#sorry to literally almost all of tan but no thanks is Nothing compared to answer | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

spvce-cowboy · 4 years

Text

drivers license

francisco morales x f!reader - oneshot

rating: mature

3.1k words

warnings: drug/alcohol use, reader is a dealer, age gap, so much YEARNING!!!

summary: a surprise visit from an old friend

a/n: 100 follower celebration!! partially inspired by this post but also the fact that i have been sing-screaming “drivers license” for oh about four days straight now. thank you guys so so much for all the support so far ! 💕

A fist slamming against your front door wakes you from a dreamless sleep.

You push yourself off your mattress, blearily checking the time on your phone and cursing under your breath when you see that it’s almost 3am. You sit up all the way, blinking as you wait to see if what woke you up was something you’d imagined or if it were real.

It’s real. It starts again after a second, three sharp raps against the door, followed by some kind of muffled talking. Your heart rate picks up in your chest, you grab the baseball bat you have leaned against the wall as you reach your apartment door. Squeezing one eye shut, you look through the peephole.

The good thing is that it definitely isn’t the cops. You take a relieved breath, leaning away from the door.

The bad thing is that whoever is knocking is hunched on his knees, just outside of the peephole’s line of sight, so you have absolutely no idea who the fuck it is.

“Please open the door,” the man’s voice begs from the other side of the door. You’re about to yell at him to fuck off, but he interrupts you before you can even open your mouth. “Little flower, it’s me, please.”

The nickname makes your heart go to your throat. The bat in your hands falls to the floor.

You rub a hand over your eyes, huffing an exhale in a vague attempt to prevent your heart from ricocheting against your ribs. It doesn’t work. Because as soon as he says it, as soon as you realize who it is, it brings everything back with him.

A set of sturdy, tanned fingers cupped against the knuckles of your grandfather’s hand, the voice went low in a warm but respectful greeting. You didn’t realize how gnarled your old man’s hands had gotten until you had someone else’s to compare them to. You looked back down at the crumpled up dollar bills you’d just been handed, one of them still rolled. Turning to find your bag on the coatrack, you stuff the money in your back pocket.

“My little flower, this is a good one,” your grandfather told you with a small hum that signifies whatever he just said must be set in stone. You hear the sound of him heavily patting the hand cupped over his own in that way he does when he appreciates the presence of something. “He has a decent head on his shoulders, no?”

“Little flower?” You can hear the boyish smile in that all too familiar voice before you even turn back around. “That suits you well, I think. Florita. I like that.”

“Christ, Frankie, what are you doing here?” You rest your head against the doorframe, heart sinking in your chest. You don’t open the door, to protect him or yourself you don’t know.

“I need—”

“You’ve got a kid now, Frankie. I told you I’m not going to sell to you anymore.”

“Ever the moralist,” the bite to his words is so uncharacteristic you can’t help but flinch. He seems to realize this, too. His apology is nearly immediate. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. You’re right. I… It’s not…”

You swallow, closing your eyes and wrapping your arms around yourself for some bare semblance of comfort. “Please go,” your voice is so quiet you’re not sure he can hear you through the layer of wood separating the two of you. “You’ll wake the neighbors.”

It’s quiet for a long time. Long enough that you nearly think he’s left. Long enough that you don’t know why you’re still standing at the door and not back in bed.

And Frankie says your name, voice cracking. Your actual name. It’s been so long since you’ve heard it come off his lips you can’t help sink into the door.

A held breath leaves you in a shuddering sigh. Your shaking hands open the door.

The man who spills onto the ground before you is a stranger, yet, heartbreakingly, just as he had been when you first met him. Messy hair, worn blue jeans, gray button-down stretching over the perfect expanse of his back. All that is missing this time around is that lazy smile, that easy, Hey, darling.

In a bar. Right when your grandfather started getting sick.

“Eighty,” you said without him having to continue his sentence beyond his syrupy greeting, eyes trained on the shelves of liquor in front of you instead of having to meet his gaze.

He copped an eighth, tucking the little baggie in a pocket on the inside of his jacket. You went back to your drink, angling your body away from him again and expecting him to return to his table of friends. But then the knuckles of his hand nudged the side of you elbow. He gestured to your beer, the neck of the bottle clasped between your thumb and the hook of your middle and index fingers.

“Lemme buy you your next one, yeah?” He had a hunched lean to his posture, in that way that men do when they want you to feel like you’re the only person in the room. You were mad that it worked. He extended a hand. “Frankie Morales.”

The truth of it was that the two of you became friends, after that. Nothing more. Regardless, it was too close for you to get to someone you dealt to, but you were so lonely at that point in your life—taking care of the old man by day, GED classes at night--that meeting Frankie was a small blessing. Nothing ever happened between you two but God you wish it did.

To describe what you felt towards him as a crush didn’t really cut it, but you were fine with friends. Being completely fair, he was definitely one to send mixed signals—Christ, your weekly tradition of driving to an overlook to split an order of fries and milkshakes on the hood of his truck just about screamed every romcom you were raised on. But despite the occasional prolonged touch, the hand he would place on the small of your back to move you out of the way or guide you forward, nothing happened.

You dealt with it. Tried to be supportive as possible when he met his girl. Frankie broke the news that she was pregnant. The two of you saw each other less and less frequently. Sometimes he would call to catch up. Eventually, you stopped answering when he did. Your grandfather died. You got into a local art school.

It was sad how quietly it all faded. You didn’t know it could, but it did.

And now here he is, literally crumpled at your feet.

Frankie messily pulls himself up off the ground and onto his knees. He reeks of booze and old cigarettes. You freeze as his hands wrap over your hips, as he presses his face into your stomach and murmurs an incoherent apology—for what, you’re not exactly sure.

And when you finally processing what’s happening, what you had begged the universe for years, you can’t help yourself. Your card your fingers through his hair, gritting your teeth and squeezing your eyes shut.

“Frankie,” it’s a warning. It’s a reminder. “You’re drunk. You need to go home. Your girlfriend--”

“She left a week ago,” he speaks into the fabric covering your belly. The words burst forwards as if not even he was expecting to say them. It’s a confession. His hands flex from where they hold onto you. “She’s gone.” Your heart drops to your gut, your chest aching. “I need… Just for the night I… Little flower, the house is so empty.”

You keep petting back his hair until his breathing quiets. He keeps holding onto you, even then. The two of you stay like that for a long time.

“Why don’t,” your voice comes out too shaky. Too unsure of itself. You clear your throat and try again. “Why don’t you take a shower, I’ll get you some water and we can sober you up a bit. Okay?”

He tilts his face up at you. It’s the first time you’ve seen him in well over a year.

And he hasn’t changed. It’s all there—the soft mess of shaggy hair, dark but kind eyes, the beloved hook of his nose.

One sun-sick evening, you rode your bike to the beach just to get out of the apartment. You need somewhere to sit and think for a while, just until your head feels more clear. There’s enough of a chill in the air that you have to throw on a jacket, it’s nice. It’s like you can feel the wind moving through you. Past you.

When you arrived at the beach, you got off your bike, leaning it against your hip as you scoped out a spot to sit in the sand. You were about to wheel it over to the rack when--

Someone pinched your elbow in greeting. Their steps were so quiet you didn’t even register their approach. It, obviously, startled you, and your hand immediately flew to the keychain in your back pocket. The knife you had attached to it.

When you turned, and it was Frankie’s familiar face, his hands raised in joking surrender.

In that light, with the sun still flirting with the horizon, it rendered his face into shapes and shadows you had only previously seen in the old oil paintings of long-dead greats. You thought it was in the deep bourbon of his eyes, soft when illuminated by a tangerine sky. It was him. All of him. Slightly breathless, hair ruffled by the wind.

“Hey, hey, sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you,” he sounded genuinely apologetic. You released a relieved huff of air.

“Fucking Christ, Frankie. A little warning would be nice next time.”

“Did you bike the whole way here? From the apartment?” He asked, there was a tinge of concern to his voice.

You shrugged, trying to hide your embarrassment by lowering your kickstand with the heel of you boot. “It’s not that far.”

“Don’t you have a car?”

“Can’t drive,” you wrinkle your nose. “Never needed to.”

He looked you for a moment, if you didn’t know any better you’d say critically.

“I was just about to get something to eat, if you wanna join me,” he tucked his hands in his pockets as he spoke. “There’s this overlook nearby that has a way better view of all of this.” He motions to the ocean with the tilt of his head. “I can drive us there.”

You regarded him as he spoke, cautiously looking him up and down. And you nodded, smiling slightly. He smiled back, it was big and crooked. It made something in the pit of your belly feel warm.

You step away, holding out your hand to help him to his feet. He complies, stumbling slightly and rubbing his hand over his face as he does so. He disappears down the hall without having to ask where the bathroom is.

Sighing, you go back into your room, pulling out a shirt and a pair of oversized sweatpants for him to change into. You knock on the bathroom door on your way to the kitchen. The apartment’s walls are so thin you can hear the hiss of the shower from all the way down the hall.

“Come in,” Frankie’s voice barely rises above the sound.

You crack the door open, keeping your eyes trained to the floor as you place the folded clothes on the sink’s counter.

“Here’s something for you to change into,” you tell him. He thanks you, the shower turning off right as you close the door behind you. You walk back down the hall and into the living room, making two glasses of water before settling on your couch.

Once, after a night out, the two of you were too drunk and too broke to afford separate taxis home. He proposed going back to his house, split the cost, grab a cab for you once it wasn’t so late and the rates went down.

You agreed, as you did anytime he extended the offer to spend time there. There was something about the quiet, tucked-in nature of the suburbs that was so novel to you. So calming.

The two of you settled on the couch. Feeling bold, you lay your head in his lap and kicked your socked feet up on the opposite armrest as you describe to him the gallery opening you’d snuck into. How you successfully schmoozed to the owner as well as one of the artists.

He asked you if you had heard back from any of the scholarships you’d applied to. You hadn’t, but you’d only just submitted the applications, so it would be at least a few months wait.

You tell him your dreams of becoming an artist. A real one. He already knew that, but you really tell him this time, all the details you usually keep to yourself, too special to you to have the courage to voice aloud. The fantasy of moving out into the mountains, getting a cabin just big enough for a hotplate and a bed and a studio. You’ve lived and breathed LA for your entire life and you were tired of the city. Tired of every street corner baked with the memories of high school and the listless years that followed, of the small humiliations you had to succumb to in order to survive.

Frankie listened and nodded enthusiastically at all the right parts. It was only then that you realized his hands smoothed over the top of your scalp as you talked. You let it continue, it felt too nice not to.

He told you that you should, and if you needed help finding the money he could always--

You cut him off before he could finish the thought, shaking your head. Responsibilities came first, you had people who needed you. A degree to finish. Savings to maintain. You asked him about the new girl he’d been seeing and he eagerly launches into a story about a different, wild night out. You smile and laugh throughout the whole thing, trying to ignore the pang it gives you when he describes the dress she was wearing. He fingers continued to brush over the crown of your head as he talked.

You fell asleep there, on his lap. You woke up before the sun rose, hot and sweaty and still a little drunk from the vodka Redbulls that never agreed well with your heart.

It took you a second to realize you were in Frankie’s bed, alone. When you padded back into the living room, he was passed out on the couch, a throw blanket wrapped around his shoulders, using his arm as a pillow.

You left after helping yourself to a shower, texting him a sarcastic good luck with that hangover. You’re about to call a taxi home but something stopped you. You thought it might be the way the sun was barely breaking over the cusp of the smoggy horizon, the sky reduced to pale shades of violet with the coming dawn.

The quiet neighborhood Frankie lived in is all the more beautiful, like this. Subdued, empty, houses in winding but even rows that scale up the mountainside like sets of bad teeth. You decided to walk, just until the sun got a little brighter. Until the people started to shake themselves awake for a new day.

You got a text from him as you were making breakfast, back at your apartment by then. Thanks. Hope you slept well, little flower. Something about the small missive kept you smiling the whole day after.

You mess with your phone until Frankie returns.

“I’m sorry, for showing up like this,” Frankie says as he hovers over the living room’s threshold. The clothes you leant him fit well enough, only slightly oversized on his frame as opposed to how they generously drape off of you. He holds his towel in his hands, looking down at it instead of you. “I honestly don’t have an excuse and you… you shouldn’t accept any. But I thought I should still tell you.”

You look at him for an extended beat, knowing he’s being honest. You’re at a genuine loss as to how to handle the situation.

“We can deal with it later,” you settle with that. It sounds good enough to you, and when he finally meets your eyes again he looks a little relieved. You nod you head towards the glass of water you placed on the coffee table, he takes your lead and settles on the opposite side of the couch, leaning over to take his own glass.

“So um… how are you?” He asks you earnestly, angling his body towards you.

“Okay,” you take a sip of water, trying to keep it casual. “Cleaning up my act a bit, you know? Going to school, picking up jobs here and there. Trying to figure out what I want to do. Oh! I uh… I learned how to drive--impressive I know.”

“The city flower herself, operating a vehicle?” His face breaks into a familiar, goofy smile you can’t help but reciprocate. “I’ll add every pedestrian in LA to my prayers.”

“You should,” you shake your head as you laugh, leaning into your corner of the couch and pulling your knees up to your chest. You finally relax, giving yourself the small allowance of settling into the comfort that inevitably comes with his presence.

And it really is just as easy as it always has been between the two of you. The conversation naturally ebbs and flows, neither of you bother to broach the heavier stuff. For now, just this it’s enough.

It’s enough to see the spark in his eyes when he tells you about his daughter, how bright she is, how much trouble she gets into—just like her dad. It’s enough to hear about his friends, all those names and backstories that you still vividly remember. It’s enough to bask in the feeling of how he leans into you with laughter, a hand lingering on your knee for seconds longer than it probably should have, as he always tends to do.

It’s enough to see him grin when you tell him about the scholarships you got, how weird it felt being the oldest person in all your classes, even if it was only by a handful of years. He doesn’t ask how your grandfather is, the living room being cleared of all the heart monitors and breathing machines is enough to answer that question. You’re grateful he doesn’t. You’re not sure you’d be able to keep a brave face if he did.

You don’t want time to pass. You want to stay here, with him, like this, in that perpetual state of catching up, in that breathless deluge that has the not-so-subtle undercurrent of this is what has happened since you left. I wish you would have been there. But I am so happy you are here now.

When you can no longer stifle your yawns, you stand to refill your glass of water, speaking on your walk over to the sink.

“I’d love to keep talking but I honestly don’t think I can keep my eyes open much longer,” you tell him as you turn the tap off. “I can make up the couch for you, if you’d like.”

When he doesn’t immediately respond, you turn to look back at him. He’s staring at you from where he is seated, eyes dark with something that isn’t just from the low light of the living room.

“What?” You ask after a few more seconds of him not responding. He looks away from you, shaking his head.

“Yeah, that would be great.”

Your eyes search his for a moment, positive that that was not at all what he was turning over in his head during those few seconds of silence. You’re too tired to press, so you gather a spare set of sheets for him. He stands when you come back into the living room, holding out his arms to take them from you. You wave him away, setting up the pull-out bed yourself. You’d grown up sleeping on this thing, tucking the fitted sheet into the corners was always tricky, and he didn’t know where the bolts of the couch’s frame would cut the shit out of his hands if he wasn’t careful.

Throwing a pillow down, you turn back to Frankie. He’s standing closer to you, now. You have to tilt your head up slightly to meet his eyes.

“All set,” you tell him. He nods, eyes searching your face for a moment. Your brow furrows. “Frankie, you’re being weird. Stop it.”

His chuckle breaks the tension.

“Sorry—I’ve been saying that a lot tonight, haven’t I?” He takes a deep breath. You’re smiling again, about to agree with him, and without warning his hand is comes up to cup the side of your face. You still, lips parted in an unasked question. “Thank you, little flower,” his voice goes rough again, as it had when you were speaking to each other through the door. “I really mean it.”

Frankie’s hand drops when you nod, lips pressed together. He sits back down on the pull-out. You wish him goodnight quietly and return to your room.

Leaving your bedroom door cracked open, you climb back into bed. With everything in you, you hope he’s still there when you wake. He will be.

#francisco morales x reader #francisco morales x you #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #francisco catfish morales #reader insert #triple frontier #angst #hurt/comfort

158 notes · View notes

chancelloramidala · 4 years

Text

Across The Stars In A Galaxy Far Far Away ★ Star Wars & Marvel Crossover AU

ONE.

Tony didn’t know what else to expect when Peter called him at two in the morning. He wasn’t even asleep, just drinking coffee in his workshop and fiddling with a new project. Usually when Peter texted him it was about literally the smallest thing. And most the time, Tony didn’t mind it, he found it endearing that the kid wanted to update him on if he passed a test or not and the latest gossip going around school was.

But this time, it was a call, which was deviated from the usual. Calls were important, and Tony wasn’t prepared to talk about anything important. Was Peter going to talk about dating with him? Did he like someone at school? Did he have questions about the birds and the bees?

No. The answers to all of that was no.

Not even fucking close.

Peter was talking so fast that Tony thought the kid accidentally took some drugs and was hallucinating, but when the kid finally slowed down, that’s when Tony heard it.

“I think a space ship just crashed into Central Park, Mr. Stark!”

Tony spat out his coffee all over the steel table. “What?”

“I think a space ship just crashed-”

“Nope, I heard you kiddo,” Tony rubbed his temple feeling a migraine begin. “Promise me you didn’t take anything, nothing that looked like candy off the ground?”

“What? Why would I even... Oh my god, I think aliens are inside the ship!” there was some shuffling and Tony could only assume Peter was running to hide. “I hear something, yelling... clanking...”

Tony felt his face pale as he stepped away from the coffee ruined table and he held the phone closer to his ear. “Peter, whatever you do, don’t approach them. Wait till we get there.”

“”We”?”

“Yes we. Now stay put.”

“Wait! Don’t hang up!” Peter exclaimed as the voice call turned into a video one, “I think they’re trying to get out of their ship! Look!”

Peter turned the camera in his phone around to reveal what he was seeing to Tony.

━━━━━━━━━━━━

Anakin helped Obi-Wan down the ramp with one arm loosely around his friend’s torso to keep him upright. “Well, at least we’re all in one piece.” He said as he sat Obi-Wan down next to Ahsoka who was being tended to by Padmé.

Padmé rolled her eyes as she applied a bacta patch on Ahsoka’s bruised back. “No doubt it’s thanks to your flying, Ani,” she sharply replied.

“Where are we anyway?” Ahsoka asked, carefully rolling her shoulders despite the aching pain.

“We’re too far away for our coms to get a signal out.” Rex said as he continued to tap at his com. “I can try again with the communication systems on board, but they looked fried beyond compare, sir.”

“Wouldn’t hurt to try again,” Anakin nodded his head at the Clone Captain before he turned around and went back onto the ship.

Obi-Wan patted Anakin’s arm before reaching up to run a hand through his auburn hair. “I didn’t recognize the star system before we crashed,”

“Artoo?” Anakin called out for his trusty astromech droid. In an instant, R2-D2 rolled down the ramp, beeping and chirping. “Can you get a read of the terrain and figure out what we’re dealing with?”

The Jedi Knight looked around at his surroundings, seeing that there were trees, grass and what seemed to be a water fountain nearby. Benches were scattered about and there was a cobble stone wall way a few feet away. If anything, the area they were in didn’t seem hostile at all.

“Will do,” he beeped as a part of his dome shed while his life-form scanned extended from the top. It turned and started to scan the surrounding area while the droids companions were given bacta patches from Padmé.

“I’m picking up someone in the tree over there!” warbled the droid as he moved side-to-side nervously and extended his utility arm to gesture to the tree he was talking about.

Anakin reached out into the Force, feeling that there was a Force-sensitive being in the tree. Then, with a raised arm, Anakin used the Force to apprehend the being and remove them from their hiding place. From what he could see, it was a small form, lean and of average height wearing some sort of blue and red suit with strange shaped eyes.

Peter Parker yelped as he was yanked out of the tree and dropped his phone on the ground, Mr. Stark’s voice fading away. Now he was just levitating in the air before the aliens he was stalking. “Oh my god, please don’t kill me!”

Padmé Amidala’s eyes widened as she heard the voice and jumped up from her spot next to Obi-Wan and tugged on Anakin’s arm, “Ani, he’s just a kid, put him down!”

“Oh,” Anakin deflated as he felt his face heat up. He carefully lowered the boy to the ground and sent him a sheepish grin. “Sorry ‘bout that,”

The teenage boy wanted to scream, he was so confused. “Uh... that’s okay, um, thanks for putting me down-”

Then a beautiful woman dressed in a maroon vest paired with tan pants and long-sleeve stepped forward. “Are you okay?” Even if Peter was absolutely baffled with what was going on and was on a verge of an anxiety attack, the soothing presence of this woman calmed him down a bit.

Peter made a small uncertain noise, “I don’t really... know,” he let out an awkward laugh before pulling off his mask, causing Padmé, Anakin, and Obi-Wan to see how young this boy was. Ahsoka was glad to see someone who looked around the same age as her. “I mean, how would you react if you saw a UFO crash in the middle of Central Park?”

Before anyone could answer that, (especially Anakin who wanted to say that he wasn’t an alien here and if anyone was an alien it would be Ahsoka), a voice was screaming from the ground.

“Peter? PETER?!”

“Shit,” Peter mumbled under his breath and then crouched down to pick up his phone that he dropped earlier. “Mr. Stark-!”

“Fucking HELL, kid! You can’t do that to me!” Tony Stark’s panic ridden face filled his screen, and from what Peter could see, he was wearing his Iron Man suit. “Where are the aliens? Whatever, we’re on our way.”

Peter raised a brow as another flare of confusion coursed through him. “Mr. Stark, I don’t really think that’s necessary-”

“Stay where you are. That’s an order!” Tony briskly ended the call.

Peter stared blankly at his phone with his mouth agape.

Rex then descended from the ship’s ramp and walked over to the group with his helmet in his hands. “Sir,” he said, briefly sparing a look at the boy they picked up.

“Yes, Rex?” Obi-Wan slowly rose from his spot on the rock and ignored the shoot of pain from his ribs. Anakin also turned his attention to his second-in-command, but could sense something was up and that it probably had to do with what he found.

“Um...” The Clone Captain looked torn, expressing this through standing up straighter and nervously gripping on his helmet. “There’s no record of this galaxy in our records.”

Anakin’s fists curled by his side. “What?”

Padmé frowned and turned her head towards Obi-Wan. “Is that even possible?”

Obi-Wan held a thoughtful expression on his face and gently stroked his auburn beard. “It wouldn’t be the first time a planet was wiped from the records. It happened to Kamino before the War started.”

Ahsoka turned away from the adults and let them talk among themselves, feeling that her input wouldn’t add anything. So she turned her attention to the human boy across from her. He looked severely conflicted by how furrowed his eyebrows where and how he kept nibbling on his lower lip. Not only the physical signs of conflict being completely evident in him, but she could feel the emotional strings of his mind reach out to her.

He’s Force-Sensitive? She asked herself and then cautiously approached him, curiosity swirling inside of her. “Hey, are you okay?”

Peter shrugged and ran a hand through his brown hair. “This was not how I was expecting my night to go, that’s all.”

The Togruta almost laughed, the exact thought crossing her mind. “I get that, name’s Ahsoka by the way.”

“I’m Peter, hi Ahsoka.” he offered her a half-hearted smile, one that she returned.

A shadow of something flew overhead, accompanied by what Ahsoka could only assume was a jet pack. Her hand instantly fell onto her lightsabers by her hip, turning her head in the direction of her Master. Bright lights then shined brightly, causing Ahsoka to raise a hand to block it from blinding her as five silhouettes appeared from the source of the light.

“Stay where you are,” a modulated voice said and stepped forward, revealing a red and golden droid aka the source of the lights that came from its palms. “Give us the kid and we can do things without ruining Central Park.”

"I don’t think this hostility is necessary,” Padmé started her cordial senator mask falling onto her easily, putting her hands up to show that she meant no harm. “Our ship crashed while we escaping an ambush set up by Separatist sympathizers. We will be more than willing to explain everything to you, but please, we need medical assistance and a place to repair our ship.” she carefully explained, staring at the droid and discerning that the make and model wasn’t Separatist grade.

Tony Stark turned his head to the side to one of the silhouettes but kept his hands raised just in case. “What do you think, Cap? Do you believe their story?”

Steve Rogers scanned the group before them. One of the men was holding his side, while another looked like he was going to pass out because of pure exhaustion. Three of the five individuals had slim silver cylinders on their belt, as for the other two had guns he has never seen before. If anything, they looked bruised and tired, and didn’t seem hostile.

“I do believe them,”

Tony made a small disgruntled noise but then lowered his arms to his side. “Fine,” he eyed them warily and scanned the group with his sensors, seeing that four of them were humans while one was indeed an alien species. “F.R.I.D.A.Y., bring in the cavalry to get their space bucket out of here,”

Obi-Wan staggered in his footing, causing Rex, who was the closest to him, to hold him steady. “Careful there, sir,”

“I’m fine,”

“Nope, you’re a liar,” Tony scoffed as he did a full scan on this bearded guy. “You’ve got a concussion and two broken ribs if my medical sensors are right, which they usually are..”

“Obi-Wan! You said it was nothing,” Anakin scolded his former mentor.

“And it is!”

“Alright, tough guy,” Natasha Romanoff rolled her eyes as she walked over. “Let’s get you to someone who can make sure of that, hm?”

Clint and Natasha helped round everyone into one of the black SVU’s parked along the side walk while R2-D2 hurriedly rolled behind them and beeped incessantly.

“What the kriff is going on?” he asked.

“I’ve got no clue, Artooie,” Ahsoka patted his metal dome with her gloved hand.

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this.” the droid beeped nervously before hoisting himself inside the strange looking speeder.

46 notes · View notes

lolathepeacocklord · 3 years

Text

Chapter 3 – Helping Hand

“It’s not safe to be walking around all by yourself. There’s a lot out here that can and probably will try to kill you.” The new stranger took Smith’s hand and started to pull him away down the alley. He progressed down to a dead end and opened up a door to the left, which led to a very dark room inside the building. The place was relatively large, at least compared to other buildings in town. It probably had three floors. Smith was very hesitant on walking into the pitch black room. That guy seemed to just disappear into the abyss.

Why was he even following him? It could be some loony that was gonna kill and eat him. It’s been a damn long time since he’s met anybody nice out here. And the fact he talked normally like him was also a bit confusing. Were sane people more common then he thought they were?

He grunted and inhaled sharply- tightening his grip over to bleeding wound. Oh yeah, he just remembered why the guy dragged him here in the first place.

The smoker gained the courage to take a step into the house, and hissed when he got a light shined in his face for a split second.

“Sorry, sorry!” The man said, a little bit panicked. “We… Don’t have electricity here really. There’s a backup generator in the basement. It’s out of gas though.” He twisted the flashlight a bit and made it’s spotlight larger so the room could be seen better. Now that more of the place was visible this place looked like a run down motel. Well it was the literal apocalypse, so of course things are gonna be trashed, but he still assumed the highest rating this place ever got was three stars. Even that felt a bit generous.

The man had gone off to get both that flashlight and seemingly a medkit. “Could you sit down please? I’d like to take care of that sooner rather then later.”

“Yeah me too.” Smith murmured and sat down. At least the guy seemed to know what he was doing. He started to help clean around the wound which hurt like fucking hell. Smith still felt on the cautious side with this man, just because he met him about seven minutes ago. He didn’t even know the guy’s name.

“I’m Alex by the way.” He had a gentle little smile on his face. “Sorry for grabbing you off the street so suddenly. I just didn’t want you to be out in the open too long. Especially if you have an open wound.”

“Smith. Thanks for the help.” Well at least they were getting to know each other. He would have done this mini surgery by himself, but… This was a bullet. He’s dealt with slashes and cuts and stuff, so there was a tiny bit of experience there with stitches. But he’s never taken a literal bullet out of himself before. Or anyone else.

“Are you… Sure you know what you’re doing?” The smoker asked nervously.

“Yeah! I’ve been having a little practice recently. I got a friend who is a bit reckless. He’s… Been shot more then once definitely.” Alex rummaged through the medkit and eventually pulled out some pliers. They didn’t look… Too rusty. “Just letting you know, this is about to hurt. A lot. So just keep yourself braced.”

Smith tried to force himself to look away from this, but would continue to glance back a lot. The wound for some reason looked bigger then it did earlier. Wider. At least it gave a little more room for Alex to insert the tweezers, and it hurt like hell. Alex needed to grip his wrist just so he didn’t rip his arm away from him. The little bullet was deep in there, and blood continued to pour from the wound again. The smoker grunted slightly and clenched his teeth hard, resting his chin in the palm of his other hand. After several agonizing minutes the little piece of metal clinked onto the tabletop and rolled around in a tiny circle. Alex and Smith both sighed with relief. “Worst part’s over. Good job!” Alex gave a thumbs up and cleaned the wound the rest of the way now. There was a mediocre set of a needle and thread, so he continued to carefully stitch up the wound again. He knew what he was doing… Mostly. The apocalypse has really been helping him learn a thing or two in the medical field. At least enough to treat multiple bullet wounds and occasionally the claw marks and gashes from melee weapons.

Alex looked up at Smith every once in a while to just kind of... Get a look at this guy. He stared at the hole in the wall nervously, having green catlike eyes. And the schlera was a bright yellow that almost seemed like it glowed. Or maybe it just reflected light well or something, he wasn't sure. His hair went all the way down the back of his neck and curled a bit at the end. The right side of his head was shaved and he had several piercings on his ears, and one on his remaining eyebrow. He had a tiny little scar more on the right side of his lips. He seemed like he was a Hispanic American mix. Definitely an interesting looking guy.

“There we go, good as new!” Alex said happily, closing the kit again as Smith examined the work with the bandages. Nothing felt loose, and most of the bleeding seemed to be stopping. "Thanks, um... Alex." Smith said, returning a tiny smile. The guy sure seemed optimistic, especially since it was, oh you know, the end of the world. Suddenly Smith felt incredibly awkward.

"So um... Are you just, like, some tumor guy?" He asked, getting a confused look from Alex. "What do you mean?"

"Well you're clearly not a survivor. Or well, an immune survivor. And you got the whole tumor mess going on there." Smith put his elbow on the table, resting his head in his palm. "Wish I was as lucky as you. Not single tentacle hanging out as far as I see."

Alex continued to stare, looking just as awkward and confused as Smith felt right now. "I'm... Not a smoker. Have you- never seen a boomer before?"

Smith blinked. "A what now?"

Alex took in a deep breathe and sighed gently. The flashlight on the table began flickering. He grabbed it and smacked it against his palm a few times before getting the regular shine back. “There we go. You should really keep batteries anytime you find them. Big, small, medium- you never know what they’d come in handy for!”

“… Right, uh… I kinda wanted to know what a boomer was? And you keep talking about these other people. Who exactly- what- I’m a little lost right now.”

“Right right, sorry.” Alex quickly put the light back and began to tell the smoker everything he knew.

“I saw some guy behind a building throwing up everywhere, really violently. I went to see if he was alright. He had these growths starting to grow on his arms and face, and I asked him if I needed to call an ambulance. And then he just… Without any warning at all-” He looked like he might throw up as well. “Dear god, the guy just blew up like a balloon- blood and shit going everywhere. P-People thought I committed a murder, and there was a security camera nearby thank god. I was let off the hook just because people had no idea what happened there. The investigation didn’t last long because, well… Heh. Ahem- I started to get really sick and well, look where I am now. Yeah.”

Smith felt bad for bringing up such a touchy subject. The guy seemed genuinely ashamed he had become this monstrosity, so that made him feel even worse. He tried to change the subject somewhat and said “How are your other friends doing? They doing… Well?”

The two were quite for several minutes, just staring at each other. Alex eventually grabbed the flashlight and rose from his seat. “Come with me, I’ll introduce you to the others.”

Smith became increasingly more worried as he was given a tour around the motel. A lot of the walls and doorways were outright demolished, and at this point he was a little scared to ask who and what would have caused that. Alex’s low-context answer somehow made it feel worse.

“For the type of infected Brutus is, he’s actually a bit smaller compared to other infected. Doesn’t mean he can’t cause a ton of destruction.” He said, sounding like he was just talking to himself, because this was not giving Smith the answer he wanted regarding the destruction. At least he made it sound like it was their friend? Whatever this Brutus thing was. Alex eventually turned over to one room and gently knocked on the door before slowly opening it. “… Hello, you awake?”

There was another destroyed wall (lovely) inside the room, so that was… Something. The room itself was more interesting. Whoever lived here seemed to horde a lot of blankets and pillow, and a big mattress too. It looked a bit squished though, and there was a big blanket that was clearly made by sewing together a bunch of other blankets. More off to the corner of the room was a huge pile of pillows and blanket. The uneasy part was was the fact a hand was sticking out from the pile. A hand with very, very long claws.

“She doesn’t like super bright lights. So if you wanna wake her up ever, just… Don’t do that.” Alex turned off the flashlight and walked over to speak to the pile of pillows. Smith looked around nervously at the dark building and checked again to see if a hallway lamp was working. The answer was no, and he sighed softly. He suddenly felt a tingling in his throat and put his hand over his mouth, coughing repeatedly. He was doing his best to keep it down, so he tried moving down the hall a bit. Alex then came out and waved at him. “Blance is up! Just- whenever you’re done doing you.”

Smith forced down the coughing fit surprisingly, and watched a woman walk out the doorway, mumbling something to herself. The claws were really intimidating, and she kind of seemed to have a resting bitch face. That or she always looked angry when she got woken up to meet random strangers. She wore a baggy keyhole sweater that was a bit of a tan color, a dark gray denim skirt, and some pantyhose that were pretty raggedy and torn up. She didn’t wear any kind of shoes. Or at least not at the moment? Yeah, who went to bed with shoes on. And unless you were there to witness it and had a sharp memory, you probably wouldn’t be able to find anything in that room.

“So you’re the new guy?” She asked, looking at Smith with slight distaste. She looked a couple inches shorter then Alex and had long dirty blonde hair that covered most of the right side of her face. She brushed it out of the way to squint at Smith, and Alex turned the flashlight back on by now. She cringed at the sight of him having even more tumors then her friend right next to her. “You smell awful, god.” Well, she clearly wasn’t afraid to speak her mind. Smith was glad to see she still had both of her eyes in their sockets, unharmed and everything. She let the hair fall back over her face and Alex asked “Where did Brutus go Blance? I’m sorry to interrupt you starting a nap, I just haven’t heard him.”

“Heard him?” Smith asked.

“Yeah, you can definitely hear him walking around. I’ll show you why in a minute.” Alex said. “But this is Blance! Blance, this is Smith. He is a smoker, and Smith, she is something called a witch-”

“I can already tell why he has that name. Just his voice says it all.” She murmured, and didn’t give Smith time to react to that comment. “Also I’ve been… Asleep. For a while now. I thought you would know where he was.”

Alex stared blankly at her. “No… I said I was gonna check the building next door, see if it had anything there. You were supposed to keep an eye on Brutus. He does seem to hang around you more anyways.”

Smith watched the two go back and forth, just trying to figure out who the hell had been looking after this Brutus guy. He was starting to get the impression he was some sort of child, but how could a child destroy a building like this? Not like throwing things off shelves and breaking vases- actually destroying the place. He just wanted to know what the fuck was going on with these new infected her was meeting. Was that really so much for him to ask?

And that’s when things really started to go down.

Alex literally screamed like a girl when they all heard a huge crash outside. Not directly outside, but really damn close. Maybe just behind the building near them. Immediately after the crash a car alarm was going off like crazy. And then they heard the sound of a horde coming over.

“We might’ve just found him.” Blance said, and started running away, and out through a hole in the building, Alex stammered a bunch and tried to stop her before running off in a different direction of the building to get something.

“What the hell’s happening!?” Smith yelled.

“Sorry, I-I’m so sorry. I haven’t been telling you anything about that, I just- Thought it’d be better to introduce you first.” Alex had gone over to a closet where there were a ton of guns stored. “Jesus, where did you get all these?” Smith asked, staring in awe.

“This city has really dangerous litter nowadays. Here-” Alex just shoved a gun into Smith’s arms. He gave him this heavy baggy too, and when he opened it up he saw why. It had a ton of magazines for the gun. Alex grabbed himself a shotgun and shoved a bunch of shells into his pockets before he shut the door. He started to run off in the same path he saw Blance go, but stopped in his tracks for a minute.

“You don’t have to come you know! Just keep that on you in case you need to defend yourself.” Alex told Smith, who was keeping close behind him.

“No no no, I wanna come with you. Just so I can know what the hell is happening around here.” Smith said. “You guys may need extra protection, and I’m glad to provide it!

Alex smiled at him, still seeming very panicked. “I’ll explain all of this later, don’t worry.” He said and patted the smoker’s shoulder. “Just brace yourself- you’re going to see a lot of weird things from here on out.”

Smith didn’t take in how right those words were going to mean in the next several minutes. Alex didn’t even know what was gonna be in store. All they knew was that the witch ran away, there was a horde, something happened with a car, and they just needed to go on from there. So the two kept their guns in their arms, waited for an opening so they weren’t just running directly through a horde, and just followed the zombies over to the noise.

4 notes · View notes

blossom-hwa · 6 years

Text

Love a Demon - JAEMIN

uh.... yeah.... i was on hiatus.... sorry for my super long absence. school’s been kicking my ass and i’ve really been hating everything recently... i wasn’t in such a good place. but i found some time to write and that coincided with some lucky inspiration for this fic, so i’ve finally finished it! as for the messages in my inbox, i’ll answer

thank you thank you yet again to @chenle for the idea of guardian devils that gave birth to this entire series! if you want to read it, here it is!

Pairing: Jaemin x fem!reader

Genre: angst, fluff, angel/demon!au

Triggers: death, cancer (I tried to portray things as accurately as I could which was difficult because I don’t have experience in the matter; I did not intend to romanticize anything and if you find that I did, please please message me and let me know how I can fix it!)

Notes: reading “Trust a Demon” or “Kiss an Angel” isn’t required to understand most of the story, but it might make some things less confusing. Both of Mark’s and Chenle’s stories are mentioned here anyway.

Word Count: 7.6k

Loving a demon comes at a price.

NCT Masterlist | Angels and Demons

Love begins slowly.

. . . . .

Jaemin walks out of Lucifer’s throne room, wincing. Two new characters are imprinted into the curve of his wrist, visible only to him.

They’re paler than he expected.

“Y/N,” he murmurs, testing your name out on his tongue. “Y/N L/N.”

“Who’s Y/N?” Haechan asks out of the blue, slinging an arm around Jaemin’s neck. “New girlfriend?”

Jaemin rolls his eyes, shoving Haechan’s arm away. “No. New assignment. And I’ve only ever had one girlfriend!”

“Hence the ‘new’,” the older boy huffs, replacing his arm.

“That makes it sound like I’ve had more than one already!” Jaemin complains.

“Connotation, Hyuck, I’ve told you about this before,” Mark says, walking up. “Just because you were born in a century when connotation wasn’t a word doesn’t mean you don’t understand its meaning. New assignment, Jaemin?”

“Yeah.” Jaemin almost shows Mark his wrist before remembering that only he can see it. “Y/N L/N. Her last guardian demon… he almost left her to die. Lucifer wasn’t happy, so he’s serving punishment now.”

All three demons wince.

“Cute,” Haechan finally says, making a face.

“How is punishment cute?” Jisung says, startling them all.

“Stop sneaking up like that!” Mark snaps.

“It’s a colloquial term used to describe pretty much anything,” Haechan explains. “Shouldn’t you know, Jisung, since you literally just got out of preschool?”

Jaemin just pinches Jisung’s scowling cheek and smiles. “Jisung is cute. Punishment is not,” he decides, looking at his wrist again. “I should probably go and check out this Y/N girl. So I know what she looks like and all. I’ll see you later, I guess.”

There’s the usual chorus of goodbyes, and then Jaemin touches his tattoo and is sent to earth.

“I’ll never get used to this,” he mutters, blinking rapidly. The sun is almost too bright compared to the darkness of hell, and it takes a while to adjust. The nauseating feeling of being pulled apart and put back together again eases quickly though, and after a few minutes, he feels well again.

“Y/N L/N,” he whispers, listening intently for any sounds of the name. “Y/N L/N.”

“Y/N!” someone shouts nearby. Jaemin whips around, turning towards the shout.

And then he sees you.

You’re laughing, bag slung over your back, hair tumbling over your shoulders as you talk animatedly with someone Jaemin assumes is your friend. He can see your twinkling eyes, your wide smile, your tanned skin, and for a moment, he’s mesmerized.

He’s glad that his friends didn’t come along, or they’d probably be teasing him about his flaring cheeks. He’s also glad that no one can see him, because he’s sure that they’d think he’s a creep for staring.

With a start, he realizes his time is running out. You’re walking away anyway, going someplace else. He weaves through the crowd and ends up behind a row of shops, full of the shade and shadows that characterize his home.

As he melts into the darkness, Jaemin thinks to himself that he’ll never forget your face.

. . . . .

Love is complicated.

. . . . .

Jaemin’s first time saving you happens not two weeks after he first sees you, and it’s nothing like he expects.

“What are you doing here?” he yells at the boy who’s glaring at him with just as much hatred.

“She’s my assignment, what about you?” Jeno sneers, refusing to back down.

Anger gives way to confusion which in turn gives way to guilt over how lost and scared you look, caught between the two boys, eyes wide with fear and bewilderment.

“How can she be your assignment when she’s mine?” Jaemin asks, the venom fading from his voice.

Jeno’s eyes fill with the same confusion he’s sure are in his, and he shakes his head. “Stop lying,” he snaps, but Jaemin knows that Jeno’s bluffing.

“No lie, Jael,” Jaemin smirks, regaining some of his former confidence. “Lost your touch? Can’t tell when I’m lying or not anymore?”

Jeno scowls, his eyes turning murderous. “Don’t call me that,” he seethes. “You don’t deserve to.”

“Uh… guys?”

Both boys turn their heads to you, eyes softening immediately. You’re gripping your bag so tightly your knuckles are turning white but the fear in your eyes is mostly gone, replaced by cautious curiosity. “What… what’s going on?” You take a deep breath, loosening your grip. “I saw the block falling… and someone pulled me away… who was it?” You look between the two boys, and Jaemin swears his heart stops beating when you look into his eyes for that one split second.

“Me,” he finally gets out. “It was me.”

Jeno scoffs quietly but doesn’t argue. If there’s anything good about the angel, it’s that he won’t tell lies.

Your soft smile is worth seeing his enemy again. “How… how did you do it so fast? It was…” You laugh a little shakily. “If I hadn’t almost died, I’d be raving over how cool that was. Anyway, uh, thank you.” You laugh again. “I owe you.”

“No, you don’t,” Jeno interrupts, looking annoyed. “It was his job.”

Oh, fuck you, Jael.

“Job?” you echo, looking lost yet again.

“Why do you ruin everything, Ja - Jeno?” Jaemin snaps, ignoring Jeno’s slight flinch. “Now we have to tell her!”

Jeno blinks once, then twice, then shrugs slightly. To anyone who didn’t know him well, they’d believe his casualness, but Jaemin can still read his former best friend like a book. He knows Jeno is just as confused by his actions as he is.

A sigh escapes Jaemin’s lips, but he forces a gentle smile just to put you at ease. “We’re… well, he’s a guardian angel.” Jaemin gestures slightly at Jeno. “And, uh, I’m a demon. A guardian demon.”

There’s a long moment of silence between the three of you.

“Angels and demons exist?” you finally ask.

“Yes, they do,” Jeno replies, cutting Jaemin off. A flash of annoyance runs through the demon and he knows Jeno noticed. Jaemin didn’t miss the angel’s tiny smirk.

Your voice cuts into Jaemin’s thoughts. “I’ve never heard of a guardian demon before.”

“Well, now you have.” Jaemin laughs slightly, edging a little closer to you. He doesn’t miss the way Jeno’s eyes latch onto the small movement and a slight sense of triumph runs through him.

“So I have a guardian angel and a guardian demon?” you ask. “How come I’ve never seen either of you until now?”

“Well, technically you’re only supposed to have one,” Jeno breaks in. “Either an angel or a demon. But I guess the universe screwed up this time.” The glance Jeno sends Jaemin is brief but full of venom that Jaemin returns. “And we only appear when you’re in a life or death situation, like just now.”

You nod slowly. “Interesting,” you murmur, looking between the boys curiously. “Well, it was nice meeting you…” You trail off, realizing you don’t know their names.

The two boys look at each other instinctively, wordlessly coming to an agreement. They look away just as quickly.

“Jaemin.”

“Jeno.”

“It was nice meeting you, Jaemin and Jeno,” you finish sweetly, bowing slightly to them both. “I’ll leave now. Thank you for saving my life,” you add, flashing Jaemin another sweet smile.

Jaemin can feel his heart thumping.

“The pleasure was all mine,” he replies, smiling back. A tinge of satisfaction runs through his veins as he sees Jeno’s eye twitch. “Try not to get into too much trouble,” he teases gently.

“I will,” you tease back conspiratorially, and with a slight wave, you leave.

Once you’re gone, the tension between the angel and demon becomes palpable again, so thick it could be cut with a knife.

“Of course if the universe screwed up, it’d have to put me with you,” Jeno spits bitterly.

“You think this is any fun for me?” Jaemin snaps back.

Jeno scoffs once, then disappears in a flash of light.

“Well, fuck you too,” Jaemin mutters, melting into the shadows.

. . . . .

Love grows quickly.

. . . . .

“I’m only seeing her to make sure she’s okay,” Jaemin whispers to himself as he walks down the street. “Just to make sure she’s okay.”

Deep inside, he knows that’s a lie, but he shoves that thought away. You’ve nearly died twice now, and though you didn’t look too shaken up the last time, Jaemin could see that you were trembling slightly. He could feel you shaking in his grasp as he gave your hand one last squeeze, ignoring Jeno’s glare, before you walked away.

Maybe it’s just Jaemin, but he can’t seem to forget the way you smiled that first time he saved you. He hated the terrified look in your eyes that last time and he feels he’d do anything to see you smile again.

Humming slightly, he opens the door to the music store where you work. His eyes sweep the shop until they land on your figure as you arrange CDs on shelves. He immediately makes a beeline for you.

When he’s a few feet away, you turn around, perhaps hearing his footsteps. It’s with surprise that you greet him with a quiet exclamation of his name as you put away the last CD. “Why’re you here?” you ask, brushing a loose strand of hair from your face.

Jaemin swallows, his cheeks turning a bit red. “Just…” He swallows again, then composes himself. “Just wanted to make sure you’re doing okay after what happened… last time.”

Your eyes darken slightly and Jaemin feels bad for making you remember, but the look clears after a bit and you smile at him a little sadly. “I’m fine, Jaemin,” you say softly, eyes flitting around. “There are worse things than death.”

He frowns a little. What is that supposed to mean?

“Anyway, where’s Jeno?” you ask, clearly trying to divert the topic. “I thought you two were a package deal or something. You two always appear together.”

A sour expression twists Jaemin’s face. “Not willingly,” he mutters.

“Oh. Uh… sorry.” Your awkwardly apologetic face tilts the corners of Jaemin’s mouth though, and he laughs. “It’s alright, Y/N. It’s a reasonable question.”

“He’s an angel and you’re a demon, right?” you ask. “Mind explaining to me how this works in more detail? I know you said some stuff the first time we met, but I didn’t quite grasp it.”

Jaemin bites his lip, looking at the clock at the back of the store.

I’m going to be in so much trouble when I get back, he thinks wryly. He isn’t supposed to even see you outside of life and death situations, and now you’re asking him to explain this convoluted world of angels and demons. It’s all technically forbidden.

But for some reason, he doesn’t care.

Mark did it, didn’t he? Jaemin reasons. Plus, he wouldn’t pass up a chance to see your eyes light up with wonder the same way they did when you first met.

“Sure,” he hears himself say. “When’s your break? We can go to the café next door.”

You wave him off, grinning. “It isn’t busy and my brother owns this place,” you say. “Let’s go!”

And later, when Jaemin looks at you over his cup of Americano, seeing your eyes sparkling with curiosity, he wonders if love can really come this quickly.

. . . . .

Love comes steadily.

. . . . .

A lashing the first time, two lashings the second. Jaemin doesn’t care. Seeing your face is worth the pain.

Mark tells him no, it shouldn’t be. But Na Jaemin doesn’t care. Doesn’t Mark have a girlfriend, anyway? A human girlfriend?

“It’s - that’s a special case!” Mark sputters, trying to dissuade the younger boy, but Jaemin later notices that Mark’s stopped trying to persuade him so much.

Sometimes, though, Jaemin wishes Mark tried harder to stop him. Because with every time Jaemin sees you, he wants less and less to leave.

He also wishes Jeno could just butt out of his life, but clearly the universe has other plans.

“Leave her alone,” Jeno hisses one day, cornering Jaemin as he’s coming out of the music shop for the nth time. Jaemin flinches slightly in surprise before setting his features in a hard, cold, look.

“And why should I?”

“You’re corrupting her,” Jeno spits. “And you’re not supposed to be with her, exception or no.”

“Too bad I’ve never quite been one for rules, though, Jael,” Jaemin replies with forced lightness. He refuses to look at the older boy but can feel his gaze boring into his skin. “And corrupting? I think that’s a bit of a strong word, don’t you think?”

“Clearly not if I just used it,” Jeno snaps. “I choose my words carefully, unlike you.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

There’s a sigh, and then Jeno’s forcing Jaemin to face him, ignoring all the strange looks he’s receiving from passerby. “What do you think you’re doing?” he hisses. “Telling her sweet words, making promises you can’t keep, revealing everything? She’s a human, she’s your assignment, for heaven’s sake. All you’re doing is hurting her!”

The words strike a little close to home but Jaemin’s face remains neutral. “If I didn’t know better,” he replies coolly, “I’d think you cared for her.” A smirk twitches the side of his lip. “But we both know that isn’t true, right?” He spins around to walk away.

“I may not be able to stop you,” Jeno says behind him, “but your kind most certainly can.”

Jaemin’s jaw tightens, but he doesn’t look back.

He can’t stop the slight guilt in his chest, though, the next time he sees you.

Jeno wasn’t completely wrong about Jaemin’s words.

. . . . .

Love is difficult.

. . . . .

One year passes. You grow closer to Jaemin. Jaemin becomes more attached to you.

And the tattoo on his wrist begins to lose its boldness and becomes lighter.

Jaemin wonders if you know your life is ebbing away. He wonders if you know that this tentative romance between him and you cannot last. That it likely won’t even reach full bloom.

If he had more time, if he didn’t have Jeno on his back, Jaemin thinks you could have a beautiful love, just like the one Mark has with his girlfriend. Mark doesn’t know it, but Jaemin envies him and his luck.

“I find it intriguing how some people have happy endings while others don’t,” you remark one day. Jaemin’s helping you put away records and CDs on the shelves but he stops when he hears your words.

“Intriguing.”

“Yes, intriguing.” You turn around to face him. “Some people have happy endings but don’t deserve them. Some have sad endings but don’t deserve them. Is that really fair?”

A cold awkwardness begins to settle in the air. Jaemin looks at you, really looks at you, and notices the changes in your appearance. Eye bags, listless hair, pale skin. Your eyes aren’t sparkling like they usually are. Your lips don’t smile like they usually do.

He realizes you have less time than even he thought.

“Have you been speaking with Jeno?” Jaemin whispers. His mind kicks into overdrive. If you have, then just how much has he told you?

You don’t answer, instead opening another box of CDs.

“Have you?” Jaemin presses.

Finally, you look up. “And if I have?”

It hurts, knowing that you’ve met with his sworn enemy with the full knowledge that they hate each other. Still, Jaemin tries to understand.

Trying to understand doesn’t stop him from wanting to spit in Jeno’s face. Seeing as the angel isn’t here, however, he settles for taking a deep breath to calm himself.

“Jeno and I have very different beliefs,” he begins carefully. “He believes that all should be fair. If someone has done good deeds, why should they have their life cut short when they could be given the gift of life for longer?”

You don’t look at him, but Jaemin knows you’re listening. He continues. “And yet… who is he to decide whether or not someone may live longer? Who is God to decide that? If the universe ordained someone’s life to be as long as it is… who has the right to change fate?”

Placing the last few CDs on the shelf, you finally turn around again. Jaemin sees the pain in your face and knows that you know how short your life will be.

“Angels believe some lives should be prolonged, while others may be shortened. Demons believe lives should stay the same length they were preordained to. I am a demon, so you know what I believe. I do not know which side is right or wrong. Beliefs do not mean truth. But that is what I believe.”

You nod slightly.

“Nothing is truly fair. You can divide your candies into two piles of equal amounts but none of the candies are the same size. You can try to pour equal amounts of milk into two glasses but they will never be the same. Bad people may die rich. Good people may die poor. But at the end of the day, as callous as it sounds, it is their fate. They will be rewarded or punished as they must be in the afterlife.”

The silence between you two extends until the bell at the door rings, signaling the arrival of another customer. Without a second glance, without another word, you brush past Jaemin to greet them.

Jaemin sighs. While you’re busy, he walks out of the store. The bell rings, signaling his exit, but you don’t follow him.

He sets off to find Jeno.

. . . . .

Love is hard.

. . . . .

“Jael!” Jaemin yells, startling the angel into turning around. His mouth twists into a snarl.

Jeno only looks at Jaemin haughtily. “What do you want?”

Jaemin sneers, eyes flashing with fire. “So you told me to stay away from Y/N,” he seethes, “but then you go and tell her a bunch of crap about me, right? Hypocrite, much?”

The angel stiffens slightly but still says nothing.

“What is wrong with you?!” Jaemin yells. “What is your problem?! I get that you hate me and I do too but for fuck’s sake, I would never purposely try to ruin your happiness!”

“So you admit it, then?” Jeno’s quiet voice startles Jaemin. “You admit that she’s your happiness?”

Wind rustles through the trees, picking up the leaves and sending them swirling around. Agitated, Jaemin doesn’t realize that the leaves are starting to swirl around him as his powers react to his emotions.

Jaemin’s stuck. He can’t say no, because Jeno knows when he lies. And he basically just admitted it. So why doesn’t he say anything? Why doesn’t he loudly declare his love for you?

As the leaves swirl around him faster and faster, whipping through his hair and crackling in the air, Jaemin stares at Jeno’s eyes, and he knows why he doesn’t loudly claim his love.

Jeno’s eyes, so dark and mysterious, so beautiful and dangerous, hold no anger. No resentment.

Only sadness.

And Jaemin realizes that Jeno loves you too.

He doesn’t need to say anything, though. The look in his eyes, the swirling leaves, his flushed face all speak volumes of the truth. Jeno doesn’t need words to know.

The angel gives the demon one last, long look before disappearing in a flash of light.

All the fight leaves Jaemin’s body and the leaves flutter to the ground, scattering themselves around him. He sinks down, staring at the leaf that’s fallen onto his lap.

It’s a burst of orange, yellow, red, a bright sunset captured in a single leaf. But there’s a touch of soggy brown at the tip, hinting at its inevitable decay.

Like you.

Jaemin sighs, twirling the leaf in his fingers before slipping it into his pocket. His eyes flutter to your name on his wrist, and his chest tightens at how light the writing is getting. Then, making sure no one is around, he disappears into the shadow of a nearby tree.

As he fades into the darkness, he wonders if you really, really know just how little time you have left.

. . . . .

Love is powerful.

. . . . .

Jaemin knows when he next sees you. The sallow bags under your eyes, the pallor of your skin. The hair hanging limp across your shoulders, the tired upturn of your lips that you send him when he walks in.

“Hi,” you greet listlessly, trying and failing to conjure your usual verve. Jaemin regrets all the weeks he spent avoiding you, thinking that you hated him.

But still, how did you change this much in a mere few weeks?

“Hi,” he replies cautiously, his heart aching.

“Nice of you to see me again,” you say.

When I’m dying.

You don’t say the words, but they hang in the air, unsaid but heavy. Stifling.

Jaemin swallows. “I’m sorry.”

The tired smile on your face grows a little warmer, your eyes regaining a little bit of their past brightness. “It’s okay,” you say. “I’m sorry, too.”

Silence.

You finally laugh a little. “You probably know, don’t you?” The glance you give his wrist saves him from answering. “I’m dying. Got the diagnosis last week. Cancer.” You lean down to pick up a box of CDs, but Jaemin rushes over and takes it from you. “Sit down for a bit,” he says. “Where do you need this?”

“Jaemin, I can do it,” you protest, but Jaemin shakes his head. “Let me.”

Silence falls in the shop. It’s late, and Jaemin knows your brother must be home by now, but he’s not. He asks why.

“He’s at the hospital. Figuring things out.” You huff a little. “I was supposed to go but I didn’t want to. I hate hospitals.”

Hearing those words almost makes Jaemin break down, but he forces himself to stay calm. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I’m sorry I can’t do more.”

“Don’t worry.” Suddenly you’re next to him, a hand on his arm, looking up with bright, sad eyes. “I understand. I’m sorry I didn’t before.” You muster up a small smile. “I guess it’s just my time.”

A tear rolls down your cheek.

Jaemin places the box down with a thud, spinning around to pull you into a crushing embrace, feeling your tears begin to soak his shirt. He closes his eyes, burying his face in your hair, breathing in the slight scent of your shampoo while trying not to cry himself. But despite his efforts, a tear escapes his eye.

When you finally pull away, face teary, Jaemin takes your hands, looking deep into your eyes. “I’m sorry for one more thing,” he murmurs. “I’m sorry I never told you I loved you.”

. . . . .

Love is inopportune.

. . . . .

Maybe Jaemin is neglecting his other duties. Maybe he isn’t being a proper guardian demon, and maybe Lucifer has a legitimate reason for being angry at him. But in his defense, nothing’s been happening with his other three assignments. And as much as he doesn’t like it, he knows he would leave your side in a heartbeat, if only for a short while, to save them.

Skin blistering, Jaemin blinks tears out of his eyes as he walks out of the throne room. He winces, catching a glimpse of the red, inflamed flesh of his shoulder.

“Jeez, Jaemin,” Haechan comments. “Maybe you should really take a step back.”

“Who are you to talk?” Jaemin snaps. “You spend all your time mooning over a girl who can’t even see you!”

Haechan reels, looking hurt.

“Don’t tell me I wouldn’t understand, because I do!” Jaemin ignores the screaming pain in his shoulder, gesticulating wildly. “I fucking love her, Haechan! I fucking do! This is killing me! And you expect me to take a fucking step back?!”

“Shut up, Jaemin, just shut up!” Haechan yells. “Shut up!”

“SHE IS DYING, AND YOU WANT ME TO LEAVE HER SIDE?!” Jaemin screams, tears of pain and sadness springing into his eyes.

“YOU’RE NOT THE ONLY ONE WHO LOVES SOMEONE AS MUCH AS YOU DO!” Haechan yells, scraping his arm across his face.

Jaemin whirls around, ready to stalk off, but someone blocks his way. He looks up, ready to go off again, but softens slightly when he sees Jisung looking between his two friends. “Hi, Jisung,” he says in a clipped tone.

“Hi,” the younger boy says cautiously. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing -”

“Jaemin here is being an idiot,” Haechan spits.

“YOU LITERALLY KNOW WHAT THE FUCK I’M GOING THROUGH, AND YOU’RE GOING TO CALL ME AN IDIOT?!”

“Whoa.” With an authority Jaemin didn’t know he had, Jisung places a calming hand on his friends’ arms. “Okay. I think I know what’s going on.”

Haechan scoffs, but Jisung takes no notice. A sad, faraway look envelops his young face, and he hangs his head slightly. “Let’s go talk somewhere else.”

So that’s how three demons find themselves on a quiet field, sitting stiffly on the grass, two of them refusing point-blank to look at each other. Jisung glances at both of them, sees their animosity, and sighs.

“You’re both in love with humans. People you’re supposed to guard.” He states the fact simply, without glamour or fanfare.

Out of the corner of his eye, Jaemin sees Haechan nod slightly. He does the same.

“I loved someone once. First love. We met through dance at the academy, started dating in high school. Then I died.”

The admission falls out of Jisung’s lips as naturally as water over a cliff, but the words seem so alien that for a moment, animosity forgotten, his two friends only stare at him open-mouthed. His words are so frank, so utterly honest and natural, and yet they can’t believe it. How could Jisung, their quiet and innocent friend, have ever loved someone to the depth that he claims he has? Sweet, quiet Jisung, who never knows what’s going on?

But his eyes tell the truth. And right now, they convey a knowledge far beyond the boy’s years. Jaemin listens intently, ears straining to catch every word.

“I thought I’d never see her again. I became friends with you guys and the others in heaven, then we joined Lucifer, and long story short, I thought she would have forgotten about me. At least ten years had passed by then. I wouldn’t have blamed her.” Jisung stares into the distance, plucking at the grass absentmindedly. “And then her guardian angel almost failed her, and by some stupid trick of fate, I got assigned to her instead.”

Haechan sucks in a breath.

“She hadn’t forgotten about me.” Jisung sighs. “Every year she went back to my grave. She talked to me as though I was still alive. She never stopped, not even… not even after she got married.”

It’s Jaemin’s turn to gasp.

“She’s happy now.” Jaemin looks over to see Jisung smiling slightly, the brightness truly reaching his eyes. “And I am too. I’m glad she’s happy, and not still hung up over me.” He pauses, and his smile grows wider. “I’m not hung up over her, either.”

There’s a small silence, broken only by the wind whistling across the field.

Jisung clears his throat. “Point is, I get what you guys are thinking. And it’s hard. Haechan, you know how hard it is. She doesn’t even know you exist. So be a bit more understanding to Jaemin.”

Haechan nods almost imperceptibly.

“And Jaemin, it’s difficult, yes, but keep her in mind. Make her days feel as full and bright as possible. Let her leave with as few regrets as possible.” Jisung smiles a little. “You’ll always love her, and she’ll always love you.”

And the more Jaemin thinks about it, Jisung is right. He looks over at the younger boy with a newfound respect, marveling at the hidden wisdom behind the boy’s young face. “Thanks, ‘Sung,” he says, before turning to Haechan. “And I’m sorry, Haechan.”

Haechan nods. “I’m sorry, too.”

Jisung breaks the short silence that follows by standing up, dusting blades of grass off of his pants. “Mark’s girlfriend invited us to dinner when I was with them earlier. We should probably go now.”

Jisung and Haechan disappear into the shadows, but Jaemin lingers a bit longer, lost in his thoughts. They still whirl around his mind, just as chaotic as before, but not so fast. A little calmer.

Maybe he feels a bit more at peace too.

Jaemin closes his eyes, feeling the wind on his face. It ripples through his hair, his clothes, and brushes gently, coolly, against his skin.

If he didn’t know better, he’d say it was the universe, telling him that things will be alright.

. . . . .

Love has no kindness.

. . . . .

“I’m back,” Jaemin says softly, reappearing in your hospital room long after the place has closed. In one hand he carries a bag of food, and in the other, one of your favorite books.

“Good.” Your muffled voice is tired but when you roll over slightly, careful not to disturb the needles in your arms, your eyes are happy. You make small grabbing motions with your hands. “Food.”

Jaemin laughs. “Always hungry,” he teases, setting the bag carefully on the table. Laughing at your whining, he pokes a cookie in between your lips. “Here.”

You hum in delight, chewing the cookie, and reach over to turn on the bedside lamp. With it, Jaemin can see your sunken features, your overly pale skin, your shaved head. And his heart hurts.

Something hits his chest. “Don’t look at me like that,” you snap, gesturing at the snack now lying on the floor. “I’m fine. Now eat something!”

“Sorry.” He picks up the snack, unwrapping it slowly as he sits on the bed next to you. “I just… never mind.”

“Hey.” You pause in picking up another cookie to take his hand instead.

Your hands are warm. They fit perfectly in his.

“You’re the one who told me things can’t be changed, right?” you murmur, looking up at him. “Nothing is going to change. I wish it wasn’t like this either, but what can I do?” You shrug as best you can, lying down in the bed. “What can you do?”

Nothing. The word hangs unsaid in the air, enveloping the room in a dark cloud of sadness.

He can’t do anything.

As much as he wants to, he can’t. Maybe if you were supposed to die in a car crash he could save you from that. Pull you out of the car. Shield you from something.

But against this illness? He can’t do anything to prevent it from spreading. He has no medical knowledge. He knows nothing. And even if he did, he couldn’t do it.

Not even Jeno can try to turn this matter around.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I’m sorry I can’t do anything.”

Your hands squeeze his with surprising strength. “Don’t be.”

“I wish I were as strong as you.” Jaemin’s voice is choked, a little broken, and full of guilt.

“But Jaemin, you are.” You smile a little, its brightness reaching your eyes ever so slightly. “You love me. Loving takes strength. To love someone broken takes even more.”

“You’re not broken.”

“Yes, I am.”

“No, you’re not.” Jaemin presses a kiss to your forehead. “Maybe at one point you were, but you aren’t now. Broken would imply you’re missing something. Or some part of you isn’t working. Is that true?”

“Yeah. My immune system.” You snicker, watching him roll your eyes. But the mischievous glint fades away to a peaceful glimmer, full of warmth and love, that dissipates the cold, damp sadness that had settled in the room.

Jaemin idly begins to play around with your fingers and you let him, closing your eyes in contentment. A tiny smile plays on your face, and Jaemin can’t help the kiss he presses to your lips.

You open your eyes. “Do that again,” you whisper.

And with a smile, he does.

. . . . .

Love has a price.

. . . . .

“Jaoel.”

Jaemin stiffens, turning around to come face to face with Jeno.

“Who’s the one that didn’t want me calling them by their God-given name?” he mocks.

Tension crackles in the air as the two beings stare at each other. Jeno bites his lip hard and Jaemin smirks. He knows that habit. Jeno does it whenever he’s trying to hold back his anger.

“Are you really going to let her die?” Jeno finally says, raising a tense eyebrow.

The hairs on Jaemin’s neck stand up. “Don’t you dare,” he says lowly.

“Don’t I dare what, Jaoel?” Jeno laughs mirthlessly, eyes fixating on Jaemin’s with an intensity that can’t be matched. “Tell me. Don’t. I. Dare. What?”

Dead silence.

“You’re not the only one who loves her, you know,” Jeno whispers.

“And you’re not the person who knows best for her!” Jaemin snaps.

“And are you, Jaemin? ARE YOU?!”

Jeno’s shout makes Jaemin flinch slightly, but he holds his ground. “No,” he hisses, “but I know that she doesn’t deserve to suffer even more than she already is.”

Pure pain flashes through Jeno’s eyes for one second and Jaemin can commiserate, remembering with a pang at how weak and pale you seemed the last time he saw you. “Would you really want her to suffer like this?” he murmurs. Heart heavy, he turns around, ready to leave.

Behind him, Jeno snorts derisively. “Do you really love her if you would let her go so easily?” he spits, eyes full of pain and fury. “Is that really love, Jaoel? Is that all she’s worth to you?”

Jaemin whips around, eyes ablaze. “Don’t you dare insinuate that I want her to die!” he yells.

“If you truly loved her, you’d want her to live as long as possible,” Jeno snarls back.

“This is what I hate about you angels!” Jaemin’s shouting, but he doesn’t care. All he cares about is the pain in his heart whenever he thinks about your smile and the sacrifice he has to make. “You always think everything can be perfect, but it can’t! Nothing can be perfect! No one, just because they are who they are, can live longer than they are supposed to! You can’t decide that!”

The angel snorts derisively. “And look at you,” he mocks, “all high and mighty because you think you’re doing the right thing. But should some lives not be preserved for as long as possible?” Tears brim in Jeno’s eyes and Jaemin can tell it’s taking all of his effort not to crumple into a crying mess, but the angel remains standing. “You can’t tell me you don’t believe she deserves it. No, not even her - you can’t tell me you’ve never met a single person who deserved to live longer than they did!”

Jaemin squeezes his eyes tight as he tries to shut away all the memories of you. But it doesn’t work. Your face flits through his mind. Your laugh, your smile, your eyes. The way you cry. The way you shout with joy. The way you clasp his hand in yours, grinning as bright as the sun.

He remembers the way you looked in the hospital, paler, weaker, but with a smile still bright enough to light up the entire room, and Jaemin knows that if there was anyone he knew that deserved to live longer, that would be you.

The demon finally looks up, all signs of his usual flirtatious smile gone. His eyes bore into Jeno’s, which are teary and full of pain. Jaemin’s heart does ache for him, because he knows now just how much Jeno loves you.

But you love Jaemin. You chose him. And there’s nothing he nor Jeno can do to change that.

“Do you think I want her to die?” he whispers. “Do you really think I want her to die?”

Jeno doesn’t speak.

“Life is only precious because there is death. The only thing people can do is treasure life as long they have it,” Jaemin says, practically choking on his words. He latches onto them, grasps them like a drowning man with a rope because they have to be true. If they aren’t, he… he doesn’t know. He will have chosen sides for nothing. Lost half of everything important to him over nothing.

Watched you die for nothing.

“Then,” Jeno says quietly, voice still carrying like a gunshot, “shouldn’t people have it longer?”

Jaemin swallows hard. “If that is so, Jael, then why aren’t humans immortal?”

Silence.

“Part of loving someone is knowing when you must let them go,” he whispers.

. . . . .

Love is tragic.

. . . . .

Jaemin freezes upon entering your room. Jeno does as well. You look between the two boys, a weak, amused smile twitching your lips. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Jaemin replies cautiously. “Why’s he here?”

“We were discussing things,” Jeno says shortly. Surprised, Jaemin turns to him, not having expected him to answer. “Can you leave us for a bit?”

Reluctant, Jaemin looks at you, but the content expression on your face convinces him to leave. Outside in the hall, he waits impatiently, tapping his foot anxiously against the floor. Then, the door opens and almost knocks him flat.

Jeno looks at him blankly. “Sorry.” He then starts to walk off.

“Hey!” Jaemin snaps. “What were you talking about in there?”

The angel’s back tenses, but he does turn around. “I was giving her some closure. About me.”

It’s Jaemin’s turn to tense, and he has to force himself to remain calm.

“Don’t worry.” Jeno laughs a little, mirthlessly. “She still loves you.”

Looking down that hospital hall, Jaemin feels a twinge in his heart. A twinge of pity. His shoulders untense and he looks into Jeno’s eyes which, for once, are not angry. Only sad. Upset. A little hopeless.

And Jaemin finds it in his heart to say something to Jeno that he never thought he’d say, ever since he left the white purity of heaven for the dark flames of hell.

“I’m sorry.”

The angel’s eyes widen, and ever so slightly, they soften.

“Don’t be.”

“But I am.”

It’s not just about you. It’s about everything else. Betraying his friend. Leaving heaven. And maybe the bad blood will never be cleared between them, but at least he knows he apologized.

Jaemin bites his lip, hoping his eyes can convey everything he’s leaving unsaid. For ten long, agonizing seconds, the two boys stare at each other, unblinking. Then Jeno nods slightly.

“And I am too.”

He turns around and continues walking until he disappears into another corridor. When Jaemin’s sure that Jeno won’t come back, he lets himself into your room again.

“Finally, I was about to call for you!” you exclaim as Jaemin sits on the chair next to your bed. “I thought you and Jeno were having a fistfight out there or something, you were gone for so long.”

Jaemin smiles a little. “Not fighting. Just… talking.”

“From your expression I take that it went well,” you comment, looking up at him.

Jaemin shrugs, but the smile doesn’t fade. “I guess it did.”

. . . . .

Love is loss.

. . . . .

Jaemin is with you when you die. He is there, holding your hand with a grip invisible to everyone but you and him. He is there, watching the heart monitor become slower. He is there, listening to your breaths become fewer and fewer. He is there, pressing a last, soft kiss to your lips, and he is there, feeling your tiny sigh of content against his face, seeing the slight flutter of your eyelashes as you make an effort to look at him, hearing the faint ‘I love you’ that passes your lips.

A few hours pass. Your family and friends congregate in the room, watching you sadly, not noticing the demon in the room. And then the heart monitor goes flat.

You’re dead.

You’re dead, and everything hurts.

For two days, Jaemin locks himself in his room, alternately crying and staring into space. Your name on his wrist has faded away completely. It’s as though you never existed. But of course, he knows you did.

Why do I get this fate? Jaemin wonders. Even Chenle got a happy ending. As much as he doesn’t want to admit it, he begrudges the fallen angel slightly for his newfound freedom to spend the rest of eternity with the risen demon he loves.

Why?

What did I do to deserve this?

It’s selfish, he knows. Jeno must be suffering just as much as him. But at least he might find you in heaven, whereas Jaemin isn’t sure if you’d give up heaven to come to hell.

It ends up being Jisung who drags Jaemin out of his bed and to the field where they talked before with Haechan. It seems like ages ago.

They don’t talk much. Jaemin mostly stares blankly into space while Jisung sits next to him, just as a pillar of support. Jaemin doesn’t cry.

Jisung takes Jaemin to a convenience store. Together, they order cups of noodles, then sit at a table in silence. When the food arrives, it takes a lot of effort for Jaemin to swallow it down. Everything still hurts.

When they finally leave the store, a familiar figure is walking down the street. Hands tucked into his pockets, eyes downcast, dressed in dark clothes, Jeno makes his way slowly to the two demons, seemingly not even registering their presence. As they pass, though, he looks up slightly, and he shares a look with Jaemin.

I’m sorry.

I’m sorry, too.

A moment of understanding passes between the two, and then Jeno turns away, ending the moment almost as soon as it began. With a sigh, Jaemin turns back to Jisung and together, the two of them melt into the shadows.

. . . . .

Love always finds its way back.

. . . . .

“Jaemin, Lucifer wants to see you,” Mark says.

“I don’t want to see him.” After the king of hell told him to stop wasting time with you and to get back to work, later flogging him for disregarding his orders, Jaemin hasn’t seen him since. And he likes it that way.

Mark shrugs in sympathy. “You can’t ignore him though.”

Jaemin smiles mirthlessly. “Bet.”

“No, I don’t bet,” Mark says firmly. “Now go.”

A heavy sigh leaves Jaemin’s lips, but he nods. “Fine.”

Jaemin’s will to continue weakens with every step he takes, but after what seems like an eternity, he finally ends up in front of the throne room. The flaming doors greet him as per usual, hissing and screaming with the pain of eternities of souls trapped in eternal punishment. Unfazed, he waits for the doors to open.

“Jaemin.” Lucifer’s voice booms as the demon kneels and bows his head.

“My lord.” Jaemin bites his lip.

“You may rise.” As Jaemin stands up, head still bowed, Lucifer continues. “We have a new member in our ranks. I would like you to train her and act as her mentor until she grasps things.”

With his head bowed, Jaemin can only see the new demon’s feet as she walks across the floor. He lifts his head, ready to greet her, then stumbles backwards in shock.

Jaemin barely remembers seeing you with your skin looking so healthy, with your eyes so bright, with your smile so wide and exhilarating and full of joy. But that’s how you look, standing mere inches in front of him.

He’s so shell-shocked that he barely remembers to bow to Lucifer. “I will teach her as best I can,” Jaemin says, voice trembling with overwhelming emotion. He looks into his king’s eyes of flaming pits and sees, amidst the flames, a touch of feeling.

Just as quickly as he saw it, it is gone, but Jaemin knows his eyes didn’t lie. He makes a last deep bow of gratitude, and then Lucifer waves you two out of the room. The second the doors slam shut, Jaemin’s arms are around you and yours are around him as you clutch each other for dear life. Little choked noises escape your throats and neither of you can string together a coherent sentence, but words are unneeded. Jaemin can only clutch you tighter and tighter, unable to believe that this is truly happening.

“How?” he finally manages, loosening his grip slightly so he can look into your eyes. They’re teary and a little red, but you look as beautiful as ever. “I… we only managed to escape from heaven after months of planning. How did you…?”

You wipe your eyes. “Jeno,” you say. “Jeno helped me.”

A whole rush of emotions hit Jaemin at once, as though someone’s just punched him in the stomach. Overwhelming surprise, wariness, and gratitude fill his throat and all he can come up with is a startled, choked noise. “Jeno?”

There’s a hint of sadness in your eyes as you nod. “Yes.”

Maybe Jeno didn’t do it for Jaemin. Maybe he did it just for you. That’s highly likely, and Jaemin almost believes it. But some tiny part of him wonders if maybe, just maybe, Jeno did it for him. At least partially.

He thinks that might be the case. It makes him smile, just a bit.

As he pulls you close, pressing a kiss to your lips with a raw fervor that almost lifts you up off your feet, he thanks his former best friend. He thanks the universe for aligning the two of you together. He thanks Lucifer for allowing you in, for allowing him to mentor you.

And he thanks his lucky stars that you could ever love a demon such as him.

#nctwriters #smtownnetwork #nct #nct scenarios #nct dream #kpop #fluff #jaemin #angst #triggers #death #cancer #angel/demon!au #nct dream scenarios #nct jaemin scenarios #love a demon #scriptura-delirus

464 notes · View notes

5hining-aus · 5 years

Text

SHINee As Werewolves

IT’S SPOOKY SEASON GUYS 🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃 I mentioned a little while ago that this month would be a bit focused on Magic/Supernatural-themed AUs. Here’s the first one. I hope you like it! Also, if there is a certain type of AU that you would like to see or like to get an update for this month, just let me know and I’ll see what I can do!

General:

So, in this AU, werewolves shift between their regular human forms and their werewolf form. A shifted werewolf is almost indistinguishable from a regular wolf, with the only differences being that werewolves are typically larger, and that werewolves typically have more diversity in pelt colour when compared to actual wolves

Most fully grown werewolves are no smaller than 115 cm at the shoulder, roughly the size of an adult pony

A/B/O? A/B/No. Sure, a pack might have the Alpha, Beta, and Omega ranks, but that’s all they are, ranks, nothing biological about them. A lot of packs don’t even use those ranks anymore, they just have a Pack Leader (usually the oldest member of the pack,) and some sort of Second-In-Command (usually the second oldest or strongest pack-member, or a close trusted friend of the Leader)

Speaking of packs, there are three main types:

Type One - The Family Pack: Perhaps the most common type of pack, it typically consists of an immediate family of werewolves and can span many generations

Type Two - The Bachelor/Bachelorette/Friend Pack: Typically comprised of mostly unrelated adult/sub-adult werewolves who have left their birth pack for some reason. Membership may be fluid, with members constantly coming and going, or it may be static, with the pack staying together permanently.

Type Three - The Lone Werewolf: Fairly self-explanatory, this is a werewolf who has left their birth pack but also hasn’t joined or formed another

A werewolf’s control over their transformation varies based on a few factors:

Age: Simply put, older werewolves are usually better at controlling their shifting. It tends to be easier for them to shift back and forth between their human and wolf-forms at will as well

Phase Of The Moon: What are werewolves known for? That’s right, changing form because of the full moon. All werewolves, once they come into their abilities, undergo an involuntary transformation during the full moon. Conversely, werewolves are unable to shift at all during the new moon

Emotions: Many werewolves will unintentionally shift when overcome with strong emotions

Fatigue: When seriously fatigued, a shifted werewolf will revert back to their human form. Shifting to and remaining in wolf-form consumes a lot of energy, so this seems to be the body’s way of conserving it

------------------------------ Member Info ------------------------------

Jinki:

Leader of the Pearl Aqua Lake Pack

Other packs tend to underestimate his pack because he doesn’t seem that tough

He’s generally a pacifist, but he damn near took on a whole rival pack single-handedly after they messed with his boys

Unlike some other Pack Leaders, who choose to lead through fear or intimidation, the PAL Pack chose Jinki as their Leader out of loyalty and love and all that mushy stuff

The strongest pack member, though he doesn’t usually show it

He was actually a bit of a late-bloomer when it came to shifting. Most werewolves come into their abilities around the age of 12, but Jinki didn’t come into his until he was about 16

The first time he shifted was unintentional. He sneezed a bit too hard and then poof, he had four legs and a tail

When shifted, his fur is mostly a dark cream/light tan colour with some darker brown/black hairs mixed in on top

Jonghyun:

A very good doggo

No but in all seriousness, he’s definitely the most dog-like out of the pack

Has definitely stopped mid-sentence because he saw a squirrel

Also like, slightly possessive over this one tree in the backyard

That’s HIS tree, don’t touch it

Despite leaving his birth pack, he’s still very close to his mom and sister

He may or may not use the whole werewolf thing as an excuse to run around shirtless half the time

When shifted, he’s mostly light russet with a darker, almost chocolate-coloured mask and points

Kibum

Member and co-founder (along with Jinki) of the “Dammit JongMinTae, It’s Freezing Outside And There’s Snow On The Ground, Put Your Clothes Back On” Club

Whenever somebody’s annoying him, he’ll just kinda shift and walk away, acting as though he can’t understand what they’re saying

“Kibum, I know you can understand me.”

“Sorry, I’m a wolf, I don’t speak human.”

“You literally just answered me.”

“...Bark bark?”

Can’t even remember the amount of times he’s been woken up because somebody (usually Minho) started a howl late at night

Just let the man sleep

His wolf-form’s fur is pretty much an almost-white light blond colour throughout

Minho

Second-In-Command

Almost the opposite of Jinki: Other packs think he’s this big bad werewolf, while in reality he wouldn’t hurt a fly

Has an ongoing feud with the mailman that he SWEARS is unrelated to the whole werewolf thing

Wouldn’t hurt a fly, but is always the first to instigate a friendly sparring session

Also, usually the first to instigate a dog-pile

He just loves his pack so much and is honestly the best choice for Second-In-Command

Good at sports, but also bad at sports because once he gets the ball, he doesn’t want to give it up

As for fur, his is a fairly solid coloured dark brown/black pelt with just a small patch of white on the chest

He is also the largest member of the pack

Taemin

Does he even own a shirt? Like, why is he always walking around half-naked

The youngest of the pack, so the others spoil him just a bit

“Don’t worry Taemin, I’ll go hunt for you”

The others would pretty much let him get away with murder

He milks it SO much

One misconception that a lot of people that meet him have is that he’d be perfectly happy as a Lone Werewolf, that he’d actually prefer it

Hoo boy, those people are proven wrong QUICKLY

Will not shut up about his pack if they aren’t around

“Thank you, I know I was just voted Werewolf of the Year, but let me tell you about my packmates”

In his wolf form, he’s another blondie, but his fur is a darker, more golden-blond (think the color of a toasted marshmallow, that’s about it) with some lighter hairs mixed in

#SHINee AU #SHINee imagines #SHINee scenarios #SHINee #5HINee #jinki #jonghyun #kibum #minho #taemin #SHINee As Werewolves

19 notes · View notes

certifries · 6 years

Link

Kaminari Denki and Shinsou Hitoshi couldn't be more different if they tried. Kaminari is deadset on befriending Shinsou and Shinsou might be affection starved enough to let it happen.

* * * * *

(Almost) all the small steps leading up to how they met, got to know eachother, became friends, and maybe even more than that.

word count: 6310 rating: T ship: kamishin / shinkami (Shinsou/Kaminari)

Kaminari lost the tournament. He’d gotten distracted and completely flunked it again. So much to showing everyone that he was more than the happy-go-lucky idiot they took him for.

Well.

Surely he’d get that chance another time.

For now he was going to put his cheerful persona back on and hope for the best. With this facade being up, at least no one would ask how he was doing. He’d joke about his loss and move on. No one would suspect a thing.

Of course he was friends with pretty much the entire class, but he didn’t really think he was close enough with anyone to ask him how he dealt with the defeat. Not that it mattered much anyway. It was just a dumb sports festival.

After rubbing at his eyes one final time he decided to get back to the others, swinging open the door exiting the waiting room and stepping outside. He was barely out of the room when he ran into Shinsou, literally, who was headed in the same direction and had just returned from Recovery Girl’s office after having his back checked out.

That really had been a nasty move from Midoriya.

“Ah. Sorry. Didn’t see you. Is your back alright?” He had slipped his mask back on, focusing all remaining energy on keeping his voice steady. His efforts seemed to be paying off, seeing as Shinsou decided to not further question him. Maybe he didn’t know yet though, or maybe he just plain didn’t care.

Shinsou scowled at him. “Yeah. Recovery Girl took care of it.”

Silence stretched on for a moment as this was apparently all Shinsou was going to say. He just kept his eyes silently fixed on Kaminari who almost started squirming under his gaze. Almost.

For a moment it seemed like that was all he was going to say. He kept his eyes silently fixed on Kaminari who almost started squirming under his gaze. Almost.

Since Shinsou showed no intention of leaving and Kaminari wasn’t going to just walk away, he decided to fill the silence with words instead.

“Your fight was amazing. I can’t believe Midoriya had to go as far as breaking his own hand to get free from your control. That was sick. Your quirk is so cool! You can just make villains put on their own handcuffs and turn themselves in! That’s amazing. You’d make a fantastic hero! You should be in our class, or the B course, just, sorry I’m rambling aren’t I?”

Kaminari scratched the back of his head, a shy smile spreading on his face. Shinsou still regarded him with the same cold stare, though there might be a bit surprise mixed in at the sudden wall of text the other had thrown at him.

Mostly though, he was surprised that Kaminari was even talking to him. Shinsou didn’t exactly take him to be the bravest of people, maybe he was just dumb but Shinsou was still sure that he at least knew how his quirk worked.

He kept staring in silence, not planning to answer anytime soon.

Obviously Shinsou didn’t plan to reply anytime soon.

“Anyway, uhm, we went to the same middle school did you know? Your quirk was really cool back then too but, no offense okay, it seems like it hasn’t improved a lot? Do the teachers not let you guys practice your quirks here? It’s still a hero school, even if you’re not in the hero course you should be able to practice. I think. Otherwise what would be the sense in going to UA?”

For a moment he kept rambling on and on about how unfair it was that Gen Ed didn’t get to actually practice and develop their quirks and Shinsou had to almost fight to keep his neutral expression.

“They don’t”, he interrupted Kaminari eventually.

Shinsou had managed the unbelievable. He’d stunned Kaminari into silence. “Sorry?”

“They don’t let us practice. We have self defense once a week. That’s it.”

Oh. “Shit, sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you, I’m sure you’re doing all you can. Once every week is nothing compared to what we do so of course you wouldn’t advance as fast. Sorry, uhm, you’re really strong already actually--”

Shinsou raised his hand to shut the other up. Which, surprisingly, worked immediately.

“Do you really think anyone lets me practice my quirk on them”, he asks in a deadpan voice that doesn't make it sound like a question at all. Kaminari doesn’t know what to reply to that. He was sure that in his class there’d be several volunteers, Midoriya being the first to pop into his mind, but obviously other classes might not be that confident.

The other scoffed and turned to finally return to watching the remaining matches. They’d missed at least another one with their talk.

Kaminari didn’t want to rub in how great his hero class was, and how accepting of all kinds of quirks, so instead he chose to stay silent and watch the other go, waiting until he’d turned the corner before he followed.

* * * * *

Days went by and turned into weeks as the students returned to their everyday life of attending classes and suffering through homework and tests.

Especially Kaminari was suffering, which was why he was the only one of his classmates remaining in the room and facing the wrath of their homeroom teacher.

He was currently on his way to fail one or the other of his theoretical classes but it wasn’t his fault! Well, not entirely. Sometimes he fell asleep in class but that was only because he stayed up late to study and try to catch up with classes. It wasn’t his fault that his mind always decided other things were more interesting to think about. Like the structure of the wall his desk was facing or the invention of lightbulbs.

Why were they even called lightbulbs and not light pears? They’re pear shaped! What even is a bulb? Oh, wait, he probably should listen to what Aizawa is saying.

The other is looking at him expectantly. Shit, he has to say something. Anything, and hope it’s right.

“I’m sorry. I swear I’m already studying every day. I’ll try harder”, he tries.

Aizawa sighs which is no indication if his reply was right or wrong. He’s playing with the skin on his hands, anything to somehow keep his mind from drifting again. Just gotta focus on his teacher.

“Whatever. Just ask one of your classmates for help. Even Ashido is currently doing better than you.” He waves Kaminari off but presses something in his hand before he can leave.

Kaminari stares down at it. It’s small and almost looks like a cut out part of a bike chain but the parts are joined by what looks like small plastic wheels. It has a nice weight to it and fits nicely in his hand.

Still, he looks up at his teacher with a hint of confusion in his eyes. “Uh, thanks?”

Aizawa shakes his head and sighs like he’s carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. Maybe dealing with 1-A felt a lot like that?

“Use that instead of picking your fingers bloody.” At that Kaminari shifts his view downwards where he’d picked at his skin. Damn. That happened all the time and he didn’t even notice anymore.

“Thank you”, he said again, this time with more gratitude, before finally leaving the classroom to join his friends.

Upon entering the yard the first thing he noticed was a bunch of purple hair peeking out from behind a low wall in the shadow of a tree. That looked like an amazing spot for a lunchbreak.

He was sure Shinsou wouldn’t mind some company, right? He took out a tissue to clean his fingers from the remaining blood as he walked over towards the tree and sat down on the wall next to Shinsou.

“Hey there”, he offered as greeting.

Shinsou looked up at him with his usual glare which only seemed to intensify with the dark circles underneath his eyes.

“Dude you should, like, really get more sleep. That doesn't look very healthy and I doubt you have to study all night to not fall behind.”

Shinsou sighed and looked down at his half finished food, considering if he should just get up and eat somewhere else.

“Can’t you go and annoy someone else?”

“Nope! Sorry but no can do.”

For just a fraction of a second Shinsou considered using his quirk on the other but just as fast he decided against it. Maybe he shouldn’t scare off the one person who semingly wasn’t scared of talking to him.

Instead he turned back and continued eating in silence. Denki seemed to understand the unspoken invitation that wasn’t entirely intended as one and stayed right where he was, grinning and unzipping his backpack to reveal a bright yellow Pikachu themed lunchbox. Shinsou didn’t comment on it.

“Seriously, do you get enough sleep? I know we talked maybe five minutes but I’m worried! No offense but you look like you could use a nap. I’m sure the nurse would let your crash on one of her beds for a while. You probably don’t even have to worry about missing periods! I bet you’re, like, super smart.” Kaminari kept rambling and rambling, seemingly not even stopping to breathe - or eat.

“I don’t sleep a lot, no.” He finally decided to interject. He didn’t exactly mind Kaminari’s seemingly endless waterfall of words but he also had a limited capacity of daily socializing and the other was going to use it all up before the day was over.

He still needed at least some of his braincells for class.

“In general, I mean. I just don’t sleep that much. Never have. Probably never will.” He didn’t look up at the other but he was sure that Kaminari was staring, waiting for an explanation to follow. Honestly, Shinsou didn’t feel like going deeper into the topic. Not really. So he didn’t.

Instead Shinsou studied the other, eventually falling on the white markings standing in contrast to his tan skin. They were most prominent at his hands and lower arms, not that he could see much more with the uniform on.

The pattern looked like lightning bolts but seemed to follow the course of his veins. Interesting

“That because of your quirk? You have that electricity thing going on, right?” He wasn’t really interested in the other’s life but he was interested in his quirk. The pattern looked like some kind of scarring, so his quirk did came with drawbacks just like his migraine was a side effect to his own quirk.

Kaminari looked down at his hands, frowning. He opened and closed them to fists a few times before grinning again.

“Yup! Slowly deep frying myself every time I use it. Funny, isn’t it?”

Funny wasn’t exactly the word Shinsou would use but he supposed it could be considered… ironic at least, that his quirk was hurting him in such a way.

“That also why you turn into a drooling idiot?” There wasn’t really any malice in his words, he just lacked the better terms to ask and he didn’t exactly want to waste brain power on being nice with the hero kid.

“Man everyone always says I’m dumb. Do I really look that dumb? Be honest.” At that Shinsou finally looked up again, looking at Kaminari with his bright blonde hair, eating out of his Pikachu lunchbox and having some rice stuck around his mouth.

“You, uh, you got some rice there.” Shinsou said instead of actually replying and gestured towards the position on his own face.

Kaminari groaned.

* * * * *

Eating lunch together had become a more or less regular occurrence for them. Sometimes Shinsou stayed inside or hid somewhere else - usually when he didn’t have the mental energy to socialize, Kaminari understood that - and sometimes Kaminari spent lunch with his classmates, or, well, the Bakusquad actually.

It was a nice dynamic going on between them, with no real ties or expectations. When they felt like hanging out, they did. And when they didn’t feel like hanging out, they just didn’t. There wasn’t much talk or planning involved.

Okay, maybe there was a lot of talking but that was only because Kaminari just kept rambling and rambling whenever they were together. He talked a lot when he was nervous. And also when he wasn’t nervous.

He was just generally talking a lot.

Shinsou didn’t really mind that of course. It was nice to have him there to fill the silence. It was also pretty nice to not have to eat alone anymore. And to have someone who understood that wanting to be alone for a while didn’t mean disliking them.

Today though, was one of the days they spent eating together again. Shinsou sitting on the ground, with his back leaning against the low wall and Kaminari sitting next to him. At some point Kaminari had joined him on the floor because it was easier to steal Shinsou’s food like that. Of course Shinsou just stole some from Kaminari in return.

Some people might have called that sharing lunch.

“I swear this school is deadset on seeing me leave”, Kaminari mumbled around his food. At first Shinsou didn’t say anything. He was tired after another sleepless night and honestly just not really in the mood for much conversation. Still, that statement didn’t feel well unanswered.

“You know, if you’re struggling so much I can teach you? We might not do as much sparring as you guys but the rest is pretty much the same.” With the difference that they actually get more homework and their grading is a bit more strict since they’re not busy with Saving The World or some other bullshit.

Was he salty about this? Yes. Yes he was.

But that was no reason to let his saltiness out on Kaminari. Shinsou knew that the other was working his ass off to earn his place among his classmates. Not everyone was as blessed as some certain other kids in 1-A.

Kaminari practically beamed at him.

“Are you sure? I mean. You have your own classes to focus on and I’d just be dragging you down, I’m really not a fast learner and you’d just get annoyed and I like spending lunch with you, I don’t want you to get sick of me because I’m so bad at school stuff--”

Shinsou cut him off by grabbing his hands that were relentlessly playing with the small fidget toy Aizawa had given him a while ago.

“I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but, Kaminari, you need to chill.” He smiled gently and let go of the other’s hands again seemingly ignoring the hint of red that had crept to the other’s face. “By teaching you I can just rehearse everything again. I get something out of this too! And, who knows, maybe I have a thing for teaching? Gotta have a plan B in case the hero thing doesn’t work out.”

His smile turned somber for just a moment before he averted his gaze and resumed eating.

“Really though, I’d rather help you study than listen to any more of your whining.” His signature lopsided grin was back so Kaminari knew he was just joking. Still, he couldn’t just be too nice now or Kaminari might get ideas.

Like that Shinsou kind of liked him.

Kind of.

“Thanks, man, you’re a real savior.” Kaminari sighed and finally relaxed again.

“Please remember that when you’re famous, okay? I could make money by selling your autographs or something.”

They fall back into comfortable chatter, talking about games and manga they’ve been into lately. They had a surprising amount of interests in common. Like staying up to finish just one more chapter which turns into five, preferring singleplayer over multiplayer games, and caring too much about the aesthetic of their towns in animal crossing.

At the end of lunch they part ways but not before exchanging numbers and the promise to meet after classes to study.

* * * * *

“Alright, what are you struggling with the most?”

Shinsou sat across from Kaminari, school supplies spread out between them and looking like they already had spent hours there when they’ve not even begun yet.

They had decided to walk to the nearest library and use the silence to not risk unnecessary distractions.

“Uhh..” Kaminari took a second to think while scanning the materials they had at their disposal. “History of heroics and math. Mostly math though.” Better just get to the point already, right? Hopefully Shinsou wouldn’t be too disappointed that he’s failing the most average courses. He’s had math since first grade why is he still bad at it? But before he can run his brain into the ground, Shinsou shifts away all unnecessary material and opens the math textbook for both of them.

“Alright then, do you know what topics are gonna be on your next test?”

“All of them?”

Shinsou stares at him with a bit of disbelief before remembering the current date.

“Ah, right, exams?” Kaminari nods. “Well, I can’t promise any miracles but we’ll see what we can do.”

With that they threw themselves headfirst into work, covering more or less all necessary chapters before going into detail on the things Kaminari was especially struggling with. They hadn’t even noticed how time passed until the last remaining librarian asked them to please continue at home so they can close up for the day.

Overall Kaminari would call the day a success. With Shinsou as a teacher, math didn’t seem all that scary anymore. And Shinsou seemed to enjoy himself as well. As much as someone can enjoy math anyway.

“With you as my teacher I’m totally gonna ace this exam.”

“We barely got the basics covered, Kaminari.”

“C’mon don’t rain on my parade like that!”

Kaminari let out a groan in frustration. They still had about one week to get him ready for the exam and somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew very well that it wasn’t going to be enough time.

Shinsou was an amazing teacher though, even if he was strict, and if he was still going to fail the exam he’d at least have some correct answers instead of none.

* * * * *

Kaminari fucked it up again. It seemed that failing was going to be his theme for the year. He’d spent so much time studying, too! With Shinsou and his classmates and even alone during the night. He’d tried so goddamn hard and still he’d lost.

First he failed the written exam, all of it, every single topic. Then he failed the practical exam too. Honestly though, why would Aizawa pair up him and Ashido with principal Nedzu of all people. That’s just bullying.

Bitter or not though, there was nothing he could do about that now so he accepted his fate. Which didn’t mean he wasn’t going to whine about it to Shinsou.

While he just whined and bragged about how unfair life was, Shinsou awkwardly pat his back. Consoling people and physical closeness really weren’t his strong points. Kaminari appreciated the effort.

Merely a few days later it seemed that life finally was going up again. Turns out Aizawa really is a bit of a dick and lied to them. Again. Honestly why do they even still believe him?

For lunchbreak, Kaminari had dragged Shinsou over to the rest of the squad, wanting to celebrate with his friends but also not wanting to leave out Shinsou, who sat a bit aside from the rest and kept mostly quiet.

“So, mind filling me in on why you dragged me to this merry gathering?”

Oh, right, he completely forgot to tell him before forcing him to socialize with the Bakusquad. Kaminari swallowed his food before turning to Shinsou with a wide grin.

“Well! Turns out that even those who failed the exams”, he shared a look with Ashido, “get to go to the summer training camp!” He fistbumped the air in victory as if he had done particularly well to deserve this, completely unaware of Bakugou’s stare.

“He probably just pitied you idiots.” He commented and was assaulted by a single flying fry in return. It didn’t matter who’d thrown it (it was Shinsou) as the outcome wouldn’t have changed no matter who it was. Bakugou went into a rage and started screaming profanities, making the rest laugh and Shinsou just raise an eyebrow.

“Such a brute”, he muttered, unheard by anyone.

* * * * *

The first few days of summer break passed in silence, only interrupted by Shinsou’s daily workout and studying and the rare occasions his parents occupied the same space as him.

They still didn’t talk to him, at least not with their voices. He didn’t think too much about it though, having gotten used to speaking in sign a long time ago.

Kaminari kept him updated in the evenings about how much he hated the extra lessons while everyone else could already sleep or have fun. Of course that wasn’t the most fair treatment but Kaminari really needed those lessons.

He’d even brought his fidgets so he could pay attention better while Aizawa tried to beat them up with knowledge. At least that’s how Kaminari made it seem.

Shinsou would never admit it, but Kaminari made him laugh. He was funny and caring and smart in his own way. He really cared about the other.

No one could ever know.

When there was no text the following evening Shinsou was worried. The same kind of worried you experience when you miss the bus and wonder if you’re still going to make it in time for school. Not an immediate threat, just mildly worrying.

Kaminari had probably just fallen asleep before he could whine about the day’s training. Nothing to dwell on for too long.

As Shinsou fell asleep though, he couldn’t shake that uneasy feeling that something was very, very wrong.

The next morning, after checking the news on his phone, he knew that all his fears had been confirmed. It was written right there, black letters on white background.

“UA Students attacked by League of Villains”.

The headline alone was enough to let his blood run cold in his veins. However, that was nothing against the amount of screaming his parents threw at him. They were actually talking to him and they used their voices to threaten him. Telling them they’d take him out of school, transfer him somewhere else. There were enough other hero schools in japan, maybe he’d actually make it into the hero course then.

Shinsou could only listen with half an ear, his attention drawn to the tv sitting in the background, currently showing remnants of the battlefield. One student was missing. Shinsou hoped with all his might that it wasn’t Kaminari.

Mere moments later it was confirmed that the missing student was Bakugou, that the League had apparently singled him out after the sports festival. Of course that made sense after his display of aggression, but Shinsou couldn’t help but feel bad. As much as he hated Bakugou, he was an aspiring hero and he knew that the other would never help a villain.

There were no news about the other students. Only reports saying over and over and over again that the heroes were doing everything in their power to save the missing kid and to ensure the safety of all other students, whatever that meant.

All information had been classified so the first time Shinsou actually got to see Kaminari again was during lunchbreak on their first day of returning to school. Sure, they’d exchanged one or the other text message, nothing near as frequent as before though, so he knew that Kaminari was alive and fine. But it wasn’t the same as seeing the other again.

Shinsou was nervous to say the least. He didn’t know what to expect when he stepped outside and walked over towards their usual spot underneath the tree. Surely Kaminari didn’t come out of that unscathed. At least not completely and especially not mentally.

He was surprised, to say the least, when he saw not only Kaminari sitting underneath the tree, but also Mina, Sero, Kirishima and Bakugou.

Of course. They probably didn’t want to get separated in a while. He could understand that.

In all honesty, he didn’t want to get separated from Kaminari in a while either. Too bad they didn’t share a classroom.

He walked over slightly faster than was usual for him. One could say he was in a hurry to see Kaminari again but he’d still deny that. Of course it was the truth but he’d deny it. He didn’t yet acknowledge that fact. What he did however acknowledge was the deep relief that washed over him when he saw Kaminari chat with the others with his usual bright smile.

Before the others could issue any kind of warning, Shinsou had already thrown himself on Kaminari, disregarding all sense of logic and ignoring the voice in the back of his head that told him Kaminari could maybe be hurt underneath his clothing.

He was just so happy to see the other again.

“Don’t you ever fucking scare me like that again, you asshole.” Shinsou was smiling though, holding Kaminari close and almost trembling with unshed tears. He wouldn’t cry in front of the other idiots. He was probably the most happy he’s been in a while.

“Sorry, sorry”, was all Kaminari managed as he tried not to be smothered by Shinsou. It was harder than it sounded with the other basically wrapped around him.

They spent the rest of lunch in silence, more or less, after Shinsou and Kaminari had untangled and were now sitting next to eachother, leaning against the wall. Of course Shinsou wanted to ask what exactly had happened. Wanted to know what the news hadn’t covered, but he felt like he shouldn’t pry. There was a fragile tension stretching over their heads and if he so much as mentioned the summer camp, whatever was holding their sanity together might just tear.

He only noticed that Bakugou seemed to be a lot calmer these days.

* * * * *

When Kaminari and Shinsou met up for studying now, it was usually in Kaminari’s room in the dorms. Sometimes they’d sit in the common room and invite some others to study with them, but overall their studying space was limited to the dorm rooms.

Mostly.

Sometimes, when they felt less like actually studying and more like just spending time together, they’d walk to a nearby cafe or forego studying entirely and do something fun. Like going to the zoo or the arcade. Things like that.

Sometimes, when Denki was too full of restless energy from training in school, they ignored the textbooks, searched for a quiet spot on the training grounds, and did some sparring. Without quirks of course.

Yes, they’d gotten permission by their homeroom teachers for that.

They didn’t do much usually. Just some friendly rounds of sparring, exchanging quick attacks and thinking of strategies. After a while they knew eachother’s fighting styles pretty well. Now their fights looked more like choreographed dances, where in the beginning it had been mostly Kaminari showing Shinsou how to hold a proper stance for fighting.

“What do they even teach you in Gen Ed?”

“Not a lot. As you can see.”

Technically they didn’t have any hero training in their curriculum. Instead they did basic self defense once a week in p.e. But he’d already told Kaminari about that back when they first met. Though, that was a long time ago.

Eventually they knew they couldn’t advance a lot on their own anymore so Kaminari asked Kirishima for help. Who else would’ve been better? That’s right, no one. At least Kaminari thought like that and Shinsou might have been just a tiny bit jealous.

If he’d noticed the silent stares Kaminari threw at him whenever they were in the dressing room, or when he was explaining something, or when he was just sitting there eating his lunch, he’d know there was nothing to be jealous of.

Physical training wasn’t the only thing they did together to get stronger.

After being transferred to 2-A and 2-C respectively they started delving into quirk training. Still physical training technically since they obviously didn’t have permission for anything else. Technically Kaminari had his preliminary hero license but that didn’t really give him permission to run wild with his quirk.

Nevermind Shinsou, who didn’t have any hero license exams and theoretically absolutely no permission to use his quirk.

That’s why they practiced in secret. Late at night at Denki’s place when his parents were away on one or the other business trip. No one had to know and usually Shinsou just made him finish his homework or go take a shower already. Mundane stuff like that.

Kaminari had been the one to bring up the possibility in the first place. Shinsou had never even considered it. He knew that controlling people was a big breach in trust and always made sure that Denki knew beforehand what Shinsou wanted to make him do. Even then Shinsou would ask him close to a hundred times if he was really sure about this.

Shinsou couldn’t put into words how much this training meant to him. How much Kaminari’s trust meant to him.

Kaminari couldn’t put into words how much he trusted Shinsou, that he would trust him with his life. So he thought this was the least he could do as a sign of his trust.

* * * * *

One weekend Shinsou had decided to invite over Kaminari to stay at his place. For studying of course, nothing else. Kaminari was ecstatic to meet the other’s parents and also to get back to his home prefecture for a change.

Shinsou texted his parents a week in advance that he’s bringing over a friend. He’s giving them enough time to either prepare for the presence of another teenager, or to leave town. Whichever they may prefer.

Tired Fam ™

► Me: i’m bringing over a friend next weekend

► Father eyebags: You have friends?

► Mother eyebags: Who is that so called friend?

► Me: haha dad very funny

he’s a friend from school

from the hero class

kaminari denki

► Mother eyebags: That is nice, dear.

► Me: alright so are ya gonna stay or leave the town?

hello?

…

wow nice talk

Shinsou knew that they didn’t believe him but it’s not like he really cared. Okay, maybe he cared a little but he wasn’t surprised. He’d never had friends before so of course his parents didn’t trust him to make friends at a hero school. For heroes. Where he didn’t get into the hero course. Because of his villainous quirk.

At least that’s what his parents thought. They didn’t care that the entrance exam was extremely biased towards physical quirks. What the hell was he supposed to do against robots with his quirk? Nothing, that’s fucking what.

When they arrived, Shinsou took the time to introduce Kaminari to his parents, using sign language of course. By now it was more habit than anything else. He hadn’t considered that it might throw off Kaminari.

The confusion didn’t last long though as Shinsou’s parents welcomed him into their home, shaking hands and talking in friendly voices. Instead it was replaced by an entirely different kind of confusion when they sat down for dinner and Shinsou spoke to his parents with just his hands, his parents replying the same while talking to Kaminari with their voices.

It was like having two entirely different conversations. Shinsou didn’t speak much with him during dinner.

It wasn’t until later that evening when Shinsou and Kaminari were sitting on the floor in Shinsou’s room with books spread in front of them that Kaminari worked up the courage to ask about it.

A pen in one hand and the other nervously playing with his fidget toy, he leaned back and regarded Shinsou with a curious look. At first Shinsou hadn’t noticed that Kaminari wasn’t focusing on math anymore and instead threw hearteyes at him. After maybe a minute though he looked up and slightly cocked his head.

“Something the matter? Are you stuck?” Before Kaminari could reply he was already leaning over to look at the textbook lying in front of Kaminari to look at the problem.

“We’ve already been over this a while ago. Do you need to refresh it?”

Kaminari still stared at him, his pen dropped a moment ago and the other hand playing even more nervously.

“Ah-- No, I’m fine, just reading over previous chapters.” He picked up the pen again and started chewing on its end. Shinsou gently took the pen away and replaced it with one of the lollipops he started carrying around. Kaminari accepted it gratefully.

“I was just wondering if there’s a reason you use sign language to talk to your parents? Are you guys practicing? That looked pretty fluent which is really cool, you could’ve told me yknow? I started learning a while ago too, we could’ve practiced together. Also talking to your parents while you guys sign was just slightly weird? And you didn’t say anything at all that was also weird, you didn’t even talk to me?”

Before Kaminari could fall back into his endless rambling Shinsou raised his hands in what had become their signature sign for “it’s okay, i’ll explain, please calm down”. Kaminari shut his mouth and lowered his hands that had subconsciously started gesturing wildly.

Shinsou lowered his gaze, playing with the pen he was still holding in his hands as he searched for the words to explain his situation.

“It’s… complicated. Or maybe not really? It’s weird”, he started but didn’t know how to continue.

Kaminari waited for a few moments. “It’s alright. We have time.”

Shinsou let out a sigh that sounded way too shaky for his liking. He was hoping Kaminari hadn’t noticed.

“I… learned sign when I was very young.” He started again, carefully considering his words. “Shortly after my quirk manifested, actually.” He paused again, putting his pen down as a bookmark before closing his textbook. He wouldn’t get any more studying done after this.

“Mental quirks are rare, some pretty much unheard of. My parents thought I was quirkless at first before they noticed gaps in their memory. They… They signed me up for sign language lessons and stopped talking to me when I was fluent enough to communicate.”

Kaminari regarded him with a sad look. As if he couldn’t quite believe what Shinsou had told him.

“They haven’t spoken to me ever since.” That wasn’t completely honest, as they had yelled at him just after Bakugou had been kidnapped but he wasn’t going to mention that. Not when Kaminari looked at him like a kicked puppy.

He didn’t get a chance to say anymore though. Kaminari basically fell forwards and embraced him in a tight hug.

“I’m so sorry”, he whispered over and over again and at first Shinsou didn’t understand why it would affect Kaminari like this. But he did. He did understand because he was sure that if Kaminari had told him this story he would’ve reacted the same.

Though, probably with less tears.

“You idiot”, Shinsou replied as he reciprocated the hug, “this is just normal to me.”

“It shouldn’t be”, was all Kaminari said between sobs.

* * * * *

A few months later Shinsou and Kaminari were sitting on the floor of Kaminari’s room in the dorms. It was a lazy sunday evening and Shinsou had absolutely no intention of leaving and returning home.

Tired Fam ™

► Me: gonna stay over at kaminari’s

don’t wait for me

see ya whenever

His parents didn’t reply but they didn’t have to. All that mattered was the tiny notification indicating they had read his message. Even that mattered less to him than it did to them.

He let himself fall back, lying on his back and staring at the ceiling. The days had become shorter again, the temperatures falling and the seasons slowly changing. It was probably Shinsou’s favourite time of the year. When the sun was golden and shining at just the right angle through the blinds it made Kaminari’s hair look like gold, his skin shining like it was covered in glitter. It just made him even more beautiful than he was anyway.

Shinsou had given up on fighting his feelings for the other long ago. Though he was content not acting on them either. He could appreciate the warmth of being close to Kaminari like this. For him, a relationship wouldn’t change much anyway.

However he wasn’t the only one harboring secret feelings. And Kaminari had very different opinions on what to do with them. Which was why he lay down next to the other, shifting closer so their shoulders were touching and joining Shinsou in staring at the ceiling covered in glow-in-the-dark stars.

“Shinsou?”

“Mhm? What is it?”

“Wanna go to the cat cafe tomorrow? After class? You know, the one that opened a few streets away?”

Shinsou took a second to mull it over. Technically he had a test he really needed to study for since History of Heroics had gotten ridiculously hard since second year began.

“You know. As a date?”

Now that stilled Shinsou’s thoughts completely before they started going off again at the speed of light, probably even faster than that.

“W-what?” he asked eloquently.

“Wanna go on a date with me?” Kaminari’s voice sounded more confident this time while Shinsou’s face was taking on an unhealthy shade of red. Thankfully the other couldn’t see.

It only took him a moment to calm down again though and return to his usual smug self.

“Only if I can call you my boyfriend then.”

“Hell yes.”

#bnha #mha #shinsou hitoshi #kaminari denki #shinkami #kamishin #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #fic tag #i will fill this ship tag on my own if i have to #please join me in rarepair hell

239 notes · View notes

brianna-lei · 7 years

Text

Butterfly Soup Asks, batch 10

More under the cut, including Diya dog questions, Akarsha’s hair length, and more!

She loves them all, this changes depending on her mood. One of her favorites is Samoyeds (the breed she uses as her chat avatar) because they’re large and fluffy.

Yes! Many more

It’s surprisingly long -- it goes down about halfway between her shoulders and elbow. It looks like less than it really is in buns because she has pretty fine hair compared to other characters like Diya.

Despite not being as book smart as Noelle or Akarsha, Diya is enrolled in all honors classes and has to try extra hard to keep up sometimes. So both times we see Diya wake up in the game, she’s fallen asleep studying.

If it makes people feel better, it’s pretty rare that Diya has to do this! She does sleep in her bed most of the time.

I’m alright with it. If it makes people happy and it doesn’t hurt anyone, it’s cool

Min is only attracted to girls, so that makes her a nonbinary lesbian.

Diya self-identifies as lesbian, but she’s only ever been in love with Min, who’s actually nonbinary. I’m not sure how to label her (maybe pan?) -- It’s hard to say with a sample size of literally 1

The rest I’d like to keep a secret for now, sorry! I don’t want to spoil the entire sequel before I’ve even made it

This’ll be touched on a bit in the sequel!

Ooh I love that...I have an idea of what everyone sounds like in my head, but I don’t have any actual voice refs!

I actually feel like I haven’t seen enough movies to give the best answer to this??!?? Classic Gamer problems...

Diya: Harry Potter and the Sorceror’s Stone/some dog movie

Min: Fight Club

Noelle: probably a particularly educational documentary

Akarsha: an anime movie I bet

Akarsha: Shortstop. This position has to field many balls, which gives Akarsha many opportunities to mess up and invent new excuses. Noelle: Right fielder. Chryssa and Liz put her there in hopes that since most people are right-handed, few will hit the ball out there -- so if all goes well, her lack of skill is hidden and she’s just standing there doing nothing for most of the game.

Misc. fun fact: I actually wanted a scene set at Chinese school in the story, but couldn’t figure out how to work it in. That’s a problem for future Brianna...

This is true! .........I, personally, have started tagging them on my blog as ppkm for “Pee Pee Ketchup Man” but I realize this is a lot harder to remember than Noesha or Akano! Please feel free to use whatever makes sense to you!

Yeah! I gain followers on Tumblr pretty consistently, but Twitter popularity has always eluded and mystified me. I’m actually a bit nervous about tweeting normally now that I have more?? We’ll see how this goes

Almost everything! I used to be addicted to Hearthstone but then transitioned to being addicted to Overwatch (Winston main). My favorite game of 2017 so far is Nier:Automata, I really want to draw fanart of it soon! Also, I love rhythm games and puzzle games! I also like Telltale-style adventure games and narrative-heavy games in general like Ace Attorney, Persona, etc. I tend not to play games that pander to straight white guys, though. It’s like as soon as they target straight white guys, they shift to the most bland art style and most boring stories in the world.

For example, I didn’t know what PUBG was and had to google it, and even after looking at the brown/tan colored screenshots, I still can’t muster up even one shred of interest in it. I’m sure their game mechanics are fun, but personally, it totally ruins the deal for me.

You’re welcome! And OOH I remember being so nervous about applying to the Interactive Media program, best of luck! I actually even failed to meet all the requirements -- I only sent them 2 letters of rec instead of 3 because I’m super shy and was too scared to ask any more teachers LMAO I guess they liked me enough that they let me in anyway

i love you too! Diya’s hoodie doesn’t exist...yet. I really really want to make it happen...to be continued...

Unfortunately those old ref sheets are all I’ve got! I’m planning on drawing updated ones, and when I do I’ll post em on here and twitter

you’re welcome, and if you draw fanart please tag me!!!! I’d love to see it! ;~;

Yes!! My mean and insincere daughter...

haha sorry for the stomach pain! You’re welcome!!

You’re welcome (you’re welcome)!!!!

I love when people realize!! You’re welcome, I’ll do my best!

You’re welcome!!!!!!!

you’re welcome!!!!!

You’re welcome!!! I love being praised for having the best children...

You’re welcome! And YEAH GREAT MALL the world is so small!

I’m so glad my game was able to help you out a little bit!! Thank you for the message!

You’re welcome, I’m so glad you found Diya relatable!! Hope you like the rest of it!

Thank you!! I’ll do my best from now on!

Thank you so much for the support! TT_TT I’m super glad to hear you enjoyed it!!

#briANSWER #Butterfly Soup #ask #my post

153 notes · View notes

bangchanshehe · 7 years

Text

Are You Mine (pt.4/?)

A/N: So from here on out is where it will start to pick up. I promise that in the future there will be smut, however it will get angsty before that happens... As always feedback and comments are always welcome. Thanks for reading.

Genre: Angst/Smut

Pairings: Baekhyun X Emily (O/C) X ???

Word count: 2.8k

The next morning you woke up feeling more excited then you’ve ever felt in your life. You made yourself breakfast and coffee and took your time getting ready. You fixed your hair and makeup until they looked perfect regardless of the fact that you would be moving later. You finished the last minute packing that you had left and left your apartment to go to SM. When you reached the building you were quite surprised at how small it was. You expected the building to be a giant fortress. There were several women and men outside of the building with their cellphones out and cameras ready to take pictures of any artists that happened to walk by. Prior to coming to Korea you listened to tons of Korean music, not only kpop and were familiar with how dedicated the fans were of their favorite groups. You giggled to yourself as you made your way inside of the building and felt proud of being able to call this your job.

You met the receptionist at the front who looked at you curiously as if she was trying to figure out who you were.

“Can I help you with anything?” she asked you with a polite, fake smile

“Yes I’m supposed to be meeting Manager Park here?” she nodded and picked up the phone to call someone.

“Yes, hello this is Soo Bong at the front desk and there is a woman here for you…Yes I’ll do that…. Yes, thank you!” she hung up the phone and continued to work at her desk clicking on multiple things with her mouse. She printed out some documents and handed you a card.

“Mr. Park is expecting you on the fifth floor in room 507. If anyone stops you show them this, this is your identification card. The elevators are just around the corner and if you have any more questions just let me know and I’ll be happy to answer them.”

You took your things that were handed to you and headed for the elevators. The excitement started to take a toll on your heart beat, and every step you took towards the elevator was making you more and more nervous. It was starting to finally sink in for you that you were inside SM Entertainments headquarters. You entered the elevator and looked at yourself in the camera of your phone checking that you still looked okay. The elevator came to a stop at the fifth floor and you made your way out and walked slowly to room 507 to stop and look around the rooms that were open and any people that were walking by. You felt like a star struck fan girl and you reminded yourself to snap out of it. You picked up your pace to come face to face with door 507. You pulled any last bit of self-restraint that you had and knocked on the door. You heard shuffling footsteps and the door suddenly opened wide. You smiled up at Manager Park with a small smile but your grin quickly fell to a surprised expression when a very exhausted looking Baekhyun opened the door instead.

“Come on in I won’t bite!” he moved to the side to allow your entrance. Once you were inside you took a seat at the desk and Baekhyun made his way over to the desk to take a seat as well. He hastily slurped down what was left of his cup ramen and chugged a coke before he finally spoke again.

“Sorry about that I felt like I was gonna die if I didn’t finish my food real quick. My manager had to step out really fast to finish up some last minute arrangements before you could move into our building so I’ll be showing you around for now until he gets back.” Baekhyun in between gasps of air, no doubt feeling heartburn. The boy who looked as handsome as ever in just plain clothes with a smile that could kill, eliminated any possible romantic thoughts in your mind with the way he swallowed what was left in his cup in the two gulps.

You immediately felt bad for not coming a few minutes later so that the poor man in front of you could eat his meal slowly and enjoy it. He gathered up his trash and threw it away by throwing it in the trash as if it were a basketball. When it went inside of the trash he turned to you with a satisfied smile on his face.

“Did you see that?” he asked, and you nodded your head.

“Yes LeBron James I did.” You chuckled as his smile got wider.

“Come on I’ll show you around some.”

He moved to get up and you immediately followed as he explained in detail what was on each floor until you reached the elevator. He pressed a button that led you to the floor that he just explained was the floor with the dance practice rooms.

The door opened and you noticed a change in the atmosphere immediately. The halls were lively and the décor was friendly and fun, compared to the boring in contrast hall that you just came from. You could feel the music coming from behind doors. Yes, literally feel the music. The sound waves hit you and you could feel what song the group was listening too. You smiled to yourself as you began to try to identify the beat. Baekhyun noticed your smile and turned to you with a small smile of his own

“What?” he asked

“Nothing, im just trying to-“you nodded your head and snapped your fingers “Limitless!” you almost yelled out and Beakhyun looked at you surprised

“How did you know?” he asked you with wide eyes

“I can feel the song.”

“But I thought you weren’t a fan of kpop?!” he asked you incredulously

“I never said that! What would make you think that? And why would I work for SM if I didn’t?” he nodded at you with a smirk

“So you just don’t like EXO then?”

“No, I like EXO a lot actually!” you said with a shy smile. You were always willing to admit that you liked something even when it was an unpopular opinion, but admitting this in front of Baekhyun just seemed intimate and personal. Like you had opened up personal information to him.

“Who is your bias?” he immediately asked with eyes so big they looked like they would pop out of his skull.

“That is something that you will never live to know Byun Baekhyun!” you said laughing as you watched his face fall.

“NOONA!” he pouted and whined, tugging on your sleeve.

“How rude of you to assume that I’m older than you, old man!” his pout instantly lifted into curiosity and then into a smirk.

“So I’m your oppa?” he pat the top of your head and bent forward to be at eye level with you “you really are just a cute little princess! Call me oppa, okay?”

“I will call you Baekhyun, because oppa is not work appropriate!”

You scoffed at him and turned your head when you noticed that the door to the practice room opened and a confused person was standing there as you and Baekhyun blocked the door way.

“I was just going to come get Johnny can you tell him that I’m ready whenever he is!” Baekhyun yelled over the loud music to the person standing in the door way. He stood straight and waited for our company to join us.

As soon as the door opened again you looked up and you fought the urge to drool when you saw the idol at the door way making his way towards you and Baekhyun. Your heart was pounding in your chest when you made eye contact with Johnny. He was so much more handsome in person that you would have ever expected. Simple tasks like breathing seemed to be a lot more work than they usually do as you found yourself actually paying attention to your breaths to calm them down. Being shorter, men with height had always been a weakness for you. Having the 6 foot 1 man himself standing next to you made you feel weak in the knees. That same smile that you had dreamt about countless times was now directed at you and you almost drooled.

Everything about his was better in person. His eyes, his makeup free face, his relaxed style and his beautiful hair were all things that you could get used to seeing often. And above all his skin tone was so beautiful compared to your paler skin tone. You weren’t surprised by how tan he was, but it felt like it was the first time actually seeing his skin. The poor boy was so whitewashed to make himself look lighter, but you had to admit that his tan skin was something that made him even more attractive.

“So I hope you don’t mind tagging along with us for now until Manager Park comes back, she’s new here and I’m showing her around.” Johnny nodded and turned back to you bowing and introducing himself.

“Hello, I’m johnny. It’s nice to meet you.”

You quickly bowed back and introduced yourself as well.

“Hello, I’m Emily! It’s nice to meet you too, I’m a big fan of yours!”

Johnny began to smile down at you even wider than he was and lightly laughed. You could feel at the heat in your body rise to your face. What possessed you to say that in front of him? You mentally kicked yourself for being so embarrassing.

“Well, thank you for supporting us!” Johnny said with a megawatt smile that could make blind women faint.

“Do you by chance speak English?” he asked you quietly and you nodded.

“Yeah, I’m working here as an English teacher.”

He smiled and put a hand on your shoulder and the other was on his hip.

“I’m a little more comfortable speaking English, so let’s speak like this okay?”

You could have squealed like a little school girl. It was something just as simple as speaking English with each other, but when you heard Johnny speaking English in videos or live streams it was like hearing his voice for the first time.

“To be honest, I’m still not that great at Korean either, so that works for me!”

“Well, why don’t I help you with Korean and in return you can be my new friend.”

“What?” you asked completely shocked

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to.” He said laughing

“No, no, no.” you cleared your throat. “That’d be really nice, actually. I don’t have too many friends yet.” You clarified.

“Alright then from now on we’re friends.” He slid his hand off of your shoulder and put it on his other hip. “Also you don’t need to use honorifics you can just call me Johnny.”

You nodded your head and smiled at him. You had a feeling that being friends with him was going to be embarrassing for you. Your heart beat out of your chest just being in the same room with him, so how were you supposed to talk to him or be friends without acting like a total fool?

“Or if you’d like you can call me oppa.” He said with a cocky grin and your eyes almost doubled in size as you stood there with your mouth hanging open. At this point you knew that Baekhyun had no idea what the two of you were talking about, but he would definitely pick up on him saying oppa.

Baekhyun stood still waiting for the sweet sound of your rejection to Johnny, knowing that you wouldn’t call Johnny oppa, if you wouldn’t call him oppa. But, he wasn’t prepared for you to actually agree to it.

“Okay… oppa” you said meekly looking down at your shoes.

“YAH!” Beakhyun yelled, startling the two of you, pointing his finger at you.

“Why? Why would you call him oppa and not me?” he questioned acting hurt and disappointed holding his chest.

“Because we’re friends” you stated plain as day, and he scoffed at you

“And we’re not friends?” he asked.

“You’re technically a student so it’s inappropriate, but Johnny isn’t my student”

Baekhyun stood there for a minute sulking and whispered to himself.

“Why am I getting jealous?”

He huffed and turned to go back to elevators, walking away from the situation.The next stop was your office which was on the third floor. Your office was small, but had all of the space that you would need. You had a cute little window with a plant in the windowsill soaking up the sunrays. There was a desk with a desktop computer and a calendar on your wall with a joint whiteboard. Across from your desk sat a single chair for guests to sit in.

You started to smile thinking about all of the decorating that you could do to make the office your own. You sat down in your desk chair looking around the room and mentally designing your space. You tapped on the space bar on your keyboard and your desktop turned on.

You were shocked by what pulled up and you broke out into loud laughter. Baekhyun having the key to your office, must have snuck inside and saved your background to an image of himself.

You looked over at the suspect and he was looking up at the ceiling with a smile on his face feigning ignorance. When he finally lowered his gaze and made eye contact with you he smiled back and put his hands up in front of himself.

“It’s okay, there’s no need to thank me. Now you’ll be blessed to see me every day even if I’m not physically here.” He said Johnny walked over to the back of your desk to take a peek at what you two were laughing about. When he saw what it was he laughed and gave Baekhyun a thumbs up. He moved out from behind your desk and noticed your white board. He grabbed a marker and wrote out ‘FIGHTING!’ with three hearts.

Baekhyun had taken notice and rolled his eyes. He didn’t know what about Johnny made him feel so competitive but he hated it. Maybe it was the fact that you got to call him oppa, or the fact that the two of you had just met and were already friends. Baekhyun had never seen Johnny so friendly to anyone other than his members, so of course he felt a little suspicious. But in the end he told himself not to let it get to him, that you two were just close because the both of you were from the states. He coughed and got up from the guest chair.

“So, I’ve got to take Johnny to do some work, if you need anything you have my number. Manager Park should be here soon, and I’ll let him know that you’re in your office. The bathrooms are right down the hall and there’s also a vending machine in case you get thirsty or need a snack.”

He looked over at Johnny and nodded his head once to the door before exiting. Johnny quickly followed and made sure to quietly shut the door behind himself. He quietly followed Baekhyun to the elevators and when they both got inside he broke the silence.

“So hyung, you seem like you know Emily well.”Baekhyun just grunted and nodded his head.

“So… do you know if she’s dating anyone?” Johnny asked quietly

Baekhyun froze. He didn’t want anyone else to be interested in you and especially not Johnny. He saw the way you blushed and how shy you were acting around him. He knew that if Johnny pursued you that you’d most likely say yes to him. He felt threatened so he did what he thought was best for himself.

“Yeah, his name is Cole I think. They used to live in the same building as each other.” He said giving Johnny a soft smile

“Oh, I see” Johnny muttered down looking at his shoes and nodding his head “Cole’s a lucky guy”

“Yeah” Baekhyun whispered.

He hated having to lie, especially to one of his own friends, but he felt like there was nothing else he could do. Baekhyun genuinely liked you from the moment he saw you at the bar. He watched you as you sat by yourself and just appreciated the music and the environment without having to be a part of it, and he admired that about you. You seemed to make what some people would say a crazy and chaotic night into a night where you were lost in your own world.He knew that eventually if Johnny did stick around and become your friend that he’d eventually find out that you weren’t dating Cole. But he hoped that maybe when he found out that you’d be dating himself instead.

NEXT PART

#kpop series #kpop fanfiction #exo series #exo fanfiction #exo smut #exo angst #byun baekhyun #baekhyun #baekhyun series #baekhyun angst #baekhyun smut #johnny seo #johnny #nct127

37 notes · View notes