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mononijikayu · 9 months ago

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bed chem — nanami kento.

“Are you free next week?” Your breath hitched, caught off guard by how effortlessly he turned the tables on you. It was exactly what you had been thinking, the question that had echoed in your head. He had beaten you to it, but his tone told you this was no ordinary invitation. There was more behind that simple question—an invitation to something deeper, something physical. You raised an eyebrow, smiling to yourself, already knowing your answer. “I think I could be.”

GENRE: alternate universe - modern au;

WARNING/S: romance, love at first sight, nsfw, rated 18 and above, explicit content, kissing, making out, fingering, p to v sex, orgasm, humor, characters speaking in sexual innuendo, mention of sexual euphemisms, depiction of explicit sexual content, nanami kento is that MAN, reader really wants to have bed chem with nanami <3;

WORD COUNT: 4.8k words.

NOTE: i keep thinking about how much i wrote and how it could be a treat for the entire october in terms of kinktober but i think i realize i'll be too busy starting the 11th, so i won't be showing up to anything, so i'll just be doing all this stuff i can now and posting some in between so i can at least have something for yall, you know? also im realizing my actor sukuna series and this is a minor part of it. its such a good story!!! if you wanna read it the latest chapter is here chapter four; anyway, i hope you can feel my love through out. i'll be seeing you soon enough, though. wish me luck on my upcoming exams <3

masterlist

if you want to, tip! <3

kayu's playlist — side 1500;

YOU’RE NEVER GOING TO FORGET THIS NIGHT. And you were happy about that thought. You remember the day you met him vividly, as if it happened just yesterday. You were dressed in a sheer, ethereal gown, moving gracefully through the grand corridors of a buzzing fashion venue.

Models, designers, and staff rushed around in a whirlwind of fabric and creativity, preparing for the show. You were part of that beautiful chaos, your mind focused on the evening ahead. But then you saw him.

Nanami Kento, the famous actor.

He stood out, calm amidst the frenzy, wearing a sharp white jacket that contrasted with the hectic energy around you. His sandy-blonde hair fell neatly into place, and his tall, sturdy frame exuded a sense of quiet confidence.

You exchanged brief pleasantries—just a moment's conversation—but the connection felt palpable. His presence lingered in your thoughts long after. You can’t help it. He was just that enigmatic. He was just that awe-strikingly beautiful.

Later that evening, a friend of his reached out, suggesting the two of you connect. You think that maybe they think you guys are going to be good for each other. Or maybe you could just be friends.

Who knows? You hadn’t expected it, but before you knew it, there was a message on your phone from Nanami Kento himself. And just like that, you found yourself scrolling through his texts, your pulse quickening with every new notification.

Who's the cute guy with the white jacket and the thick accent? The thought danced in your mind, replaying your brief interaction. You wondered if you were imagining it, but something told you this connection was real.

He wasn’t just like any other guy you’ve dated. A lot about him was already an improvement, but you were sure, one hundred percent — he would be everything. Everything that you could ever want in a man.

Maybe it was all in your head, just a fleeting crush, but you couldn't shake the feeling. You have never felt like this before. You began to picture more than just idle conversation. You bet the two of you would have incredible chemistry—on all levels.

Your thoughts spiraled into fantasies, growing more vivid with every passing moment. You imagined him picking you up with ease, spinning you around like you were weightless, his strong hands firm but gentle. It just made sense, didn’t it? The way he looked at you, the way his words were always so calm and collected, but with an underlying intensity that pulled you in.

There was chemistry—bed chem, as you started to call it in your mind.

You saw it all clearly: the way he’d pull you close, lower you down, his voice teasing but sweet. And his hands—how they might trail over your skin with a deliberate touch, a mix of sweet and sinful. You were obsessed with the idea. He didn’t even need to say anything when you saw him, the look in his eyes was enough to spark that connection.

You imagined asking him, casually, Are you free next week? You were certain that if you met again, everything would fall into place. You’d fit together seamlessly, like two puzzle pieces made for each other. Your fantasies painted the perfect picture: soft sheets, the thermostat set just right—maybe at 69—and the two of you in sync, moving as if you’d done this a thousand times before.

You saw him later that night at the after-party, his blue eyes scanning the room until they landed on you. Your heart skipped a beat. Nanami wasn’t just an actor anymore, not just a face from the big screen or a billboard. He was real, standing right there, closing the distance between you.

As he approached, you couldn’t help but think, I bet we’d have really good bed chem.

The thought made you smile to yourself, a secret desire that hung in the air, just waiting to be fulfilled.

He moved closer, his stride confident but unhurried. The noise of the party seemed to fade into the background, the music and chatter dissolving as your attention zeroed in on him. You could feel the air between you thicken, an unspoken pull drawing you together. Nanami’s eyes never left yours, his intense gaze making it clear he hadn’t forgotten your brief encounter earlier in the day.

He stopped just a few steps away, close enough that you could see the faintest hints of amusement tugging at the corners of his lips. You exchanged a polite smile, but beneath the surface, the tension was palpable. It was as if every look, every subtle movement, was laden with meaning. Your heart raced, but you kept your composure.

“I didn’t expect to see you here.” he said, his voice smooth, with that same deep cadence you had replayed in your mind over and over again.

You offered a light laugh, something casual, but even the smallest exchange felt charged. “Fashion world is small, I guess.”

The conversation was polite, yet every word held weight. You both knew there was something more bubbling beneath the surface. And that’s when it happened—he leaned in, just a fraction, and his voice lowered, the faintest hint of something playful lacing his words.

“Are you free next week?”

Your breath hitched, caught off guard by how effortlessly he turned the tables on you. It was exactly what you had been thinking, the question that had echoed in your head. He had beaten you to it, but his tone told you this was no ordinary invitation. There was more behind that simple question—an invitation to something deeper, something physical.

You raised an eyebrow, smiling to yourself, already knowing your answer. “I think I could be.”

Nanami Kento chuckled softly, his eyes gleaming. It was a small moment, but it felt like a confirmation—like a prophecy about to be fulfilled. You both lingered in the silence for a beat longer than necessary, the electric tension between you undeniable.

As the night went on, the party flowed around you, but your attention never strayed far from him. Each glance, each word exchanged, only built on the anticipation. By the time you said your goodbyes, you were already planning out the next week in your head.

When you finally parted ways, your phone buzzed almost immediately. A message from him.

Next week, then.

You smiled, already thinking about how things would unfold. In your mind, you could see it—how he’d pick you up like it was nothing, his strength and control so effortless. You pictured the way he’d pull you close, then spin you around, always so deliberate but never rushed. The chemistry was undeniable, it was practically written in the stars. Bed chem, the kind that left no room for hesitation.

And when that moment finally came, you knew everything would fall into place, just like you imagined. The perfect rhythm, the thermostat set just right, every movement in sync.

It was only a matter of time.

The days that followed felt like a slow burn, each one stretching out as you found yourself replaying that moment over and over. The anticipation built, winding tighter with every passing thought of him. Every time your phone buzzed, your pulse quickened, hoping it was another message from Nanami, and more often than not, it was.

His texts were short, simple—never too much, but just enough to keep the flame alive. He didn’t need to say much for you to read between the lines. Each message held a certain calm confidence, like he knew exactly what he was doing, just like when you saw him at the party.

Each message was a spark, feeding the fire of your fantasies. Your mind wandered constantly, imagining every possible way the encounter could unfold. You knew it wouldn’t be rushed—it was never rushed with someone like Nanami. Everything about him was measured, thoughtful, intentional.

How’s your week?

Thinking about that conversation.

Looking forward to next week.

By the time the day finally arrived, you could feel your nerves dancing in your chest, excitement pulsing beneath your skin. You chose your outfit carefully, something that balanced elegance with subtle suggestion. You wanted to look as effortlessly composed as you imagined he would be.

When you arrived at the restaurant where he had suggested you meet, the atmosphere was warm, dimly lit, and intimate. Nanami was already there, sitting at a table near the window. He looked up as soon as you walked in, his eyes locking onto yours immediately, that same intensity you remembered from the party.

As you approached, he stood to greet you, his hand resting lightly on your back as he leaned in for a polite kiss on the cheek. His touch was brief but electric, and you felt the heat rise in your chest.

“You look stunning, darling.” he said, his voice deep and smooth, just as you remembered.

You smiled, brushing off the compliment with a modest shrug, but the way his eyes lingered told you he wasn’t just being polite. The dinner itself was a dance, every word exchanged adding to the tension that simmered between you. You talked about the show, your careers, little moments from your lives—but beneath it all, there was the unspoken promise of what was to come.

It wasn’t long before the two of you found yourselves alone, walking down the quiet city streets. The cool night air did little to cool the heat that was growing between you. His hand brushed yours as you walked, a casual but deliberate touch that sent a shiver down your spine.

Then, as if on cue, he stopped, turning to face you. His eyes held yours for a long moment, the city lights casting shadows over his sharp features.

“Should we continue this somewhere more private?” His voice was calm, but there was a subtle edge to it, the tension in his question making your breath catch.

You nodded, your heart racing as he reached for your hand, his grip firm but gentle as he led you toward his place. The walk was quiet, the air thick with anticipation. When you finally arrived, it felt like the world had slowed down, the moment you had been waiting for was finally here.

YOU WERE ASTOUNDED HOW SUAVE HIS EXISTENCE IS. The sight of his apartment took you by surprise, sleek and minimal yet warm, much like him. Everything was perfectly arranged, clean lines and subtle comfort that mirrored his understated charm. You couldn’t help but admire him, drawn in by everything he was. The more you were around him, the more you wanted—his presence, his touch, his everything.

He glanced at you, his gaze never wavering as he slipped off his jacket, hanging it neatly over the back of a chair. In an instant, he was standing before you, hands on your waist, drawing you close with a quiet, commanding energy. The world outside faded into the background, leaving only the two of you in the dimly lit room.

His lips hovered near your ear, his breath warm as he whispered, "I’ve been thinking about this all week."

The sound of his voice sent a shiver down your spine, and before you could respond, his lips found yours. The kiss was slow at first, deliberate, as if savoring the moment. You could feel the excitement become even more palpable in you.

Each movement of his mouth felt carefully measured, like he had been imagining this for far longer than you realized. His hands moved with an easy confidence, sliding across your body, each touch making you feel as though he had memorized every inch of you.

When he lifted you, it felt seamless, effortless, as though you weighed nothing at all in his arms. He carried you to the bedroom, his strong grip both protective and possessive.

There was an undeniable chemistry between you—every brush of his skin against yours, every touch electric and charged with desire. His movements were slow, savoring the build-up, as if he had waited too long for this moment to rush through it.

Your breaths came out shallow and uneven as his lips moved from yours, down the length of your neck, leaving a burning trail in their wake. Each press of his mouth against your skin felt deliberate, purposeful, sending sparks of heat coursing through you.

His scent filled the space between you, rich and heady, mixing with the warmth of his body as he pressed closer. Every inch of you was aware of him—the solid strength of his frame, the way his breath hitched slightly as his hands roamed over you.

Kento’s fingers grazed the curve of your waist before tightening on your hips, pulling you against him with a quiet but undeniable hunger. The sensation of his body molded so tightly to yours made your heart race, your skin tingling with anticipation.

You bit your lip, trying to steady your breath, but it was impossible under the weight of his touch, his presence. His knee nudged between your thighs, parting them with a gentle yet insistent pressure, the friction sending a fresh wave of desire flooding through you.

"You feel so good, sweetie." he whispered, his voice low and rough, filled with want.

A soft moan slipped from your lips as his hands roamed lower, teasing the edge of your clothes before slipping beneath the fabric. His fingers dug in, just enough to make you gasp, his touch hot against your skin. The sensation of him—his rough palms gliding over your bare skin, the tension coiling between you—was intoxicating, leaving you breathless.

You felt his lips curl into a smirk against your neck, clearly pleased with the effect he was having on you. "I love hearing you like that, sweetie." he murmured, his breath warm and teasing as his mouth hovered near your ear. "Don’t hold back."

His words sent a shiver down your spine, your body arching toward him as his fingers dipped lower, exploring you with an eagerness that made you ache. You gasped, unable to stop the sound that escaped your throat as his fingers slipped inside you, moving with a skill that left you trembling.

"Oh—Kento. Oh, baby….." you whimpered, the intensity of the moment overwhelming you. Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging slightly as your body pressed closer to his, desperate for more of his touch. He groaned softly in response, the sound vibrating through you.

His fingers moved inside you with purpose, every stroke calculated, every flick of his wrist sending waves of pleasure coursing through you. His thumb found the sensitive bundle of nerves that made you cry out, your hips bucking instinctively against him.

"God, you’re so responsive. I like that." he growled, his voice rough with desire. His free hand gripped your waist, holding you steady as his fingers moved faster, building a rhythm that had you teetering on the edge of control.

"I want you to come for me, sweetheart." he breathed against your ear, his voice low and commanding.

You couldn’t help it. The way he touched you, the way he knew exactly what you needed—it was too much. Your body responded without hesitation, muscles tightening as pleasure coiled deep inside you, ready to snap. His name fell from your lips like a prayer, broken and breathless, as you reached that sweet crescendo, your body trembling in his arms.

Kento didn’t want to stop, didn’t slow, as you rode the wave of pleasure. His fingers stayed inside you, coaxing every last bit of sensation from you, until you were left breathless, trembling, and utterly undone in his arms.

Kento’s fingers slowly withdrew, leaving you sensitive and aching, but he wasn’t done. His sharp gaze darkened as he looked down at you, his breath hot against your skin. He shifted, positioning himself between your thighs, and you felt a fresh rush of heat flood through you as his hands gently spread your legs wider, exposing your most sensitive, intimate places to him.

"You look incredible, slick like this." he murmured, his voice husky with desire. His eyes roamed over your body, lingering on every curve and soft line before settling on the glistening heat between your legs. The way he looked at you, so intent, so focused, made your heart race even faster.

Without a word, he lowered his head, his lips brushing the inside of your thigh with soft, teasing kisses. You shuddered beneath him, anticipation buzzing through your veins as his mouth inched closer to where you needed him most.

When his tongue finally flicked against your sensitive folds, you gasped, your back arching off the bed as pleasure shot through you. His touch was gentle at first, soft and exploratory, as if he was savoring the moment. You could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin, sending shivers down your spine as he took his time, each lick and kiss slow and deliberate.

"Kento—" you moaned, your voice breathless and needy. His hands slid up your thighs, his fingers digging into your skin as he held you steady, his mouth working against you with a precision that drove you wild.

"Mm, s’ good." he hummed against you, the vibration of his voice sending a fresh wave of sensation through your core. His tongue swirled over your clit, slow and deliberate, before he sucked gently, and the world around you seemed to blur as pleasure bloomed deep in your belly.

"You taste so sweet. So so sweet." he growled at you, his voice low and full of hunger. He didn’t give you a moment to recover, his mouth returning to its work, tongue stroking over you in long, languid movements that left you trembling beneath him.

Your hands gripped the sheets, your body writhing against his mouth as he worked you closer to the edge. Every flick of his tongue, every soft press of his lips had you teetering on the brink, the tension coiling tighter and tighter inside you.

"Please, please." you whimpered, your hips bucking against his face. "Don’t stop, Kento—"

He growled softly in response, his hands tightening on your thighs to hold you still as he intensified his pace. His tongue moved faster, more insistently, flicking and stroking your clit with a pressure that made you cry out. You could feel yourself unraveling, your body trembling uncontrollably as he pushed you closer and closer to release.

The heat inside you built with every stroke of his tongue, every soft moan he let out against you, until you couldn’t hold back any longer. Your body tensed, your muscles tightening as the pleasure overwhelmed you, and with a final, desperate cry, you came undone, your release crashing over you in waves.

Kento could only find himself addicted in your taste, his mouth continuing to work against you, drawing out every last bit of your orgasm until you were trembling, breathless, and utterly spent beneath him. Finally, he pulled back, his lips glistening with your arousal, and he looked up at you with a satisfied, almost possessive smile.

"You’re incredible, sweetie." he whispered, his voice rough and low as he moved back up your body, his lips finding yours again in a slow, heated kiss. You could taste yourself on him, and it only made you want him more.

"Kento..." you breathed, your voice barely audible but full of want. The way you said his name made him pause, his eyes darkening with desire as they met yours.

He leaned in again, his lips hovering near your ear, his voice deep and rough. “Gonna keep making you feel good, sweetie.”

His thumb brushed against your lower lip before claiming your mouth again in a kiss that was no longer soft or patient but filled with raw, undeniable hunger. His need for you was palpable now, every kiss, every touch pushing you both closer to the edge.

The night unraveled slowly, deliberately, as if time itself bowed to the intensity of the moment. His movements, once restrained and careful, had given way to a raw passion that filled the air with a palpable heat. The soft glow of moonlight slipping through the curtains cast fleeting shadows on his face, highlighting the quiet hunger in his eyes as he gazed down at you.

His lips, warm and persistent, traced a slow, deliberate path over the curve of your neck, sending shivers cascading down your spine. Your breath hitched as his mouth moved lower, each kiss searing your skin with a promise of what was to come.

His fingers followed, brushing against your skin with the lightest of touches, drawing a soft gasp from you. Every time he whispered your name, his voice low and filled with desire, it felt like the room itself pulsed in response, his words sinking into your very core.

“God, you’re so beautiful, sweetie.” he murmured, his breath hot against your collarbone, his eyes dark with an intensity that made your heart race.

Your body arched beneath him, a mixture of pleasure and anticipation building with every gentle caress. He paused for a moment, hovering above you, his gaze locked with yours, the weight of his control making your pulse quicken. It was as if he could sense every thought, every want, every need—knowing exactly how to unravel you. And you, caught in the tide of his desire, could do nothing but surrender.

“Please...” you breathed, the word slipping from your lips before you could even stop yourself. A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, but his eyes remained focused, intent.

His hands moved lower, his touch no longer teasing but commanding, each movement calculated to drive you closer to the edge. Your fingers tangled in the sheets, the anticipation almost unbearable as his lips brushed against your ear, sending another wave of heat through your body.

“I’ve got you, sweetie.” he whispered, his voice a dark promise that sent a jolt of desire straight through you. And then, finally, after what felt like an eternity of delicious torment, he positioned himself above you, his body pressing against yours in a way that made you ache with need. “Doin’ so good for me already, aren’t you?”

When he entered you, it felt like the culmination of everything—the tension, the desire, the quiet longing that had simmered beneath the surface for so long. A soft moan escaped your lips as he filled you completely, his movements slow and deliberate, each thrust deep and steady, leaving you breathless.

Your hands found his back, your nails digging in as you clung to him, the intensity of it all building between you like a storm ready to break. His breath was ragged now, mingling with yours in the heated air, every thrust a silent declaration of the connection that bound you together.

“Don’t stop, Kento…. Don’t…Oh—” you whispered, your voice breaking as he moved faster, his control unraveling just enough for you to feel the full force of his desire. His lips found yours again, his kiss rough and hungry, matching the rhythm of his body as you moved together, lost in the heat and the need for more.

Each movement, each breath, felt like an unspoken promise, his body telling you everything he couldn’t say aloud. In that moment, there was no space for hesitation, no room for anything but the overwhelming intensity of him, of you, of the way you fit together so perfectly.

When you finally came, it was everything you hadn’t known you needed. Kento’s name fell from your lips over and over, a soft chant as waves of pleasure washed over you, your body tightening around his. The intensity of it left you breathless, your fingers clutching him as if afraid to let go. Moments later, he followed you, his body tensing as he found his own release, his low groan sending shivers through you all over again.

For a long time, neither of you spoke, the only sound in the room the quiet, shared breaths of two people completely undone by the moment. He pulled you close, his arms wrapped around you protectively, his warmth enveloping you as you lay tangled together, the weight of what had just passed between you still lingering in the air.

Finally, he broke the silence, his voice soft but filled with satisfaction. “Well, I think you got your answer.”

“Oh? About what?”

“We have bed chem.” He grins at you, kissing your shoulder.

You blinked and then laughed.

You could feel your heart still racing, and looked up at him, knowing that this moment was just the beginning.

epilogue

The sunlight filtered through the bedroom window, casting a warm glow over the rumpled sheets that barely covered your body. You stretched lazily, feeling the soft, comforting weight of the blankets and the familiar presence of Nanami beside you.

His arm was draped over your waist, his chest rising and falling steadily as he slept. The peaceful moment was too perfect to pass up, so you quietly reached for your phone, snapping a quick picture of the two of you in the soft morning light.

The sheets barely covered your bodies, your bare skin visible beneath the white fabric. The scene was intimate, cozy, and full of the quiet warmth of a morning spent wrapped in each other’s arms. You couldn’t resist adding a cheeky caption before posting it online:

“Come right on me, I mean camaraderie.”

The double entendre made you giggle quietly as you hit "post" knowing it was bound to get some playful reactions. You leaned back into the pillows, snuggling against Kento, who stirred slightly at your movement, his hand tightening around your waist.

“What are you up to?” he mumbled sleepily, his voice rough from sleep. His eyes opened just enough to catch your mischievous grin.

“Nothing… Just posting a little morning memory, darling.” you teased, unable to contain the laughter bubbling up inside you. Kento’s brow furrowed, clearly suspicious but too tired to press further.

It didn’t take long for the comments to start rolling in. Within minutes, his phone buzzed repeatedly on the nightstand. Kento could only feel himself groaning, reaching for it, and as soon as he saw the notifications lighting up the screen, his eyes widened in realization.

“You didn’t…?” His voice trailed off as he stared at the picture you had posted, the cheeky caption front and center.

You couldn’t help but burst into laughter, watching as Nanami’s expression shifted from confusion to mild horror, a faint blush creeping across his cheeks. He scrolled through the comments, and you could see the flood of teasing messages from his castmates already coming in.

@/GojoSatoru: Nanami, my man! Didn’t know you had this side to you! 😂

@/Geto Suguru: Yo, Kento…….You really kinky IRL, huh?

@/HaibaraYu: Is that what we call ‘teamwork’ now? Guess I’ve been doing it all wrong… 😏

@/IeiriShoko: Honestly? Kinda iconic. But also, never gonna let you live this down.

Kento could feel his blush deepened as he kept scrolling, his lips pressed into a thin line, clearly flustered. His hand ran through his hair in frustration, and he glanced at you with an exasperated but fond look.

“I can’t believe you posted that, sweetie.” he muttered, shaking his head as more notifications flooded in. “They’re never going to stop teasing me about this.”

You couldn’t stop giggling, leaning over to kiss his cheek, which was now bright red. “Come on, it’s cute. They’ll forget about it soon enough… maybe.”

Kento groaned again, but there was a soft smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he pulled you closer. “You’re impossible, hm.” he said, though the warmth in his voice made it clear he wasn’t actually upset. He kissed your forehead softly, the tension in his body relaxing as he resigned himself to the teasing. “Too impossible.”

“I don’t mind being impossible if it makes you blush like this.” you teased, running your fingers through his hair, enjoying the rare sight of Kento looking flustered.

“Don’t push your luck, sweetie.” he replied, though the way his arms wrapped around you betrayed the affection behind his words. He sighed, resting his forehead against yours. “I guess I’ll have to get used to being the subject of their jokes for a while.”

You grinned, pressing a kiss to his lips. “I’ll make it up to you, promise.”

Nanami chuckled softly, the sound low and comforting. “You already have, sweetheart.” he murmured, his hand brushing a lock of hair away from your face. His eyes softened as he looked at you, the teasing forgotten as the moment between you became tender again.

“I don’t care what they say, though.” he added quietly. “All that matters is this. Us.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, the teasing moment giving way to a warmth that spread through your chest. You snuggled closer into his embrace, feeling the steady beat of his heart against yours, and smiled.

“Good. So do I.” you whispered, kissing him again, the teasing fading into the background as the two of you enjoyed the quiet intimacy of the morning.

Nanami Kento could feel his phone buzzing again, but this time, neither of you bothered to check it. Let them tease—it didn’t matter. All that mattered was the two of you, wrapped in each other’s arms, finding comfort in the simple joy of being together.

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skwangmbyul · 2 months ago

Text

rusted [pжавый] - iron man (2008) - bucky barnes x tony stark's daughter

summary: the life of the billionaire, genius, playboy, and philanthropist is a circus, but he has something worth living for, other than his work.

introducing hennessy stark.

rusted masterlist

cross posted on ao3, ongoing work

warnings: if sometimes the lines are not the exact ones of the movies, it is because i write this fic in portuguese and follow the pt script, then i just translate it, so a few words may be mismatched.

We'll be following the movies, and I'll do everything in my power to keep this story as faithful as possible to the main Earth-616 canon. The goal is to integrate the character convincingly, so in some movie scenes, she’ll only be mentioned.

___________________________________________________________

Christine Everhart had every intention of staying longer at the house in Malibu, which was definitely the most luxurious of any place she had ever spent the night. And the man who made that possible also had his credits in the woman’s desire to stay there a bit longer.

She strolled through the corridors as if she belonged there, her silk robe brushing against her legs, her steps light but filled with curiosity. Her eyes widened slightly as she entered a glass room that offered a breathtaking view of the Los Angeles hillside. Sunlight spilled through the windows, casting reflections against the sleek furniture. Her gaze swept the space until it landed on a corner filled with a collection of personal mementos.

She stepped closer, her journalistic instinct flaring up. There were magazine article clippings, some polished business awards, and photos of the homeowner alongside major public figures. But it wasn’t those high-profile reminders of success that truly caught her attention. In the center of it all stood a carefully curated bulletin board. Pinned across it were photos of a girl, growing older frame by frame, caught in moments of laughter, milestones, and everyday life.

This piqued the journalist’s interest.

Hennessy Stark. The name alone was a loaded secret. Stark Industries had gone to great lengths to keep her out of the spotlight — more effort than they ever used defending Tony's own reputation. Christine had dug enough to know the girl was close to her father, one of the few things that stirred any visible loyalty in the billionaire. But these images showed more than proximity. They hinted at warmth. Pride. Love.

Fascinated, Christine reached into her robe pocket, fingers curling around her phone. She held it up, already envisioning the headline that would explode if this story came to light. But before she could press the shutter, a clipped robotic voice shattered the silence and made her heart skip a beat.

She flinched, dropping the phone with a sharp gasp.

— You are not authorized to access this area. — the voice warned, cool and neutral, but threatening enough to make her blood run cold. Her head whipped around just as a familiar figure walked in.

— This is JARVIS. He runs the house, — Pepper Potts announced, striding into the room like she owned the building, because in a way, she did. Her eyes didn’t flinch as she looked at the journalist, who was now crouching to gather the pieces of her scattered phone. — I have your clothes here — she added, handing over a neatly folded bag. Christine didn’t miss the implication behind the delivery: it was time to go. — They’ve been dry-cleaned and pressed, and there’s a car waiting for you outside that will take you anywhere you want to go.

— You must be the famous Pepper Potts, — Christine said with a sharp, knowing smirk as she stood. It wasn’t a question, so Pepper didn't dignify it with an answer. — After all these years, Tony still makes you pick up his laundry.

— I do whatever Mr. Stark asks, including, occasionally, taking out the trash, — the redhead replied, her smile thin and purposeful. — And, please, Miss Everett, — she added, cool and composed — I wouldn’t go around commenting on what you saw here. Otherwise, you’ll find out that Stark Industries' destructive potential doesn’t just apply to war enemies.

___________________________________________________________

— How did she react? — Tony Stark didn’t bother to turn around from the car engine he was elbow-deep in. His voice was casual, but his back was tense.

— With class.

— And she didn’t leave here with anything about Henny?

— Do you think I’m an amateur? — Pepper’s voice rose with offense as she slapped the clipboard onto a nearby table. Her eyes flared. — I wouldn’t let that happen.

— Great. And why are you trying to get me out of here?

— Your flight was scheduled to leave an hour and a half ago, — her voice sharpened with exasperation. She pushed a strand of hair behind her ear, watching him like a mother watching her reckless child. Because that’s exactly how it felt, like she was raising two Starks instead of one.

— And you made sure she’s settled in the dorm? I don’t want her near those MIT engineering fraternities. — He finally turned, wiping oil from his hands. The look on his face was protective, fierce. — They can’t keep their hands to themselves.

— Tony, if you’d called your daughter, you’d know she arrived safely, is excited to start classes, and you could tell her yourself to stay away from the MIT engineers.

— Oh, Miss Potts, — he muttered, turning back to his tools. — And risk her throwing it in my face that I used to be one of those engineers? No, thank you.

Pepper stifled a laugh before hurrying the man again. Hennessy Stark was definitely her father’s thorn in the side. The man complained about the girl’s sarcastic personality because he didn’t want to admit she was his blatant copy. The only thing the redhead was thankful for was that Henny hadn’t inherited Tony’s party-loving and flirtatious spirit.

___________________________________________________________

Water surged up Tony’s nose as he was forced beneath again, the burning in his lungs growing unbearable. His wrists strained against the grip of the men holding him down. Everything inside him screamed for air.

Just before blackness threatened to swallow him whole, a voice pierced the fog.

“Dad.”

The word rang out in his mind like a lifeline—and then he was yanked upward, gasping, coughing, and dragged away with a black bag forced over his head.

___________________________________________________________

— Do you have family? — Tony asked, breathless, as they played a game scratched out on the dirt floor. These moments of stolen time felt like a balm, even if short-lived.

— Yes, — Yinsen said, his eyes softening. He adjusted his posture and smiled, the image of his family flickering in his mind. — And I’ll see them when I get out of here. What about you, Stark?

— A daughter. — Tony’s voice cracked with the confession. He stared ahead. — But I’m not so sure I’ll see her again.

— I think you’ll do more than just see her, Stark. I believe this is your chance to give her a different legacy.

___________________________________________________________

— Where to, sir? — Happy asked, glancing in the rearview mirror. He didn't say it aloud, but the sight of his boss alive brought more relief than he could describe.

— We’re going to the hospital, Happy, — Pepper said quickly, multitasking between apps on her phone. — I sent a plane to pick up Hennessy, and she’ll meet us there.

— No, — Tony’s hand closed around her wrist with sudden urgency, his whole body going rigid. Just hearing his daughter’s name had flipped something inside him. — Call her. Tell her to stay in Massachusetts.

— Tony, — Pepper’s voice lowered as she met his eyes, confused and concerned. — She’s worried. Your daughter wants to see you.

He didn’t let go.

— Pepper, — he called seriously, and the redhead seemed to understand something in his tone. He almost never called her by her first name. Miss Potts had become a trademark in his treatment of her. — Things are going to get very, very ugly here — Tony emphasized the word “ugly.” — Hennessy needs to stay away from this. Do you understand me?

Pepper swallowed hard and nodded, feeling his hand slowly release its grip. The heat of his fingers lingered.

— She’s going to be furious, — she whispered, more to herself than to him, already picturing the storm to come.

— I expect nothing less — he replied, the corner of his mouth twitching into a wry half-smile. — Happy, — he turned now to the driver. — A man who’s been captive for three months just wants to eat a hamburger and call a press conference.

___________________________________________________________

Final Act: Post Post-Credit Scenes

It was lunchtime, and the Massachusetts Institute of Technology buzzed with movement as students streamed between buildings. One girl, weaving through the crowd with practiced ease, kept her pace quick. She clutched a notebook to her chest and glanced at the time. Late again.

Her worn sneakers were scuffed, and her denim jacket frayed at the seams. But to anyone paying attention, the girl carried herself with the kind of confidence you can’t fake. Her eyes scanned everything. Sharp. Aware.

Hennessy Stark. She moved through the academic buildings of Brain and Cognitive Sciences with purpose. The jacket she wore had once belonged to her father — not flashy, but priceless to her. It smelled like metal and oil, faint reminders of their garage talks.

She caught sight of a group of students carrying circuits across the courtyard and smiled at the memory of her father's appalled face when she told him she wanted to study the mind, not machines. “Family disgrace,” he’d joked. But he'd meant every word of support that came after.

Then, everything around her shifted.

No one else would have noticed. But she always did. It was subtle, like a static charge in the air. But Hennessy felt it. She always did. Her senses lit up, not in panic—but in warning. Someone had spotted her.

Not like fans did. Not like journalists.

Her body tensed, ready.

She turned just as a calm, polite voice called out:

— Hennessy Stark? — The man approaching her was barely taller than she was. He wore a dark suit, completely out of sync with the campus crowd. Rain clouds loomed above, but he wore glasses like the sun was shining.

— Can I help you?

— My name is Phill Coulson, — he said, offering a business card like it was an invitation. — And I think you’ll like the offer I have for you.

NEXT CHAPTER>>

#dad! tony stark #tony stark fanfiction #tony stark daughter #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x oc #bucky x reader #stark reader #stark oc #pepper potts #mcu fanfic

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estellan0vella · 7 months ago

Text

Love In Print│Bang Chan

Chapter Fifteen: A Really Shit Spider-Man SS: 3 (ignore time stamps and dates) Word Count: 2.2K Content Warnings: kissing, talks of sex

Previous Next Masterlist

Chan flicks on the light, revealing a sleek, modern penthouse bathed in warm tones of gray and black. The floor-to-ceiling windows showcase the sprawling city skyline glittering with lights, and the furniture is minimalist and clean. Leather, steel, and glass dominating the space.

Ayame steps inside, her heels clicking softly against the polished hardwood floor. Her gaze sweeps over the pristine living room, her expression unreadable. "Wow," she says finally, turning to Chan with a raised eyebrow. "I expected something different. Like... a moat. Maybe a dungeon. Chains on the walls. You know, the full evil overlord package."

Chan chuckles as he shrugs off his hoodie and tosses it onto a sleek grey armchair. His tank top clings to him, still damp from his run, and his sweatpants sit low on his hips. "Sorry to disappoint. The dungeon's on backorder. You're stuck with this for now."

Ayame crosses her arms, scanning the immaculate decor with a scrutinizing eye. "You know, for a guy with such a messy life, this place is suspiciously tidy."

Chan smirks, leaning against the wall. "I keep my chaos external. It's a system."

"Do I get to snoop?" Ayame asks, already wandering toward a towering bookshelf neatly arranged with hardcovers and sleek binders.

Chan raises an eyebrow. "You wanna snoop?"

"No," Ayame replies too quickly, her hand already brushing along the spines of the books.

"You wanna snoop," he teases, pushing off the wall. "Go ahead. Fair's fair—I snooped at your place."

Ayame glares over her shoulder. "That's because my place has personality. Yours is like a fancy Airbnb."

"And yours is like an explosion of childhood trauma and Smurf worship," Chan counters, grinning as he makes his way to the kitchen.

Ayame gasps, clutching a book to her chest dramatically. "How dare you insult my Smurf collection? They're soldiers in the war against bland decor like this."

Chan laughs, pulling two whiskey glasses from a cabinet. "Just for that, you're getting whiskey instead of tea."

"Tea would've been insulting after everything we've been through," Ayame quips, crouching down to inspect the lower shelves. Her gaze catches on a small collection of vintage matchbox cars displayed neatly among the books. She grins, running a finger over the edge of a tiny red Corvette. "Oh, now this is interesting. Your dirty little secret is you like tiny cars?"

"They were my grandfather's," Chan says as he pours the whiskey. "He gave me one every year for my birthday until he passed."

Ayame softens slightly, brushing her fingers along the cars. "That's... really sweet, actually."

Chan walks back over with the glasses, handing her one. "Yeah, well, it's got nothing on your Smurf army."

Ayame snickers, taking a sip of her whiskey. "Careful, or the army might deploy a counterattack."

Chan leans against the shelf next to her, swirling his drink. "If they do, I'll just call in my matchbox air support."

She cackles, flipping through a random book on the shelf. Her eyes widen when she realizes it's a medical textbook. "Whoa. Is this what you read for fun? You're out here brushing up on the anatomy of dicks?"

Chan's grin widens, his voice dry. "Knowledge is power. Besides, I went to med school for a year."

Ayame chokes on her whiskey, her eyes wide. "Wait, wait, wait. That's why Haechul calls you Dr. Chan? I thought it was some fucked-up inside joke!"

Chan shrugs, looking almost embarrassed. "One year. Dropped out. Haechul likes to remind me I didn't live up to my 'full potential.'"

Ayame snorts, leaning back against the bookshelf. "Oh, please. My eomma wanted me to be a lawyer. Imagine her disappointment when I got a master's in classical lit."

Chan freezes mid-sip, lowering his glass. "You have a master's?"

"Yeah," Ayame says, sipping her drink. "Finished a few months ago. I don't talk about it much. It's not exactly the most useful thing in a corporate office."

Chan steps closer, raising his glass. "To overachieving in ways that make our parents question their life choices."

Ayame laughs softly, clinking her glass against his. "I'll drink to that."

Ayame downs the last of her whiskey, setting the empty glass on the bookshelf with a soft clink. She grins mischievously at Chan, her cheeks flushed from the alcohol and the heat of their banter. "You know, if you were a real doctor, all of your patients would have astronomical heart rates."

Chan snorts, leaning against the bookshelf with his arms crossed. "Oh yeah? Let's test that theory. I think I'll have to diagnose you with a raging case of horny."

Ayame's grin widens. "Serious, is it?"

"Very," Chan replies, his lips twitching into a smirk. "I think your condition may require bedrest."

"Will I die?" Ayame asks, mock horror painting her face.

Chan's eyes glimmer with amusement. "Not if you're careful. A few days in bed should do the trick."

Ayame gasps theatrically. "Oh my gosh, I wanna see your bedroom."

Chan gestures toward a door down the hallway. "Be my guest, shortcake."

The heels of Ayame's shoes click softly on the hardwood floor as she strides into Chan's bedroom, her laughter ringing lightly in the otherwise quiet space. She kicks them off with a casual flick, sending them skittering across the room before flopping onto the bed. The deep green walls surrounding her contrast sharply with the minimalism of the rest of his apartment, making the room feel unexpectedly warm, even intimate.

"Nice colour," Ayame says, her tone teasing but genuine. "Didn't peg you for someone with taste."

Chan leans against the doorframe, crossing his arms as he watches her settle in. "Didn't peg you for someone who'd end up here."

Ayame grins, stretching languidly across the plush duvet. "Life's full of surprises."

Chan pushes off the frame, stepping closer until he's perched on the edge of the bed. He watches her for a moment, his gaze tracing her face, her playful smirk, the way her cherry earrings glint in the faint light of the room.

"Alright," she says suddenly, her voice cutting through the tension. "Truth or dare?"

Chan raises an eyebrow, his lips twitching. "What is this, a slumber party?"

"Scared?" Ayame taunts, propping herself up on one elbow. Her hair tumbles over her shoulder, the movement drawing his attention.

"Hardly," Chan replies, leaning back slightly on his hands. "Fine. Truth."

"Coward," Ayame mutters, pretending to think for a moment before her eyes narrow. "Why did you quit med school?"

Chan exhales, the smirk fading from his face as he runs a hand through his hair. "Alright, but you asked for it. My dad thought it would be great to throw me into the coroner's wing for a day. First autopsy, I puked inside the cadaver."

Ayame's face twists into a grimace. "Holy shit. That's disgusting."

"You're telling me," Chan says, laughing softly. "That was the moment I realized I wasn't exactly surgeon material."

"Good call," Ayame says, sitting up fully now. Her tone lightens as she teases, "But you've got the hands for it. Look at these." She grabs one of his hands, inspecting it like she's appraising fine jewellery. "Strong, veiny. Hot hands."

Chan smirks, letting her inspect him like a specimen. "Should I be flattered or concerned?"

"Both," Ayame shoots back, her fingers lightly tracing the lines of his palm. "Alright, tell me the muscles." She pokes his bicep. "This?"

Chan groans but indulges her. "Biceps brachii."

"This one?" she presses, moving to his forearm.

"Brachioradialis," he replies, smirking as she continues poking.

The poking escalates into light pushes and jabs until Ayame suddenly straddles his lap, her hands on his chest as she grins down at him. "Okay, Dr. Bang, what muscle is this?" She presses a hand flat against his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin through his thin tank top.

Chan props himself up on his elbows, his smirk deepening as his hands settle instinctively on her hips. "Pectoralis major."

"Impressive," Ayame says softly, leaning closer until their noses nearly brush. Her voice drops, quieter now. "Maybe we should just fuck and get it out of our system."

Chan's smirk falters, replaced by something darker, more serious. His grip tightens slightly on her hips as he looks at her, his voice low. "You think that's the answer?"

"Why not?" Ayame asks, her tone almost pleading now. "This tension, it's not going anywhere. Let's just get it over with."

Chan studies her, his dark eyes searching hers for a long moment. Then, with surprising gentleness, he lifts her off his lap, setting her beside him on the bed. "Ayame," he says softly, his voice calm but firm. "It's not happening. Not like this."

Ayame blinks, her face flickering with frustration and something else. Hurt. "Why not?"

Chan stands, running a hand through his hair. "Because this isn't just tension. And you know it."

"What the fuck does that mean?" Ayame snaps, sitting up now, her voice rising.

"It means I'm not going to be some experiment for you," Chan replies, his voice sharpening slightly. "You think this is just about sex?"

"Isn't it?" Ayame shoots back, her tone cutting. "What else is it supposed to be?"

Chan exhales, his jaw tightening. "You tell me. You're the one playing games."

"Unbelievable," Ayame mutters, sliding off the bed and grabbing her heels. "You bait me, you flirt, you kiss me like it's the end of the fucking world, and then you pull this shit?"

"I'm not baiting you," Chan retorts, his tone steady but firm. "You're the one who's scared to admit what you want."

Ayame glares at him, slipping her heels back on with jerky movements. "You know what, Bang? Fuck you."

Chan steps aside as she storms past him, her coat flung over her arm. The door slams behind her, leaving the room in heavy silence. Chan stands there for a moment, staring at the empty space where she'd been.

"Fuck," he mutters, dragging a hand down his face as he sits heavily on the edge of the bed, staring out at the glittering city lights beyond the window.

Ayame's heels echo sharply against the wet pavement, the chill of the night biting at her exposed legs as she mutters under her breath. Her irritation clings to her like a second skin, her breath clouding in the cold air as she walks toward the neon-lit sign of a small, rundown bar. The glowing red letters buzz faintly, their light reflecting off the slick ground, adding an eerie warmth to the dreary street.

She shoves the heavy door open, the creak of its hinges lost beneath the low hum of conversation and the faint crackle of an old jukebox playing a bluesy tune. The smell of stale beer, whiskey, and decades-old wood hits her like a wall, and she sighs, stepping inside.

Her coat slips off her shoulders as she slides onto a barstool, the smooth leather cold against her thighs. She props her elbow on the counter and gestures to the bartender without looking up. "Whiskey," she says flatly. "Neat."

The bartender, a grizzled man in his late forties with salt-and-pepper hair and a face carved by years of hard living, raises an eyebrow but doesn't question her tone. He grabs a glass, his movements practised and deliberate, and pours her a generous amount of amber liquid.

"Rough night?" he asks, sliding the drink toward her.

Ayame snorts softly, wrapping her fingers around the glass. "Rough everything," she mutters, lifting it to her lips. The first sip burns, its heat spreading through her chest, and she winces slightly but doesn't stop.

"That bad, huh?" the bartender presses, leaning on the counter as he wipes down an empty glass.

Ayame downs the rest of the whiskey in one go, setting the glass down with a faint thud. "You ever meet someone who gets under your skin? Like, burrows in there and makes a fucking nest?"

The bartender chuckles, his voice low and gravelly. "Sounds like a hell of a person."

"Hell is right," Ayame mutters as she gestures for another. "The smug bastard thinks he knows everything. And the worst part? He might be right."

The bartender raises an eyebrow but says nothing, pouring her another glass and setting it in front of her.

Ayame takes a slower sip this time, the warmth of the whiskey dulling the sharp edges of her frustration. "I'm overthinking it, right? Like, this is just me being stupid."

"I don't know," the bartender replies, shrugging. "Depends. What did this guy do to piss you off so much?"

Ayame scoffs, swirling the whiskey in her glass. "He kissed me like it meant something. Then he fucked with my head like it didn't."

The bartender whistles low, shaking his head. "Classic."

"Classic?" Ayame repeats, narrowing her eyes. "What, you've got a whole book of assholes doing this shit?"

He grins, holding up his hands. "Hey, I've seen a lot in my time. Sounds like he's in your head."

"Yeah, no shit," Ayame mutters, taking another drink. The whiskey burns less this time, its warmth settling into her chest like a heavy blanket. "But I'm not letting him win. No way."

"That's the spirit," the bartender says, smirking as he moves to serve another customer. "Another round?"

Ayame nods, her lips twitching into a faint smirk of her own. "Keep 'em coming. I'm not done yet."

As the night stretches on, the whiskey flows freely, each glass blurring the edges of her anger into something softer, hazier. The jukebox switches to a slow, melancholic tune, and the buzz of the bar fades into a distant hum.

Ayame leans back on her stool, staring at the rows of bottles behind the bar, her mind a chaotic tangle of frustration, longing, and that infuriating smirk she can't seem to forget.

Taglist: @fackeraccount @ot8girlfie @nightmarenyxx @reimaybeidk

@ismelllikechlorine247 @drewsandsebastianswife @my-neurodivergent-world @rhonnie23 @hanji-coffee

@skzleeknowcore

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priestly-prince · 3 months ago

Note

Batter, still learning the finer details of courtship, starts bringing the Queen fine gifts. Flesh, armors, tickets, kinda like a cat bringing his hunts back. Queen's running out of space, she can't use half of it since Batter's half there to make sure she doesn't get into a skirmish

Ok I think I have a little something for this. Cut for brevity.

The Queen looked up as she heard the door open. Given that most visitors would knock before entering, she could already tell the identity of the one behind it. "Hello, Batter." She smiled, standing to greet him as the man stepped inside, dragging his bat behind him. "I'm back." He responded, stooping slightly as the Queen moved to put her arms around him. "Are you harmed?" She rested her head against his chest lightly, as he brought an arm around to cradle her back. "No." He responded, leaning over to rest his chin on her head, both of them embracing briefly to confirm and reassure each other's wellbeing.

Pulling away slightly, the Batter brought his arm from around the Queen, revealing something clutched in his hand, which he then presented towards her. "I brought something back for you." He held a smooth, black orb in his hand, the surface still wet with some form of moisture, shining slightly in the light. "Oh..." The Queen looked down at the offered gift with mild concern. "What is it?" "A spectre eye." He responded flatly. "It gives a temporary clairvoyance in assessing threats. I already possess such an ability. I have no need of this." He went on.

The Queen reached out gingerly for the gift, thin smile on her lips as she carefully held the slimy surface with her fingertips. "How... lovely." She spoke tactfully, her smile practiced and polite. She appreciated the generosity of the gift as a genuine show of affection from the Batter. The gift itself, however, was regrettable. "Thank you, love." She smiled a little more warmly, leaning in, stretched on her toes to place a kiss on his cheek. "I'll place it with the others." She stepped away, turning towards her room as the Batter settled down.

The glass cabinet within her room opened with a gentle squeak, silvered shelves showing the display of numerous items within. Boxes of neatly organised tickets, boards pinned with colourful ribbons, unopened packets of cured meats. All of them taking up almost all of the space in the cabinet. The Queen sighed as she looked over the items, shaking her head. "I have too many of these..." She muttered to herself, stroking her chin with her free hand. It seemed that the Batter seemed to have developed a compulsion for collecting things, which was endearing in a way, but starting to become inconvenient. Some items were simply for decoration, others practical but ultimately unused, and others still were more... - she looked at the eye in her hand -... questionable.

'I need to get rid of some of these...' She thought to herself, thumbing through a stack of tickets with her free hand. 'I can't just throw them out, that would be such a waste.' She sighed, looking over the ribbon display, admiring the colour co-ordinated decoration. 'I couldn't just refuse... Could I find a way to give them back without offending him...' She paused briefly, considering this for a moment. Would he be offended? Could he even be? Maybe it wouldn't be a good idea to try and find out. 'Perhaps I could give some to Zacharie? He could probably make better use of them.' She mused, chewing her lip lightly. 'Though he would probably sell them back to the Batter and begin this whole cycle again...'

"Vader." The Queen suddenly jumped, turning as she was addressed. She hadn't heard the Batter approach. "Yes? Everything alright?" "You were gone for a while." "Sorry. I was just..." She paused for a moment, looking back at her collection. The Batter was a practical man. Reasonable. Logical. He would understand. No better time than now to try. She took out one of the boxes of tickets, putting the eye down in its place. "Here. I want you to have these." She smiled, offering the box towards the Batter. He tilted his head slightly as he looked over them. "I gifted these to you." "Yes! You did!" She responded quickly, smiling warmly. "And... I want to use them for something very important." Reaching out, the Queen took one of Batter's hands, shifting the box into it. "For you. To keep you safe... Nothing is more important to me than that."

The Batter regarded her briefly, then the box of tickets, before giving a single affirmative nod. "Alright." He leaned over, giving a small kiss on her forehead. "I'll be outside." As he left, the Queen gave a quiet, relieved sigh, glad that her gentle persuasion had worked. She turned back towards the cabinet, looking over the other items as she gently closed the door.

Now she just had to figure out if she could do the same with the rest.

#off game #off mortis ghost #off au #off the queen #off the batter #off before world #before batter

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violettduchess · 2 years ago

Text

A/N: A little fic inspired by @vioisgoinginsane and her delightful Cyran in Pyjamas art

Cyran x Reader

WC: 638

Head librarian of the royal palace is a job that suits you to a tee, but it comes with long hours, especially when arranging the procurement of foreign titles. By the time you are done with all your correspondences, first to the librarian in Jade and then the royal library of Tanzanite, the moon is hanging high in the inky black sky, a perfect crescent of silvery light. You hurry, feet whispering over the tiled floor of the palace, then crunching over the straw and grass along the path to the armory and then scuffling over the coarse gray stone of the armory steps.

Above the collection of toothy weaponry is Cyran's bedroom: your destination on this warm, breezy night.

The oaken door, scarred and worn, opens on silent, well-oiled hinges. Cyran takes care of his things. One of the many admirable qualities about the Obsidian soldier that made you stumble and then fall for him.

"Cyran?"

You step into the room, lit only by the amber glow of the oil lamps. Your eyes need a moment to adjust before you spot him.

He's asleep at his desk, his check pillowed by strong forearms. Around him papers are neatly stacked. Quill and inkwell tidied away. Everything is ordered and structured, except…..

You smile softly. His hair falls messily across his forehead, a curtain of red, deeper than the blaze of the blacksmith's forge. It is the red of the sky on the tipping point of night. The dark crimson of the Scarlatta rose, whose petals have been singed by loving kisses of darkness.

You cross the creaky wooden floor as quietly as you can, soaking in the sight of the man who never shows exhaustion, who handles every challenge, from Clavis's wild whims to military training maneuvers, with a stoic sense of pride. Your touch is gentle, trailing the back of your fingers across his cheek, rough with several days worth of russet stubble.

The caress reaches him beyond the place where sleep reigns, his mind breaking from the soft cocoon it has woven around him. He stirs, his dark eyes blinking away the last strands of dreaming that cling to his consciousness like cobwebs.

"You're back," he murmurs in a voice sandpaper-rough with sleep.

"Mm hmm." His hair is one of the most luxurious textures you've ever touched. Soft and fine as spun silk. It flows through your fingers like water over stone. "Come on, Red. Bedtime."

He grumbles as you lean forward, taking his strong hands in yours and urging him up and away from his desk. It's only when he's standing you notice he's already changed for bed.

Running a hand down the soft linen of his sleep shirt, you raise your gaze, your smile curved with curiosity, soft with affection.

"If you already changed, why didn't you get in bed?" You know how long his day was, stretching from the early rosy-fingers of dawn brushing the sky until the first diamond-edged star cut its way through the dark sheet of night.

He yawns, his words slow and honey-thick with sleepiness.

"I didn't want to fall asleep without you so I went to my desk…." He yawns again and your heart feels like it might burst with the swell of affection that floods it. He went to his desk to stay awake, to wait for you.

Gently you lead him to bed where he falls back onto his pillow with a heavy thump. His eyes are already closing as you pull the thin woolen blanket up over his broad chest.

"You're coming?" His voice is foggy with another yawn.

You lean down, anointing his forehead with a petal-soft kiss.

"I'll be right there, my love." Your smile is lambent with affection as you drink in the sight of him, this wonderful man who shelters your heart so tenderly in his calloused hands. "I'll be right there."

Tagging: @aquagirl1978 @alixennial @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @rhodolitesrose @ikemen-writer @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @aria-chikage @redheadkittys @tele86 @dear-mrs-otome @firestar-otomeobsessed @curious-skybunny @rhodoliteschaos @kpop-and-otome @writingwhimsey @mxrmaid-poet @silver-dahlia @wendolrea @otomefoxystar @nightfoxqueen @myonlyjknight @queen-dahlia @aceuuuuu @scorchieart @bubblexly

#ikemen series #ikemen prince #ikepri #ikepri cyran #cyran rose #fluff #ikemen fanfic #ikemen fanfiction #otome fanfiction #violettwrites

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silevvar · 3 years ago

Text

;in our garden of gardenias

xiao x gn!reader // royalty au

cw!! SORTA OOC XIAO? very bad ending because i don't know how to finish it please send help

masterlist!!

for my sake let's not make zhongli xiao's father in this one, my heart can't take it.

hear me out, royalty au with xiao being a prince and you’re like his servant/gardener who tends to his plants on his balcony and you two just eventually get closer and you start falling for him. everything seems perfect until he came to you with the news of his arranged marriage.

you had grown up with xiao, and although you were both best friends you both had very different upbringings.

xiao was raised surrounded by the finest tutors in all of teyvat with lessons after lessons about etiquette and proper manners while you were being taught how to plant and water the various trees and shrubs in the palace garden.

you grew up together and despite his status he always considered you to be his only friend, much to his parents' dismay.

as of the present, you two have been growing very close. you often watered his balcony since he had numerous flowers there that he had been gifted with, and the two of you would usually chat.

it was all in secret though, his parents would never allow their precious prince to be entertained by a mere gardener.

yet you found yourself enamored by your talks and little meet-ups, it seemed as though xiao felt the same since he had asked you if you could meet up more.

the danger of getting caught was still very likely, yet you couldn't bring yourself to refuse as he walked past the leafy doorway and sat down on the stone bench beside you.

"hey xiao," you smiled at him, he brushed off some spare leaves that caught on his shirt and muttered a soft greeting back at you.

"oh, you seem upset. did something happen?" you asked, noticing he seemed a bit more upset than usual today. "it's- well," he struggled to find the words to say and just resorted to sighing heavily as he ran his hands through his neatly combed hair.

"i overheard my parents as i was on my way here. they were," he paused for a moment, trying to collect his racing thoughts, "they were talking about my marriage."

your soft smile faltered for a bit but you put a hand on his back and felt your heart soften as he leaned into your touch. "well, who are they planning on, ahem, marrying you to?"

"that princess from sumeru.." he said, mildly disgusted actually.

you had recognized your feelings for the boy were already far from platonic, yet it was near impossible to have a relationship with him, he might not even return your feelings!

it wasn't your place to be jealous anyway, this arranged marriage was bound to happen knowing his family's reputation for doing such things. but you felt very selfish at the moment for wanting xiao to stay and reciprocate your feelings, even if it was all just for a little while.

"I'm going to tell my parents i don't want to get married." xiao looked very sure of his answer as you felt your heart hammering in your chest.

"oh? this could resolve all the problems liyue is facing with sumeru though," your eyes stayed on him as he faced you once more.

"i'll," he started out, locking his eyes on your own as he gently placed his hand on yours, "i'll refuse any other marriage if it isn't you i am marrying, do you understand?"

gardenias are a symbol of our secret love but it's okay as long as you are here alongside me, walking through our precious garden of memories.

#xiao x reader #xiao x y/n #im cryinf #send scenarios pls i want to write more of this au #genshin x reader #genshin xiao #royalty au #genshin royal au #gn!reader

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house-of-crows · 3 years ago

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Many of you know that I collect Vintage Scents. Some of you know that I have "Holy Grail" or "Unicorn" bottles that have been discontinued or reformulated past all recognition. What I hold in my hands tonight is one of those nigh-unobtainable Unicorns.

As some of you may know, I have been chasing a bottle of Joy; or it's 'lesser' flankers; for almost ten years now. Fewer of you know the story behind why. But tonight, through my grateful tears, I want to tell the story.

When I was but a Youngling, I worked at an "upscale" shoe store in a rather upscale outdoor mall; back when those were a new thing in Midwest America. There was nothing I liked better than to peruse our stock; in store and out; and maintain my knowledge of styles, brands, fit, material, and how they were produced. At my height, I could have told you almost anything you wanted to know about where brands held their warehouses and factories, what sort of leather or vinyl was used, stiching vs glued vs both, what brands fit what sort of foot best... I was on every forum, every brand website- And my return customers appreciated the breadth of knowledge.

And then there was the Lady. In all my unfortunate bouts of amnesia and memory loss, her name is the one thing that still escapes me. I could tell you about her home, her incredible closets, the art on her walls... but her name is lost to me. So I simply call her the Lady. She was in her late 80s by the time I knew her, and was born somewhere in-between 1929-1934. (A Lady never reveals her true age and all)

~*~

We met in the middle of a shift, and I was already exhausted by the droves of teens 20-somethings and their petulant mothers looking for prom shoes and wedding heels. Twas the Season. And then I saw Her. Standing all of 5'7", in elegant tango-style pumps, and neatly kept, immaculate vintage Chanel suit over a powdery blue blouse. Her silver-white hair was elegantly done up in a loose knot, and the only jewelry I saw on her was an understated gold wedding band and a pair of drop pearl earrings.

Her voice, up close, was cultured. I never could place her accent, but her tone was modulated, warm, and kind. She never took her upset out on any of the workers in the building, and was always ready to go out of her way to find me to do her shopping for her while she sat on one of the benches. She was everything I ever hoped to become as I age, and I know I fall quite short of her grace and poise... But she was so inspiring.

I found her shoes for weddings. Shoes for evenings out. Shoes for dancing, for walking, for travel, for boating... and while I shopped, we talked. We discussed fashion, art, preferences in style and the difference between being stylish and being fashionable- She taught me so much, and then... a day came when the stress of working a public-side job got to me.

It was only pure luck that she was in the building at the time. It doesn't matter what the upset was, it's been years now- but she was there, kindly but firmly taking my arm and walking me towards the employee room. "Don't come back out until you've had a chance to get it out, and fix your makeup. I'll tell them I sent you, if they cause a fuss." No one did.

And when I'd dried my eyes and had a water, I went back out. And she offered me a job. It didn't pay a lot, but neither did my retail work. She gave me more money for less hours, and at 20hrs/week at 7.25, well~ I was ready to move up even if it was less guaranteed.

She made sure I had access to vehicles, the shops she enjoyed, and her home while someone was there. And while I worked, she taught me, intentionally and not, how to be a person who moved through the world with grace and poise and compassion... even if one was not always KIND. She taught me that Good is better than Nice, before I'd ever heard about Into the Woods or Sondheim.

~*~

I could tell a lot of stories about the Lady. But, what happened at the end of our arrangement is most important. When she exited my life as gracefully as she had entered, she gave me a box, and she quietly wished me a life full of joy. She hugged me, as she'd never done before, and wished me well, before she called me a car and sent me back to my little section 8 apartment.

I opened the beautifully wrapped box at a dinged and scratched up coffee table, on a couch that smelled of dog, and was presented with my first-ever taste of Luxury.

The lovely cream box held a neatly folded vintage Hermes scarf, and a small bottle of Patou's Joy. It smelled like a garden at noon on a summer's day with a breeze running through it, and I cherished it mightily. It made its way with me across the country when I ran from my abusive family for the second time, and on the night I left my husband; moving too quickly in order to pack all my things before my father in law came home from taking him to work-

I caught the edge of the bottle on the shelf, it fell from my hands, and broke on the desk below. I didn't have time to clean it up, or to gather the pieces, or even to cry over it before I was running down the stairs and out the door.

This isn't the same bottle. It's not quite the same bottle or vintage. But what this is is a beautifully emotional, kindhearted, and compassionate gift from someone very dear to my heart. This is a lovely piece of my past returned to me, and all the memories that go along with it, good and bad, and in-between. My little piece of Joy.

#Patou's Joy #Vintage Perfume #The Lady #personal shopping #perfume #vintage scent #relationships #long post #Grey tells Stories #Personal Lore

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unprofessional-bard · 4 years ago

Text

Don't Push It, Pt. 1

Unprofessional Bard's Masterlist

Part 2 (1/2)

Based on this request.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female!Reader

Warnings: Age gap (the reader is 26 and Joel is 53), a lot of teasing/sexual tension, implied romantic feelings.

Summary: It's been going on for years. They both know better than to act on their feelings, but patience starts running thin when a few boundaries are crossed.

Word Count: 5.280

Author's Note: Okay y'all so I am a whore for Joel with long hair and I unintentionally made this into a fix-it au where Joel is alive. Also, the reader is going to have some OC characteristics to fit the scenario better. Finally, this fic changes POV's a lot, so I'm gonna clear that up:

• ----R and below: The reader's POV.

• ----J and below: Joel's POV.

• ----B and below: Both POV's.

The fic starts off with Joel's POV.

Enjoy!

gif credits: nikolai-stavrogin

"Hey, Joel," Dina called over to the man sipping coffee on his porch.

"Mornin' Dina," He replied as his daughter's girlfriend walked over to him. Her baby bump had grown a little more and it never failed to put a smile on Joel's face.

"There's a little trouble with the patrol today," She said. "Jesse won't be able to make it to patrol with (Y/N)."

Shit.

"And they're askin' me to fill in?" He sat up a little.

"Yup, Maria told me to ask you if-"

"No problem, sure, I'll do it." He spoke nonchalantly, then asked if Jesse was alright. Dina told him she wasn't sure, that it must be something important for him to miss patrol, which made Joel nod: "You told (Y/N) too, or...?"

"No, but she's gonna be there regardless. I doubt that she knows."

"Alright, thanks Dina," Joel got up and she smiled in return before walking over to Ellie's place.

It was wrong. By the lord it was wrong, but he couldn't help it. You were fierce, confident, determined and disciplined; qualities he came to appreciate in time, but a bit differently only when it came to you. He shouldn't want you, an unknown source in his mind kept telling himself, but he did. He didn't know why, he never found himself being attracted to a woman your age, yet you had him under your spell. Oh the things you did to him...

Worst part was, he couldn't have you, whether he liked it or not. Nevermind the fact that you were too young for him, you probably didn't want him anyways- despite the crystal clear signals he got from you. It was just how you were, though: A little physical and perhaps a little flirty, but he could just be confusing that with your confidence.

Or he could be overthinking everything.

Joel readied his backpack, but realised there was still a little more than an hour before the rendez-vous, so he decided to head over to your place to tell you about the news to kill some time. After he made it there and knocked on your door while calling your name a couple of times, which were left unanswered, your neighbour curiously looked over the fences and called over to Joel: "She left a while ago... For the gym, I think."

"Thank you," Joel smiled politely and earned a wave from the lady in return. He took his time as he walked over to the gym. After he arrived, he looked around for awhile to spot where you were, but when he found it, the sight almost made him choke.

There you were, ankles crossed as you pulled yourself up and chin over the barfix with closed eyes, a frown and a clenched jaw. Sweat laced the sides of your face and Joel's eyes wandered lower: You were wearing a sports bra and matching shorts which hugged your frame tightly and the sun was shining directly onto your muscles, which the lord himself carved out and were also sweaty, but Joel didn't care - it made you look more attractive, if anything. You let out a huff and lowered yourself down, while he tried to collect himself. He didn't want to disturb you so he decided to wait until you finished...

...but you didn't seem to be finishing any time soon. He didn't want to look like a creep as he stood there and waited, so after you did another pull up and let yourself down, he cleared his throat.

----R

"(Y/N), here you are."

Had you not been already hanging, you definitely would've fell when you heard Joel's voice reach your ears. You opened your eyes to see him slowly approach you, his stupid thumb stuck in behind his stupid belt.

You hated it: You hated finding this man attractive and you hated your guts for occasionally flirting with him - him, who probably would never look at you the way you looked at him. He liked you, of course, he enjoyed your company but not the way you wanted him to. You hated that you had a crush on this man, who became even more gorgeous as he let his hair grow over the last few years, you also hated how he neatly parted it to the left.

Patrol with him was both a treat and a curse at the same time. You got to spend time with him, which made it a treat, but when you watched him- saw him in action, how aggressive he was, heat started to pool between your thighs. He was so rough and precise as he was smart; he always knew what to do under any circumstance, so you almost never worried when you went out with him. He made you feel safe, praised you and played with your heart when he responded to your flirting and nothing came out of it.

You hated it because your little "crush" on him was pathetic, for someone as confident as you. Sure, you teased and flirted with him, but one praise as simple as you did well today and you'd be melting on spot. You even tried to get with other people to distract yourself, to no avail. They weren't Joel.

None of them could ever be Joel.

"Good morning!" You said with a high pitched voice, reflecting your struggle to keep yourself up.

"To you too," He chuckled at your state and watched as you pulled yourself up slowly. "Hey, listen. Jesse ain't gonna make it to patrol today so I'm fillin' in for him."

----B

The way you faltered a little didn't escape him: "Why? Is he okay?"

"I dunno, but I'm sure he is. Something important must've come up," Joel informed you, not wanting to worry you as you seemed to care about him. A lot. Ugh.

"Tsk," You breathed out and closed your eyes to focus on keeping your head above the metal bar.

Joel then spoke again: "Yeah, I was just here to let ya know."

"Okay, well-" You exhaled audibly and suddenly let yourself go. The force of the action sent you flying a little and it almost made you bump into him: "Woah, oh, sorry-"

"Woah there," You both chuckled at the same time. Joel held you by your elbows to help you balance yourself and your heart rate picked up pace when you realised how close your face was to his chest a moment ago - the chest you wanted to get your hands on: How muscular was he? How many scars did he have there? How would it feel to run your fingers through the hair as you ro-

"Uhm, yeah, as I was saying," You snapped yourself back to reality and took a small step back, disappointed by the way his fingers let go of your arms: "I'm done here, just need to do a couple of stretches, then head back and take shower."

"Right. Well, I'll see you at the gate, then?"

"Uh, sure, yeah."

You didn't know what else to say other than stay. You wanted him near you and around you, you wanted to show off to him and you wanted his attention, so you had to think quick.

Joel didn't want to leave either, even though you were going to spend the whole day together. He still nodded and turned around to leave. It was then, when a brilliant idea crossed your mind: "Actually, Joel?" He turned around, gave you a soft look that made you want to run up to him and kiss all over his face. "Could you help me with my stretches?"

If he'd been drinking or eating anything, he most definitely would've choked: "Help you?"

"Yeah," You flashed a smile at him. "It's simple, you just gotta press me down and keep me in place." The widening of his eyes, puzzled face and his tense posture made you shy. "Eh- Normally, Jesse helped me with them."

True. Some stretches required someone to push your body to its limits - when you worked out alone, you stuck to simpler stretches, but right now, you needed a reason to have him by your side.

Joel was torn between leaving, like a responsible person who knew when to walk away would. He was responsible, yes, but his moral compass was thrown out of the window whenever you joined the picture. So far, he wanted to think he was handling his emotions well- by not acting on them and not talking about them.

Now, however, it was as if he was facing the last straw. He had a few boundaries left to cross, and this was one of them.

"Plus, I'm a bit tired to do them. Will you help me?"

Lies. All lies.

You'd been doing these stretches for long enough, even though you'd worked hard, you weren't tired at all. Joel thought this to be the case, so he tried to go around it: "You sure? I mean, how're you tired?"

"I've been training like hell this morning," You settled on the mat. "I don't wanna do these stretches, but I have to. I'm not in the mood to pull a muscle today."

That was good enough for him really: "'Kay," He sighed. "What do you need me to do?"

Your eyes glowed in excitement before you faced forward and explained: "Im gonna lean forward, like this-" You extended your legs forward and lowered yourself down. "All you gotta do is press on my back and stop me from moving away for a few seconds."

A few seconds which felt like five minutes, truth be told.

As soon as he touched your bare back, you sighed, then forced it into a hiss. He immediately retreated his hands, thinking he hurt you, pushing the ludicrous idea that you might have moaned away immediately.

His hands were big and a little cold comparing to your skin which was on fire after the workout, but you'd be lying if you said you didn't do that on purpose. You straightened up and looked at him with an innocent smile: "Your hands are cold."

Not cold enough to make you react like that, obviously.

Joel offered an awkward chuckle from the back of his throat: "You're gonna have to deal with it, missy."

And deal with it you did- barely. Christ, that was a bad idea, your worst one yet. To have his hands on your bare skin, pressing you down made your cheeks burn and mouth hang open as he kept you in place. You almost didn't hear him when he spoke, too busy trying to comprehend the size of his hands and how they'd feel around your throa-

"How many of these do you gotta do?"

"Uh, dunno," You blurted out. "Not too many."

Joel was partly glad, it felt so wrong yet it was just a simple act of help you could've asked from anyone. After 20 seconds of staying like that, you straightened. You went into a head-to-knee position and gave him an okay to press you down again.

You switched to the other leg after half a minute, but you were running out of ideas. There weren't any positions left that you could use his help with, so you played one last card to ruin him: "More."

"W-What?"

Good riddance.

"Press a little harder," You pretended to focus and tried your best not to smirk, knowing you had him where you wanted.

"Oh- hm," He cleared his throat and pressed a little more down on your back. If your plan hadn't backfired and made you almost moan through your teeth, everything was going accordingly.

Joel went to pull back, but stopped when you added: "It's been a while since I did these..."

Christ.

"That enough?" He slowly retreated his hands and stood up, watching you lean up where you sat.

"Yup, that'll be it," You smiled and blinked a couple of times. If Joel had known better, he would've thought you were making him do that, then being all cute on purpose-

It was going to be a long day.

----R

Patrol with the older Miller went as normally as it always was. Part one usually went like this: Meet up at the gate, get your rifles and horses, ride out, reach checkpoint one and sign your names. The road to checkpoint one didn't have any trouble, it usually never did. It was more quiet between you two than usual though. Had you gone too far?

"So, uh," You said once the two of you mounted your horses again. "You coming to the dance tonight?"

"What?" He snapped his head in your direction, looking clueless. "What dance?"

"Well, not a dance exactly but- you know what I mean?" You started riding. "The adults only event?"

He looked really distracted, a bit tense even: "Oh, right. You know those ain't my thing."

"I know," You nodded with a soft smile. "But I haven't seen you in any event ever since you decked Seth."

"Decked?" Joel chuckled bitterly at the memory.

"He deserved it, and more, that prick," You rolled your eyes, making him chortle.

"And nobody managed to shut up about it for the whole month," He sighed with a gorgeous yet tired smile on his face which you managed to see just in time. "So, no thanks. I'll pass."

"Aw, come on," You whined. "You can't avoid coming to these events forever. Please?"

He gave you a confused look, his smile slowly disappearing but not in a bad way: "Why?"

A good question. Oh, no reason, just wanna try and make a move on you, quite possibly jump your bones if it all goes well.

"I wanna make sure you haven't lost your ability to socialise." You offered.

"Really? Why, you're my momma now?"

"Ew, no," You both laughed. "Can't I be sure my friend is alive and well occasionally?"

----J

Friend.

A word that made Joel stop and think.

You saw him as a friend, huh? Two people, with clear sexual tension and an obvious age gap between them- Friends was an awkward description for him, but it was better than nothing.

He opened his mouth to reply, to insist that he was indeed alive and well, but you stopped him: "You know what I mean."

The conversation was making him a little distracted, he noticed, so he decided to keep his mouth shut until you reached checkpoint two. You didn't press him on, which was also a delight. That's another thing he liked about you: You knew your bounds- in patrol anyways. Or maybe it was because you got to know him well over the time, knew what he liked or not.

Part two went quieter too- infected and conversation wise. Not even a single runner was on sight as you swept through the small cabins and houses. Except for the occasional clear's and nothing here's, you didn't say anything else. Joel itched to talk to you, about anything to break the silence, but he was too lost in thought.

When you finally made it back to Jackson, you finally spoke up: "So? You coming?" He chuckled, mostly out of relief, then you added: "I found a new outfit, I wanna know what you think."

That caught Joel's attention. With a curious smile, after handing over your horses, he asked: "What outfit?"

"You'll see... If you come." You smirked, your close proximity making Joel's heart race.

"Don't get your hopes up," He sighed with a small grin and tucked his thumb behind his belt, the other one gripping the strap of his rifle.

"You're the worst," You punched his shoulder with mock upset, making him chortle and stumble a little to the right. "Anyways, I'll see you tomorrow then."

Joel remained quiet, then you walked away with a soft smile gracing your lips. The words sunk deeper than he would've liked, a sudden wave of guilt soaking his guts with regret, even though you didn't sound disappointed or upset. Lips pursed, he watched you hand your rifle to Peter and sign off, then leave; his steps coming to a halt as you did.

He just might check out what was up at the dance tonight, if he could successfully move himself out of his comfort zone in the following few hours.

----R

"Well well, look who it is," Tommy grinned when you approached the doors of the pub. The night had settled across the sky by the time you stepped outside your place. The sound of music and chatter of the people from inside filled your ears.

"Yours truly," You smirked. "It's crowded in there huh?"

"It sure is," Tommy said as he turned around to lead you inside. "Adults only events tend to attract more people, as y'can guess. Don't you look pretty today."

"Why thank you." You smiled playfully: "For no one, but myself, at that."

You lied through your teeth. You had dressed up in the silly hope that Joel would actually show up. You had been planning on it ever since you came across the item wrapped around your hips in an abandoned clothes shop a few weeks ago, and this event was the perfect excuse for you to wear it. For him.

"I ain't sayin' nothing!" Tommy raised his hands up in defense. "Figured that much, haven't seen anyone catch your interest in a long time."

Ha. Nice.

The atmosphere was lively and the air was warm, full of energy. Chatter and dancing went about the packs of people scattered across the space, but you couldn't see Joel, much to your disappointment - you weren't surprised though. What surprised you was Jesse suddenly showing up.

"Where's Ellie and Dina?" You asked after a while of teasing him about missing patrol.

"They decided to stay behind, I guess." He shrugged.

"What can I get y'all?" Tommy smiled, suddenly appearing behind the counter. Without waiting for an answer, he filled two glasses and pushed them towards you. You and Jesse looked at each other for a brief moment, before knocking it back at one go. "Woah there..."

A round of laughter later, you felt someone's presence behind you, then they tapped you on the shoulder: "Hey, (Y/N)!"

Much to your disappointment, once more, it was a boy named Mark. He was a year older than you, had no features whatsoever matching Joel's prettier ones and he took an obvious liking to you, which in truth you didn't appreciate, even though he wasn't weird about it or anything. You faked a smile and turned to him a little: "Hi."

"Good to see you," Sure. "How, uh, how are you?"

"Busy, actually," You pointed at the glass Tommy was refilling for you.

"Mind if I join?" He made himself comfortable on the stool next to you.

"Yeah. I do." Your smile never faded but your words were laced with poison.

He looked between you, Tommy and Jesse, mortified at your answer: "W- Heh, well, would you wanna dance later, then-?"

"No, I don't." You spoke calmly and turned to face Jesse again, only for him to move to tap you on the shoulder, which Tommy stopped from happening.

"Why don't you go home, huh?" He grabbed his wrist firmly, but not hard enough to leave a bruise of course. "The lack of oxygen in your brain's clearly stoppin' you from understandin' a word as simple as no."

You looked over at the younger Miller, a stern look on his face which seemed to make Mark piss himself. Suddenly, an even deeper voice was heard behind the boy: "I advise you to listen to him, son."

You turned completely in your seat to see Joel grabbing Mark by the shoulders, making him jump, then remove him from the seat carefully. Mark's legs were quick to oblige, making him walk towards the exit, but Joel held him in place: "A-ah, what do you say to the lady?"

"I'm s-sorry, (Y/N)," He nodded quickly. "I'll never disturb you again, I promise."

"Good boy," Joel patted him on the back, which sent him running to the door. Your cheeks were suddenly burning and you couldn't help but smile shyly.

"Tsk, what a jackass," Tommy nodded disapprovingly as Joel took the now empty space next to you.

"You decided to show then, huh?" You smirked at Joel.

"Yeah, figured you'd break someone's wrists and make 'em eat it," He chuckled, tipping his head at his brother in a greeting -God he looked so handsome, was that a new shirt?- before he continued: "Decided it'd be a shame to miss it."

You giggled and lightly pushed at his arm, almost immediately feeling the muscles underneath the rolled up sleeve of his blue shirt: "I'll take that as a I came because you asked and I listened for once." The exchange, obviously, didn't go unnoticed by his brother and Jesse, which made you sit upright suddenly: "Tommy was the one who was gonna break his wrist anyways..."

"Nobody gets to disturb anyone here, especially right in front of me," He said and slid a glass to his brother.

Jesse joined in: "I doubt it, but should he ever-"

"Aw, you guys are spoiling me," You grinned and waved your hand down, pressing the other onto your chest.

----J

You looked beautiful. You were wearing a plain, dark green, mid-thigh, flare skirt; which could pass as a miniskirt, but Joel was no fashion expert. You always did come up with the rarest clothing items (like your sports set that morning), so he wasn't surprised that you happened across the skirt. You also had a simple, white, v-neck t-shirt on- which all in all was the reason you left Joel speechless: You could be wearing something as simple as these, but you'd still look so damn pretty.

A few minutes later, after Jesse and Tommy disappeared in different directions and you were finally left alone, Joel spoke up: "Is this the-"

"What made you-" You gave each other a brief look before chuckling: "You go first."

"Ah, I was gonna ask if this was the outfit you wanted me to see," He said, briefly looking down to point at your skirt.

He watched you run a hand through your hair and bite your bottom lip before answering: "Yeah..." You got up and stuffed your hands in your pockets, which made Joel's heart sizzle. "What do you think?"

He gave you a genuine smile: "I think you look beautiful."

The shock on your face made Joel panick a little, but when you offered a shy little smile, he relaxed: "You- Really?"

He gave you a single, slow nod in acknowledgement, his smile grew bigger when you beamed at him and offered him a quiet thank you, then sat back. You were staring hard at your glass, clearly avoiding his gaze and he found it rather cute, but didn't comment on it.

He was looking forward to chat with you, after all, you were the reason why he showed up, but you were unfortunately dragged away by a couple of friends, Jesse included...

To dance.

An upbeat song he didn't recognise started playing, putting you and another boy, Mick, to action. Everyone backed away to give you two space, then started off with what seemed to be something you'd been practicing for a while. You mirrored each other's moves, it was similar to some folk dance he'd watched way before the outbreak, but it most definitely wasn't a folk dance. Your arms linked occasionally, hands on your hips as you crossed each other's legs with fast movements and other types of moves Joel couldn't name if he tried, but it was organised and fun to watch. It wasn't intimate, too, just a silly little dance as you called it minutes later when you finished and walked to the bar for a drink. You didn't stay long, though, just downed your drink, winked at him and went back to the stage where you and Mick (but mostly you) stole the show.

It went on for two more rounds, to the point your t-shirts were absolutely soaked and your legs couldn't take it anymore. Joel had a particularly hard time in his seat, watching your skirt float around your thighs made him feel embarrassed with himself. Tommy even went as far as to tease him about his constant squirming, but a glare from his older brother was enough to shut him up.

The last dance finished off with you in Mick's arms, leaning back in his hold and closing your eyes with laughter. Everyone clapped you both, which earned you a kiss on the cheek from Mick- which you returned. Joel's jaw clenched unintentionally, even though you and him didn't appear to be more than friends.

Stop. Stop it, you idiot.

He couldn't care less about these types of things, drama about who's dating who and whatnot, but when it came to you he naturally grew curious.

He watched you, eyelids struggling to keep themselves open as Jesse led you and helped you onto the stool, next to Joel once more. You huffed and giggled, eyes closed with sweat droplets on your forehead. He couldn't help it when his smile grew wider at your tipsy state.

What he didn't see coming was the sudden hand on his thigh and your back against his arm, letting your head drop onto his shoulder as you let out a brief laugh: "Never let me dance and drink at the same time again."

Joel didn't know what to say, he quickly looked around for Jesse only to find him already gone and a couple of people staring at the both of you. With a rush of panic, he responded: "I don't think I'm the one you should say that to, darlin'."

Your hand and the rest of your body immediately retreated when you jumped at his voice: "Joel?!" You looked a little embarrassed and he couldn't help but smirk. "Uh, where's Jesse?"

The question almost made him scrunch up his face, but he patiently waited until the end of the conversation, which was after you've walked away to find the boy in question and he was alone with his own thoughts... Jealousies...

"He dropped you off and went over there, I think." Joel nodded to the direction he thought Jesse went off to - he didn't see though, he was too busy focusing on you when your fingertips had brushed somewhere dangerously near his crotch.

"Huh," You stared around to find him, but Joel figured you were too intoxicated to actually see that far. "You need to stop wearing the same clothes."

He raised a brow at that: "You tell him that."

"Oh I will," You grinned mischievously and suddenly grabbed Joel's glass of whiskey from his hand, then downed it at one go before he could intervene.

"Hey!" He tried to grab the glass from you but you leaned back. "I think you've had enough for the night."

"Says who-?" You pouted and at the very same time, lost your balance, realising that you leaned a little too back. However, Joel caught you; one hand on your arm, the other on your waist and he pulled you back - he didn't know if you did it purposefully, but you practically fell into his body: "Oh! I'm sorry-" You laughed, not looking sorry at all. "Thanks, Joel," You purred, extending the 's' and the 'l' at the end of each word as you grabbed onto his biceps. "You saved me."

"Pfft," Joel couldn't help but let his hand linger on your waist as he made sure you stood in place. Your eyes met when you lifted your head from his chest - the meaning behind his hazel gaze and your own was similar and it lasted for what felt like a whole minute, while in reality it was no longer than a few seconds.

You finally let his arms go and he took it as his cue to remove his hand from your waist (which, for a moment, felt like it had been glued there): "So... You enjoying yourself, old man?"

Joel sighed through his nose, amused at how the alcohol in your system was slowing your speech, then went back to how he had been sitting before you came. Just when you asked, the smooth, familiar tune of Ain't No Sunshine started playing. After all the excitement, a slower music felt nice: "Sure. You?"

"Oh I sure am," You nodded and leaned back against the counter with something of a triumphant smile.

"I can tell," Joel replied, then without turning his head, side eyed you. His stare later on moved down to your skirt. "Why'd you get all dressed up for, really?"

"Huh?" You blinked, not processing if he was asking what you thought he was.

"I, uh- just never took you for the skirt type."

"Is that so?" You asked, eyes widening. "Well, just trying on a new outfit..." You looked down and bit your lower lip, making Joel's heart skip a beat. He mentally kicked himself for not leaving right then and there and continuing to talk to you: "There's actually another reason."

"Hm?"

"There's this guy," You turned towards him, placed your arm paralleled across his on the counter and leaned forward a little, pretending to look around. His fingertips scratched against the wooden surface of the counter at the mention of this guy in question. "I don't know his name, but maybe you do?"

He just raised a brow when you looked at him innocently: "He's a bit old, around this tall," Your hand went back and forth in the air as you tried to size the man's height in your mind. "Has pretty, long, graying hair with an also graying beard... A little scar on his nose," You looked at him and leaned in a little more, invading his personal space but not touching him, then pointed at the exact spot on your nose and it was then, Joel realised, that you were indeed describing himself. "He's wearing this blue shirt and, honestly, it would look better on him if he opened another button or two."

I know, I know

Hey I oughta leave young thing alone

But ain't no sunshine when she's gone

He wanted to counter, tease you back, lean down and taste your lips, then place a kiss or two on your neck and bite it softly just to hear you moan quietly into his ear- he also needed to get his shit together, as much as he wanted to do all of that.

He couldn't quite believe his self control when he leaned away from you, especially since the tip of your noses almost touched and he felt your hot breath on his lips. He cleared his throat and quickly looked around to see if anyone was looking- no one had seen the rather intimate interaction so he spoke: "I don't know who that is."

The disappointment on your features was like a knife twisting up in his guts. You blinked a couple of times, but didn't lean back: "S- Sure you do..."

"I don't," Joel insisted, his voice stern. "Maybe you should look for someone else."

Your disappointment turned into embarrassment and anger, making you frown and lean back: "Excuse me."

Ain't no sunshine when she's gone

And this house just ain't no home

Anytime she goes away

And with that, you got up and stormed away, leaving Joel wanting, aching and ashamed.

Anytime she goes away

517 notes · View notes

spicycreativity · 4 years ago

Text

Intertwined - Chapter 4

Chapter: 4/8

Additional Notes: My AO3, WizardGlick, is 3 chapters ahead on this. Critical thinking exercise: Read the following Twin Peaks quote and consider how it related to Intertwined and to post-PoF as a whole:

WINDOM EARLE: What do you fear most in the world?

MAJOR BRIGGS: The possibility that love is not enough.

Chapter Content Warnings: Again, it's a hanahaki fic.

Excerpt: "Here's what I want you to do," Janus said, and his voice was surprisingly tender given the hard look on his face. "Cook for yourself. Don't make something you can take to the others later. Don't make something to share with me. I'm giving you a free pass to be selfish."

Yesterday, Patton supposed, could have gone worse. He had haunted the kitchen after his departure from Janus, begging the mindscape for some sort of hint. Like the answer to all their troubles was lurking in Thomas’ subconscious, just out of reach.

When morning came, he returned to Roman and Logan's rooms, was again rebuffed, and so floated back to the kitchen, made himself some coffee, and sat down at the counter. Again, he reached out with his mind for some kind of reassurance. He had to fix this. There had to be something he could do.

A 5,000 piece puzzle appeared in front of Patton. The image on the box was that of dogs playing poker, captioned A Friend in Need. The subconscious was funny sometimes, in a way that made Patton feel kind of sick and hollow. He opened the box and shook the puzzle pieces put onto the counter. It was a way to pass the time, at least.

A few hours crawled by. Patton’s hands began to shake from the caffeine, and he knew he should eat something, but… It almost didn’t seem worth the effort. He was happy to cook for his fam-ILY, but, when it was just him, what was the point? He put down another edge piece and flinched at the sudden appearance of Virgil in front of the coffee pot. Virgil had made himself scarce after yesterday’s meeting, only reappearing to turn down Patton’s offer of dinner. Patton couldn’t even blame him. How terrible, to wake up after a bad day and find your friends inconsolable and enemies at your door.

“Hi,” Patton said. Finding faux-happiness out of reach, he settled for ‘not completely miserable’ instead.

“Did you eat?” Virgil asked, pouring coffee into a purple mug decorated with this logo.

Patton saw no reason to lie, not about this. “Not yet. I got a little distracted.”

“Mm-hm,” said Virgil.

“Listen,” Patton said, already getting up to make toast. “Are you okay?”

Virgil shrugged and opened up another cabinet. “Want some orange juice?”

"Um, sure." Patton got out the bread and popped a few slices into the toaster. "Thank you."

"No prob." Virgil stood on his toes and got down two glasses, pivoted to the fridge for the orange juice.

"It's just," Patton said, "You don’t seem very upset?" It wasn't that Virgil was necessarily acting upbeat , but… Well, Patton had been expecting something more intense than Virgil's baseline levels of casualty.

"I am," Virgil said. "But I also want orange juice."

"Oh." Patton fell silent. His own feelings were so big and loud in his head they didn't really leave room for anything else. In the light of everything that had happened, Virgil's response felt cold. Patton had half a mind to tell him so, except that… Well, he had no room to talk about 'proper' emotional responses to things. If this was how Virgil wanted to navigate the situation, that was his right. "Did you talk to Roman yesterday?"

"Sorta." Virgil put the orange juice back, scooted a glass to Patton, and took a seat on the counter. "He said he wasn't ready to talk, but might be soon."

"To you?"

"Yeah." Virgil's expression was cloudy. "To me."

"That's a lot," Patton said, treading cautiously. "Is there anything you want to talk about?"

Virgil's knuckles went white around his glass, so much that Patton was worried he might break it. "Oh, there's plenty I want to say," he said darkly. "To you and to-- to him."

"Janus," Patton said, feeling it important, somehow, to say his name.

"Yeah. To Janus."

"You can," Patton said. "To me. I won't get mad."

"I just don't understand!" Virgil said, the words exploding from his chest. "What did he say to you to make you trust him? After everything he did to Roman, to you, to Thomas! What did he say?" It was almost a plea, "What did he say?"

"I already told you, kiddo," Patton said, poking at the water droplets collecting on the side of his glass, unable to remember that they were called. Logan would know. "I made a choice to trust him."

"But why ?"

"I don't know, I just-- I felt something. I don't know if I can explain it in a way you can understand. I just got it. I understood what it was all for. "

"So, what, he just gets a free pass for treating us all like crap? Just gets to talk his way out of consequences?"

"Well, no." Patton kicked the toes of his loafers against the molding under the counter. "But I don't know that it would do any good to… punish him? Be cold, be mean, yell at him. What's done is done. I'm not asking you to forgive him."

"Good, 'cause I don't."

"But I also need you to understand that I made my choice and I'm committing to it. I…" Patton smiled sadly, gazing at the countertop without really seeing it. "I gave my word, in a way."

"Fine," Virgil growled. "But if he hurts you, if he does what he did to Roman and Logan, I swear, I swear--" Patton covered his ears briefly and Virgil seemed to get the message. "Well. I'll avenge you."

"Thanks, Virgil." Patton smiled again, happier this time, and looked Virgil in the face. It really wasn't all that long ago that he had thought of Virgil as an enemy. And now look at them. "I'm proud of you, you know."

"You are?"

"Of course I am! You've been a really good friend to, to all of us. And I'm so happy--"

"Stop," Virgil said, pulling up his hood. "Stop, stop, stop."

"Aw, did I make you blush?" Patton teased.

"Yeah," Virgil said, his voice breaking on that one syllable. He cleared his throat. "Let's not-- I'm gonna--"

"Is something wrong?" Patton asked, already reaching out for a hug. Virgil couldn't see him with his face buried in his hood, so Patton stopped short and let his arms fall to his sides.

"I just, uh." Virgil took a deep breath and let it out in a huff, swept his hood back with a jerky motion. "Sometimes I don't feel like I deserve all this."

"Oh, kiddo, of course you do!" Patton said, again holding out his arms for a hug. Virgil instead held out his hand, and Patton took it in his own, determined to communicate all the love and devotion he could through that simple contact. He smiled at the matching weave of their friendship bracelets, smiled at the memory of sitting side-by-side with Virgil as they both struggled with five-strand braids.

Virgil nodded, and his breathing was still shaky and spastic when he said, "I'm gonna go-- I'm not going off to cry all by myself, if, uh, if you're worried about that. I just need… Uh. Yeah."

Patton nodded, hurriedly snatching the half-cooked toast from the toaster and imagining it smeared with Crofter’s and butter, arranged neatly on a plate. "Okay!" He said with false cheer, passing the plate to Virgil. "Come get me if you need anything! Maybe we can watch Ghost Adventures tonight."

"Sounds good," Virgil said, slightly muffled around his hand, as he was chewing at his thumbnail. "Later." He sank out.

Patton sighed and stared at their untouched orange juice glasses. Even when he was trying to fix things, he made people upset.

A drop of water slid down the side of Virgil's glass, pooled on the countertop. Patton stared at it as another followed.

What did it truly mean to deserve something, anyway? It was something Janus would probably have an opinion on. He seemed to have opinions on most things. Maybe Patton could ask him in a bit.

“Did you need me for something?

Oh, okay, or Patton could ask him now. He turned, unsmiling to Janus. It wasn’t that he wasn’t cheered by Janus’ presence, but that he had no reason to lie. Janus had made it abundantly clear that he wasn't depending on Patton for anything. “Sorry,” he said, embarrassed. “I didn’t mean to steal you.”

“No harm, no foul,” Janus said, and sighed so heavily his breath displaced a few puzzle pieces. “As you can see, I was hard at work.” Despite this claim, he wore a hard, annoyed expression and Patton remembered with a sinking feeling in his stomach that he was dealing with a liar. "Did you need help with your puzzle?" Janus asked.

Just like that, Patton's heart leapt. "You'll stay?"

Janus shrugged. "I suppose I can clear a space in my schedule."

Patton stood to get him some coffee. The pot was empty, but it was simple enough to imagine it full again. Ordinarily, he disliked the laziness of misusing Thomas' imagination, but he couldn't deny that it was convenient sometimes. He could tell he was on the brink of annoying Janus (somehow) and didn't want to risk pushing him over the edge. "Have you eaten?"

"Have you?" Janus asked, side-eyeing the remaining slices of toast sitting in the toaster. Patton had forgotten all about them.

"I guess it slipped my mind," Patton turned around and set a coffee mug on the counter in front of Janus, then rounded it to sit down again. He tried not to notice that Janus had scooted his chair away from Patton's, that he leaned on his elbow so they were even farther apart.

"Hm," said Janus, making a face. He didn't push it, and Patton was grateful for that. "Oh, and thank you."

"Of course," Patton said.

He watched Janus for a moment. He handled the puzzle pieces with difficulty, his gloves impeding his ability to pick them up. When he realized he was staring, he turned away and started fitting more edge pieces into place.

He couldn't decide if the quiet was pleasant or awkward. It was kind of nice, kind of domestic, sitting here with Janus, but he couldn't help but feel a kind of tension in the air.

Then Janus turned away and started coughing. Patton reached out to put a hand on his back, caught himself, pulled away. The deep, jagged sound made him cringe. He was no stranger to coughing fits, none of them were, brought on by Thomas' cat allergy. But this had come out of nowhere.

"You okay?" Patton asked when Janus resurfaced. Maybe he was just projecting, but he thought Janus looked a little pale on his human side.

"It's warmer today, isn't it?" Janus said, not looking at Patton.

"Huh?"

"It's not as cold. Roman seems to have gotten ahold of himself somewhat."

"Um, yeah, I guess." Patton furrowed his brow, trying to get a good look at Janus. "But Janus, are you okay?"

"Fine," said Janus. "Just inhaled some coffee, that's all."

But his hands shook as he slid a blue puzzle piece down the counter, and Patton was already halfway out of his seat before he even realized what he was doing. "You know, I think I will make breakfast."

"A little late now," Janus said. "By the way, did you really call me all the way down here just to work on a puzzle?"

"So brunch, then," Patton said. "And to be honest, no."

"Oh, do be honest," Janus said, leaning against the counter and resting his chin in his palm.

But Patton's priorities had shifted beyond philosophical debate. He had to take care of Janus now, get him comfortable, get him honest. He had to. "It's not important anymore."

"Hm," said Janus. He cleared his throat quietly, winced. "Well, now I'm not curious at all."

"It's okay," Patton said, trying for a reassuring smile. "We can talk about it later." He spun around, trying to decide what to make. Toast sounded wholly unappealing now, and he should choose something that would be easy on Janus' throat--

"Don't think I don't know what you're doing, by the way," Janus said.

"Making brunch?" Patton said with faux-innocence.

"Mm-hm. And what did you have in mind?"

"Soup."

"Patton," Janus said in a chastising tone. "I don't need you to take care of me. I need you to take care of you."

"That cough sounded like it hurt," Patton said, defeated.

Janus sat back and spread his arms out as though to show himself to Patton. "It did. It went away on its own. I'm fine."

Patton wasn't sure what to say to that. He scratched at his friendship bracelets, embarrassed. "Oh."

"Here's what I want you to do," Janus said, and his voice was surprisingly tender given the hard look on his face. "Cook for yourself. Don't make something you can take to the others later. Don't make something to share with me. I'm giving you a free pass to be selfish."

"But that's wrong!" Patton said reflexively. He regretted it as soon as the words were out of his mouth, but it wasn't like he could take them back. "Not for you," he hastened to explain. "That's your job. But me?"

"I can't very well be selfish for you," Janus said. He seemed annoyed, digging his fingers into both sides of his midriff in a way that looked decidedly painful. "Just try it. It won't be the end of the world."

And Patton wanted to. He didn't want to let Janus down, but… Where did it end? Where did it stop?

"Patton," Janus said. "I can see you catastrophizing."

"Sorry," said Patton, feeling close to tears. "Sorry, sorry, sorry. I just… I don't know who I am or what I want or if I'm even allowed to want."

"Breakfast, Patton. That's all. One little thing."

"Okay," Patton took a deep breath. Calm down. Make food. He could do that.

"There's nothing else," Janus said. "Just us, right now. Just this room. No consequences."

"Okay," Patton said. Cinnamon rolls. He wanted mini cinnamon rolls.

"Good," said Janus. "You're okay." He cleared his throat again, coughed a little behind closed lips. Patton forced himself not to notice, knowing that it would make Janus annoyed if he pointed it out or tried to help.

"I hope so," Patton muttered, half to himself, as he got his ingredients together. A phrase popped into his head and he shouted it out impulsively, "Mise en place!"

"Bless you?" Janus said, raising an eyebrow.

"No, no." Patton smiled. "Getting all your ingredients together. Mise en place."

"Ah," said Janus. He smiled too, his human eye crinkling at the corner. Patton almost sighed at the sight. Janus seemed to hold himself above human standards sometimes. He presented himself as something cold and pure, unbreakable and untouchable and utterly perfect. There was something so beautiful about seeing him step down from the pedestal. Janus seemed to notice Patton staring and turned away, surprisingly demure. "How about some music?"

A turntable appeared on the counter, spinning something inoffensive and charmingly lo-fi. "That's nice," Patton said. He didn't recognize the artist, but it didn't really matter. The music seemed to slide into the cracks of their conversation, filling out the empty spaces and projecting calm throughout the kitchen.

So Patton made cinnamon rolls and Janus worked on the puzzle while he sipped his coffee, and they both pretended not to notice the ragged coughs that Janus couldn't bury under the music no matter how hard he tried.

#moceit #sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #spicywrites #spicywrites intertwined

20 notes · View notes

bansept · 5 years ago

Text

Family festival

A very big shout-out to @star-snail whose Ichihime fanart inspired this fanfic : it is a very beautiful piece that just radiates peace and love and fun to me, so I tried my best to convey this in a written way. I hope I do their work justice 🙃

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

Japan is the land of festivals, Ichigo is pretty darn sure of that. He is far from complaining, especially because it allows all his family to reunite so that they can eat sweets, have fun, pray and just, be together.

For days, the house down the street of the Kurosaki clinic had been filled with excited chatters of both Orihime and Kazui, the little boy asking his mother about this and that story, his mother explaining with great details. The 5 year-old had looked at her like magic was pouring out of her mouth, which was probably the case, to him. Kazui had asked about many festivals, including the Tanabata one, which of course brought tears to his eyes.

"B-but why did they part away? Why aren't they together!"

He wasn't a fussy boy, very far from it. He was calm and collected, and obeyed all instructions, but when it involved anything bad, even remotely linked to his parents (a name in this case), he was crying.

So Ichigo had to assure him that no, mommy wouldn't go in the stars, no, they wouldn't be separated. Yes, he could have a big kiss from papa.

"Ichigo, come get Kazui please!" Orihime called out from their room, and her husband complied, leaving the kitchen to tickle his son, who was playing with a few toys near their sofa.

The boy laughed at the fingers on his sides, wriggling in his dad's arms. He shook his tiny legs to try to get him out of such a monstrous grip, but Ichigo had him in a hug in an instant, his son up in his arms as they climbed the stairs.

"Here is my prey... Where do I put him, Hime?" Ichigo chuckled in a fake deep voice, which pulled a squeal from his son, who extended his hands to his mom, hoping to get away from his horrible father.

"Oh, well how about you give this cute boy a bath before dressing him up? We'll be late..."

"We are supposed to meet the rest in an hour, Hime, don't worry."

Ichigo walked to his nervous wife and gave her a very gentle peck on the cheek, hoping to calm her down. Kazui turned his head to the side, suddenly interested in what was on the walls while Orihime blushed a little.

"... You're right. I'm just a bit nervous... I don't know why."

Ichigo gave Kazui a little kiss on the temple before placing him back on the floor, and rubbed his back.

"Kazui, can you go get ready for the bath? I'll be here in a second."

The boy, being the sweetheart he was, nodded simply and pitty patted to the washroom, leaving his parents in their room. Ichigo looked back to his wife and raised his hand to caress her cheek.

"Orihime? Are you okay?"

The young woman breathed out, going to hug Ichigo and burying her face in his neck. She melted in his touch when she felt Ichigo's arms wrap around her, drawing nonsense on the fabric of her kimono.

"I am, it's just... I'm reminded of... I don't know, everything. My parents, my brother... For the first ones, I still wish I had some knowledge of them. And Ni-Chan... He would have been happy to be with us."

Ichigo could only agree with her, only knowing one part of the way she felt. He wished his mother was here today too, to be with her husband and her children and now Kazui too. But it was impossible.

"They're not here physically. But the people we love are with us in spirit." Ichigo said simply, his strong arms tightening a little around Orihime, his face meeting with the top of her hair.

Orihime didn't answer, only hugging him more, letting her emotions calm down, the thrumming of her heart go back to normal. Those types of thoughts didn't come often, not because she was too happy to get them, simply because there was no reason to feel bad about the past. But tonight... Tonight felt different.

After a few minutes, Orihime gave Ichigo more of her sweet and enlightening smile, brushing a hand on his cheek to thank him before getting downstairs. Ichigo went back to his son, who was looking at his reflection and waiting patiently.

"Ah, sorry Kazui. Took more than one second. But now mommy is better and you can get washed!"

Ichigo started the bath and quickly but very carefully washed the boy, who giggled and tried to splash his dad with water multiple times, but was stopped with the promise of more treats if he was nice tonight. Wetting a kimono with soap-filled water? Big no no.

The boys got ready pretty fast, father making sure that son was comfortable in his kimono and waraji, not daring to try to tame his unruly hair. He really was like Ichigo in that department. The only way to make sure it wasn't all over the place was to cut them, even if another reason was more, hem, personal.

Totally not related to how Orihime all but loved to scratch the back of his head and it was easier done when the hair is short.

They got down the stairs, Kazui holding onto Ichigo's hand tightly to not fall, still not used to the straw shoes in his little feet. Orihime checked her reflection one last time before squatting to her son, giving him a big smooth on the forehead, praising Ichigo for dressing him so well.

Did the two blush profusely? Yes. One because he was a little boy and proud to make his mommy proud, and the other one because damn if his wife wasn't the most jaw dropping beautiful woman in existence.

A few knocks on the door wanted them of the arrival of the louder part of the family, as Ichigo jokingly called them. Isshin didn't really wait until anyone opened the door to burst it open, his laughter and happy face infectious.

"Ah! Where is my grandson! Oh, you look so good.. so cute my boy!" He sniffed, tears already streaming down his face as he kneeled down to hug Kazui. Yuzu almost did the same, but had some self restraint (thank goodness) and instead laughed with Orihime. Karin kept the door opened and saluted everyone calmly, without a word, but the smile on her face too obvious for her to pretend to be unhappy about the commotion.

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

All of them, after a lot of tears, walked to the closest festival stalls, the night setting in and the lampions lighting up the streets, giving it a fairy tale like atmosphere. Kazui walked neatly next to his father, holding to his arm closely, but his eyes darted everywhere in wonder. This green light, that blue stall... Some people wore masks and some kids were chasing each other with tiny fireworks in their hands.

"Let's get some food! Yuzu insisted on not making any at home as to not waste the one here..."

The young girl nodded her head enthusiastically while her twin sister trotted to a Ikayaki stall, asking for one before watching the drama play out.

"Well yes, because otherwise you would have eat like normal but all your appetite would have been gone with us and you would have complained about your stomach!"

Yuzu lectured her father, and Orihime stood next to her to tap her shoulder and calm her down, otherwise it would turn into a quite loud conversation. Karin came back next to her twin and gave her a candy apple, placing it in her hand.

"Don't mind him. Let's enjoy the festival. Let him eat if he wants."

The sisters walked ahead, not really caring about their dad's wailing, Ichigo pushing Kazui between Orihime and him.

"Tsk, he always has to be dramatic about everything..."

"But it's funny papa! When grandpa cries he always makes funny faces! And then I hug him and poof! Gone!"

Orihime gave her son a very sweet kiss on the forehead, because who wouldn't melt at the boy's sweet heart and words.

"Hm, oh, Hime. Look there."

Ichigo pointed at a stall with a shooting contest, which confused the woman at first, before she clapped her hands excitedly.

"Oh, we've haven't done one in so long!" She giggled, jogging to the inviting booth with Kazui on her side. Ichigo smiled brightly, shaking his head. Who was the child?

"You go win her a prize, I'll look after Kazui." Isshin told him, surprisingly calm after one minute of crying. He raised an eyebrow at his dad who clapped his hands together before raising Kazui in the air.

"Kazui, you'll see if your papa is good with shooting targets. If he's not, then you'll be staying with me for a while week!"

So, that meant going to bed very late, eating candy, not doing any kind of work and losing a few braincells because of Isshin cooing at him and talking to him like a baby.

No way was he going to lose. Especially when Orihime was watching intently, her hands holding each other on her chest.

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

Of course Ichigo won.

And got the biggest prize he could obtain, a grey teddy bear, proudly holding it for his wife. Orihime was filled with happiness, feeding him a chocolate banana from time to time.

The evening passed like that : between chatters, contests, street food and laughter, not a single Kurosaki wasn't smiling. The sisters stood close to Orihime, always hoping to spend more time with her, always hoping to find this reminder of Masaki in her. Ichigo walked by her side, listening to their chatters and keeping an eye on Kazui, who was getting sleepy.

"Papa?"

"Hm?"

"Who is that?"

Ichigo turned his face to look on his right, where Kazui had pointed at, but seeing no one. There was barely any civilian at the stalls around them, so it was safe to say Kazui definitely needed some well earned sleep. Ichigo crouched down to pick him up in his arms, patting his head gently.

"You're tired baby, were going home soon. You can sleep some if you want."

"But the lady..."

"Hm?"

Kazui couldn't say more, already closing his little arms and snoring softly. The day had been long, of course he was exhausted. Ichigo made sure he held him tight, the teddy in his other hand being a bit of a pain now. Orihime stopped to check on the little boy, her heart feeling like it turned goowee at the adorable sight.

"We should head back... Kazui needs to take some well deserved rest." Ichigo announced to his family, the two girls nodding in unison and Isshin hugging Orihime quickly before patting Ichigo on the shoulder.

"We had a great time, thank you, to the three of you." Orihime bowed and got her goodbyes back at her, Yuzu making one last joke with her before everyone returned to their homes.

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

Once Kazui was changed and put to bed, Ichigo cracked his back bones and brushed his teeth sleepily, now in his sleeping t-shirt and shorts. Weird how before he could have his bed time at 3 in the morning without any problem, and now 11:30 was the maximum.

He heard Orihime sigh next door, in their room, and popped his head out of the bathroom door.

"Hm?"

She laughed at his cute appearance and his puppy look, the head tilted to the side. She waved her hand as if to say "later, later" and went back to changing. Ichigo frowned, the infamous gesture that he had forgotten along the years bringing back the usual anxiety he felt in his younger days.

He spit in the sink and washed up his hands before entering their room and pushing the door closed.

"Hime, what's wrong? Please tell me..." He asked, sitting on the bed to watch her take her hair down, unleashing it from the tight grip of her sofisticated bun. She sighed again, and Ichigo frowned again, before going to hug him, the force of it pushing Ichigo to lay on the bed with his wife in his arms.

"Hime..."

"Nothing is wrong, I promise." She cut him off, rolling to her side if the bed and staring at his eyes. She was not lying, she was alright but then why did she sigh? Why did she look so exhausted when they return back home?

Ichigo still nodded, reassured to a point, before leaning down to kiss her in the lips. She gladly accept the peck, placing her hands on his face in such a sweet and careful hold, Ichigo definitely wanted to kiss her more. But she pulled away again, still looking at him with this strange look, one that made her eyes glitter in excitement. Orihime took one of his hands, so strong, so callous from all those fights, to place it on her belly, warm tears filling her eyes.

"I'm pregnant."

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Oh I'm so bad for leaving this like that 😂 but then again, if you guys want the rest, you can always ask for it hehe

As I am not Japanese, I had to research for festivals and clothes and food, hopefully what I wrote made sense ;;

#bleach #ichihime #pro ichihime #ichihime headcanon #ichihime writing #ichihime fanfiction #papa ichigo #mama orihime #ichigo kurosaki #orihime kurosaki #kazui kurosaki #isshin kurosaki #karin kurosaki #yuzu kurosaki #do go check the artist's work it is very beautiful!

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narukoibito · 5 years ago

Note

Ooh all of them are making me cry with happiness but I'll be restrained and ask about Someone else's life and when the smoke clears, please and thank you :)

Ding ding ding! You hit my favorite WIPs, @whiffingbooks!

For that, and since I doubt anyone will ask but I’m dying to share, I’m also going to give you a snippet of The Other-Boy-Who-Lived.

Someone Else’s Life

This is my dimension traveling AU story, where Harry ends up traveling to an alternate dimension where Neville was the Boy Who Lived, and Ginny and Luna made up his trio. He has an existential crisis about whether Ginny loves him or the Boy Who Lives. It’s my dream fic that I haven’t made any progress on, unfortunately, but I’m excited to share some of what I’ve written in hopes you and others might like it and motivate me.

When Harry next woke up, he found himself staring at a blurry Neville.

“Neville,” he said, relaxing into the pillows behind him. “You’re okay.”

“Hey there, Harry. I am, though you’ve seen better days. Seems like you got in a bit of a scrape,” Neville said pleasantly.

Harry frowned, reaching for his glasses once more. He had had the strangest dream, earlier. It had felt so real. Sliding his glasses on, he blinked as Neville’s smiling face came into focus. He seemed…different. Neville had long outgrown his shy, insecure ways, and had grown fully into the self-confident, brave Gryffindor he had always had inside him. But today he seemed to carry himself differently — stand taller, somehow give off a relaxed demeanor but there was tension neatly contained beneath it.

“Yeah…” said Harry, his mind trying to catch up with his friend’s newfound charisma.

“Still won the game though,” Neville carried on with a smile, shaking his head with what seemed like admiration.

Neville’s cheerfulness was beginning to grate Harry’s nerves.

“Did you catch them? Was it Rookwood? Is Ginny —” The questions tumbled out quickly. He tried to push himself up, only for Neville’s hand to shoot out and land on his arm. It was light but firm.

“Harry, I spoke to Ron earlier, and it sounds like you got hit pretty bad. You may have a pretty significant concussion.”

“You were there,” Harry said. “Where is Ginny?”

“Ginny’ll be back soon, but she wanted to check out the stadium as soon as possible.”

Ginny was at Quidditch practice?

“Neville, what — ”

Neville released Harry’s arm, and with a sigh, ran his hand through his fringe, mussing his sandy hair upward. All the words died in Harry’s mouth, and the blood drained from his face.

There was a jagged scar on Neville’s forehead.

Subconsciously Harry reached up to touch his own forehead. Where he was used to raised, scarred tissue, his fingers only found smooth skin.

A dull rush of noise filled his mind.

“I know you’re a bit confused right now, but they should help you get everything sorted out soon. Believe me, I’ve been here so much, they should name a ward after me,” Neville chuckled. He stopped, his brows furrowing. “You all right there, Harry?”

Harry was saved from responding by the door opening. He inhaled sharply, struck both with relief and an awful feeling of something having gone terribly wrong, escalating to the point his vision blurred.

It was Ginny — with that famous fiery Weasley hair, those freckles, those brown eyes that he’d recognize anywhere — but was like the puzzle pieces were put together wrong. She wasn’t not rushing in headlong, face flushed, and eyes flashing, looking wild and ready to tear down anything in her way. No, Ginny was calm, collected, her jaw set with familiar determination, but not one unduly concerned, dressed in Auror robes with parchment tucked under her arm. Her eyes swept over him quickly as she approached them.

“Hi Harry,” Ginny said, giving him a brief smile. “How’s that head feeling?” When Harry simply stared at her, her smile turned anxious. She leaned toward Neville and spoke softly. “Is he okay?”

Through the haze of confusion, a lick of distress tinged through Harry. Something about their proximity, the familiarity in the way she addressed Neville, the way that Neville was looking at her, the way she stood just a sliver closer to him than Harry had ever seen before filled his stomach with dread.

It was almost as if…

Ah, want to share more with Ginny, but hope that’s enough for now. Who knows what will stay and go.

The Other-Boy-Who-Lived

Okay, this is my AU of the above AU because I’m crazy that way. Here is AU/not the Boy-Who-Lived Harry thrown into canon. In some ways, I’m even more excited about this AU because it’s fun imagining canon!Ginny with AU!Harry. Here’s a snippet I adore:

“Did you ever wish you were Neville?”

“Not all the time. Yes, there was fame and he was always doing something mad – more often or not with you. But now and again…there was one thing he had that I wanted,” he said, gently tucking her hair behind her ear.

Harry can’t believe his own audacity. Ginny didn’t want him, but some other version of him, always the Boy Who Lived. But she was looking at him with such a blazing look, with such fierce affection, that he couldn’t help but lean in and kiss her. It was different from the kiss in the hospital wing. This was a tender exploration, something that he’d only experienced in unspeakable dreams.

“Harry,” she said softly against his lips.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, pressing his forehead against hers. “It’s just that this feels like such a fantasy. You wanting me.”

She let out a small huff. “You and my Harry are more alike than you think.”

Oh AU!Harry, why are you so precious?

when the smoke clears

Ahhh, my elusive amnesia!Ginny story, inspired by the amazing @annerbhp. There are several scenes I am dying to write, so know it will be written, but most of the time I sit around and daydream about how all these scenes will make a cohesive story.

Here is a snippet. It may not stand the test of time or my beta.

When she opened her eyes, the first thing she noticed was the throbbing pain in her head, and the second was the absolute blank she drew when she tried to place the pain.

Or anything else for that matter.

A slow, buzzing fear started to build. She took in the nondescript room, the morning light creeping in, the empty beds, the potion station that emanated a sharp, bitter smell. There was distant noise beyond the door, the low murmur of life stirring. None of it was familiar.

Her eyes landed finally on the only other person in the room: a wizard with messy black hair and rumpled robes was slumped over in a chair beside her bed, his head hung low. His arms were crossed across his chest, his wire-rimmed glasses hanging crooked on the edge of his nose, and his wand held tightly in his hand despite his slumbering state.

Who was he? And — the panic began to rise — who was she? How could she not know who she was?

At the sound of her sharp inhale, the wizard’s eyes snapped open, revealing the most startling green eyes that immediately locked onto hers. He bolted forward from his seat, leaning close.

“Ginny! You’re awake,” he said, his weary face flooding with relief. “Are you ok?”

He reached out and took her hand. Reflexively, she snatched it away, already pushing her body back towards the wall away from him despite the increasing pain in her head at the movement.

“Who are you?”

His face drained of color, turning ashen. His hand seemed to go limp against the bedsheet. “What?”

Her eyes darted to the wand in his hand and back to his face, her fingers itching terribly. He glanced down where she had and straightened, looking as if he was trying to pull himself together.

“Ginny,” he said, a slight tremor in his voice, “do you know who I am?”

She looked into his foreign eyes. Try as she might, she couldn’t place them. “Should I?”

Eep, it was hard not to share more because these are my favorite, but hope you enjoyed the previews! One day I’ll post them... one day.

Feel free to send an ask for the WIP title game!

#whiffingbooks #wip title game #ask games #someone else's life #the other-boy-who-lived #when the smoke clears #ahh my favorite WIPs #i am excited to share #but also eek #pressure #Harry Potter #Ginny Weasley #Harry/Ginny #Hinny #fanfiction #this is inspiring me again

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glassonlyrecycle · 5 years ago

Text

Pepsi Coke Part 4

minific, serirei, aaaaa

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

----

Setting his phone down, Reigen paused, suddenly realizing the state of his apartment. He nearly dropped Pepsi Coke in despair. It would take hours to get the place looking even decent!

But he tried nonetheless, scrambling this way and that, picking up trash, tidying counters, collecting the laundry strewn about, sweeping up crumbs...

A knock came at the door just as he emptied the dustpan into the garbage. Setting it down, Reigen went to the door, going to adjust his tie, when he remembered what he was wearing: dirty slacks, a wrinkled and untucked button down, an untied tie with a grease stain... but he didn't have time! Serizawa was already waiting on the other side of the door. Reigen opened the door as casually as he could.

"Hi!" said Serizawa. He seemed... excited?

"Hey," said Reigen, trying to smile and ignore his embarrassing state of wardrobe. "Come in," he moved to the side so Serizawa could pass by.

Serizawa smiled and stepped by Reigen into the apartment. He smelled faintly of... roses, was it? Or maybe peonies. Reigen couldn't quite place it, but it was something soft and nice.

Reigen closed the door as Serizawa removed his shoes, setting them neatly to the side.

"I brought some things for Pepsi Coke," he said, handing a plastic bag to Reigen.

"Oh! Thanks." He had forgotten that was why Serizawa was there in the first place! He'd gotten caught up in his thoughts while he had cleaned; it had been some time since Serizawa last came over...

"Right! So I'll just set this down and then I'll get you something to drink." He gestured towards the little kitchen area as he moved. "There's that diet soda Ritsu didn't want, unfortunately no milk, water, obviously..." he trailed off, realizing he didn't have much to offer.

"I uh actually brought some tea, if you want?"

"Of course! Tea!" Reigen snapped his fingers. "Tea is great! I love tea. What kind of tea is it?" This was just going downhill fast. He could feel his face heating up.

"Just bottled green tea." Serizawa moved to get the bottles from the bag.

"I'll grab some glasses!" Reigen was glad for an excuse to turn his face away. Not that fumbling with the cupboard was much better...

He awkwardly placed the two glasses onto the table. Taking a bottle, he began to shakily pour the tea into one of the cups. It was uncomfortably quiet. "So! How's your mom?"

"She's doing well," Serizawa smiled, "and thanks again for letting me have the time off."

"Of course! It was nothing. Not a problem at all!" The cup nearly overflowed as he waved his free hand wildly.

"Hey." A worried look came across Serizawa's face, as he gently took the bottle of tea from Reigen. "Is everything okay?"

Reigen went stone cold.

"I mean I don't want to be rude, but..." Serizawa gestured vaguely towards Reigen. "You look a bit different from when I last saw you, and you're acting a little strangely..." Serizawa's voice grew quiet as he trailed off, averting his gaze. "I don't mean to overstep any boundaries, I just want to make sure you're okay."

Reigen just kinda stood there, not knowing what to say. I mean, how was he supposed to respond to that? Oh yeah let me just tell him how Pepsi made a fool of me on day one, how Ritsu is ungrateful and snide, how everyone ignored me the past three days, how I haven't slept for more than an hour uninterrupted, how difficult it's been without him there but now that he's in front of me it's difficult too but in a different way -- how am I supposed to explain it's because he smelled nice when he walked past, because he smiled gently when I opened the door, because he straightened my shoes when he set his next to mine, because his hand was warm when he took the bottle from me --

"Sorry for asking, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable." Serizawa put a hand to the back of his neck, glancing around the apartment. "So! Where's Pepsi Coke?"

"I'll go uh look for him..." He felt like he was just about ready to die. Why did he just clam up like that! Reigen touched his cheeks. They were most certainly not cold!!

Serizawa poured the second glass of tea and sipped it, looking worriedly after Reigen. Maybe I shouldn't have spent so much time away, thought Serizawa, or at least texted him more often these past few days. To think if something terrible happened and I wasn't there...

Reigen was kneeling on the floor, looking under the armchair.

"There you are!" He coaxed and beckoned for a full minute, to no avail. Naturally! Reigen thought. Because there wasn't enough going wrong for me already! Serizawa came to see the kitten and without the kitten there's no reason for him to be here... Reigen desparately patted the floor one more time. Pepsi Coke, crouched in the corner, stared him straight in the eye, not moving an inch.

Serizawa laid a hand on Reigen's shoulder (which caused him to flinch a little; he hadn't noticed Serizawa walk over!). Handing a glass of tea to him, Serizawa said, "it's okay if he's not ready to meet me. Let's just give him some space and enjoy our tea."

Reigen swore that smile could bring the most stoic man to tears. In fact, his eyes were feeling rather watery...

Tears rolled down Reigen's cheeks, as he took the glass.

Serizawa's expression immediately changed. "Oh my god, what's wrong? Was it something I said?" He knelt down next to Reigen, putting a hand on his back.

"It's just," Reigen sniffled, "it's just been rough..." Hot tears splashed quietly into his tea.

"Here," Serizawa said, helping him up. "Why don't we sit down and you can tell me everything."

----

here's the full page of illustrations (plus some bonus items!)

#aaaa poor bby reigen ; ^ ;#good thing seri is here for the rescue!! 💪#glass prose #fanfic #long post #illustrated fic #mp100 fic #mp100 fanart #mp100 fanfic #minific #mob psycho 100 #mob psycho #mp100 reigen #mp100 serizawa #reigen arataka #arataka reigen #serizawa katsuya #katsuya serizawa #pepsi coke

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one-boring-person · 5 years ago

Text

Can I Help You?

Paul (The Lost Boys) x Gay!male reader

Warnings: very vague mentions of violence, mentions of homophobia

Context: After being kicked out o his home by his father, (Y/n) finds himself at the Boardwalk, where a certain vampire offers him some comfort.

A/N: I've had this rattling around in my head for days, so I thought I'd write it out. I'm sorry if it isnt that great, I'm new to writing this sort of a character and I was a little sketchy on how Paul would react in this situation.

My feet ache from use as I trail onto the Boardwalk after a couple of hours of aimless wandering, my mind numbed after being encompassed by grief for so long, dried tears streaking my cheeks. No one gives me a second glance, not a care in the world given to the eighteen year old boy limping around the streets with a tattered rucksack strapped to his back, his jacket stained by the beer his father threw at him when he was kicked out. No, not a care in the world.

I tighten my fingers around the strap of my bag, trying to adjust the weight a little more evenly across my back, my shoulders protesting painfully as I try to mingle with the crowd, ignoring the bustling people around me with the intention of finding a place to sit for a while and think up a plan as to what the hell I'm supposed to do. In my ears, the cacophony of voices and tinny music is loud and harsh, especially after the shouting matches I took part in, not too long ago, a wince escaping me as a particularly rowdy surfer yells out to his friends from behind me. Starting, I manage to bump into someone behind me, who instinctively pushes me back with an angry curse, causing me to blurt out a rushed apology before I dart away from them, suddenly feeling overwhelmed. Already, I can feel the tears resurfacing, their heated droplets threatening to spill out over my cheeks as I do my best to force them down again, a choking sensation rising in my throat. Stopping in my tracks, I frantically look around, disorientated with all the people pushing and shoving past me, the sounds all blurring into one as my vision does the same, panic and fear rising within me as I try to calm myself down, breathing heavily. Instinctually, I manage to work my way out of the crowd, my hands grasping at the low wall that separates the beach from the Boardwalk, my head tucked to my chest as I try my best to calm my erratic breathing and pounding heartbeat, focusing on the sensation of each gasp of air flowing in and out of my lungs.

Eventually, I find myself sitting on the floor, leaning back against the wall behind me, my head thrown back to maximise the passage of air into my body, my rucksack cradled on my lap, the straps wrapped tightly around my fingers - a nervous habit I've never managed to shake. Sweat coats my forehead, my hair sticking to my skin uncomfortably even as I lift a hand to brush it away, more strands falling into place to replace the ones I move. Thankfully, my senses have returned to normal, though my resolve has once again broken, the tears of anger, betrayal and grief dripping steadily down my damp cheeks, leaving small spots on my denim jacket as they fall off my jaw, making me look as though I were in my own little raincloud of misery. For a while I stay sat there, drowning myself in my sorrows, wishing I had a bottle of hard alcohol to help me forget, even if the solution is only temporary, my mind aching and longing for relief.

I barely notice when someone sits next to me, only really looking up when they clear their throat, finding myself face to face with a familiar, handsome blonde, with a mess of hair on his head and warm blue eyes taking in my appearance, his lanky frame folding up neatly, yet somehow languidly at the same time, beside mine. On any over day, I would've spent hours just staring at someone as good looking as he is.

"C-can I h-help you?" I force out, my voice cracking with barely concealed emotion.

"Shouldn't I be asking you that?" The blonde responds, smirking gently at me, even though I don't return the gesture.

"If you want to, I guess." I say, frowning a bit in confusion, my arms tightening around my rucksack out of habit.

"Well then, can I help you?" He pushes, his smirk becoming an encouraging smile instead, "What happened?"

"Why do you care? No one else does." I sigh, bitterly, a little suspicious of his behaviour.

"Beacuse I hate seeing sweet people like you in pain." He replies, eyes softening when he notices the blush creeping onto my cheeks from the compliment.

"How do you know I'm sweet? I could be a monster." I point out, looking over at him.

Surprisingly, he chuckles at this, the sound sparking an odd feeling in my stomach, as if someone housed a hundred butterflies inside me.

"Trust me, you're no monster." He reassures me, his expression taking on a knowing look as I give him an unsure one, "And as for being sweet, I've seen you around here before, with your boyfriend, and there are very few people who I would consider sweeter. Speaking of which where is he?"

At the reminder, I look down, my heart wrenching painfully as I recall my last conversation with him.

"...you're worthless, (Y/n), so I'm ending it. Don't come near me ever again, unless you want me to show you how pathetic you really are."

He'd slammed the door on me then, but not after throwing our anniversary gift at me from the threshold, the little bracelet I bought him clattering against the hard ground at my feet, my heart tearing itself to pieces.

"Hey, what's wrong? What did I do?" My newfound companion breaks me from my thoughts, his voice laced with panic and concern, a hand placed hesitantly against my arm as he leans forwards to look me in the eye, his other hand coming around to cup my face. I blink away the tears before replying.

"You...you didn't do anything..." I manage to grit out between sobs, collecting myself enough to give him an answer, "He broke up with me, and then my dad threw me out. I've got nowhere to go and no one to turn to. I'm alone."

At my confession, his blue eyes cloud with shock and horror, his mouth opening and closing a few times as he tries to respond.

"Why'd your dad throw you out?" He asks me quietly, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles into my skin.

"Because I'm gay." I admit, looking down until he tilts my head back up to him, a determined look in his eyes.

"That doesn't make you a bad person. You are who you are, and it's his fault for not being able to see that. As for your ex, he'll soon realise he's missing out on a lifetime of greatness with you, and by then, it'll be too late for him to make amends. And if you need a place to stay and a friend to get you through it all, well, I'm here aren't I?"

Shock and surprise fill me at his offer, my mind already reeling at his show of kindness, my heart aching to go with him.

"Are you sure? I don't want to impose..."

"Of course! There's plenty of space back home for one more tenant, though you'll have to deal with my friends and the fact that "home" is not necessarily the sort of thing you'd expect..." He confirms, sitting back on his heels as he waits for a reply, smiling at me.

"Well, if you're sure it's ok, then I'd love to come with you." I agree somewhat hesitantly, a little nervous after having only just meeting him.

"Of course. There is one condition, though."

"What is it?" I ask, hoping I'll be able to abide by this, and it won't be too costly.

"I'll need to take your name."

"My na...? Oh, yeah, of course. I'm (Y/n)." I respond, relief flooding my voice as I take his outstretched hand, blushing when he lifts it to his face and kisses my knuckles, shooting me a mischievous grin.

"Paul. It's nice to finally meet you." He says to me, helping me to my feet with a gentle pull, "You ever ridden a motorcycle before?"

"Err, I can't say I have, no."

"Well, there's a first time for everything. You just have to hold on. Tight." The blonde smirks, tugging me along to where a black and red motorcycle is leaning against the railing, a few tyre tracks around it showing where there were other bikes around it.

"O-k." I reply slowly, gingerly climbing up behind him, wrapping my arms around his waist with some trepidation.

"We'll be home before you know it." And with that, the tall blonde lets out an ecstatic shriek as he kicks the engine into gear, the motorcycle swiftly jumping into motion. Despite my terror, a cautious grin creeps onto my face as we hurtle off onto the road and into a better future.

#joel schumacher #the lost boys #vampire #paul(the lost boys)#santa carla #the lost boys imagine

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misskikuwrites · 5 years ago

Text

Obligations and Excuses

Bede/Gloria (dressedinpinkshipping)

Gloria pulled open the cafe door, striding inside with a spring in her step and a smile on her face. The owner greeted her with a sigh of relief.

"Oh, Glori! You are my saviour!" he chimed, hurrying over to her. Despite the relief in his tone, his brow furrowed and he sagged. "But I'm afraid that even with your help, the event is all but doomed."

Gloria blinked at him. "What do you mean? What happened?"

She glanced around the battle cafe to where the other staff were setting up the chairs and tables, adjourning each booth with a tiny glass jar set with a single white rose. The white decorations were up. The signs out the front were as stunning as ever. Immaculate deserts filled the glass display beneath the counter. The battle court set to the side was spotless as though it had never seen a single Pokemon battle in its lifetime. Everything seemed to be going off without a hitch as far as she could see.

"It's Paul," the owner sighed heavily. "He hasn't turned up and isn't answering his phone. As thankful as I am for your help, without Paul, our White Day event is as good as dead."

Gloria's heart sank. "There has to be something we can do! What about the other trainers? Surely someone can fill in!"

"I've already contacted them all." He shook his head in dismay. "Finding a free trainer to fill in on White Day at the last minute is impossible."

"I was free!" Gloria countered quickly. "I'm sure we can find someone else!"

"But who?" The owner sagged further, slumping where he stood. "I'm all out of options."

Steely determination set in Gloria's bones and she straightened. Her hands tightened into fists. She wasn't going to let this fail without doing anything. She had to try.

"Leave it to me," she said, pumping a fist on her chest. "I'll find someone to fill in. One of my friends has to be free. I'll call in a favour or two if I have to!"

The owner lifted his head, a hopeful glimmer in his eyes. "Oh, Glori, would you?"

She nodded, a blazing confidence burning through her veins. "I'll do what I can."

She glanced at the clock above the counter before whirling on her feet and headed into the staff room. Forty-five minutes until opening. She could do this.

Gloria pulled out her phone, her thumb about to press Hop's number when she froze. His assignment was due in a few days. He'd spent the last couple of days working late into the night, downing coffee after coffee, in order to get it done.

She blew out a sigh. Okay, so not Hop. Then… She scrolled through her contacts, letting the names fly past. She flicked her finger down the screen and it scrolled to the very top of the list. Her heart thumped as she stared at Bede's name. She pursed her lips, her stomach fluttering and churning at the same time, and tried to think through the strange feeling.

Asking Bede for help made sense. She was comfortable with him as a friend and as a partner in battles. He was, most likely, free of Gym duties like the rest of the league.

Although… that didn't mean he was free altogether. What if he had something on? Some other obligation?

What if he had a date?

Something heavy plopped into her gut at that thought. She swallowed, her mouth and throat feeling too dry, and called him.

Bede stared at his phone with a scowl. He sat on the edge of his bed, phone in hand, a million thoughts swimming in his mind. He hadn't so much as unlocked the device and his heart had already begun to patter away in his chest. He couldn't think clearly with it thumping in his ears.

It should have been simple. Finding an excuse to see Gloria today was meant to be a simple task. She managed to find any and every excuse, every reason under the sun, in order to drop by unexpectedly to his Gym; surely he could do the same.

His mind drew a blank. The white object in the corner of his eyes, sitting beside him on the bed, made it impossible to think. Trepidation settled deep into his gut. The black screen of his phone glared back in silence, offering no solutions to his problem. He almost dropped it when her name flashed to life on the screen. It took a moment of panic, of his heart lodging into his throat, before he realised that Gloria was calling him.

He clambered enough clarity together to answer the call and took a deep breath so that his voice wouldn't crack when he spoke.

"Hey," Bede said. The fact that she was calling him was enough to cause a rush of heat to bloom across his cheeks.

"Hey, Bede!"

Her light-hearted chime sent his pulse skittering. He could hear the smile in her voice as she said his name. At least over the phone she couldn't see the way he began to flush, struggling to remain calm due to the fact that she'd called him the very moment he was thinking about her. Like she'd read his mind. Like something had drawn them together, untangling the strings of fate between them.

"I was wondering if you're busy today...?" Gloria asked and the nervous lilt in her question made Bede's heart skip. It thumped heavily in his chest, his gaze snapping to the small white box beside him, packaged neatly with a shiny white ribbon tied into a bow on top.

Today.

White Day.

Bede swallowed. "I don't have anything planned," he lied smoothly.

"Really? You're free?"

She sounded so excited. Her hopeful gasp stole the air for his lungs and his hand clenched into his blankets beside him in an attempt to ground himself in reality. He couldn't allow himself to get lost in her voice.

"Yes, I'm free." He spoke quickly, clipping his words to hide the tremor sneaking into his voice. "Why do you ask?"

"Well, I've kinda got a favour to ask you…"

Oh.

Bede's expression fell. "What is it?"

"See, there's this battle cafe in Wyndon that I go to a lot, and I know the owner really well. Anyway, he's running a White Day event where couples can challenge a battle couple and they get a free dessert if they win and go into the draw to win this big basket of goodies. And, well… last night, the girl who was meant to be battling called in sick so I'm filling in for her, but the guy who's meant to be my partner hasn't turned up and we can't find anyone to replace him. We're set to open in under an hour."

A pause.

"So… I was wondering if you'd be able to fill in instead."

"You want me to be a battle couple… with you?"

Silence fell. The realisation of what she was asking sank in slowly like the slow ebbing of the tide, rising higher and higher around him until he couldn't breathe.

"Only if you're okay with it," Gloria said quietly. "We're expecting a lot of people, there's going to be a big crowd and I know… you don't like that sort of thing. Th-The crowds, I mean!"

"I'll do it."

He heard her gasp. "Y-You will?"

"Yes, I'll do it. Text me the address and I'll be there soon."

"Oh, thank you, Bede!" Gloria chimed ecstatically. "Thank you! You're a lifesaver!"

"O-Of course I am."

She laughed, light and sweet like the tinkling of windchimes, and he could see her smile even though she was miles away.

"Oh, and can you bring your Gardevoir? The battles are two-on-two so we only need one Pokemon each."

Bede stood, swiping the box off his bed and stashing it securely in his bag. "Sure. Is that all?"

"Yup! I'll see you soon!"

"Alright. Bye, Gloria."

He could hear the bright smile in her voice. "Bye!"

Bede held the phone to his ear until she hung up, his eyes falling shut as he collected himself. As he realised what he'd agreed to. His phone pinged, Gloria having texted him the address, and he sighed deeply.

It was going to be a long day.

Gloria glanced at the cafe doors for the umpteenth time, tugging absently on the straight hem of her skirt. She'd changed into the cafe's uniform after she'd ended the call with Bede and had spent the next ten minutes pacing back and forth in front of the counter. Her black shoes clacked on the floor, tapping as fast as her anxious heart. She smoothed down the white apron tied around her waist. Fiddled with the black bow one of the waitresses had tied for her around her collar. The uniform was basic yet classy, the sleek, knee-length black skirt a nice contrast to the white blouse, yet Gloria felt out of place. Like it didn't suit her. Like a child rummaging through their mother's wardrobe, the uniform felt too professional. Too elegant. She felt like a pauper wearing a crown.

Gloria nervously fiddled with the free locks of her hair left to frame her face, the rest pulled into a high bun. The Love Ball in her pocket felt heavier than before. The doors open and Gloria whirled, excitement and relief escaping her as a gasp.

"Bede!"

She rushed over to him and snatched his hand, ignoring the way his eyes blew wide at her, and tugged him to the staff room.

"This way!"

"A-Alright, alright, I'm coming!" he huffed, but didn't resist.

She released his hand when they reached the staff room, striding over to the tall lockers and throwing them open.

"One of these should fit you," she said, flicking through the uniforms. "Come and help me. I don't know what size you wear."

She glanced over her shoulder to find him right there, right behind her, and she muffled a squeak in her throat and stepped aside. Their eyes met briefly, a snap of striking violet in her direction, before he focused on the hanging uniforms.

D-Did you bring your Gardevoir?" she asked, tugging on the lock of hair by her ear.

"Of course I did. Did you really think I would forget that so easily?"

She pursed her lips sheepishly. She'd only asked because she needed something to say, something to fill the silence other than the pounding of her heart. Bede pulled one of the uniforms out, studying it up and down.

"This should do," he said, nodding to himself.

"Right." Gloria found herself strangely breathless all of a sudden. "I'll… leave you to get changed, then. You can leave your stuff in any of the lockers. The ones with keys in them are free, just remember to take it with you."

"That's easy enough."

She turned on her heels and hurried out of the room, a weird fluttering filling her lungs. Her palms were clammy, and she wiped them nervously on her apron. She didn't know why she was this anxious. Why the rapid pace of her heart wouldn't ease at all despite everything falling into place. Bede was here. She had a partner for the event battles. Everything was set up, a line of eager customers already beginning to form outside. She strode over to her place by the court and tried to focus. Hopefully, when the battles began, her nerves would quieten.

Gloria bounced on her toes while she waited. Again and again, she sent anxious glances towards the staff room, before catching herself and forcing a hard stare forward.

Calm down, she told herself. You're just battling. There's nothing to be nervous about!

She shifted from foot to foot. Tugged at the hem of the skirt at her knees. Fixed the blouse tucked into her skirt at her waist, smoothed and recentred the apron where it hung. She picked speckles of fluff off her black tights and fiddled with her hair.

"Oh, Glori, he's perfect!" the owner's beaming voice snapped her back to reality. He clasped his hands together in front of his heart, fawning over Bede who blinked, wide-eyed, in stunned silence.

Gloria's heart skipped and danced as she walked over. The slim fitting black pants made his already long legs seem longer and leaner, and the white dress shirt fit him perfectly, the sleeves neither too long or too short. The bow around his collar was tied neatly. She swallowed, forcing her eyes to his face. She felt too warm. Perhaps wearing tights was a bad idea after all.

He looked good in the uniform. Really good. Almost too good. His confident air and elegant features made him look classy as though he were a waiter at a five star restaurant and not a simple battle cafe.

"It fits him well," Gloria said, giving the owner a smile so she didn't have to look at Bede.

"Doesn't it?" the owner agreed. "I might just have to hire you!"

"Thank you for the consideration. However, I am not looking for work at the moment, sorry." Bede calmly rejected the owner's proposition, his gaze fixed on Gloria. "I already have other commitments."

Gloria's heart thumped as though his words, somehow, carried a deeper meaning. She stared at the floor, her cheeks beginning to burn.

What's wrong with me today? He's just talking about his Gym Leader duties, that's all!

"Let's get ready, then," Gloria said. "This way."

She spun on her heels and marched over to the court, Bede's steady footsteps falling behind her. The sight of the court before her, the familiar weight of the Ball in her pocket, helped to steady her nerves. She took a deep breath and focused.

"We'll be working with your Gardevoir and my Gallade," Gloria said. "The battles can last up to ten minutes, and we'll have breaks in between to heal up our Pokemon."

She glanced at Bede, trying to smile beneath the buzz of her nerves. Her eyes flicked away. The flip-flopping of her heart made it difficult to meet his eyes.

"And… there's one more thing."

She chewed on her bottom lip, wondering if she should've told him about this earlier, before he'd agreed to help. He must have sensed the trepidation washing over her because his brow furrowed slightly in concern.

"What is it?"

"Well, since we're a battle couple, we're meant to… act like one too."

He stared at her. A blank look fell over his face.

"We're meant to… what?"

"B-Because it's a White Day event! It's meant to be about romance and couples and it was the owner's idea, not mine!"

Bede blew out a sharp puff of air, running a hand through his fringe. "And you decided not to mention this earlier?"

"Well, I-I didn't know if you'd agree if I said that was a part of it… I mean, you don't like physical contact and all…"

He sighed. "Gloria, I'm a professional. Do you really think I'd let something like physical contact get in the way of a job?"

She pursed her lips. "No, I guess not. Are you sure, though? Because if you're not comfortable with it, maybe we can figure something else out…?"

"It's fine." He stepped closer, his long legs closing the distance between them with a single stride. "If it's with you, I suppose I could bear a bit of physical contact."

Her breath caught. Bede gazed down at her, standing mere inches away, and the depths of his violet eyes nailed her to the spot. She couldn't move, couldn't bring herself to look away. She didn't want to look away. His right arm linked with her left and she jumped at the sudden contact, unable to hold back a tight gasp when fingers slid between hers to hold her hand.

"Is this what you meant?" Bede asked, lowering his voice and giving her hand a gentle squeeze. His lips lifted into a smirk. "If we're meant to act like a couple, then you need to wipe that look off your face."

"Wh-What look?" Gloria touched her burning cheeks with her free hand.

His short breath of laughter sounded right by her ear. "You look like you've never held hands with a guy before. You're bright red."

There was no air in her lungs.

"Th-That's because you- you did this out of nowhere!" she squawked. "I just… wasn't expecting you to take the initiative, that's all." Her voice quietened, her eyes snapping away shyly. "But… this works. I wasn't sure what you'd be comfortable with so this- this is fine."

It felt like her hand was already too sweaty, too clammy, too warm, in Bede's. Despite the swirling in her gut, a giddy bubble bloomed in her chest. She smiled.

"This might not be so bad after all," she said. "I'd much rather hold your hand than some guy I didn't know. And look," she held up her right hand and gave it a wave, "both our dominant hands are free! It's perfect."

"That's what you decided to focus on?"

Gloria pouted. "Yeah! This way, I don't have to worry about throwing the Ball with my left hand. It's great!"

"I suppose that's better than nothing…" Bede muttered.

"What?"

"It's nothing. They're about to open the doors."

Gloria straightened as the first customers swept into the cafe. A couple were directed straight to the court and she fished the Love Ball out of her pocket.

"Looks like we're up," she said.

A determined smile washed over her grin. Her eyes flashed. Everything fell away around her; the sounds, the people, the scent of coffee and the chime of the till. All she felt was Bede's hand in hers. She gave it a squeeze and received one in return.

"Let's win this." The fire in her heart spread to her lungs, her chest, her veins. Her competitive spirit reignited.

Bede's eyes landed on her for a moment. "I wouldn't settle for anything less."

"Yes!" Gloria cheered, pumping a fist in the air. "That's ten in a row!"

The couple standing opposite them returned their Pokemon dejectedly and moved off the pitch, their heads hanging low, and the corner of Bede's mouth lifted at Gloria's excitement. His Gardevoir and her Gallade smiled at each other, having worked perfectly in sync the whole battle. Gloria released Bede's hand to skip over to her Pokemon, showering him in praises and patting his head happily. Gardevoir floated silently over to Bede with a serene smile. He flexed his right hand, now tingling and too cold in the absence of Gloria's warmth, and gently caressed the top of Gardevoir's head.

"Good work," he said softly. A proud smile grew on his face as Gardevoir beamed beneath his praise.

"We might just be unbeatable together," Gloria chimed, shooting him a grin. She applied a Max Potion to the scrapes and scuffs on Gallades arms and hands tentatively. "How's Gardevoir holding up? She need a Potion too?"

"Thanks to Gallade, she's without a scratch again." Amused, Bede raised an eyebrow at Gloria's Gallade. "I don't believe Gardevoir has taken a single hit in any of our matches so far. He seems to be taking his role as the Pokemon of a battle couple very seriously."

The insinuation in Bede's tone made Gardevoir glance at Gallade who promptly stared at the floor.

"Aw, don't tease him!" Gloria pouted, patting Gallade's head sympathetically. "I think it's cute."

"Perhaps. Although, Gardevoir has years of battle experience over Gallade. She's hardly the one that needs protecting."

"Ori's trying his best." She smiled proudly at him. "He only evolved recently."

Gloria finished with the Max Potion, giving Gallade's head a final stroke.

"There, all done!"

She stepped aside as Gardevoir drifted over to Gallade and chimed gratefully to him. Orion responded quietly, his gaze still firmly on the floor. Gloria quickly trotted over to Bede, grinning adoringly at their Pokemon with a sparkle in her eyes.

"I think they like each other!" she whispered to Bede excitedly.

She bounced on her toes, hands clasped gleefully in front of her mouth to catch her gasps, and his heart squeezed tightly at the sight. Instead of their Pokemon, his eyes were stuck on Gloria. Excitement and joy thrummed through her whole body. In the way she bounced, in the way her shoulders drew close and tight when she gasped, in the way her cheeks flushed a delicate pink when she smiled.

It was moments like these that left Bede speechless. He didn't know how someone could feel so much, how someone could be full of so much emotion that it showed in the whole of their body. How Gloria could be so open, so expressive. So free. He didn't know how her emotions and excitement managed to wash over him. Just being in her presence, witnessing her joy, was enough for his heart to swell and his lips to tug skyward in a smile, as though her emotions were bleeding into him. Permeating his whole body - his chest, his heart, his lungs.

Her giggle made his thoughts skatter. "If we keep this up, no one's going to be able to take us down!"

"I thought that much was obvious."

She glanced at him, still grinning, and her expression froze for a split second when she saw the way he was looking at her, a smile playing on his lips. It took a moment for her to recover, a moment where Bede's heart skipped and stole his breath.

"You know, if we don't lose a single match, then we get to keep the prize!" she added, pointing to the large hamper sitting on the counter.

The basket was overflowing with an array of different items; boxes of chocolate, bottles of wine, scented candles, biscuits and sweets, gift vouchers to the movies, and that was all Bede could see poking out of the top. Everything was white, from the wicker basket containing it all to the neat bow tying it together. Gloria's eyes sparkled in determination at it.

"What are you planning on doing with all of that?" Bede asked.

"Share it with you, of course!" She nudged his shoulder playfully. "But I call dibs on the bath bombs!"

"Here I thought you were going to stake your claim on the chocolates instead."

"Wait, no, I want that too!"

"You're going to have to choose, Glori," he teased, using the nickname the owner had called her and she stiffened in shock, her eyes going wide as a flush darkened her cheeks.

"Wh-! Can't you choose something else?!"

"Careful, Glori. Not too loud. We're supposed to be a couple, remember?"

Bede linked his arm with hers, a teasing smirk on his face, and pulled her closer. She bristled and glared at him as another wave of heat flooded her face.

"I-I don't care, I want that chocolate!" she hissed sharply, her voice cracking and reaching a squeaky pitch in her embarrassment.

A laugh bubbled in his chest at her reaction, amusement dousing the embarrassment he would've felt from what he was doing. Her panic fueled his confidence, making it too easy to hold her close, to smirk smugly at her despite the shortening distance between their faces.

"And what will you do if I decide to take it instead?" he said, the low husk of his voice a shock to his ears, enough of a shock to make him wonder for a moment what on earth he was doing.

Her glare sharpened, her lips drawing together in a tight pout. The movement drew his gaze to her mouth, to the soft pink shine of her lip gloss that made her lips look tantalisingly sweet.

He was too close.

"You wouldn't dare!" she hissed.

He felt her words brush against his mouth, burning against his face with a rush of heat. Bede snapped out of his stupor with a sudden start, jolting a forceful step back that made Gloria almost lose her balance. He muttered something quickly about taking a bathroom break and stormed away before she could question what had happened.

He didn't stop until he was alone in the staff toilets and sank against the door, his lungs heaving for air. He pressed the back of his hand firmly against his mouth, felt the burning heat on his cheeks sizzle against his skin.

That was bad. That was close. Too close. Another moment, another second more and he might have-

He might have actually tried to-

Bede squeezed his eyes shut, thumping the back of his head against the door in exacerbation.

Arceus.

He'd been so caught up in what he was doing, in the delight in teasing her, of playing the role of a couple, that he'd almost forgotten that they were merely friends.

There's no way she would have let something like that slide, even if he'd managed to excuse it as part of the act. He wouldn't be able to forgive himself if he'd taken advantage of the situation to force that on her, either. Regardless of how much he yearned for it, he couldn't. It would be wrong for a thousand different reasons. It would be unfair to do that to her. His friend. He cared too much about their friendship to risk it.

Bede sighed and marched over to the sink to douse his face with cold water. His reflection stared back at him, a haze in those violet eyes that he didn't recognise, swimming with heat and deep longing.

Did… Did he really look like that in front of her?

The shock of cold water helped to calm his racing pulse, and he dried his face off with a paper towel, risking another look at his reflection to see that it'd returned to normal. He swallowed, fixed the bow around his neck and dusted his fingers over his fringe until he was satisfied.

He wasn't going to let that happen again.

Gloria sipped at her glass of water, waiting for the prickle of heat on her cheeks to fade. She stood to the side of the court, her back against the wall, and watched the customers enjoying their cakes and sweets with feigned interest. Her mind was elsewhere. Her heart thumped a dizzying rhythm in her chest, fueling her confusion.

She didn't understand what had happened, why Bede had practically shoved her off him when he was the one that pulled her so close in the first place. He'd been acting so smooth, teasing her with a smirk, but a single moment later he'd torn himself away.

Did he really want the chocolate that badly?

No, that didn't feel right. Gloria sighed, taking another sip of chilled water as she slowly began to calm. Bede had startled her by taking their act as a battle couple more seriously than she had. His smiles and light touches, the way he squeezed her hand during each battle, had sent her heart racing. He'd even softened his voice when he spoke to her, calling her by the nickname the owner always used. His theatre training made his act extremely convincing, it was almost beginning to fool her. Almost made her wonder if there was some truth behind the tenderness in his smile.

She shook that thought away.

Get over yourself, Gloria, she chided. It's just an act.

She took a few deep gulps of water, trying to concentrate on something else, and caught sight of Bede heading over. Something fluttered in her chest when their eyes met across the busy cafe. She went to push off the wall, a hand raised to greet him, when one of the waitresses stepped over to him. She stopped him with a light touch on his arm, smiling sweetly. Bede's eyes flicked from Gloria to the waitress, and a knot formed in Gloria's gut. The waitress pulled him aside and the knot tightened. The trickle of laughter the waitress gave him made the knot constrict further and tighter and harder in the pit of her belly until it hurt.

Gloria watched, a wedge lodging in her throat, as the waitress led Bede to the counter and started preparing him a drink. Her gaze dropped to the floor. The wedge in her throat made it difficult to breathe, and she tightened her grip on the glass in her hands. So much for him taking their act as a battle couple seriously. She couldn't see his expression with his back to her, but she wondered if he was smiling. If he was giving the waitress the same expression he'd shown her earlier.

It made Gloria feel sick. She knew she'd been getting ahead of herself, thinking that there was anything more to Bede's smile, his actions, but the realisation hit her like a blast of frigid air.

She didn't know why she cared about that in the first place. They were friends. Why would it matter if there was something more, something deeper, to Bede's act? Why would it matter if there was a chance he held even a hint of romantic feelings towards her when she hadn't worked out what she felt towards him in return?

It was too confusing. She hated the way it made her stomach churn, the way a sickly nausea flooded her body whenever she thought about it. It made a heavy shadow fall over her heart, constricting her throat and lungs, and made her want to gag. Each breath came faster than the one before. Quicker and sharper, the pace increasing as the world went dark and grey. Monochrome. The sounds around her blended into a mess of noise.

She saw green. Gloria blinked and straightened, large red eyes peering at her. Gardevoir chimed softly, Gallade at her side, the two Pokemon sounding their concern. She looked between them, the fog over her mind beginning to shift, and forced a deep breath.

"I'm… I'm okay," she said quietly, and measured out her breathing.

A deep breath in, she held it in her chest for a few seconds before exhaling heavily. She turned her hands around the glass, focusing on the contours and how it felt against the palms of her hands, how firm the wall felt against her back. The ground was solid beneath her feet. The torrent of panic, the surge of emotions in her blood, began to ease. She could think again.

"Are you having a strategy meeting without me?" Bede's voice cut through the lingering haze in her mind. He stepped over, a takeaway cup in his hand. A faint knot in her gut remained.

"Maybe." Gloria's gaze fixed on the takeaway cup as Bede took a slow sip. "I was going to let you join in but it looks like you're already getting special treatment from someone else."

She raised an eyebrow pointedly.

Bede lowered the cup. "Oh, this? One of the staff made it for me. I was under the impression you'd gotten one too."

Gloria twisted her lips into a pout. "Well, you're wrong. All I got is water." She gestured with the empty glass in her hands.

Bede glanced over his shoulder, the waitress in question already looking his way, and she gave him a cheery wave. Gloria grimaced sourly.

"Looks like you've got a fan," she said, sounding disinterested. "I think she's forgotten that you and I are meant to be a battle couple right now."

"She was just being friendly. I'm sure someone would make you a drink if you asked."

Gloria rolled her eyes. "I'm not going to ask." She reached out towards Bede, making grabby-hands at his drink. "Gimme some of yours."

Bede blinked at her. "No. This is mine, go get your own."

"Aw, come on! You're not going to let your beloved girlfriend have a sip?"

His eyes blew wide, mouth dropping open, and Gloria seized the chance to snatch Bede's drink off him.

"Haha!" she cheered, twirling a step away from him, and lifted the cup to her lips.

"Gloria, wait-!" Bede squawked a protest that Gloria ignored, humming in delight at the soothingly warm coffee.

"Too late!" she sang, smirking at him, and almost choked on the drink at the look on his face. "Wh-What? It's just coffee!"

His eyes were wide. He stared at her with a streak of red high on his cheeks, his hand frozen in the air in a failed attempt to steal back his cup.

"I… had already drunk from it," Bede said, snatching his hand back to his side. His wide-eyed stare turned into an embarrassed frown.

Gloria tilted her head at him. "So?"

He looked at her for a moment longer before huffing. "Forget it. Are you satisfied now, or are you going to deprive me of my hard-earned coffee?"

"It's not hard-earned if you flirted to get it," she scoffed, shoving the cup at him.

"I did no such thing."

"How should I know? All I heard was her laughing." Gloria shrugged. "Anyway, our next match is due to start. Come on."

She turned and marched over to the centre of the court, Gallade and Gardevoir taking their places. Bede followed right behind her, leaning down to whisper in her ear.

"The only one I've been flirting with here is you."

Gloria sucked in a loud breath, her gasp catching high in her throat, and she slapped her hand over her ear with a stifled shriek of protest.

"D-Don't do that!" she squeaked, her ear tingling with heat.

"What, I'm not allowed to tease my beloved girlfriend?"

He smirked, his eyes twinkling with mirth as he took his place beside her. Her heart thumped wildly in her chest. She regretted using that phrase instantly. The couple set to be their opponents were staring and she grumbled.

"L-Let's just begin the match."

It was harder for her to switch into gear after that.

After an endless stream of battles, Gloria was grateful when their next break came. As much as she enjoyed battling with Bede, being his partner, it was exhausting after a while. And not just because they were acting as a couple. The strange mix of emotions swirling inside her was draining and confusing, and she wanted it all to stop. She didn't want to think about any of it right now and wished her heart would settle for once.

She wasn't used to being so close - physically close - to someone for such a long period of time. Although Gloria was already a very physically affectionate person, especially with people she knew well, it was beginning to be a bit too much. And if she felt this way, she knew Bede had to be feeling it even worse.

Gloria just wanted to be herself, didn't want to keep forcing herself to hold Bede's hand or link arms with him. It was too weird. Too foreign to be doing this with him when they were just friends, too strange to do it over and over again as the hours progressed. She felt so fake. Her hands were clammy and she wiped them on the front of her apron for what felt like the thousandth time.

Rather than holding hands, rather than having Bede's arm looped around her waist or back, she wanted a hug. She would much rather hug him where no one could see, with no people, no witnesses, no pretending. A long hug between friends that she could trust was genuine. A hug where she could bury her face in his shoulder and feel the warmth and pressure of his body against hers.

Gloria sighed heavily, slumping over the table in the staff room. The peace and quiet was heavenly, but she knew it couldn't last. They were due for their final round of battles. She had to go out there and face the heat once more.

The faint murmur of voices outside grew louder, and Gloria sat up as the staff room door flew open and a guy she recognised strode inside.

"Paul?!" Gloria gaped. "What are you doing here? Where were you this morning?"

"Sorry, Glo - if I'd known Vicki had called in sick and you were her replacement, I would've been here!" he chuckled as Bede walked in behind him, frowning. "I can't stand that girl. She's nowhere near as cute as you."

Gloria clenched her jaw and stood, fighting the look of disgust off her face. "Well, you're a bit late. Bede's been my partner all day. We can't just switch now."

"Who, him?" Paul scoffed, glancing unimpressed at Bede. "Come on, Glo. You can't seriously be choosing him over me."

"Well, I am. You can't skip out on your job, forcing us to find a replacement at the last minute, then rock up almost an hour before closing and expect us to welcome you back with open arms."

"Aw, don't be like that, Glo! You know what Vicki's like. Can you really blame me for ditching her?" Paul laughed. "I mean, how'd she even get a job here with a face like that in the first place?"

The mask on Gloria's face shattered into a searing glare. "Victoria is my friend," she said, her words sharp and hard, enunciated slowly and clearly as she stepped over to Paul. "And she deserves better than to be paired up with gutter scum like you."

Paul paled as Gloria drew up to him, venom dripping from her voice.

"And if you don't get out of here right now, they'll be scraping you off the battle court when I'm done with you."

She turned and grabbed Bede's arm, dragging him with her. She stormed out of the staff room, past the owner who looked on, his face white as a sheet. She didn't stop until she'd marched all the way to the battle court, a molten blaze glowing white hot in her eyes.

"Oh, Glori, I'll deal with Paul!" the owner said quickly, scurrying over. "He was already on thin ice and insulting another member of staff like that- that's the final straw!"

Gloria sighed, releasing Bede's arm as her anger settled. "Good."

The owner glanced between her and Bede for a moment before nodding quickly and sheepishly. She felt Bede's gaze on her as the owner left.

"So. That was Paul," Bede said slowly. "The guy who was meant to be your partner this morning."

Gloria made a noise of disgust in her throat. "I knew he could be... unpleasant at times, but I didn't know he was like that." She shuddered with a grimace.

"He called you 'Glo.'"

Her bottom lip curled like she'd tasted something sour. "Don't. Please, don't. He gives all the female staff nicknames whether they like it or not. I'd run into him enough times that he decided to give me one too. I just hate the way he says it." She shivered again, her skin crawling. "I only like it when Hop calls me that. And when the owner calls me 'Glori.'"

"Hop calls you 'Glo?'"

"Yeah, sometimes. Why?"

Bede looked away, his gaze wandering elsewhere. "I've never heard him call you that."

"Like I said, he only uses it sometimes. I like it. Makes me feel… I don't know. Precious, I guess." She smiled softly, remembering the way it sounded in Hop's voice, the way he'd grin at her, his hands interlocking behind his head.

"Well then, Glo," Bede said, offering his arm to Gloria. "Shall we begin our next match?"

Her heart caught. There was something about the way he said it, the way the nickname rolled off his tongue so easily and so softly, that made her freeze for a moment. A challenge sparkled in his eyes, a teasing quirk flashed in his smile. She took his arm as if it were the most natural thing in the world, and they stepped onto the court, arm-in-arm.

Gloria let out an undignified cheer, Gallade delivering the finishing blow in their final match, andtand opponents threw their hands up in defeat.

"We did it!" she cried, bouncing on her toes.

The rush of battle and the exhilaration of winning surged through her with a burst of jubilation, and she launched herself at Bede without thinking. Her arms thrown around his neck, Gloria embraced him tightly and nuzzled her head into his neck. A bright laugh trickled from her chest as she swayed in his arms.

"We really did it!" she sighed happily.

Bede's arms, wrapped around her back, pulled her against him with a firm squeeze. She suddenly realised what she was doing when his gentle laughter tickled her ear.

"Careful now, Glo. I'd rather not end today with you toppling us over."

She shot away from him in an instant, yanking herself out of his arms.

"S-Sorry!" she squeaked. "I was- just- uh, happy we won and I-"

She glanced around them to see customers chuckling and smiling at her antics. Even the owner was smiling, knowingly, at her from behind the counter. Everyone had seen it. There was too much air in her lungs, she felt giddy and dizzy and marched over to Gallade, mumbling something about checking him over.

Arceus, what was she doing? Hugging him like that in front of everyone?

She needed to calm down and collect herself before she did something stupid again. The adrenaline rush from the battle had yet to ease, her heart pounding away in her chest as though the match was still ongoing. She focused on Gallade, on tending to his light injuries and praising him, and soon enough she began to relax.

"Congratulations, Glori!" the owner said, smiling cheerfully at her and Bede. "The hamper is all yours."

"Yes!" Gloria couldn't contain her glee, pumping her fist into the air.

"I've never seen such fine battling in my cafe in all the years I've run it," the owner said. "Why, you might even be strong enough to beat the Champion!"

Gloria's smile fractured infinitesimally, and she laughed sheepishly to cover it up. Bede was staring at her incredulously. "Aw, come on. I'm nowhere near that level."

"If you ever change your mind, just know I'll be cheering you on!"

"Thanks."

"That reminds me," the owner continued, "if you two are still together next year, I'd love to have you back for both our Valentine's Day and White Day events!"

"Still together?" Bede repeated, his words hanging in the air a moment too long.

Gloria's cheeks began to burn.

"Oh, are you two not a couple?"

Bede cleared his throat. "No, we're not."

"Ah, my apologies then! You two were so perfectly in sync that I just assumed… Your act was so good you had me fooled!" he laughed, too loudly and too brightly. Gloria stared hard at the floor. "That works for me too! Let me know if you'd like to do it again - thanks to this year's turnout, we'll have even better prizes next time!"

"Th-Thanks." Gloria ducked her head and turned towards the staff room. "I-I'll go get changed then."

"Wait, Gloria."

She stilled and glanced over her shoulder at Bede, worrying her lips together at the pitter-patter of her heart.

"Will you wait for me outside?"

That was it. No explanation, no reason, nothing to elucidate the depth of his violet eyes.

"Okay," she said quietly, and fled to the staff room.

The pitter-patter of her heart became a crescendo of thunder in her ears. The strength in her legs went all of a sudden and she staggered over to the table, grabbing onto it for support.

Will you wait for me outside?

His words echoed in her ears and her stomach swirled. Had she done something wrong? Was this about the hug earlier? Or was this still about the chocolate, and he hadn't forgotten that she wanted it too?

His gaze had been serious. Focused and determined, and a thrum of apprehension bled through her veins. She couldn't think, her mind clouded with trepidation, and yanked off her shirt for the second time after putting it on inside-out and then back-to-front. She huffed at the offending shirt, making sure she wore it correctly this time. She needed to calm down. It was just Bede. It was probably nothing serious.

The skittering of unease in her chest said otherwise.

After getting change and collecting the hamper, Gloria sat outside on a bench in front of the cafe and waited for Bede. Each minute that passed made her heart beat harder and faster, nausea rising in her throat. She tried to distract herself with the contents of the hamper, her legs bouncing anxiously. Bede strode out of the cafe doors, bag slung over a shoulder, and walked over.

"Thanks for waiting," he said and Gloria forced a smile.

"No problem!" her words came out too tight, too high pitched. "Should we decide who gets what? I know I said I called dibs on the bath bombs but the chocolate…"

"I was kidding about the chocolate."

She blinked at him as he came over, standing in front of the hamper to study the contents.

"You what?"

He gave her a momentary smirk. "I wasn't serious about wanting it. Chocolate's all yours."

Gloria huffed. "Come on! I thought I was gonna have to fight you for it!"

The short, quiet breath of laughter he gave in response warmed her heart and she swallowed.

"A-Anyway, let's just open it. Do you want the basket? Because I can probably fit the stuff I want in my bag." She tore off the clear plastic covering, scrunching it up and tossing it in the bin beside her. "Ooh, there's some nice stuff in here! See anything you want?"

"This wine is good quality," he said, studying one of the bottles. "There are a few recipes I've been meaning to try that require white wine."

"Great, they're all yours then! I'm not old enough to drink anyway, and my Mum only likes red."

Gloria fished out the white, glittery bath bombs, sticking them in her bag along with the box of white chocolate. She picked up the scented candle.

"Ooh, white vanilla. I think I know how I'm gonna treat myself tonight. Bath bombs, chocolate, scented candle… who needs a date when I've got all this!" She laughed, stashing the candle.

"Were you after a date?"

Her heart skipped. "Oh, um, no, not really. Especially after today!" Her laughter became sheepish. "I was just, you know, thinking about all the couples that came in today. I don't need something like that when I can treat myself."

She stared at the hamper as her cheeks flushed darkly. She hadn't expected Bede to respond to her comment.

"Oh, there's white tea in here too! Ms Opal might like that!"

Gloria passed the packet to Bede, the tips of her fingers brushing his as he took it. That slight touch made her fingertips tingle.

"I don't believe she has this kind. Thanks." Bede placed it to the side with the wine.

They sorted through the rest of the items until the basket was empty and Bede refilled it with the stuff he'd chosen. Gloria hefted her bag experimentally, finding it much heavier than before.

"I'm glad I'm taking a Sky Taxi home," she laughed and stood. "I wouldn't get far with this." She glanced down the street, where she knew she'd find a waiting Sky Taxi in no time.

"Gloria."

She turned, her eyes drawn to the small white box in Bede's hand. His outstretched hand. Towards her. She flicked her eyes between his and the box.

"Is… is this…?"

"It's your White Day gift. In return for Valentine's Day."

Gloria wondered if it was the sunset behind her that was casting the warm glow on Bede's cheeks. She tentatively took the box off him, staring down at it in awe.

"Can I…?"

She was breathless.

Bede nodded. "Go ahead, open it. It's yours."

She fumbled with the gorgeous silk ribbon for a few seconds before managing to tug it free and popped the lid off with a gasp. A delicate silver bracelet set with tiny stars sat inside the box. She picked it up, her lungs filling with a flood of air as the stars twinkled in the light, dazzling and sparkling a bright pink.

"This…! It's…!" She didn't have the words. "Bede, it's gorgeous!" She turned the bracelet this way and that in her hand, captivated by the way it sparkled. Then it struck her. "Wait, how much did this cost? It- It looks expensive! I-I can't accept this!"

"You already did," Bede said, folding his arms.

"Please tell me it's not expensive! These aren't real diamonds or anything, right?" He said nothing. "Right?"

The corner of his lips lifted into the faintest smile. "My lips are sealed. Hopefully you realise it's not considered polite to ask how much a gift costs."

"But…!" She stared at the stunning bracelet, her heart torn.

"If you don't want it, there's a bin right there."

She gasped in horror. "No, I do want it! I just… I mean, it's so gorgeous… won't it look weird if someone like me wears it?"

"You're thinking too much about it. It's a bracelet, Gloria, not a crown."

A giddy smile twitched on her lips. "I-I'm gonna wear it now!" She put the box aside and unclasped the bracelet, sitting it against her wrist before struggling to get the two ends to meet with one hand.

"Here, allow me."

Bede stepped close, taking her wrist gently in his hand. He quickly clasped the bracelet around her wrist, the touch of his fingers, his hands, filling her with warmth.

"Thanks," she said quietly. Her gaze fixed on the bracelet. She turned her wrist, smiling at the twinkling light. "It's beautiful."

Somehow, her gaze drifted up to meet his, her heart swelling and filling with something she couldn't name. He hadn't yet stepped away, the air around them strangely light and warm. An urge, a sudden desire that tugged on her heart, that tugged her towards him, came out of nowhere and she acted on impulse. Gloria rose up on her toes, catching the way Bede's eyes widened, so close to hers, and kissed his cheek.

"Thank you, Bede," she whispered by his ear. Her hands lingered on his shoulders, having settled there for balance, and she drew back with a dainty step. "I'll… see you later!"

Gloria swiped her bag, and the jewelry box, off the bench, unable to meet Bede's eyes. She gave him a stiff, parting wave and hurried around him down the street. Her heart thundered in her ears.

She didn't see the way Bede had stared at her in that moment, when she'd let her words grace his ear, when she'd lingered close for what couldn't have been more than a second. She didn't see the blazing heat on his cheeks. She didn't see his mouth drop open in a gasp or the way he'd reached for her when she stepped back. She didn't see the way his gaze followed her all the way down the street until she vanished around a corner.

She didn't see the faint smile on his lips or the adoration in his eyes. She didn't see the obvious, the damnably, achingly obvious love for her on his face.

#bederia #bede #gloria #btyu #dressedinpinkshipping

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the-hotter-otter · 4 years ago

Text

Strangers || ATEEZ Fanfic

Seonghwa X OC

Mafia/Crime AU

3.7k words

Part 3 || chapter list || previous chapter || next chapter

Hyejin can’t fully commit to Seonghwa’s tempting offer, meanwhile Hongjoong continues to keep secretes.

Warning: blood, minor death, injury, violence, knife use

Angst, fluff, smut, cussing, violence, death

note: ayo shit will start moving soon I promiseee, I seriously don’t know where this story is gonna go but fuck it we’ll see.

No pov

Hongjoong wasn’t at all surprised when Seonghwa came into his office late at night. He could tell there was a lie in between the lines Seonghwa spoke when he confronted the two last week. Being best friends for years with a bit of blood, death and guns on the side really did bring people together.

“What’s her name?” Hongjoong asked, he couldn’t stay mad at Seonghwa. Hongjoong knew punishment wasn’t necessary on the eldest who was already racking his brain on it, as a leader he could tell when further discipline was needed and when it was best to leave it to their own self conscience. “If she’s staying here, I should at least know.”

“Lee Hyejin,” Seonghwa said, cursing the weird feeling of familiarity he felt after saying her name.

“Lee hyejin?” Hongjoong quirked an eyebrow, he’s definitely heard of the name from somewhere, he just couldn’t pinpoint where. “Sounds familiar.”

Seonghwa merely nodded, somewhat glad that Hongjoong didn’t directly question him. “I’ll take responsibility for her.”

Hongjoong liked the sound of that, though it didn't change the fact that he was overlooking one more person. “That means a lot of things hwa, keeping her in line, taking care of her, watching her and protecting her if shit goes down.”

“She isn’t 5.” Seonghwa sighed, “I’m not spoon feeding her.”

“But she knows.” Hongjoong reminded him, “and she knows she has you wrapped around her finger, people take advantage of that.”

“I can always shoot her.” Seonghwa said as if it were so simple.

Hongjoong looked him up and down, silently judging the older one. Hongjoong sighed, he wasn’t exactly up for this kind of conversation at 2:30am, “Dramatic much... Aish don't waste the bullets, the suppliers have been shitty to us lately.”

“What I’m saying is you won't have to worry,” Seonghwa said, “you’ll barely notice her.”

Hongjoong looked Seonghwa up and down, “you want her to stay that badly?”

Seonghwa was taken back by the other’s awkward perspective, “yes? There really isn’t any ulterior motive.”

Hongjoong gave a dawdled nod as he chuckled, “I’m playing with you hwa. Bring her in, I’ll let the others know of our latest addition.”

Seonghwa was about to step out of the office when Hongjoong suddenly spoke up again, “don’t forget about that task I gave you.”

Seonghwa gave a sharp nod, “I'll see to it by the end of the day.”

“Dont fuck up!” Hongjoong noted loud enough for the other to hear, he could imagine the rise he got from it. Deep down he was just joking, after all, Seonghwa never fucks up.

Hongjoong enjoyed the tease he gave his best friend, more often than not, the former was in tight situations with serious consequences, loosening up was often the last thing he’d find himself doing.

His smile was short lived when he suddenly felt the vibrations of his phone, and it wasn’t from the bold red one that was sprawled on the desk with the many papers. His face dropped drastically upon realizing that someone was calling the phone hidden deep in his pockets. There was only one person who’d be ringing.

Mazaki Meiyo.

“Yes?” Hongjoong cautiously spoke up, his eyes darting around the office. He got up and opened the door to check if anyone was giving his conversation a listen.

“They moved the deal.”

Hongjoong pinched the bridge of his nose, “when?”

“In an hour. You know just as well as me that this isn’t going to end smoothly.”

“Your deals rarely end well.” Hongjoong scoffed bitterly, he pulled the phone away from his ear when the other line went dead. He had to go now if he were to make it in time, he couldn’t afford to be late, not for these kinds of deals.

Hongjoong pushed off his seat and swiftly buckled his hidden artillery onto his thigh and around his torso, making sure that his best weaponry was in close reach, ready for whatever conflict he was about to get into. Pulling the hood over his masked face, he checked the location Meiyo had sent him.

The leader eyed the pile of paperwork that was due in a matter of days, he dreaded the inevitable all-nighters we’ll have to pull because of it.

As Hongjoong left the household in silence, he turned his main phone off completely and stowed it in a hidden compartment. No one was going to find him tonight.

Hyejin pov

I stared at the phone screen in dismay, the loan shark has been after my ass for the debt I’ve yet to pay. I've been trying, but even after much struggle I only possess half of what I owe.

I hated to take that offer from Seonghwa, the money from that deal would have covered my debt and rent from my residence long enough for me to make something out of a scrubby part time job, he just had to ruin me once more.

Then again, what other choice do I have? I leaned back on the wall of the alleyway, I don’t know anyone in this world. I was forgotten years ago, Seonghwa is the last person I’d go with, but he’s also the only one.

My eyes drifted to the tall buildings around, they blocked the sunlight from ever entering these shabby alleys with large bins and locked deserted gates and doors. I met with the gazes that had been watching me for a while now, in a building a few blocks away yet still in perfect view, two middle aged men who most likely reeked of cigarettes and alcohol admired me from their apartment which could easily come off as an abandoned building left to collect dust and grime.

I squinted my eyes as I felt my vision start to give into fatigue, unrealistic hues of blue and neons started bouncing around. Every now and then, the migraine in my head would dust my eyes with a cloud of grey that blurred my sight ever so slightly. I sighed as I began seeing four instead of two weird men. I tried to refrain from focusing on anything, the lack of good sleep and food had me feeling all sorts of murky effects.

Their stalkerish behaviour had been creeping me out for the past few days, despite it, I never saw a proper reason to leave the little spot I've claimed for rest. Plus, the odd duo hadn’t made any advances that had worried me thus far.

The day continued, and the city had been busy as usual. Bikes raced down the side of the roads and paths, scaring the uptight mothers into a slur of curses. Teenage girls carelessly skipped around in their tiny croptops, powdery make up and flaunty shoes with boys their parents have no idea existed. Cars drove with their temperamental owners honking and anything and everything, then there were the workers who were either strolling around after their shifts or sprinting in swerves around people in effort to not be late.

Yet here I was sitting in a slump not so far from the hoards of people, absorbing the natural noises of the city that started to sound more like blaring megaphones instead of white noise. 9pm had crept faster than I expected, truthfully I wasn’t sure whether or not to go through with Seonghwa’s offer. I still had a chance to reconsider, perhaps I could deal with the information for money? After all, a controversial topic surrounding Seonghwa would no doubt bring in a big sum.

I shook my head from the ludicrous thoughts, there was no guarantee in shady business, ever. It's a far-fetched plan, and the fact that I didn't have a name to my face meant I was that less convincing.

Though I knew this offer would mean gambling my safety and if I were to stretch the possibilities, my own life. I still wasn’t 100% on board with the whole moving in with Seonghwa and whatever team he’s apart off, neither could I fathom the thought of that sinful man working with people, and that’s without mentioning his sudden change in attitude towards his victims.

It was yet another reason why I’m so reluctant to associate with him, because this isn’t the Seonghwa I was familiar with, he was a stranger, and no one is at ease when they’re affiliated with someone they don't know, especially when that person had guns, knives and all sorts of deadly possessions in their grasp.

I groaned as I got up with a hazy mind. I looked up and to my suprise the stretchy men were back to watch me, it started to feel uncomfortable now. “Nice knowing you too I guess…” I keep my voice to a murmur. Soon I found myself heading to the meeting spot.

My heart feels enraged with regret, and it’s impossible to ignore. There was a mere few minutes till the clock struck 9, I can get out of here now or never.

The Central Train Station was quite grand. With multiple steps just to get to the entrance, neatly trimmed gardens surrounding the place and ancient pillars that held up the building. It was one of the older buildings that turned into a modern utility.

“Fuck...” I muttered under my breath, “no, fuck this.”

Before I could think I was already speed walking to get the hell out of here. I had pride, I could at least preserve that after losing everything else.

No pov

Blood coated the blade and splattered across the floor and walls of the office, the books on the shelf were drenched and soaking up every bit of red fluid. If only the man had just followed through with the deal, he wouldn’t have ended up dead.

“What a hassle.” Seonghwa sighed, as he wiped his blade clean on his way out, though it was satisfying seeing the horrors painted on his face as Seonghwa taunted him, revenge for the knife he flung at Hongjoong during their last deal not long ago.

Seonghwa analysed the slash along his shoulder area, it wasn’t serious at all but it sure did look ugly and soaked his dress shirt in a dark red, in the midst of the tension it felt numb but as his heart rate came down he could slowly feel the stinging pain emitting from the open flesh. He let out a relieved sigh after knowing that none of his own blood had ended up dripping anywhere.

If it weren’t for the man’s sleeping family in the other room, Seonghwa could have easily finished it off with a bullet but he had to move silently. In turn, it cost him when the man felt fit to fight back with his own blade.

Seonghwa felt Hyejin was partly accountable for his injury. 20 minutes was a bit of a rush for a mission like this, but he had no choice if he was going to make it to the station in time. There was a chance that Hyejin wouldn’t even show up, and that chance made seonghwa unsteady and tense.

As he pulled up to a red light he felt a distant memory unfold, one that brought a sense of discomfort.

Laughter bubbled up in the front of the car, toothy smiles that twinkled despite the gloomy rain outside. The lull of the music had been turned down for a while now as the soft chatter continued.

“Hyejin, I told you I don’t need anything for my birthday.” Seonghwa insisted once more with a light chuckle, his one hand on the wheel while the other tried to hold her hand back. He watched in helplessness as she clipped the dangling toothless charm around the rear mirror of the car, her little laugh escaping her lips as it dangled between them.

“It’s cute! I’m telling you, you look just like him.” Hyejin insisted, “and that’s not even the best part.”

Seonghwa couldn't help but smile when the toothless unclipped in half to reveal a small photo framed inside, the details were minuscule but clearly contained the two of them on one of their more memorable dates.

“Ya, this looks expensive, how much did you spend on me.” Seonghwa diverted the conversation as he observed the matte black of the green eyed dragon.

“It wasn’t much, don't worry hwa.” Hyejin patted his hand, “I’ve got something else, it's more personal since I made it myself.”

“So you have something else now?” Seonghwa sighed, though his stupid grin betrayed the annoyed look he tried to show.

The red light cascaded from red to orange to green and before hyejin could whip out the other half of her gift seonghwa sped off, “fine! I’ll accept your gifts, love.”

Seonghwa sneered at the Toothless charm he had yet to take off, if anything it became part of his car’s identity, making it slightly easier to navigate the garage of small black cars, specially on the days when all the vehicles would be together.

Seonghwa had pulled to a slow stop in front of the station, hiding the charm was his first and foremost priority, Hyejin would most definitely recognize it.

As he was about to yank the chain off, the corner of his eyes caught a sudden shadow appearing at the window.

Completely forgetting about the charm, Seonghwa halted in his seat, his hand already clasped around the gun latched onto him. It wasn’t until a hesitant Hyejin peered through the window did he relax his grip. On the other hand, Hyejin was feeling anything but relaxed, especially after seeing the bloodbath of a man in the driver's seat.

“So you’ll take my offer?” Seonghwa asked as if it wasn't already obvious enough, Hyejin scoffed. Her response was seen through the way she snuggled down into the passenger seat in a strained sigh of relief after being situated on the hard concrete for days on days.

Throughout the ride Hyejin had kept a careful observation of the roads they had been speeding across, if worse came to worse, she could make a run for it.

Hyejin silently and subtly glanced around, the car itself hadn’t changed at all, not even the peppermint scent it gave off from the gum Seonghwa had been loyal to for most of his life, though it was currently heavily overpowered by the stench of blood. Hyejin didn’t want to know how and what got him that gruesome injury.

However, the most prominent and unusual feature that had still existed in the car was the all too familiar charm that dangled and swung around underneath the rearview mirror. The dragon's bright green eyes and toothy smile didn't go unnoticed, especially since Hyejin was the one who got it for him years ago.

Hyejin had the decency to stay silent about it, the stiffness of the air was already far too overbearing, there was no need to intensify it’s sour atmosphere.

“It’s not just me who lives here.” Seonghwa brings up,

“I figured.” Hyejin sighed, she had heard the many rumours over the years of how a certain group had been overturning the criminal world with unrivaled skill and accomplishments, they became big in the industry. This group of young, skilled men made a name for themselves and it became one feared by many, ATEEZ.

Though it wasn’t just their skill that had made them the talk of many circles, it was the people within the group, the majority of which already had a reputation high on their shoulders. Hyejin had heard of the promising sniper who had joined their ranks, the insanely witty dealer who knew how to smooth talk his way to riches, the stealthy man who snuck into and claimed dangerous possessions without a single sound.

Then there was the hitman who possessed the skill of 100 men, he was a young and promising lone wolf who had been rumoured to have joined ATEEZ.

Hyejin didn’t want to believe it was Seonghwa, in fact she didn't want to hear about anything related to Seonghwa, but it wasn’t possible when she was involved with loan sharks and illegal exchanges for the money she was in dire need for. Of course, because of her interactions with others, Hyejin was aware of Seonghwa’s growing skill and relevant changes, it disgusted her to say the least, how much better he had gotten at taking lives.

However the failed deal from last week confirmed her denial to be wrong, Seonghwa was well and truly closely associated with a group, and that group was no doubt ATEEZ.

“Dont try anything stupid.” Seonghwa warned, Hyejin rolled her eyes slightly, “I’m serious, I see the way you're memorizing these roads.”

Hyejin froze momentarily, she eyed Seonghwa who had removed his eyes from the road after stopping at a red light. Hyejin had forgotten how sharp he actually was, the intellectual from highschool still existed within him.

Hyejin got the chance to really see how much Seonghwa had changed, even underneath all of that stained blood and light smears of dirt, she could easily tell that his facial features had sharpened immensely, he wasn’t the same soft faced charmer that made highschool hearts throbs on a daily. If anything, Seonghwa now resembled a high class heartbreaker with a body count worthy enough for a world record.

Of course some things don't ever change, like his lush lip and stunning eyes that stared back at her. Before the awkwardness could settle, Hyejin looked away, subconsciously glancing at the toothless charm. Seonghwa noticed the glare she gave it, his hands went to take it off but was ultimately stopped by the swat Hyejin gave.

“What’s the point of taking it off now? You had years to do that.” Hyejin raised an eyebrow.

Seonghwa did not respond and merely sighed as he began moving on the road once again. Hyejin was taken back when they suddenly verged off into a bush area, what was a simple scenery of grass turned into a splatter of greenery. Trees towered high, vines and dense bushes had taken over, it was an untouched forest and they were driving right through it.

Hyejins eyes squinted in growing concern, she wanted to believe they were just passing through to get to another town, but her panic only continued to rise as they got deeper into the maze of nature. Her eyes glare at Seonghwa who seemed to have already expected her to build up doubts.

“Jump out and you’ll be as good as dead.” Seonghwa warned, as he quickly glanced at her stray hand reluctantly reaching for the handle.

“Where are we going Seonghwa….” Hyejin glowered at the driver who was rather unfazed. Even when the subtle sound of a knife being drawn was heard, Seonghwa didn't look away from the road.

The driver pushed his head back against the seat as soon as he caught sight of the fast approaching knife. With the blade a finger's length away, Seonghwa sighed, “I’m not gonna hurt. We’re going to the house, so put the knife down and have a little faith.”

“Who the hell lives in a goddam forest?!” Hyejin hissed in a raised voice, her eyes teared up from staring so intensely into his side profile.

“Put the knife down or we’ll both die.” Seonghwa lowered his voice, and Hyejin did not comply. The male halted the car to connect his eyes to hers, in one swift and unnoticeable movement, he grasped her wrist tightly, causing the knife to be let loose and drop to the pit of the car. Hyejin suddenly let a sharp exhale out as Seonghwa pinned her hand down in between them. She cursed her hazy headaches for causing the drastic disadvantage against Seonghwa.

“Stop panicking, we’re almost there.” Seonghwa said as he began driving once again, Hyejin didn’t attempt to squirm out of his hold.

“Your a fucking joke,” Hyejin hissed, “I’ll never put faith in you, not after all the shit you’ve done to me.”

Soenghwa pinched his lips together at the indirect upbringing of her family’s murder. He wasn’t about to smooth that mess out now, it’ll require a calmer Hyejin and a better situation to explain.

Hyejin tried to compose herself, but she knew the only way to soothe her panic was to see proof of what Seonghwa was saying.

As they pulled into the driveway of Horizon, Hyejin's tense shoulders melted into the seat. Seonghwa scoffed as he got out of the car first. The jerking of his head signalled for her to get out, hyejin sneered at the man, “give me a damn second will you?”

Seonghwa rolled his eyes before heading inside momentarily, most likely to check if anyone was still up in the early stages of the night. Hyejin took the time alone to get a good grasp at what she had just gotten herself into.

A house, full of dangerous men, in the middle of a forest and a single long ass road back to civilization.

This wasn’t ideal at all, and Hyejin started to regret this more than ever.

As she took in short breaths her eyes trailed back to the rear mirror charm. All of a sudden, curiosity had her fiddling with the Toothless till it unlatched. She furrowed her eyebrows at the sight of the blank frame. It wasn’t that she was disappointed, it was merely confusion.

“But you keep the charm…” Hyejin glared at the Toothless that was once a gift of love. In the back of her mind she wondered if her other gift was still intact.

Hyejin could worry about that later. Right now, she needed to stay sane and alive, she knew well enough that she would never be guaranteed a way out of death's grasps. Relish in the house and slowly pay off her existing debt? Yes. Get comfortable and trust that your back will be safe in a distant place full of criminals? Hell no.

#ateez #ateez ff #ateez fanfic #alternate universe #crimefiction #kpopidol #kpop #ateez seonghwa #ateez hongjoong #park seonghwa #kim hongjoong #choi san #Seonghwa #seonghwa ateez

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