmic swaying with her hips. A uniformed officer gives her a curious look as he walks past.

“It’s what we’re doing, though. So get it together.” Rosa regrets it the moment she says it and Amy freezes. For a split second, Rosa wonders if she’s going to punch her, or at the very least yell something, but Amy just looks surprised before letting out a noise sounding vaguely like a cackle.

“Did you just tell me to get it together?”

“No. Yes. Maybe.” Rosa shakes her head. “Just - stay here while I go get a firefighter. Try not to give birth while I’m gone.”

Three firefighters are still hanging around the bullpen, drinking coffee from paper cups and laughing at some anecdote. Rosa scrunches her nose at them from a distance. She wonders why she didn't force Amy into a car to the hospital hours ago, but it's too late now. No matter how much she hates the fire department and how humiliating she finds it to have to ask for their help twice in one day, she loves her friend just that little bit more. Marginally, but still more.

In an ideal world, Rosa would have wished a luxurious birthing suite with a wide range of pain relief, some nerdy relaxing music like the Harry Potter soundtrack, skillful doctors, and Jake there for her best friend to go through something as terrible as labor with - but since none of that seems to be in the realm of possibility anymore, the least she can do is make sure there’s some kind of a medical professional there. She owes Amy that much.

Rosa grabs the arm of the firefighter standing closest to her. He’s short but muscular with a beard that reminds her of a childhood best friend’s stay-at-home dad, giving out a caring and reliable energy in the midst of the precinct’s inferno. He feels safe, and although Rosa’s never given birth herself, she imagines that’s a valuable trait for the situation.

“Need any help?” Even his smile is like taken out of a pamphlet for parent cooperatives and terrace-houses with collective barbeques.

“I do. Have you ever delivered a baby before?”

“Oh, that's a funny story!” He chuckles. “I’ve actually delivered three. They're great stories, you should hear -”

“Cool, cool, cool, don't have time, don't care. Wanna deliver a fourth? Like, tonight? Right now?”

Without waiting for a reply, she drags him to the break room.

Judging from the strained expression and eyes clenched shut, Amy’s in the middle of a contraction when they return.

“I found a firefighter.” Rosa points to their new companion. “This is, uhm -”

“Curt.”

“Huh. Anyway, he's delivered three babies before, and they're all fine. Well, I think. He can help. Right?”

“Absolutely!” Curt nods. “You’re Amy, right? Tell me where we're at.”

“Contractions at one to one and a half minute apart, lasting about thirty to forty seconds,” Rosa fills in for her friend, pointing to her watch.

“Can you talk through them?” Curt looks to Amy, who shakes her head with her lips pressed together before exhaling.

“Not anymore. There's -” She screws up her face. “Ouf. Pressure.”

“Pressure like you need to push?” Curt’s voice is calm, even though Rosa can't for the life of her understand how. Amy nods shortly.

Rosa stares at her. “Are you sure?”

Amy stares back with a death glare, and Rosa holds up her hands in retreat.

“Okay, not going to question you on that. Cool.”

“Well, that answers my question,” says Curt, the most cheerful one in the room by far. “I’ll get my emergency kit and we'll make some space on the couch. Let's do this!”

“I'm scared,” Amy whispers once they're alone again. Her timid voice is a sharp contrast to her earlier groans and screams. Rosa looks at her and sees the same Amy she comforted during long nights when Jake was in Florida, the Amy that shines through every time her husband's in danger again, no matter how hard she tries to suppress it. Rosa's never been great at comforting, but she could never leave her best friend like this. That instinct is just enough to overpower some of her hate for the situation.

“I know,” she says, stroking away a few pearls of sweat from Amy’s forehead. “But you’re going to be okay.”

“You really think so?”

She nods, and it seems to be a relief to Amy, who manages a tentative smile in return. “Okay. Let’s do this.”

In the end, it’s probably Hitchcock and Scully - and maybe Lieutenant Peanut Butter - who end up being the most unlikely heroes of the day, but when the ambulance finally arrives to relieve her of her duties, Rosa’s still pretty damn proud of herself.

If only Dr. Mervin could have seen me now, she thinks as she burns the afterbirth-covered outfit, remembering the snarky supervisor who had simply nodded and shut the office door in her face when Rosa told her she would be dropping out.

She’s never, ever, delivering a baby again, though.

...

Rosa’s not crazy, so she waits a few days after Jake and Amy come home from the hospital before she asks to visit.

Even then, she’s careful. She remembers how militant Gina was with her minimal-visitors policy after Iggy was born, how she demanded everyone who came brought food and offered to clean up because she ‘sure as hell wasn’t doing any of that crap five days after pushing a living human out of her vagina’, and the last thing she wants is to be a nuisance to two new parents who are probably exhausted as is.

Mac is a week old the day Rosa texts Jake and Amy to ask if she can come over. She assures them that it's okay if they're too tired, that she can bring food if they want, but it's only ten minutes before Amy's replied Not necessary, you're always welcome and Jake's added Mac misses his auntie Ro-Ro. The nickname makes her touched, and she wonders briefly who she's become.

She brings food anyway, a hearty chicken stew made from a family recipe, plus a batch of oatmeal cookies; she’s got manners, and, well, she's not an animal.

It's Jake who opens. He looks surprised to see her, even though they were just texting hours ago.

“Hey, Diaz.” He can't have washed his hair in a while. It looks crazy, curls and tufts sticking up in random patterns, it doesn't look like he's shaved and his outfit seems taken from the days when they worked that apartment murder that drove them both insane. At least he’s wearing pants this time. Sweatpants, but Rosa supposes he's got an excuse.

“Amy's in the bedroom with Mac,” he explains before she can ask. “They were napping, but I just heard him start crying and instantly go quiet again, so now I’m guessing they’re nursing. They’ll be out soon.”

“It’s fine,” she assures him. “I came to see you, too.”

She’d expected their apartment to be way messier, but it looks surprisingly neat. The dining table has been taken over by flowers and greeting cards, there are bottles drying next to the sink and a baby swing next to the armchair, but the space is still tidy. Rosa’s impressed, and a little worried about Amy.

“I brought food,” she says, putting the first container on the kitchen counter.

“Oh my god, you did? I’m sure it's even edible!” Jake lights up. “Charles has given us loads too, but, y’know. I love him, but he's Charles, and anything he cooks is also… Charles.”

“I know what you mean.”

“Yeah.” He gives the chicken stew a closer look, poking at the plastic lid. “This looks great. Thanks, Rosa.”

“You're welcome.”

He smiles, a yawn following suit that he makes no effort to hide. Rosa feels bad for him, but it looks pretty funny, like his mouth is about to stretch into an abyss before he's done.

“Tired?”

“I’ll be real with you, I have not slept in a while. You want coffee?”

“Dude, it's 8 p.m.”

“Excellent observation, Diaz. Would you mind explaining that to my son?” Something in his expression changes when he says the word son. There’s a pride in his voice as he pronounces it, weighing the syllable like he can’t get enough. “I love him more than anything, but wow, he’s a shit sleeper. You want tea instead?” Jake's already digging in a cabinet. “We have, uhm… Earl Grey, lemon, and something called lactation tea. Maybe you don’t want that.” He sniffs the jar. “Smells pretty good, though. Don’t knock it ‘til you try it?”

“Lemon’s fine. Oh, and I’ve got cookies, too.”

“Who are you?”

“I gotta say, I thought your place would be chaos.” They’ve brought their cups to the couch, where Jake is already on his third cookie and getting crumbs all over the blue flannel. “I’m impressed.”

“Well, my wife is a superhero.” Rosa raises a brow, and he quickly adds, “fine, I’ve done most of this, just so she doesn’t have to stress over it. And my mom was here yesterday. The first thing still stands, though.”

“Yeah.”

“Thanks for being there with her,” he says, and the gravity in his tone takes her by surprise.

“I did nothing,” she mumbles. “You would have done a much better job. Maybe she would have even listened to you if you’d told her to go to the hospital.”

“I wouldn’t be so certain about that. She can be pretty…”

“Obstinate?”

“I was going to say determined, but sure. Sometimes.” Jake shakes his head. “I say that with love. Anyway, I’m glad it was you. Can you imagine if it had been Charles? She might have killed the man, which would have put such a damper on the whole night, don’t you think? Nah. You were great.”

He meets her eyes again as he says it, and Rosa looks away. She’s rarely one to appreciate flattery, but after the intensity of the situation and the slight guilt she felt afterward over not being the source of calm medical school taught her she should be - some of it’s welcomed.

“Sorry your son had to be delivered by a firefighter.”

“Yeah, that’s tragic, isn’t it?” Jake laughs. “But you helped, too. That’s a pretty cool story to tell Mac about his aunt Rosa one day. I know you hated it, but thank you for staying with her.”

“I wouldn’t have left her.”

“I know.”

Neither of them says anything else in response. She can tell what he means anyway, and knows he can do the same with her. She forgets, sometimes, how long she’s known him; longer than she’s known anyone else at the precinct. She still remembers the goofy student who was restless in a classroom but always sharp as a knife during practical training, the guy she met her first day at the Academy and immediately took a liking to; not just because he seemed like the type who didn’t care about her past or personal life, but also because he was passionate. About Die Hard, taking down bad guys, and about making the people around him feel better, not that he would have confessed the last part.

She still remembers one morning during their second month of the Academy, when she’d arrived at training red-eyed after a bad fight with her boyfriend at the time. Without asking what had happened, Jake spent the entire day pointing out every detail he thought had a chance of making her snicker, and by the end of the day, she’d forgotten about the fight. He’s still the same, she thinks. A few years older, more emotionally mature, and less insistent on dying a heroic death while saving the city from a terrorist attack - but the thoughtfulness and the need to make sure the people he loves are safe and taken care of remains the same.

Rosa hears steps in the hallway, accompanied by what sounds like the shy whining Arlo does when he’s hiding after doing something naughty, and looks up to see Amy. She’s holding Mac against her chest and stroking his back through the baby pink blanket, but he’s still fussing a little. Jake jumps up faster than Rosa knew the man could move, and she watches as the couple exchanges the infant between their arms with so much carefulness. They look practiced, but in a way where they don’t trust it about themselves, where the confidence doesn’t yet match the skill.

“Diaper change?” Jake asks, and Amy nods. “Amazing. Dad duty calls,” he grins, disappearing with Mac to the nursery.

“You make him do all the diaper changes?” Rosa asks as Amy joins her on the couch.

“Almost. I did the hard work, he’s gotta catch up.” She reaches for Jake’s cup, swallowing the last of the lukewarm coffee. “And he offers.”

Amy looks far more exhausted now than when Rosa last saw her in the hospital, the bags under her eyes not even hidden by makeup and her ponytail frizzy. She's wearing sweatpants again and the same flannel and shirt-combo as Jake, only hers is pink and not blue. Rosa wonders if their coordination is intentional or simple habit.

“So… how are you doing?”

It's not a question she asks often, but this time, she cares about the answer.

“I’m so tired,” Amy fires back the second Rosa finishes her sentence, like she's been bursting to complain over it. “Sore. Crying at everything. We’re just trying to figure it out.” She sighs, and then she gets a smile on her lips. “But it’s good. He's objectively the best, most wonderful baby ever.”

“Worth it?”

“Yeah, but that was never a question.”

Jake returns from the diaper change with Mac, who still doesn't quite seem content where he squirms in his father's arms, instantly gaining Amy's attention.

“Clean baby, still not happy,” Jake reports. “Maybe he didn't finish eating?”

“Could be,” Amy says, stretching out her arms to take him. “I’ll see if he's still hungry. You can go take a shower if you want. I’ve got Rosa.”

“Do I need to shower?”

“Yes, babe, you do.”

Jake grimaces, but he's off to the bathroom as soon as Amy returns her focus to the baby in her arms. Mac’s turning his whole body against her chest like it couldn't be clearer what he's after, and Amy sighs as she starts unbuttoning the flannel.

“You don't mind, right?”

“Why would I mind? You're feeding your baby,” Rosa shrugs. “I’ve seen a lot worse, if you remember. I think I can handle accidentally catching a glimpse of your boob.”

Amy blushes. “Guess you’ve got a point.”

It takes them a minute, Amy talking to her son in a low, soothing voice as he keeps tensing and fussing before he catches on. Rosa looks away, wanting to give them some privacy, but she can hear the moment Mac starts suckling and the sigh of relief that follows from Amy.

“There you go,” she says. “We just need to relax, and we’re good.”

There’s a tenderness even to the way she speaks to him, like love is packed into each word. Rosa thinks of the way Amy hid her pregnancy for months in fear that something would go wrong, and how scared she was that giving birth under less than ideal circumstances would somehow make her a bad mom. She doesn’t seem as scared anymore. Rather, there’s an air of quiet confidence over her when she’s holding him, and it’s moving to see.

“Slow down, McClane,” she whispers, thumb stroking over his cheek. “I know you’re hungry, but if you keep going like that, you’re going to puke, okay? We’ve been through this.”

“I’m proud of you,” the words spill out of Rosa, and Amy blinks.

“You’re proud of me?”

“Yeah, I’m proud of you.” A shy smile flutters across Amy’s lips. “But if you ever have another kid, I’m not going near you a month before you’re due, okay? I’ll transfer precincts or something. Never again.”

Amy laughs, but Rosa just stares at her, and she goes silent. “Got it. Cool. That’s fair.”

“Do you want to hold him?” The question takes Rosa by surprise. Mac has finished eating and burped Amy in the face - babies are charming - and seems content again with his head on Amy’s shoulder. “He’s clean and wearing clothes.”

“Uhm, yeah.” Rosa tries to remember when she last held a baby. It was probably Iggy, but Gina’s daughter is three years old now, and she hasn’t wanted to cuddle with Rosa for at least two. “Okay.”

Her heart is beating fast as she holds out her arms and Amy gently transfers him to them, but then he’s there, and it’s not as scary. Mac looks up at her with his big, brown eyes, like he's trying to figure out who this new person is that's holding him, but he doesn't seem too bothered by the change.

“Hi,” says Rosa, tracing one of the rainbows on his onesie. “We’ve met before.”

The fact that she saw this baby be born is something she most of all wants to forget. She won't for a second pretend he looked cute then, all purple and slimy and half-Cuban Jimmy Neutron-like, but now she can actually distinguish some of his features. Dark hair that won’t quite lie flat, a pointy little nose, the sweetest round cheeks, and a curious expression when she meets his eyes with equal focus. There’s some resemblance to both of his parents, something she imagines Charles has probably talked their ears off about already, but he looks like himself, too.

Mac opens his mouth like he’s trying to communicate, and Rosa makes the same face back at him. He closes it, pursing his lips, and she mimics him again. He’s pretty cool, she decides, as long as she doesn’t think about how fragile he is or how soft his head is. He’s this unscarred and innocent, brand new little person with his whole life ahead of him to be filled with successes and mistakes, heartbreaks and dreams, and now that he’s not seconds-out of a womb anymore, Rosa can’t deny that he’s adorable.

“He’s perfect, right?” Amy’s voice is just above a whisper.

“He’s so cute, it’s fucked up.”

Amy laughs. “It is fucked up,” she nods, and then she gets a far more serious look in her eyes. “Thanks again for being there. I know you hated it, but... I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

“It wasn’t a big deal,” Rosa finds herself lying, but Amy shakes her head.

“No, it was. I’m happy it was you.”

She thinks of Jake’s comment earlier, that Amy might have killed Charles if he’d been the one to try and coach her through contractions, and smirks. “It was worth it.”

Amy smiles. “Auntie Ro-Ro.”

“I get to say that. You don’t get to say that. It’s different.”

“Fine. Can I take a picture of you two? Just to have for him? I won’t ever show it to anyone else, I promise.”

“Sure.” Mac’s started moving a little in her arms again, scrunching his face and looking worried, but he’s not crying, so Rosa raises him slightly anyway and angles him so Amy can get a better picture.

“Adorable,” she says, about to snap the first shot, and right then Mac squirms and spits up. Right over Rosa’s leather jacket. Then he smiles, like everything just became so much better.

“Oh no!” Amy peeps, reaching for a washcloth. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I’ll take him off your hands if you want -”

“It’s fine,” she hurries to say. “It wipes off.”

“Are you -”

“I said it’s fine.” Rosa gives her a look, as if to say don’t you dare take this baby from me.

Amy looks nervous, but she takes a couple of pictures anyway. Rosa thinks that they’re probably from her bad side, but she doesn’t care to protest. It’s for Mac, anyway, and maybe a little bit for Amy and Jake. She can look ugly in a couple of iPhone pictures if it means she gets to hold this perfect baby for a few minutes more.

“So cute.” Amy sounds teary as she looks at the pictures before putting her phone away, and then it's as if she's been reading Rosa’s mind, because she asks,

“Are you okay to hold him for five minutes? Just while I go to the bathroom?”

“Yeah, I’ve got this.”

Rosa has got this, at first. Mac has gripped her index finger and is holding on tight to it while she tickles his chin, boops his nose, and even sticks out her tongue to entertain him. He seems happy, watching her with the same wide eyes and intense eye contact, but then, something suddenly comes over him. He scrunches his forehead, making a face like a sad kitten, and the next second he’s crying.

It takes Rosa by surprise. She's got no idea what to do with a crying baby - she's always just given them back to the parents - but Jake’s nowhere to be seen and breaking into the bathroom to place a screaming baby in Amy’s arms seems rude, although she definitely considers it. Rosa stands up instead, swaying from side to side while bouncing on the heels of her feet.

“Shh, shh,” she tries, to no effect. “It's okay.”

Mac lets out another wail like something is making him well and truly heartbroken, and the sound tugs at her heartstrings.

“Where are your parents?” She asks him then, like he's not wondering the same thing. “I’m sorry, Mac, I don’t know what to do -”

An idea hits her. Babies like music, right? She could sing to him. Babies probably don’t like aggressive German rap, but that’s fine, Rosa knows other songs, somewhere down deep -

“The itsy bitsy spider, went up the water spout,” she sings the first song that pops into her head. “Down came the rain and washed the spider out…”

She's not prepared for it to work, but then, as suddenly as the screaming started, Mac calms down again. He lets out the sweetest snuffling noise, and then he goes quiet.

“Out came the sun, and washed up all the rain, and the itsy bitsy spider went up the spout again…”

Rosa doesn't dare stop. She keeps rocking and singing, rocking and singing, all the while staring at this baby who has such a grip on her somehow. When did a baby last make her sing? He's still staring at her with wide eyes, and she doesn’t want him to start crying again, so she sings the song from the top.

“The itsy bitsy spider went up the water spout..”

When she finishes the song for the second time, Mac’s closed his eyes and is slowly waving a tiny fist, so she holds it in her hand and lets his grip close around her thumb.

“If you ever get an enemy in the future,” she whispers, “you text me, okay? I’ll beat them up for you.”

“Aww.” Rosa flinches, noticing Jake a few feet away. “You guys are adorable. How are things going?”

“He started crying, so I, uh, sang to him? He's fine now. I think.”

“Yeah, I heard the singing.” Jake steps closer to her so she can slide Mac over to his arms. “Truly beautiful.”

“Never tell anyone about this.”

He winks. “Our secret.”

Mac lets out another whimper, and Rosa tenses, but Jake just lifts him so he's resting against his chest, like a little frog with his head resting on Jake’s shoulder. Then he pops the pacifier he was holding into Mac’s mouth, and as if through a stroke of magic, the baby relaxes. Jake buries his nose in Mac’s hair and kisses the top of his head, and Rosa can't hide a smile.

He looks so grown up like this, so in love as he holds his son. She’s proud of him.

Amy returns from the bathroom with a stressed-out look in her eyes, but once she sees Mac with Jake, it melts right off her. She stands on the tip of her toes, kissing Mac’s cheeks first and then Jake’s.

Rosa feels like she’s lurking, spying on this intimate family moment, but then she remembers she literally saw this kid be born. This family has nestled its way into her life from the very beginning. She’s earned the right to be here.

She still excuses herself after a moment, but she doesn’t leave before she’s stolen a final dose of baby snuggles. How this baby has got her so wrapped around his tiny little finger already is a mystery, but at the same time, it makes all the sense in the world.

“Be nice to your parents,” she whispers to Mac as he gets a final turn in her arms. “They’re a little crazy, I know, but they really love you a lot. So do I,” she adds, under her breath, “but don’t tell anyone I said that.”

Mac blinks, like he understands.

#OKAY FOLKS I FINALLY DID IT #my writing #b99 fic #brooklyn nine-nine fic #amy santiago #rosa diaz #mac peralta #b99

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angst-fairygodmother · 3 years

Text

Dreams (Oliver Sway x Reader)

A/N: I wasn’t going to write Ollie. In fact I was so sure, that I deleted this request after deciding that neither of the Nikolai prompts moved me. But luckily I had a screenshot, because I couldn’t stop thinking about the Ollie one. It was too perfect not to write. Word Count: 2036 Rating: G - I’m pretty sure this one is warningless, other than references to nightmares and references to The Song of Sway Lake.

Like many from the area, you had grown up hearing stories of the mighty Sways and their dominion over the lake. But you had never met one, almost believing them some story told just to increase the romantic draw of the area. Until the day Oliver and his friend stopped into your bookshop.

It was raining pretty heavily outside, the kind of days where locals stay home and tourists leave, driving out of town and off to museums and malls. The shop was empty, almost sleepy, and you were in the back fixing a cup of coffee to keep yourself from napping on the front desk when you heard the door chime. With a sigh, you put on your best customer service face and walked out.

“Hi, welcome to the Papermill,” you called before you had even fully circled the stacks. “I’m Y/N, I’ll be right with you.”

The two boys dripping on your welcome mat looked about your own age. One, tall with curly hair and blue button-up plastered to his skin, grinned at you, shamelessly looking you over. The other, long hair practically a matted mess, looked more sheepish, tugging at the ends of his shirtsleeves.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “We were just...out running errands for my grandmother and it started pouring. You were the closest place to duck into.”

“Oleg, you cannot tell a beautiful girl that,” his friend said, his accent shocking you. You were used to tourists, sure, but never one from...so far away. “You must pretend that it was she alone that called you in.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, raising a challenging eyebrow. “Do you also pretend she’s deaf?”

The Russian shrugged, still grinning.

Your eyes fell back to meet the other boy (Oleg, or Ollie, apparently), actually feeling drawn the way his friend said he should pretend to be, and your smile softened.

“I don’t mind being a refuge,” you said.

He looked startled, blue eyes widening.

“From the rain, I mean,” you rushed to clarify. “Actually, I think I’ve got a couple towels in the back, for emergencies. Let me grab them.”

You scurried back off, feeling flustered, before they could answer.

“You Americans, always so courteous,” the Russian said as you practically tossed an old, striped beach towel at him.

“Actually, I just don’t want you ruining my livelihood.”

You turned, holding out the other to Ollie, fingers brushing together as you passed it over, and he gave you a small smile.

“Once you don’t look like drowned rats, you’re free to look around,” you shrugged. “Or...there’s some chairs and stuff in the biography section if you want to just sit somewhere to wait things out.”

“Will you sit with us?” Ollie blurted out, surprising all three of you.

“Oh. Um…” you bit your lip. You wanted to, but you really should be working. Then again, there wasn’t likely to be any other customers. “Sure, I can do that, for a bit at least. Do y’all uh...coffee?” you gestured a thumb over your shoulder, as if that explained anything.

His friend glanced between you with a raised eyebrow and a devilish smirk before shaking his head and wandering off toward the back, where you didn’t feel like pointing out he’d mostly find children’s books.

Over the next hour, as the storm increased in intensity and rattled the windows, you found yourself falling into easy conversation with Ollie while Nikolai prowled the stacks. You suspected the odd Russian was up to something, but were surprised to find that you didn’t care as much as you probably should.

“You know,” you said eventually, shifting the way you were sitting with your knees tucked up under you, leaning closer to Ollie in the next chair, “I feel like I know you…”

“Well, it’s been a long time but my grandmother owns a place on the lake, and I sort of grew up here, it’s just been a while since I’ve been back,” he said reluctantly, as if he were somehow ashamed of his background.

“Oh!” you were surprised, expecting at most that he was a seasonal visitor. There hadn’t been that many other kids around growing up, so you started racking your brain for who he might be.

“Yes,” Nikolai piped in from somewhere in what you hazarded a guess was the science-fiction section. “Don’t you know? He is a Sway.” The pronouncement was made with the same level of gravitas and pomp as one might announce that someone was the king of Spain.

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Like, your name is attached to the lake, Sway?”

Ollie was tugging uncomfortably at his sleeves again, like he was trying to disappear within his sweater. “It's no big deal.”

You studied him for a moment. He seemed somehow both proud and ashamed of his heritage, and uncomfortable talking about it. You already liked this boy a lot, more already than you cared to admit. So despite your questions, you shrugged.

“Cool,” you said casually, changing the subject back to music, where he seemed like he shined and you were content to sit back and just listen.

Before you knew it, you had whiled away the entire afternoon and the weather was finally letting up. You were reluctant to say goodbye to Oliver and found yourself impulsively giving him a hug before he left.

Since then, he had seemed to find any excuse he could to come back. Sometimes Nikolai would come too, but as much as you enjoyed the company of the wild Russian, you preferred the quiet days when it was just you and Ollie. He was sweet, and pretty hilarious once he came out of his shell (or maybe stopped being overshadowed by larger personalities?)

Until one day he came into the shop, looking sullen and lost.

“Ollie?” you asked, circling the counter, frowning. “Are you alright?”

He shook his head, and your frown only deepened. Bending back over the counter, standing on your toes to do so, you dug around for something. Finding it, you slapped the “Be back soon” sign on the desk and led him over to your usual chairs.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, leaning over to take his hands.

He stared, unblinking, at you and the silence was starting to unnerve you.

“Oliver?” you lifted one of your hands to wave in front of him. “Hello? You’re starting to scare me…”

That seemed to finally shake him out of the odd funk he was in and he blinked owlishly.

“Sorry, I just...I had a weird dream last night,” he said slowly.

You nodded, tilting your head curiously. In all your long conversations, his nightmares had come up a few times, and while they seemed more strange than sinister to you, you understood how much the loss of his father haunted him, sometimes it seemed quite literally. He confessed that he’d hoped that finding the record would quiet his father’s spirit, and that the longer he struggled to do so, the worse the dreams had been getting, to the point where there were nights he woke up more tired than he’d gone to bed. So you understood, to a degree, why he might look haggard, but this seemed different. You waited patiently for him to go on.

“It wasn’t about my dad this time,” he explained.

His eyes drifted down to your still joined hands, and your face heated guiltily.

“Sorry, I wasn’t...I just...I thought...I’ll…” you stammered, finding yourself at a total loss for how to explain why your instinct had been to comfort him with physical touch.

You moved to pull your hands back, thinking he was upset by the contact, but he curled his own around you to stop you. You made a small noise of confusion, but relaxed back into it.

“So, if it wasn’t about your dad, what was your dream about that has you so...off-kilter?”

“I was leaving the lake, alone, and then I kept seeing a face everywhere.”

“Like a creepy serial killer's face?”

He shook his head, hair swinging across his face as he moved, and you itched to reach out and comb it back.

“No, it was like I was trying to catch up to someone, or find them.”

“And did you? Or at least figure out who it was?”

He shifted nervously. “It was...you.”

“What?” your heart was racing, and you frowned, almost not believing what Ollie was saying.

“I dreamt about you last night, Y/N.” He seemed stunned, almost awed, as he said the words out loud, blue eyes wide and watching you for a reaction.

You felt rooted in your chair, mouth falling open in shock. Your eyes flickered over his face, so open and earnest that it almost hurt.

“Ollie…” you breathed, more because you felt like you needed to say something than because you had any clue what to say.

It would have been one hell of a pickup line, if it had been said by a stranger at a bar, or with the kind of cocky charm that Nikolai oozed, or in almost any context but this one. Now it felt intense and a little bit frightening, because you knew Ollie and you knew how much stock he placed in dreams and all the possible meanings of him telling you this were...a lot. But you didn’t necessarily want to pull away, and you certainly didn’t want to run. You just wanted your mind to process it all.

“I can’t remember the last time I had a good dream, and this one wasn’t great, because I was still alone and feeling like I was always a few seconds too late, but it wasn’t a nightmare, and I didn’t wake up in a cold sweat,” he carried on, trying to explain more, or rationalize, or something.

The sound of a bell disturbed your thoughts, as one of the old tourist bitties that had been slowly perusing tapped it repeatedly, demanding you return to work immediately to serve her.

“If you want, we’ve got some stuff about dream interpretation in the Spiritual section,” you suggested as you got up to return to work.

About halfway across the shop, you turned back to flash him a wink. “But I’ve got a pretty good guess what this one meant, without needing a guide.”

Intense and a little weird or not, you liked Ollie a lot. If he was really dreaming about you, or pretending he was, you’d play along, and maybe something would move forward, or at least a door would open so you could make a move.

He shot up from his chair and trailed you back to the counter. As soon as the lady was out of the way, a bag of rather scandalous romance novels in her arms, he leaned his elbows on the tall wooden surface, pretty far into your space. Normally such an action would have annoyed you, but strangely, because it was him, you didn’t mind so much.

“What does it mean then, Y/N?” he asked, a curious expression on his face, his eyes betraying a hint of teasing that you were pleasantly surprised to see.

You rolled your eyes, leaning your chin in your hand and tilting your head to look at him.

“Are you ever going to ask me out, Ollie?”

He rocked backwards, stunned by your bluntness after so long dancing around each other.

“Or are you going to keep waiting, find your treasure, and leave, regretting that you never shot your shot?”

“How about dinner then?” he asked hurriedly. “Tonight?”

You leaned closer, as if you were going to kiss him, and smiled at his sharp intake of breath. “Sounds perfect. But make sure Nikolai knows he’s not invited.”

“What? Why would you even--” he trailed off as you nodded your head to where the Russian was smirking at you both through the display window, flashing Ollie an approving gesture when he caught your gaze.

Ollie groaned, rolling his entire head dramatically, and you pressed your hand over your mouth to hold back a laugh.

“I’ll see you at seven, Sway,” you teased. “But for now, shoo, I’ve got more customers.”

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Taglist: @misskittysmagicportal (I doubt I’m going to write this character again, but let me know if you want to be tagged if I do)

#everyone else: I write for these Robert Sheehan characters #me: I write for...their best friends?#(this is not a dig at anyone but myself. For constantly falling into a predictable pattern of behavior like I don't expect it)#I should write an Alfie x Reader fic (since I sure as heck aint writing Malachy) and just round it out #fuck. I said it. Now it’s gonna happen...#anyway...enjoy!#Oliver Sway x Reader #Song of Sway Lake fic #fluff

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hopelessinseattle93 · 2 years

Text

Clusterfuck of Emotions

Unsure if covid is making me crazy OR I’m just plain crazy. The dream I had last night was so realistic. It really felt like it was happening. All around me. Feelings, anxieties, the touch of someone else. The whole night I was in a city that was chaotic but I loved it? Very much had a feeling of downtown NYC but also kind of ludicrous. Almost like a broken Seattle, without the homeless. A city I felt comfortable rummaging around in, and knew my way around well.

I was constantly in and out of this bar that was like Sluggers, but kind of swanky and kind of bummy? Pastanovaesque but blended into Sluggers? What even is happening. Nobody knows. Especially not me. I am working and shooting the shit with coworkers, while chumming it up with regulars and snobs. It was like a mix of all my busiest days in all of these places. Amongst bumrushing myself out of there, I ran to a broken down car to make my way to a house I’d never been too but also seemed oddly familiar. But at the same time, I most definitely haven’t been there. It felt kind of creepy, but was also somewhere I could maneuver and run through quickly and know how to escape without being caught.

ALL THE WHILE, I’m running on foot. To get to this house because time is fleeting and I feel that I’m going to be late but I don’t realize where I’m so eager to be heading until I actually got there... The weather? Snowy, wet, cold…. Again until I get to this place... It’s like I stepped through a different universe to get there, once I did.

I put my shit car into park at the bottom of a very steep driveway to a glass mansion looking house. But it’s a wedding venue, and I’m walking up to none other than Brian & Brianna’s wedding. The anxiety at this point is rushing through my stomach. I literally felt like I was going to throw up mid dream. My heart is aching watching Brian and Brianna hold hands about to say I do – but I object. Oh I do.. I tell them it can’t happen because I haven’t stopped thinking about him, that I’m so hopelessly in love with him and I know he feels the same towards me. That none of THIS should be happening because we were meant to be together and are soulmates. It’s like a movie. A damn movie. But it all felt so real. He let go of her with tear filled eyes telling me he’s so sorry that he never talked to me again because he truly thought he lost me and that I never wanted to hear from him again. I expressed that it was total bullshit that I have felt so lost, that I’ve missed so many things. I finally got to hold his hands and kiss him, and feel his hands on me…..

But that’s the crazy part I have never felt any of this. None. And I know that. I have wanted it from the day we started talking but where in the hell does this dream get off? We kept talking in the dream, and he kept kissing me all over.

I woke up more confused then ever, and what’s even weirder is that when I checked his FB. He had actually changed his profile photo to a pic of him and Bri & the cover photo was a new collage with a couple of them, from his trips this last Summer+ his nephew… I just …..

Come on universe…. Stop fucking with my heart, please?

#dreams #lostlove #tryagain #lostandconfused #whyamilikethis #totalchaos

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haileyyanneupton · 4 years

Text

🍷drunk🍷

HAILEY UPTON X JAY HALSTEAD

UPSTEAD AU ONESHOT

masterlist | series masterlist

prompt: you’re drunk and walked into the wrong apartment and fell asleep on my couch. oh god, you’re going to be so confused in the morning

Hailey wasn’t one to drink more than a beer or two when she was out at a bar, but tonight she was alone, kind of sad, and ready to forget the events of the last few days. She had just broken it off with her boyfriend who of course refused to leave the apartment that they had been splitting the rent on for the last two years, leaving her somewhat stranded. Working out where she was going to sleep tonight sounded like a problem for future Hailey as she made her way into the bar and planted herself on a barstool, calling for a glass of whiskey as she took a swig from it and the liquid burned on the way down. One whiskey turned into six and eventually, Hailey was wandering the streets trying to work out exactly where her best friend Vanessa’s apartment was. Was it smart? No. But what other choice did she have?

Eventually, she made her way to what she was sure was Vanessa’s apartment, pulling a bobby pin from her hair to pick the woman’s lock. Somehow, even in her inebriated state, she still managed to successfully work out how to get inside, having enough sense to re-lock the door before collapsing on the couch. She was tired and she knew Vanessa wouldn’t mind once she learned about what her asshole ex had done; he wouldn’t even let her go back to get her things. Hailey was just trying to forget about him and go to sleep for the night as she collapsed onto the couch.

Jay had been asleep in his bed when he heard the squeaking of his front door and light footsteps on the floorboards of his second level apartment. At first he thought that it was his imagination, though his paranoia still got the best of him as he searched for an object he would be able to use to defend himself with. Slowly but surely, he tiptoed his way to his bedroom door and allowed it to swing open just wide enough for him to see the rest of his apartment in full view, his brows falling into a puzzled v shape.

On his couch was a blonde haired woman, her beauty still preserved in her semi-comatose state as she slept softly.

Jay couldn’t help but let out a small laugh. So, he wasn’t imagining things, but it was suddenly very, very clear to him that he was under no threat — despite the fact that she had totally committed a felony by breaking into his apartment. Sighing lightly in relief, he scurried back to shove the baseball bad he had been holding in his hands back underneath his bed and pulled one of the blankets from his bed, draping it over his arm as he headed out to his living room where the woman was sleeping. Her eyes — though they were closed — looked slightly puffy as though she had been crying, leaving Jay to frown sadly; he had always been deeply empathetic — the sight of anybody else being sad tugged at his heartstrings every time.

Ensuring he was as quiet and gentle as he possibly could be, he threw the blanket hanging from his arm over the woman and lifted her head up ever so slightly to slide a pillow beneath it, the smell of alcohol helping him put the pieces together as he frowned yet again — he was sure she was going to be so confused and probably even a bit frightened when she eventually woke up in the morning. Racking his brain for an idea as to how he could soften the blow for the woman when she awoke from her peaceful slumber, he went over to where his makeshift office was and pulled a piece of paper and a pen from his drawer, jotting down a quick note and leaving it on the coffee table before retiring back to his bed for the night.

🍷🍷🍷🍷

As Hailey blinked her eyes open the next morning, three things happened one after another another like a chain reaction.

First was the realisation of everything that happened in the last twenty four hours. The breakup with her boyfriend, the whole 'drinking her body weight in whiskey’ situation, and the whole 'having to crash at Vanessa’s apartment’ thing. She groaned as (most) of her memories flooded back to her.

Next was the realisation that she actually wasn’t in Vanessa’s apartment at all. The walls weren’t the same shade of white as Vanessa’s were, the couch was a black leather rather than the bright red one that her best friend had, and she was sure that Vanessa hadn’t suddenly changed the entire layout of her apartment. Sitting up, she took in her surroundings with a sense of panic washing over her as she spotted the piece of paper sitting on the coffee table, addressed in a way that inadvertently bought a smile to her lips.

To the really pretty girl asleep on my couch,

I know you’re probably really freaked out right now, but let me explain.

My name is Jay, and when you read this I’m probably hiding in my bedroom so that I don’t scare you. But anyway, you picked my lock last night and crashed on my couch. I don’t know who you are but you looked kind of sad and I could tell you probably had a few drinks, so I just put a blanket over you to keep you warm and figured it was lucky you picked the lock of the guy who finds this kind of hilarious rather than the guy next door who either would have shot first and asked questions later or the guy downstairs who calls the cops every time someone knocks at his door.

If you want to come and say hi or whatever, just come knock on my door. I’ll be awake. Unless you’re up before 8am, which I figure is pretty unlikely.

Anyway.

If you want to come say hi, come to my bedroom door. If you want to escape and pretend this never happened, that’s cool too. Completely up to you.

I hope this isn’t creepy or anything. I just thought that you were probably safer here in my apartment than wandering the street during the night which is why I let you be.

Sincerely, Guy-who-is-trying-to-do-the-right-thing-here (also known as Jay).

Finally, the third thing happened. The regret and embarrassment came washing over Hailey like a wave as she fell back onto the pillow behind her head, gluing her eyes closed as she let out a huff. This could not be happening. It had to be a dream, right? How could so many unpleasant things happen in such a short amount of time?

Hailey was just about ready to get up and scurry out of the apartment with her tail between her legs when she glanced back down to the note that the owner of the apartment — Jay — had left her. He seemed like a nice guy, and it wouldn’t be fair to him if she didn’t at least offer up a thank you. The silence in the apartment echoed through her head, the tension on her side of the door evident as she carefully peeled the blanket off of her legs and folded it up neatly, placing it down on the end of the couch. Every move she made was methodically planned out and meticulously executed — for what, she didn’t know.

She had always been the brave one. The first one to step up to a challenge no matter how big or small, the first one to speak up and be completely unapologetic about it, too. It wasn’t at all like Hailey to be standing there the way she was, pacing back and forth slightly as her fingers drummed against her thigh, yet here she was. In a stranger’s apartment. After literally committing a crime while blind drunk and now having one of the worst hangovers she’s ever experienced (which, by the way, she was sure was only being worsened by the the previous facts).

Forcing herself to muster up the courage, Hailey marched herself over to the bedroom door and knocked twice, immediately feeling her heart drop as every inch of her body wanted to bolt. Still, she kept her feet planted on the spot as she and the man behind the door suddenly came face to face. Hailey felt the wind being knocked out of her, their eyes meeting at the same time that she attempted to force out a million words.

“I am so, so sorry,” she said quickly, not giving the man a chance to respond as he instead stared at her with a lopsided smirk. Hailey was so in her own head that she hadn’t even gotten the chance to appreciate how remarkably attractive the man was, instead jumping to her own explanation. “I was drunk and I thought this was my best friends apartment. I didn’t have anywhere else to go because my asshole ex-boyfriend has decided to claim the apartment that I pay rent on and I just collapsed on the couch and I am —“

“Okay, breathe,” Jay smirked lightly, finding amusement in the woman’s rambling. “You don’t need to apologise — it’s cool. How about we start with a name, huh? I’m Jay, but. . . you already know that.”

“Hailey,” the woman answered. “My name is Hailey. Although you can refer to me as idiot, felon, dumbass, or all of the above if you so wish.”

Jay chuckled lightly — she was funny. He hadn’t expected that, though he wasn’t sure why. “Thanks for the offer, but I’ll stick with Hailey.”

Hailey gave a halfhearted smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Anyway — I just wanted to say thank you. I’ll get out of your apartment now, and I swear you’ll never see me again or —“

“Wait, you don’t have to rush out if you don’t want to,” Jay’s words came off cooler than what they felt like for him. Internally he was screaming for her to stay, partly because she was even more beautiful now that she was awake and he just wanted to stare at her forever even though he knew absolutely nothing about her. She was intriguing — that lured the man in as if he was a sailor being called to an echoing siren, soft and smooth yet piercing too, all at the same time. “Do you want something to eat? What about some Advil, or I could drive you to your friend’s place — better yet I’ll go and kick your asshole ex out of the apartment.”

The blonde-haired woman chuckled lightly. “No, no, it’s okay. Would I. . . uh. . . would I be able to wash my face in your bathroom really quick, please? I won’t be long, I just — I normally take a shower in the mornings and —"

“Oh, you can totally take a shower!” Jay said incredulously, opening up his door wide enough for the girl to come into his bedroom as he pointed towards the ensuite bathroom a few steps away.

“I don’t have any clothes.”

“I can pull something out of the closet!”

Hailey smiled gratefully up at the man as she thanked him, heading to the bathroom as Jay laid out an oversized hoodie and a pair of track pants on the bed. Heading out to the kitchen, Jay figured starting on something resembling breakfast was a good idea, even if the very pretty girl in his apartment wasn’t going to have anything. The sound of the shower running in the background mixed in with the sizzling of eggs on the frypan that Jay had probably only used enough times for him to count on one hand as he stirred them around, grabbing out two plates before splitting what he had made in half.

With her perfect timing, just as Jay placed down the plate on a small table by one of the only windows in his apartment, Hailey reemerged from the bedroom. The hoodie he had left for her hung down to her knees and the sweatpants she had on were at least two sizes too big, but even with her dripping wet locks and bare face, she was just as beautiful as ever.

“I — uh — I made eggs.” Jay stumbled across his words as he gestured towards the plate. “I hope I’m not overstepping or anything. I just thought that since I was making some already for myself. . .”

“You’re not overstepping,” Hailey smiled gently, his hesitation bringing a chuckle to escape her lips. “I was just naked in your apartment — I feel like this is probably acceptable, regardless of how I got here. I learned how to pick locks when I was like, fourteen and let’s just say I’ve used it way more times than I care to admit.”

Jay let out a laugh as Hailey sat down, the two deciding to become acquainted with one another. She learned that he was a doctor for Veteran’s Affairs while she was a social worker working out of children’s services — she hadn’t exactly pegged him for the doctor type, what with his unbelievably good looks (that she was now able to appreciate) and all. Hailey listened intently as he told stories of his time overseas from when he himself had served, and although she could see the slight pain on his features as he recalled some of those memories, there was something about Hailey that allowed him to speak his mind to her without any inhibitions. He had never experienced anything like it.

Before they knew it, hours had passed. Hours of them spilling their guts about the most insignificant things that made up who each of them who they were. Hours spilling their guts about the tiniest details that neither of them would ever forget.

“Thank you again, Jay.” Hailey stood at the door, her clothes from the night before sitting in a plastic bag that Jay had offered the woman as they said their goodbyes. “You’re a really good guy. I’m glad I broke into your apartment.”

Jay couldn’t help but laugh, wiping his sweaty palms on his pants as his eyes cast downwards, nervous in anticipation. “I was thinking. . . “

“Mmm?”

“Uhm — Listen, Hailey . . . I really had a good time talking to you over breakfast. Would you maybe — uh — you don’t have to say yes but — maybe you’d want to do it again? I know this pizza shop — Bartoli’s — they have the best deep dish in town.”

Hailey’s lips curled upwards — she thought he’d never ask.

“You know what, Jay? I think I’d like that. I think I’d like that a lot."

thank you to @ruzek-halstead for editing and proofreading! 🥰

(i just used the tags from one of my other oneshots bc it’s usually the same people who wanna be tagged 🥰)

#chicago pd #one chicago #au #hailey upton #jay halstead #vanessa rojas #upstead

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onecanonlife · 3 years

Text

careful son (you got dreamer's plans)

Wilbur gasps back to life with mud between his fingers and rain in his eyes.

Wilbur was dead. Now, he is not. He can't say that he's particularly happy about it.

Unfortunately, the server is still as tumultuous as ever, even with Dream locked away, so it seems that his involvement in things isn't a matter of if, but when.

(Alternatively: the prodigal son returns, and a broken family finally begins to heal. If, that is, the egg doesn't get them all killed first.)

Chapter Word Count: 6,284

Chapter Warnings: swearing, panic attack, vomiting, past mind manipulation, discussion of s.uicidal thoughts/behaviors

Chapter Summary: Wilbur has a couple of tough conversations, and he and Schlatt discover something interesting.

(masterlist w/ ao3 links)

(first chapter) (previous chapter) (next chapter)

Chapter Eight: but it gets hard to stand (i)

He is floating at the bottom of the ocean. It is dim and peaceful, and there is dappled light all around, shifting with the waters. He breathes, and fluid fills his lungs, but it moves as easily as if he were inhaling air. His hair floats in front of his face, gleaming white in the glints of sunlight. That should be strange, perhaps, but he feels so very calm. Nothing can reach him here. No care, no hurts. The water is holding him, and he is at rest.

But he is drifting upward.

The surface is approaching. The dimness recedes. There is light overhead, bright and warm, and he is moving toward it swiftly. Still, there is no cause for concern. He watches languidly, content to let it happen.

Is there a reason to fight it?

Surely not.

The waves break around him. He breathes in air. The sun is on his face.

He wakes up.

He lays there, still and quiet for a few moments before he musters the will to move. His breathing seems loud to his own ears, the only sound that he can make out. The roof above him is not one that is familiar—so, not Tommy’s house, then, and he wonders why that is. His mind is blank, and he’s sure there’s something he’s forgetting.

He rolls over and props himself up on his elbow. The lighting is dim, the torches flickering, the bare minimum placed to avoid mobs spawning inside. He’s lying on a cot near the wall, and from his vantage, he can see an area with pews and a dull golden bell, and a towering pillar of water in the center of the space he’s in. Recognition sparks after a few seconds; he’s only been inside a few times, but he knows Church Prime when he sees it.

There is no one else here. He is alone. Is there a reason for that?

He stands on shaky legs and immediately regrets it as his head spins and pounds, like the worst hangover of his life. Drinking would explain the memory issue, but he’s staying with Tommy, so that doesn’t sound like something he would do. Even when he does indulge, he almost never drinks to the point of blacking out. So that doesn’t make sense, but he’s at a loss otherwise. He breathes in through his nose and out through his mouth, and as soon as he thinks he can move without toppling over, he makes his way over to the center of the room, tottering unsteadily.

From here, he can see the front door. Outside, it is night, the Prime Path illuminated in the darkness. Something about that is off, he thinks—wasn’t it morning, the last thing he remembers?

The last thing he remembers—

He frowns, turning to the water, and absently, he runs his fingers through it. Cool and wet and gentle to the touch, and he remembers

(people around him people shouting and he can barely breathe and nausea rolls over him and his head is killing him and his mind is full of a red haze and he wants to go he wants to go but they’re not letting him and there’s water poured on him and forced down his throat and he nearly chokes but finally there is some kind of relief and it all falls away)

He freezes. Withdraws his hand from the water slowly, as if he’s stuck his hand into a mass of thorns and has to pull back out without being pricked.

The Egg. They went to see the Egg.

And the Egg

(oh Prime what did you do)

reached inside of him and picked through his mind and his memories, offering him what he thought he wanted most

(took you and hollowed you out and tried to take the parts that might be redeemable and replace them with itself and make you its creature completely and utterly)

and he let it, let it inside with barely a fight, and he almost hurt Tommy. He almost killed Tommy.

He almost killed Tommy.

A breathy whine escapes him, and he slaps his hand over his mouth as he doubles over, resisting the urge to dry heave. He almost hurt Tommy, almost killed Tommy, and all because he allowed a fucking Egg to whisper to him, because he allowed himself to be taken in and taken over, and he’s lucky, really, that he was able to snap out of it. It’s horrifying to think about, that he might have killed Tommy at the Egg’s direction, killed Tommy and felt triumph over it.

It was in his head.

He loses the battle against his nausea. His knees hit the floor, and he is wracked with dry heaving. There’s nothing in his stomach to come up. It just hurts. His breath hitches, air coming in fits and bursts, and whimpers and moans escape his throat at quick intervals, noises that are wounded and animalistic, but he doesn’t think he could hold them back if he tried. He’s crying, too, but that’s a given. There’s no one here to see, at least. No one here to see his shame, his weakness.

The Egg whispered to him of fire, and he wanted it. The Egg whispered to him of fire, and that’s all it needed to do before he embraced it with open arms.

The Egg whispered to him of rest, and he did it again. And Tommy was there. Tommy was there for all of it, and now Tommy knows that it’s all a front, a lie, a sham, and the miserable creature that got shoved back into this body is nothing like the older brother he wanted, nothing like the older brother he deserves. Scratch the paint off, and what is there but wreckage?

He hunches over, wraps his arms around himself. Tries to breathe. It’s difficult. He wonders if he should bother.

“God, there you are,” someone says, and—not someone. Schlatt. It’s impossible to mistake that voice for anyone else. Which is good, because Wilbur is not currently about to look up. He can’t even manage to get his lungs to cooperate, much less the rest of him. “I’ve been looking all over for you. I never took you for a pious man, Wilbur. Wilbur?” The voice changes, becoming more cautious, and then: “Shit, Wilbur.”

There is no noise to warn him of his approach. Schlatt moves soundlessly, now. But there is a blur of motion just in front of him, and blue enters his field of vision. A wave of calm washes over him at the sight of the color, but not enough. Not nearly enough. He can’t breathe, and he’s not certain that he wants to try.

“Alright, come on,” Schlatt says. “You know the drill, follow my breathing.” And he breathes in and out, very loudly, very purposefully. Out of habit, Wilbur attempts to follow, but he can’t manage it, his chest collapsing in on itself, his breath stuttering and gasping. “Okay, that’s okay, let’s do it again. You know how to do this, Wilbur, you’ve done it before. God, you shouldn’t have to rely on a fucking ghost to tell you how to breathe. That’s just pathetic. You can do it, come on.”

He almost laughs at that. Would, if he had the breath for it. He doesn’t think he’s ever found Schlatt’s vitriol more comforting. And all the while, Schlatt keeps up the pattern, his chest rising and falling with air that he doesn’t need to take in, and slowly, Wilbur manages to fall in time with him.

(they’ve done this before, once upon a time, back before everything, before this server, back when they were young and stupid and the best of friends, and Schlatt always relied on him to get him home after having a few too many and he always relied on Schlatt to calm the hornet’s nest that his mind became, sometimes, when all the world seemed to shrink around him, boxing him in and silencing his voice. they knew each other so well, then, trusted each other despite the warning signs)

“You good?” Schlatt asks. He’s so far from good that the question is ridiculous, but he nods. “Great. You look like shit.”

He does manage a laugh, then, short and bitter. “I feel a bit shit,” he concedes. “Is it that obvious?”

“I mean, I didn’t want to say anything,” Schlatt says. “But I feel like it’s my solemn duty to inform you that you look fucked up. I can’t leave you alone for two minutes, can I?”

“Been a bit longer than that, I think,” he says. “Where did you go, after the prison?”

“Well, you remember how Dream was being a fucking creepy asshole, right?” Schlatt says dryly. “Yeah, that had me freaked. It felt like—I don’t know, he was looking right at me, and it felt like I’d been dunked in a fucking, a fucking oil slick or something, like I could literally feel his eyes on me and his fucking—his murder vibes or some shit, I don’t know.” His form flickers around the edges, his face pulling into a grimace. “So yeah, I dipped. Went to go get something to drink, except I remembered that I can’t fucking do that, so I fucked around for a little while. Saw the crater, did all the tourist shit. Saw Quackity, actually, did you know he’s got, like, fiances now or something? No clue how he managed that. But then I decided to come bug you some more, except you weren’t at Tommy’s or literally anywhere else, and everyone I ran into looked grim as hell. I half-expected to find out that you’d managed to die again or something, or that you’d blown up someone else’s city. But here you are.”

He raises an expectant eyebrow at the end of that speech, not out of breath at all, the bastard.

(he always did like the sound of his own voice. it must be difficult for him to be silenced, for him to be able to stand in the middle of a crowd and have no one know that he’s there at all)

(at the heart of him, there is a part of Schlatt that just wants to be noticed, just wants to be paid attention to. Wilbur knows because they are the same)

Wilbur mulls that over in his mind, and gets stuck on the last part.

He bursts into laughter. He can’t help it. And it’s not very nice laughter, either, probably lands somewhere on the wrong side of deranged, but he can’t stop.

“What’s so funny?” Schlatt demands. “God, you’re such an asshole, I’m trying to have a conversation and you’re—you’re crying again, could you cut that out?”

Schlatt is beginning to sound genuinely alarmed, so Wilbur supposes he should make an effort. He gets a handle on the laughter and reaches up to touch his face, giggles still escaping him every few seconds. His cheeks are wet again, his vision blurring.

“Do you know about the Egg?” he asks.

“The—is that a code for something? What fucking Egg?”

“There’s an Egg underneath BadBoyHalo’s house,” he says. “It’s what’s spreading those red vines across the server. And if you go down there and see it, it talks to you and offers you things and gets in your head to try to override your free will.” He smiles. “I don’t recommend it.”

Schlatt is silent for a long moment, just staring, eyebrows so high that they look like they’re trying to escape his forehead.

“You’re not high, are you?” he eventually asks.

“It offered me destruction, Schlatt,” he says. “Fire and blood. And then it tried to get me to kill Tommy, and I almost did, but I didn’t, and then we tried to leave, and it offered me rest.” He smiles wider. “Rest, Schlatt. I wanted it so bad. I don’t remember how we got out of there. I didn’t want to leave.” He smiles wider still, and then something breaks, and he buries his face in his hands. “I wanted it so fucking bad, I wanted to rest, I still want it, but it was in my fucking head and fucking with my brain and I can’t—” He makes a low noise, pressing his hands harder against his skin, as if that will do anything at all.

“Jesus,” Schlatt mutters. “That’s—that’s fucked up. I don’t know what else you want me to say.”

“I don’t want you to say anything,” he mutters. “I don’t want me to say anything. I don’t want to be here. I fucking—I hurt Tommy, after I said that I wouldn’t. I hurt him. I hurt him.” He lowers his hands a bit, peering up at Schlatt, who looks very discomfited.

“Don’t start crying again,” Schlatt says, “please, I’m not equipped for that. This is—” He cuts off, scrubbing a hand down his face. “Jesus, Wilbur. The kid’s still alive, right?”

“Of course he is,” he snaps.

“Then talk it out or some shit, I don’t know. That kid thinks the world of you, man. No idea why, but there’s no accounting for taste. Just talk about it.” He shudders. “I don’t know why you’re asking me. You think I know shit about healthy relationships?”

“I woke up alone,” he says. “There was nobody here. I don’t know where anybody is, or if anyone’s hurt, or—I don’t remember how we got out, so what if something happened? What if it got me to do something and I don’t remember it?”

Schlatt is looking more and more out of his depth. Under any other circumstances, it would be funny to see him squirm, but there is no enjoyment in this. Wilbur wants

(Phil)

someone, anyone to tell him what to do here, to tell him how to make this right, but there’s no one but Schlatt, and it wouldn’t be fair to expect something like this of him, even if he thought he could.

“I’m sure they’re all fine,” Schlatt says. “Probably stepped out to take a piss somewhere.”

He draws in a shuddering breath. Maybe. Maybe. That doesn’t feel right, but maybe. He’s still shaking, and though he wills himself to stop, it makes no difference. He feels weak, feels pathetic, feels like the worst kind of traitor, to himself and to everyone around him, and the worst part of all of this is that he doesn’t know how much was the Egg and how much was him. Because to be sure, he could feel it influencing him. It’s easy to pick out in retrospect, the way it wormed its way through his thoughts, twisting him all around, and thinking about it now makes him nauseous again.

But in the end, it only brought out what was already lurking under the surface. What he’d been well and determined to push down, to ignore.

(and in some cases, not even that. a mask only goes so far, only serves so many people, and it takes a long time before the wearer can forget what lies beneath)

It is instinct, really, that has him reaching out, seeking physical contact. He’s always liked using touch to ground himself, to reassure himself

(Phil’s wings wrap around him and they feel warm feel like safety feel like home feel like he is protected and he is not alone if only for a moment if only for a moment he wishes that it could have been different could have been not like this but his course is set his ending penned and all that’s left to do is sign)

that he is real, that he is alive. His hand goes straight through, of course, and electric frisson runs up his arm. Schlatt makes an irritated sound, but puts up with the attempt, and Wilbur blindly tries again, even though he knows it will be futile. He wants something to hold, and in the absence of anyone else, Schlatt will do, but Schlatt will not actually do because he is dead and a ghost and Wilbur is alive and not a ghost, so he is left clutching at what might as well be empty air and wishing desperately for a connection.

He just wants—

(they are the same, they two, linked in life and linked in death and now in)

Something shifts. Undefinable, but undeniable. There is a sudden stinging in his chest.

His fingers curl around Schlatt’s arm.

They both freeze.

“What the fuck,” Schlatt whispers.

Experimentally, he tightens his grip. The fabric under his fingertips is solid, a bit scratchy. There is a strange lack of body heat, but Schlatt is as tangible as he is.

What.

Schlatt’s hand shoots out suddenly, landing on his shoulder. The weight is present and real, and he meets Schlatt’s eyes.

“What the fuck?” Schlatt repeats, louder this time. “What the—how are you doing that?”

He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know, except that his chest hurts, right where his scar is, and if he focuses, he can sense what almost feels like—a tether, perhaps, though he’s not sure that’s the right word. Some kind of connection, some kind of tie between them, and it’s as if energy is flowing down it, from him to Schlatt, and actually, wow his chest hurts.

It’s not as if energy is flowing down it. Energy is flowing down it. He’s getting tired. Too quickly for it to be natural.

(he didn’t think to check, didn’t think to wonder, but if Schlatt was brought back by the same power that ripped him back to life, why is Schlatt still dead, dead and a ghost, when he is alive and not?)

“I don’t know,” he stutters, “I don’t know how I—”

It’s new, and a bit frightening, and somehow, the fear gets in the way. The tether snaps, vanishing just as soon as it was formed. He lurches forward, surprised by the sudden loss of contact, and Schlatt’s hand swipes through his chest. Schlatt curses, eyes wide and wild and—not quite scared. Not quite scared, but perhaps something approaching it.

“Do that again,” he demands. “Fuck, do that again, you—”

“I don’t know how I did it in the first place,” he protests. “I can’t just—”

And then stops. Outside, there are voices. Distant, but getting closer.

Schlatt takes a long look at him, and he doesn’t know what kind of expression he’s making, but Schlatt spits out a string of curses and stands, stomping off further into the church. It would have more of an impact, he thinks, if his feet actually made a noise when they hit the ground. He thinks that perhaps they would have, half a minute ago, and he thinks Schlatt thinks so, too, judging by the glare he shoots back at him.

He stands, feeling far more exhausted than he did only moments ago. And that is saying something.

“—not a choice, you get that, right?” Tommy is saying. He and Tubbo enter the church side by side. They both look—terrible is a word for it, certainly. The bags under their eyes are dark and thick, their hair sticking out every which way.

(this is your fault definitely your fault you failed them and you know it)

“We can’t just—” Tommy continues, and stops abruptly as he sees Wilbur standing there.

For a long moment, there is silence. No one speaks. No one moves. Wilbur traces over Tommy’s face, and he can’t even begin to interpret the emotions there, and that hurts, hurts worse than the fading ache in his chest, because he should be able to read his brother. Should be able to know him. Right now, he feels a bit like he’s looking into the face of a stranger, a stranger of his own making, and he doesn’t know how to fix this, doesn’t know if he can.

(the words still ring out in his head: I lied I lied I lied)

“You’re up,” Tubbo says, his voice carefully regulated. Tommy says nothing.

“Yeah,” he says. “I—you two, I am so—”

“Don’t apologize,” Tommy snaps. “Don’t—I’ve told you, I have had it up to here with you and your shitty apologies. Don’t do that. I don’t want to hear it.”

Wilbur opens his mouth, and then closes it again.

Because that is the thing: he has nothing else to offer. Apologies are all he can give, because at least he means them. Promises, he can make, but he breaks them just as easily. If there is some action he can perform, he doesn’t know it. And it’s too little, too late, too late to mend the damage he has caused, and it weighs so little against the side of the scale that holds all of his sins, but it is all he has. All he has, and if Tommy won’t accept it, he doesn’t know what else to do.

“Okay,” he whispers, and silence falls again. The water gurgles softly at his back.

“Okay then,” Tubbo finally says, “okay,” and it’s in a tone of voice that is tired and exasperated and worried all at once, a tone of voice that implies fine, I’ll do it myself if you two are going to be stupid, and it’s a tone that Wilbur has heard before but never like this, to this degree, and it sounds a bit like Phil, really, when he thinks about it. “Okay, so are we going to talk about what that was, then? I feel like we should. But I guess we don’t have to if you’re not up to it, Wilbur.”

“Fuck that,” Tommy says. “No, fuck that, he’s talking. You’re talking, you shit.” He stabs a finger toward Wilbur.

“Yeah,” he says quietly, “yeah, I owe it to you. I’ll—” And then he has to stop talking, because he suddenly gets very dizzy, the room tilting on its axis. He blinks, and then he is sitting on the floor, Tommy on one side of him and Tubbo on the other, Tommy all but yelling in his ear.

“—the fuck are you standing up for, you shithead? Prime, you’re so stupid, do you know that? Do you know that you’re stupid?”

He keeps going, and Wilbur opens his mouth to apologize, only to shut it again, because Tommy doesn’t want apologies, does he? So he says nothing at all, and Tommy falls quiet, and the damn silence is overwhelming, overpowering, an unbridgeable gap between them.

And then—

“Wilbur,” Tommy says. Just that. Just Wilbur. Somehow, it manages to carry a wealth of connotations, manages to say why did you do that and why have you been lying to me and a dozen other things all at once.

And Wilbur doesn’t have a good answer.

“What happened in there, Wilbur?” Tubbo asks, and he supposes he should be glad that they’re willing to sit by him, that they’re not flinching away despite everything, that they’re sticking close. He wouldn’t blame them if they wanted to run and never look back. Some of that wariness has returned to Tubbo’s eyes, and he thinks he can see some of it reflected in Tommy’s, but they’re both still here, so perhaps that counts for something.

Little though he deserves it.

“Tommy, you didn’t hear it, right?” he checks, voice almost a whisper, and Tommy mutely shakes his head. “But you did, Tubbo. What did it say to you?” The words come out slow, reluctant, clumsy.

“A lot of things,” Tubbo says. “Some stuff about power. Mostly the power to protect myself. But I’ve got that already, so I didn’t feel too keen on listening to a breakfast food. And then it started insulting me. It was really mean, actually. Didn’t make me feel great. I could feel it, kind of, in my head. I think that’s how it hurt my feelings so much.”

He closes his eyes. Nods.

“It was in my head, too,” he says. “It—I’m not any better than I was, really. I’ve been lying to you. I want to be. Prime knows I want to be. I’ve—I’ve been trying.” Embarrassingly, his voice cracks. “I swear, I have. I don’t want to be the person I turned into. But that person’s still there, is the thing. I could be him so easily, if I let myself. And even maybe if I don’t. Once I start sliding, I’m not sure I’ll be able to stop.” He passes one hand over his face, and then keeps it over his eyes, shielding himself from their judgment. He doesn’t want to see their reactions to this. “The Egg—it shoved its way in and brought all of that out. I couldn’t stop it. I didn’t want to stop it.”

(he was a child born of music and summer breezes, once, laughter and quicksilver charm. that went into the fire, burnt to ash, and the thing that came out was a child of the flames, flickering, dancing, and a bloodsoaked smile, and he got so tired of being that so very quickly and the sword was a relief in every sense of the word because finally the fire was put out, doused by cold, gleaming diamond, gentle blue, and his father’s tears landed on his face and he could feel them, finally, after so long burning)

(but he is born again and the fire leaps high and he can only keep it banked for so long)

“You did stop it, though,” Tubbo says. “You snapped out of it. It wanted you to hurt Tommy and you didn’t.”

“Barely,” he murmurs. “I—I swore to myself that I wouldn’t hurt you again. I swore, but I failed, and I—” No apologies. Tommy doesn’t want apologies. “Fuck.”

He keeps his hand pressed over his eyes. The darkness is calming, just a bit.

(it’s a place to hide, the coward that he is, and he is the pied piper leading the children and running away before he can face consequences because that’s all he knows how to do)

And then, Tommy yanks his arm down. He flinches at the sharp motion, at the sudden pressure on his skin, even as he leans in to the contact.

“Wilbur,” Tommy says, low and serious and more than a little angry. It’s not his usual fury, not his loud explosiveness. This is a simmering, slow, pointed anger, almost frightening in its intensity. “You listen to me, and you listen to me right now. You didn’t—you need to stop going on about failing, alright? Because you didn’t. The Egg wanted you to hurt me, and yeah it was terrifying and definitely not okay, but you didn’t. You did stop yourself. You gave the Egg what for. And I—” He breaks off, scowling. “I’m not gonna be able to say this right. But I know, okay? I’ve always known. I know that that you is there, I’m not stupid. I saw it in the prison. And sure, it’s actively scary, but I can see it, yeah? The way you’ve been trying? I know that you don’t want—and I don’t want—it’s not even that you, not really, because that you didn’t care, okay? I saw it, I lived it, I know what you’re like, and the you back then got too tired to try, not like you’re trying now. Do you—do you understand what I’m saying, Wilbur?”

(the you back then was exhausted and sick and spiraling and broken from the stress of presidency and then exile and all you ever really wanted was to make something good and to have it ripped from you was more than you could bear and you were just so tired by the end and you are tired, so very tired now)

He stares. “I—think? But—”

“No, no, no buts, I’m not fucking done. So maybe the Egg got in your head and fucked you up a bit. It sucked and it was scary, but you stopped yourself, and if it happens again, you’ve got us, okay? It’ll be fine as long as you let us help you.” Tommy sucks in a deep breath. “That’s not what I’m upset about. I mean, I am fucking upset about it, but that’s not what I’m most upset about.”

“Then what are you most upset about?” he asks, thoroughly bewildered by now. He understands what Tommy is trying to say, but not his logic, not his apparent willingness to continue to trust him. He should know better than that,

(because how many times did he hurt him in that dark ravine, how many times did he manipulate him, how many times did he snap)

should know better than to place faith in him now that he knows him for what he is, what he continues to be. And he doesn’t understand why this is, apparently, not the thing that he’s most worked up over.

Tommy doesn’t answer right away.

“The fact that you have to ask,” he says, “the fact that you have to ask, now that is fucking terrible.”

Wilbur glances at Tubbo, hoping for clarification. But Tubbo just stares back, the corners of his eyes pinched. He wishes he had an excuse to turn around; he wants to see if Schlatt is still here.

“Wilbur,” Tommy says, and Wilbur looks back at him, because it is Tommy’s voice that cracks now and Wilbur feels a thread of alarm run through him, “you said—you said it would give you rest.”

The words hang in the air, unchallenged, unanswered.

“You kept fighting us,” Tubbo says quietly. “All the way until we got you up here to the holy water. We were lucky that Puffy got there to help. I’m not sure we would’ve been able to do it without her. And you were—you got really sick, but you were still fighting us, and then you went to sleep for a day and a half.”

He jerks at that, and glances outside. “A day and a half?” he repeats, somewhat numbly.

“The whole thing happened yesterday,” Tubbo says. “You slept all the rest of that day, and all of today, too. We were scared you weren’t going to wake up.”

“Speak for yourself,” Tommy mutters. “But you would’ve liked that, wouldn’t you? If you hadn’t woken up.”

He meets Tommy’s glare. It’s an accusation, nothing more and nothing less. Tommy is angry. He deserves to be.

There is a lie on his tongue. But it would be fruitless now.

“Maybe,” he says, and feels both their gazes on his face, and amends that to, “Yes.”

He doesn’t know what else to say. There should be no more lies. But he doesn’t know how to explain himself, doesn’t know how to explain the weariness that weighs down his bones and the way he struggles to function and the way he can’t stop remembering what it was like in those final days, what it was like to know that his story was coming to a close and he was the villain and he was fine with it, because even if the ending would not be a good one, at least it would be an ending. He doesn’t know how to explain that he never intended to survive the rebellion, that one way or another, he sought his own destruction, and that death was rest and peace but no true healing. He doesn’t know how to explain that he’s regained perspective and the capacity to regret and the desire to never, ever hurt them like he once did, but not any will to live for himself. Not any desire to stay in this world that has taken and taken and taken and put his pieces back together all wrong.

He doesn’t know how to explain any of it. And even if he did, he wouldn’t. They don’t deserve to have to deal with that.

(they are children, still, despite your best efforts, too old for their age, but they should not have to carry the burdens of their elders on their backs any longer)

“Oh,” Tubbo says, small and quiet.

“Why,” Tommy says.

He closes his eyes.

“Do I really have to explain it?” he asks.

“No, that’s not what I meant,” Tommy says, “I want to know why you didn’t tell us.”

He opens his eyes. Tommy is glaring at him, but it’s not quite anger anymore; it’s desperation, and fear, and worst of all, a terrible, horrible understanding,

(there is a boy with blue eyes gone grey and the boy stares into lava and Ghostbur isn’t sure that any amount of blue will make this better but it’s all he has, is all he can offer, and he allows the worst implications to flutter out of his brain like butterflies in favor of good cheer because it’s the only thing he can do to help and no one wants him to be the way that he was, so this has to be better, better to be a fool than a monster so a fool is what he shall be)

and he wishes it weren’t there. Wishes he didn’t know exactly why it is.

(he should have killed the green bastard then and there and hang what Tommy wanted, they all would have slept the better for it)

“It’s not your cross to bear,” he says. “It’s mine. It’s my own fault, and you shouldn’t have to deal with it.”

“So you thought lying to our faces was better?” Tommy demands. “You thought you could slap a smile on and it’d all turn out okay? That’s not how it works, Wilbur. I know that.”

Tubbo makes a noise, wounded.

“But really, you didn’t think it was something we’d want to know? That you still have a fucking death wish? What were we supposed to do, play around at being a happy family until you just up and died again one day? Because the last time you didn’t tell us something like this went so very well?” There is a flush spreading across Tommy’s cheeks. “I’m sick of people lying to me, Wilbur. I’m sick of you lying to me. How the fuck are we supposed to help you if you don’t tell us that you need help?”

He finds himself at a loss for words.

(he hasn’t been thinking about it in those terms. hasn’t been thinking about himself as someone who needs help, someone who deserves help. he is fire and he is ash and he is a spectre given physical form and he still doesn’t know what his purpose is, doesn’t know who brought him here and for what, so he has set himself to righting the wrongs he committed against his brother, but he hardly needs to take care of himself to do that, does he?)

(does he need help?)

(you made an ending but the story went on and you are back in it now, and who is to say there is no different path, no good road to set your dust-weary foot upon, and the sun shines regardless of what you do and indeed who is to say there will not be such endings?)

“I don’t want you to die, Wilbur,” Tommy says. “I can’t fucking do that again. You can’t leave, alright?”

“It’s okay if you don’t want to be here right now,” Tubbo puts in, still subdued. “We can help you learn how again. You’ve just got to give us the chance.”

It’s that that does it. Said so innocently, so determinedly, as if it’s that simple, as if there isn’t a thing with teeth and claws lurking below his skin, ready to lash out at anyone and anything, himself included. And he doesn’t understand it, not really, doesn’t understand why these two are so willing to help him after everything he’s put them through, doesn’t understand how they could think him worthy of it.

“Oh,” he chokes out, and distantly thinks that he is really crying too much today.

“Aw, jeez,” Tommy says. “Oh no, don’t—don’t cry, big man, come on. We don’t need to do that.”

Maybe. But on the other hand, maybe he does, and Tommy is very close, he suddenly realizes, and Tubbo, too, both of them close enough to pull into a hug, as long as they don’t object, so that’s what he does.

And they don’t object.

He should not, perhaps, be clinging to them as hard as he is. But they don’t tell him to stop, so he doesn’t.

For a while, they sit there, and he hugs them and they bury themselves into his side, and it’s almost like being back at home again, like Techno will come marching out of the woods with his sword mounted over his shoulder and Phil will call them in for dinner any moment, and in a few minutes he’ll get a message from Schlatt on his comm inviting him in on his latest business venture that is actually a thin veneer for a scam, like always.

He glances up, and Schlatt is nearer, in his field of vision, considering them with a raised eyebrow but a thankful lack of mockery. He rolls his eyes when he sees him looking, but from Schlatt, that’s practically a ringing endorsement.

He should probably say something about Schlatt’s presence at some point. No more lies.

In a minute, perhaps. For now, he holds his brothers tight and tries to let himself believe that everything is going to be alright.

(easier said than done)

#mcyt #dsmp #dream smp #dsmp fic #wilbur soot #tommyinnit #tubbo #jschlatt #alivebur #glatt #/rp #cat writes fic #long post

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