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cinnaminsvga · 4 years

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🌷 social media au where y/n posts an advertisement looking for a new place to stay that is closer to campus, causing seven upperclassmen to make it their mission to recruit her into their dormitories 🌷

A/N: THIS TOOK FOREVER AND I KINDA RUSHED IT AT THE END BUT HOPEFULLY IT MAKES SENSE?? anyway, yoongi didn’t do anything stupid (depending on your definition of stupid) so no need to worry about him being cringey,,, i spared you all from the secondhand embarrassment but i won’t be so kind next time!! anyway... enjoy || W.C. 3.8K

prev // part 11 // next masterlist here.

By the time Seokjin’s phone begins to ring, Yoongi can already feel the dread settle deep inside his bones. The familiar coil of anxiety tightens around his throat like a vice, and Yoongi has to remember how to breathe to keep himself from fainting like a corseted Victorian lady.

“Well, that must be her!” Seokjin chimes, promptly declining your call without a glance. Yoongi catches a glimpse of your contact photo anyway: it’s an unflattering angle of you from below your neck, giving the illusion of a multitude of chins. If it were any other time, Yoongi might have smiled like a lovesick fool.

“Don’t you dare let her in here,” Yoongi seethes. He tries to sound menacing, but the effect is severely diminished by how badly his voice cracks. He tugs at Seokjin by the sleeve, but the older man refuses to budge. “Hyung, I’m serious. I know what you’re trying to do.”

“Are you done live-tweeting your confusion now? Finally got the memo? I always knew you were a smart boy,” Seokjin laughs, patting Yoongi on the shoulder with his tomato sauce-covered tongs. “Since we’re on the same page now, why don’t you change clothes while I finish cooking? I know your entire wardrobe is composed of the free t-shirts you got from job fairs, but it would do well to wear a clean, unstained shirt.”

Yoongi swipes at him, hissing like the catboy that he is. “You’re the one who wiped shit on me, asshole. And yes, I figured out what you are trying to do. You think you’re so slick, but I know that you’re just trying to embarrass me in front of Y/N!”

Seokjin shrugs. “It isn’t like I’m trying to be slick. I embarrass you all the time. Besides, I’m setting you up on a date with the love of your life! You should be thanking me, if I’m being honest.”

Yoongi stammers, his jaw dropping in shock. “Love of my–?”

Seokjin waves his tongs in his face, silencing him. “Oh, hush. Don’t even try to hide it, Yoongi. I figured out that you like Y/N. Your weird behavior finally makes sense! After years of you avoiding her, I always thought you were just bad at forming human connections, but turns out you’ve got a gigantic heart boner for my best friend!”

“Please don’t phrase it like that,” Yoongi groans, smashing his head against his kitchen counter. He hopes a few brain cells might have died, just so he can stop processing the words coming out of Seokjin’s mouth. “Actually, just please stop talking.”

Seokjin snorts in exasperation as if Yoongi was the dramatic one between them. “Point is, this is a favor that I’ve chosen to grant you from the goodness of my heart! As I said, I’m giving you the love life you deserve! So stop whining and get moving before Y/N gets up here.”

“There isn’t any goodness nor a heart inside of you. And more importantly, when was the last time you did anything for free, you capitalist bastard!”

Seokjin clicks his tongue, shaking his head. “That’s where you’re wrong, Yoongi-chi. You’ve already paid me for my services by offering me front row seats to watch you lose your fucking mind. And that, my friend, is priceless.”

“Aha! So you do admit that this is all just a ploy to humiliate me!” Yoongi shouts. He grabs a knife from his scabbard, pointing it threateningly at Seokjin. He doesn’t even flinch, instead gently guiding Yoongi by the wrist over to the chopping board where he had placed some garlic cloves beforehand. Without prompting, Yoongi’s hand begins to move, his culinary instincts taking over.

“Yes and no,” Seokjin admits as he grabs Yoongi’s cast iron pan from the top shelf (which he has never gotten to use since he bought it, ever since Seokjin had borrowed it once and placed it too high for him to retrieve.) “I’m honestly trying to help you out here, my dude. Besides, even if shit hits the fan, Y/N isn’t gonna think any less of you. She’s too much of an idiot to resent anyone.”

“Speaking from experience?” Yoongi huffs, eyeing him with intense vitriol. “Can’t say I understand how she’s gone this long without killing you.” The next time the two of them are alone together in the wilderness, he can’t promise that his hands won’t find their way around Seokjin’s throat, and it won’t be sexy.

“Hmm. Yeah, definitely,” he says, nodding absentmindedly. As he begins to season the steak, he hands the cast iron pan to Yoongi. “Start preheating this. We need it to be smoking hot before we can place the steak on there.”

“I know how to cook a steak, fucker. And who said you’re allowed to serve my Wagyu steak? I was saving that for a special occasion!”

Seokjin looks up from his ministrations long enough to raise a brow at him. “So going on your first ever date with Y/N isn’t considered a special occasion?”

Yoongi falters, eyes widening. “N-no, that’s not what I mean!” he defends hotly, but he quickly snaps out of it. “Wait, no! This is not a date! Not when both parties did not agree to any of this!”

Seokjin pauses from his cooking to place a perfectly manicured hand on his hip. “I mean, Y/N agreed to it, so are you going to reject her? Huh? Too good for her and my spaghetti?”

Yoongi scoffs, rolling his eyes. “No, she did not agree to this. She doesn’t even know you’re forcing her to eat lunch with me.”

“How can you say that with such certainty?” Seokjin challenges, puffing his cheeks. “You don’t even know what I told her!”

Except I do know what you said, Yoongi thinks darkly to himself. And more importantly, I know what she thinks you were implying. He is pretty sure that the words “crush on him during high school” have seared themselves underneath his eyelids forevermore.

But instead, he says, “Yeah, well. If what you told her is as vague as what you told me, I have a pretty good hunch that this is going to blow up into a huge misunderstanding.”

Like the absolute menace that he is, all Seokjin does is shrug nonchalantly. “Suppose you are right… Who cares? It’s not like the two of you are strangers, so I’m sure this is going to go great!”

“What the fuck? She is a stranger! I’ve literally only spoken two words to her in the past four years!” Yoongi seethes, his temple throbbing from an oncoming migraine.

Seokjin ignores him, as per his want. “Grab that plate, will you? I gotta plate the pasta before Y/N starts calling again to let her into the building,” he says, nudging the tongs into Yoongi’s hands. Yoongi squawks, quickly turning the stove off to keep the food from burning.

Seokjin tears off his (read: Yoongi’s) apron off, wiping his hands on his jeans with a quick smile. “Great! While you finish up here, I’ll distract Y/N for a bit in my room before I lead her in here, alright? You better hurry unless you want to keep her waiting!”

“Oh, like how you kept her waiting downstairs for the past–” Yoongi checks his wall clock, “–seven minutes?”

Seokjin cackles madly, rushing out the door. “Well, that’s where you and I differ, Yoongi-chi! I give no shits about how Y/N thinks about me, so good luck!” After sending Yoongi three flying kisses for good measure, Seokjin slams the door shut, leaving Yoongi to simmer in his bad life choices.

The worst choice that he’s ever made? Being friends with one (1) Kim Seokjin.

“God, just end me,” Yoongi mutters, placing his $80 steak on his pan. It sizzles deliciously, much like how his (nonexistent) love life is about to get burnt to a crisp.

x x x x x

“Took you long enough.” You watch as Seokjin taunts you with a funny little dance by the lobby of his dormitory, the building receptionist not even batting an eye at his eccentricity. That’s the sad side effect of living in close proximity with Seokjin: you start getting desensitized to most things, not even flinching at the sight of a man without a functioning central nervous system.

Seokjin slides his card to open the door, finally allowing you entry. “Sorry. Got busy preparing your lunch! Which by the way, you should be thanking me for.”

“The moment I thank you for anything is the day that you slip on your own cum and die,” you grouse, nudging past him to get on the elevator first. You punch the button for the 5th floor before rapidly trying to close the elevator door on him. Unfortunately, Seokjin makes it in time before his ass gets clamped by the two steel doors.

“Thinking about my cum? Oh my, Y/N… I know you’ve had a dry spell for too long, but I didn’t think you’d be that desperate for some of my butter,” Seokjin says, leaning closely to wink at you.

Against your will, your cheeks brighten furiously, weakly pushing Seokjin away from you. “You wish. At least I don’t spend my spare time loitering outside the campus gym to ogle all the sweaty hot people.”

“And the invitation to join me still stands by the way!” Seokjin singsongs, leaping out of the elevator once you reach his floor. You walk side by side until you reach his room, but you catch him shooting a furtive glance at his next-door neighbor.

“Is Yoongi joining us for lunch?” you ask, failing to keep your curiosity from showing in your voice. If Yoongi does end up joining you for lunch (which has never happened in the past four years, convincing you that he must have a personal grudge against you), then at least it can confirm to you straight away that whatever this “date” is just another prank by Seokjin. You don’t know if you should be disappointed or grateful if it is just a joke.

Seokjin beams in response, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “You know what? He is going to join us, actually!”

He had been in the midst of unlocking his dorm when he changes direction, leading you to Yoongi’s door instead. He rifles through his other keys, and you notice one of them looks similar to his own house key, except with a Hello Kitty sticker on it. He pulls that key out and promptly unlocks Yoongi’s door without missing a beat.

What kind of weirdo must Yoongi be to give Seokjin a spare key to his dorm? You’d rather shit out a cactus than let Seokjin have free entry to your home whenever he pleases.

You hesitate by Yoongi’s door, feeling nervous all of a sudden. “Um, Seokjin? Are you sure it’s okay for me to–?”

“HONEY I’M HOOOOME!” Seokjin’s loud guffaw cuts you off before you can finish your question. He bursts through the door and leaves you by the hallway, and you watch as he nearly tackles Yoongi to the ground.

Yoongi, despite looking like he’s half the size of Seokjin on a good day, manages to keep upright despite how his back is now bent parallel to the floor. “Get off me!” he yells, roughly pushing Seokjin off of him.

Seokjin tumbles to the floor, but the shit-eating grin on his face hardly wavers. He points at you by the doorway, a cheeky grin on his lips. “Look, Yoongi-chi! I brought a guest!”

Yoongi spares you half a glance before returning his attention to whatever he was cooking. “I suppose you did.”

Okay, this date is definitely a joke. Why the hell did you even think for a second that Seokjin might have been into you?

“Um,” you stutter nervously. You grind your heel into the carpet self-consciously, your gaze downcast. “Hello, Yoongi. Sorry for the intrusion, by the way…”

“It’s fine,” Yoongi replies, albeit a little curtly. He clears his throat, his face still tilted away from you so you can’t tell if he’s genuinely annoyed or not.

You point a glare at Seokjin, who looks shamelessly pleased with himself. After taking a deep breath, you take your first steps into Yoongi’s home before gently closing the door.

As you look around at your new surroundings, you notice that his home is a lot cleaner than you would have expected, though you’re not exactly sure what you should have expected in the first place. It’s minimalist, but not in a barren type of way; it’s seems like Yoongi is fond of simple designs more than anything. It’s certainly a nice change of pace compared to Seokjin’s abomination of a room, with his vaguely yellow-stained bedsheets.

The smell of freshly cooked pasta and meat being grilled catches your senses immediately. You watch as Yoongi flips over a hefty piece of steak, the aroma causing your mouth to salivate instantly.

“I… What is… Huh?” you start, not knowing what to ask. You catch Seokjin snickering quietly to himself, but promptly shuts up when you mime punching him in the dick.

“It’ll be finished in a second. Why don’t you sit down?” Yoongi announces quietly, his gaze still fixed away from you. Confused but left with no other choice, you tentatively make your way to his couch, unable to relax as your spine remains ramrod straight and your jaw stays clenched.

You hear Seokjin shuffling behind you until he eventually makes his way to sit with you, plopping onto the couch as if it were his home. “Ah… I’m soooo hungry. Smells good, doesn’t it?” he asks you, his brow wiggling too much to be considered normal. Either that, or he was having a stroke.

“Yeah, it does,” you say, greatly uncomfortable. You peek at Yoongi once more, who is still dutifully attending to the steak. Making sure he isn’t looking, you twist Seokjin by the nipple, causing the elder to let out a high-pitched squeal. To an outsider, it might have almost sounded like he was being pleasured.

“Ouch! What the fuck was that for?” Seokjin whines, rubbing his tenderized nipples.

“You know what that was for,” you hiss, keeping your volume low. “What the hell are we doing here? Why are you making Yoongi cook for us?!”

“For us? It’s for you!” Seokjin snaps back. “Didn’t you say you would only come over if you got fed? Well, this is how you get fed!”

“I was under the assumption that you would be feeding me, not him!” you seethe. You check back on Yoongi, who still hasn’t looked your way once. “The poor boy… No wonder he doesn’t like me! He must think I’m as bad as you!”

Seokjin snorts. “Of course he likes you! This whole lunch date wouldn’t have even fucking happened if he wasn’t assdeep in lo–”

“Lunch is finished,” Yoongi interrupts loudly, his spatula rattling loudly against his pan. The sudden noise makes you jump away from Seokjin, who appears vaguely triumphant.

“T-thanks,” you stutter, standing up and resisting the random urge to shake his hand. Everything about this situation is so tense and awkward that it feels like you’re being filmed for a prank Youtube video or something. Knowing Seokjin, the odds of that happening are great.

“That’s my cue to leave then! Bye! You guys have fun!” Seokjin says, jumping to his feet.

You vaguely hear Yoongi gasp quietly when you launch yourself at Seokjin, just narrowly keeping from escaping. “Oh no, you don’t! Who said you could leave? You’re not going anywhere!”

But like the slippery snake that he is, Seokjin manages to wriggle out of your arms and hop over Yoongi’s coffee table to get to the door. “Too bad! I have classes to get to, so I gotta blast! Use this time to get to know each other or whatever it is that kids do these days,” he says, winking salaciously. With one final sputter of (evil) laughter, Seokjin makes his exit, leaving you and Yoongi to fester in some good ol’ fashioned discomforting silence.

“Um,” you say, just as Yoongi opens his mouth to say something too.

“No, you go first–”

“You go ahead–”

The two of you pause mid-sentence, staring at each other. You grin sheepishly at him, motioning for him to speak first.

He returns your smile half-heartedly. “So, um… I just wanted to say I’m sorry for letting Seokjin rope you into this. I tried stopping him, but… You know how he is.”

You laugh, sounding a little crazed even to your own ears. That’s the longest sentence you’ve ever heard him speak!

“Yeah, believe me… I am intimately aware of how he is. Sometimes I wish I wasn’t,” you joke.

Amazingly, your little quip makes his smile widen, his cheeks puffing up imperceptibly. “Glad we can agree that Seokjin has the amazing ability to ruin people’s lives. It’s almost welcoming to find solidarity in a shared experience.”

“Shared experience? Try shared trauma. That dude is a walking serotonin sucker,” you say dryly.

You don’t think what you said was remotely funny enough to warrant a laugh, but it causes Yoongi to let out a loud snort regardless. But the amusement on his face is short-lived, his cheeks going red in embarrassment. He slaps a hand to his mouth, breaking eye contact once more. “Oh fuck, that was so unflattering,” he groans, clearly mortified.

His blush, multiplied by his shy demeanor, makes you want to coo at him, but you doubt he’d take that too kindly. So instead, you change the subject to save him. “So, uhh… The food? You don’t have to give me any, by the way. I wouldn’t want you to waste your lunch on me or anything.”

Yoongi snaps out of his previous embarrassment, returning to the more familiar stoic expression you’ve come to associate with Yoongi. “No, that’s fine. Seokjin–er, rather… I made enough for two people, so it would be a waste if you didn’t eat at least some of it. But I don’t care either way if you want it or not.”

For two people? you wonder. So Yoongi had known Seokjin wasn’t going to join for lunch?

“Oh, if it’s fine with you…” you trail off, meekly making your way towards him. The spaghetti and steak look absolutely delicious, though you don’t need to tell him that when your stomach speaks for you. “Oh shit, that’s so embarrassing,” you say, your cheeks heating up this time.

Yoongi chuckles, shaking his head. “Haven’t eaten breakfast yet, I assume? That’s pretty stupid if you ask me. Don’t you have class until 5? How the hell would you have survived until then?”

You choke in surprise. Where did all that sass suddenly come from? “Excuse me? I’m not stupid! I would’ve been fine with a sandwich from the cafeteria if you must know!” you say indignantly. You’re too busy being offended that you don’t fully comprehend his words, failing to notice how he had known you had class until 5 in the first place.

“Sure, whatever you say.” Rolling his eyes, Yoongi starts shifting through his cupboards and pulling out a pink tupperware. He begins to load them with food, nearly overflowing the containers with how much he tries to stuff in them.

“H-hey! What are you doing?”

“Packing your lunch. You have class in a bit, yeah? It’s almost 11:50 and it takes around 15 minutes to get to the main campus. You won’t have time to eat here and make it in time,” he says, pointing you with a look. “Wait. Did you have coffee this morning?”

“Yeah? So?” you ask, defensive. “Are you gonna call me stupid again for not having caffeine or something?”

“No,” he grunts. “If you’re caffeinated, then that means it should only take you 7 minutes to get to class.”

“That doesn’t even make sense!” you exclaim, but you can’t help letting out an incredulous laugh. “Wow. You’re kinda weird, did you know that?”

“You barely even know me, so how would you know?” he retorts. He finishes placing food into the tupperware and promptly clicks the lid in place. He offers it to you, smirking slightly.

You huff, but your ire is all for show. You aren’t actually annoyed by him–he’s just… different from what you expected. A little shy, a little rough around the edges… but you can tell he isn’t a bad guy. You understand why Seokjin loves to torment him; he seems like a fun person to tease.

“That can be amended,” you respond, taking the tupperware from him. Your fingers graze the backs of his hand by accident, causing him to quickly retract his hand as though he’d been burned. You nearly drop the container in surprise, but luckily your reflexes save your precious food just in time.

“Sorry. About… you know.” Yoongi gesticulates wildly, his gaze darting anywhere but at you.

You smile secretly to yourself, amused. Ah. He’s like a human seesaw. Blushy one second and grumpy the next. “No worries, Yoongi. I’ll be sure to return this container soon, so don’t you worry.”

Yoongi shrugs. “Keep it if you want. I don’t care either way.”

Says the guy who has an entire cupboard full of color coordinating food containers. “Roger that, Yoongi.”

Yoongi walks you out the door, pausing outside the hallway with you. “Do you…” he hesitates, swallowing loudly enough for you to hear. “Do you… want me to walk you out?”

His sudden offer almost makes you want to laugh, but you have a feeling he wouldn’t find it amusing at all. Instead, you just shake your head with a smile. “Don’t worry. I won’t get lost. I think I remember where the door is.”

He pouts, his lips jutting out cutely. “Yeah, well. I was just trying to be nice, but you do you.”

You giggle lightly, patting him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry. You were more than nice,” you say, winking for added effect. It does more than you thought it would, causing Yoongi’s cheeks to bloom once more.

With one last wave, you make your way out of the dormitory, your heart a little lighter than before.

“Huh. That was weird.” You glance at the pink little tupperware in your hands, its warmth keeping your hands safe from the winter chill. As you walk to class, your thoughts are filled with nothing but a shy boy with soft hands and even softer cheeks. Maybe Tuesday isn’t going to be so bad after all.

#btsghostie #bts social media au #bts smau #bts texts #bts fake texts #bts x reader #bts smut #bts fluff #bts #bts scenarios #bts imagines #jungkook x reader #taehyung x reader #jimin x reader #yoongi x reader #namjoon x reader #hoseok x reader #seokjin x reader

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sxltedcxramel · 3 years

Text

Lover’s Quarrel

c!techno x gn!reader

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

: ̗̀➛ Summary: You and Technoblade have been friends for decades, always by each other’s side you two faught alongside each other. That was once in a lifetime, and should never happen again. Unfortunately life doesn’t play out that way and you happen to need him one more time... or maybe they’ll be a change in plans?

: ̗̀➛ Word Count: 1515

: ̗̀➛ Chapters: 1/1

: ̗̀➛ Tag(s): No beta reader we die like ghostbur, c!techno, gn!reader, immortal reader x immortal techno, angel!reader, god!techno, angst, friends to enemies to friends, complicated ik

: ̗̀➛ Warnings: slight cursing, mentions of torture and death

: ̗̀➛ Taglist: Here

: ̗̀➛ Link(s): Ao3

: ̗̀➛ Notes: *screams into oblivion* one this is all platonic I didn’t specify 😓 two I barely survived the writers drought (no friken inspiration) but I bring to you my first c!dsmp x reader fic (please be kind I tried-) basically this taks place in really old times and not modern considering how its writter like I just finished reading shakesphere although the idea came while listening to classical music so that it how you will. Also this isn’t edited so my bad if theres mistakes-

The room was dimly lit with candles and the r oaring fire that burned passionately at the fireplace. White tiles were plastered with gold diamonds, the shade almost as if it was antique jewelry, Old but could tell an amazing story. The colour completing the beige-coloured room

You waited patiently, cross-legged glaring at the clock that ticked every second or so. 10 minutes you thought to yourself while you grind your teeth. That man seemed to be early only when it was for his own convenience, how distasteful.

Just as you finished that thought you saw the dark oak wood door being pushed open. A man walks in, he wears a white loosely fitted blouse, with bishop sleeves which was decorated with frilly fabrics. Along with death-black dress pants that were worn up to the waist. His face where his mask usually is is replaced with glasses and the man's delicate bubblegum pink hair is loosely braided and thrown on the right side of his shoulder.

“Your late” you glare crossing your arms

He let out a sigh “Well pardon me for taking a while to get ready, It's almost like you didn’t come here unannounced” he spoke sarcastically.

He walked over to the glass tray and picked up a small glass cup with a gold ring around it and poured himself a drink. He eyes you “Would you care for a drink y/n?”

“I don’t drink”

He shrugs “Suit yourself”

“Technoblade, I didn't come here for idle chatter.”

He arched his eyebrow slightly “Oh?” Techno placed his cup down “Pray do tell, what exactly did you come here for?” You watched him walk to the other side of the room as he said that.

“I-“ you could even finish before being rudely interrupted by a rustling noise. You watched as your patience grew thinner by the minute he took out a black vinyl disc and placed it on a wooden box making sure the oin was adjusted well. A soft tune of the piano came out of the music player.

“Would you care for a dance?” He holds out his hand, you stare at it contemplating whether you should grab his hands, you really shouldn't, you didn’t want to play his games, you wanted what you came for, but then again it would harm a dance. Or course your brain chose the latter considering how you delicately placed your hand in his letting him place his hand on your waist the the other on your shoulder. He lead the way,(just like he always does)

“Apologies for interrupting music helps me think.” He spoke as he spun you around the floor “They calm the voices” . You knew all about the voices, how much they love to chant and clog his brain with different variations of thoughts, perks of being his ex-partner you suppose. But you watched as he hid a smirk, you guess he’s just telling only half the truth. You roll your eyes

“You can finish”

“Wouldn’t you mean start idiot” you snap

“Meh”

You clicked your tongue in annoyance, his inability to ever grasp the mood of the situation was flawless. It seemed as if he never cared about the other person's feelings, unless you were the god of death you were out of luck for a serious conversation. You’ve dealt with that for decades

You could remember once in a lifetime the two of you were partners, fast and precise that's how the job went. The blood god and the angel of destruction are an amazing duo. You remember when the two of you used to watch as people begged on their knees for their life or perhaps a mercy kill. Watching as your foes tried to retreat to their bases only for their pitiful lives to end in such a disgraceful manner. At the end of the day the two of you stood in the battlefield side by side knowing the world could shake in fear knowing you two were alive

And you loved it like that desire to make people fear you brought giddiness to your body and enlightened your world. You wanted one thing and it was to get revenge.

Revenge on all who did you wrong from your youth up, and now you were strong enough to bring it tenfold.

Everything was fine, It wasn’t until one day the two of you had sat down for a cup of tea like you usually did on Thursday evenings. He told you he wanted to retire, he was done with the killings and the torture.

He was finally putting down the title ‘Blood god’

At first you thought it was a joke but then you saw his eyes and they were as serious as he could ever be, anger rose up in you unable to process the statement.

How could he leave you like this, he promised to be by your side when no one else would.

A liar that's would your made him out to be

A slap to the cheek was all you left him that day

Now here you were decades later, hand in hand dancing to the sounds of the instruments harmonizing becoming one just the way you two were.

He spun you around gracefully on the tiled floor, there's something about dancing in an empty room that makes you feel weird inside. What was this feeling? Him making you feel weak in the knees, perhaps it was the fact the last time you did this it was when you two were young and reckless. He always seemed to know how to brighten your life,even to the point the friendship you two had was envied amongst the other gods.

He twirled you across the room dipping you slightly “Cat caught your tongue”

You rolled your eyes “As if”

You saw outside the glass panes, the sky was painted a blood orange mixed with lavender purples and hints of blue. The sun slowly sets,bringing the nightfall.

You chuckle to yourself, how romantic of the sky to show such a sight for people who would die before dating each other.

You turn your gaze to the god “I need you one last time” you say cutting to the chase

Technoblade glared at you “I already told you I’m retired, don’t be so stubborn”

“I’m not, your being selfish putting your needs before anyone else's”

He snorts “Isn’t that what you're doing y/n? Or am I reading the situation wrong?” He says sarcastically “Plus I thought you made it clear that you wanted nothing to do with me, or was that slap something you did on impulse and you couldn’t face me after?”

You grind your teeth “It was not, and why are you making it seem like you're the victim? You're the one who wanted to leave me!” You snapped

He took his hands away from you and pinched the bridge of his nose “See, this is why we cannot have a conversation. You always jump to conclusions” he growls

“I do not!”

“You do! I never intended to leave your side, only retiring. Is it so bad I wanted to stop killing and do something better with my life, and here I thought you’d be happy with it.”

You stared at him shocked, “I..”

Was he right? You were known to act on impulse which did cause problems in the long run but he’d be there to be by your side every time. But yet, you couldn’t fathom the thought of him leaving his life behind to start a new one. Why? You weren’t sure.

Techno sighed “You act so tough when actually you're broken inside. The thing is you weren’t mad at me for retirement, you were mad that things were changing. You're scared of change because you don’t know where you’ll fall between it all.”

The piano falls into a soft handsomely rhythm

The violinist quietly drag their bows delicately

You cast your eyes aside, you couldn’t argue with the truth. You swallow hard fighting back the tears. You couldn’t fathom the amount of times you’ve been in the wrong or how much you’ve hurt him

Stupid

Stupidstupidstu-

A hand is placed on you head

“You think too much, stop that”

“I’m sorry”

“For overthinking or for being impulsive” he questions

“Both” you whisper keeping your eyes on the floor

“And?”

You huffed “You were right about everything”

He grinned showing his pearly whites “I’m sorry what was that? I couldn’t hear you?”

You laughed slightly making your worries go away for the time being “You asshole, get your head out of the skies as if I’m repeating that again”

He chuckles shrugging “Worth a try”

“So, let's get something straight. I’ll help you one last time then I’m forcing you to retire. Seriously you have no say so.” He eyes you “You probably need therapy too jeez”

“Fuck You I’m perfectly fine”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night” he responds ushering you out the room

“Bold of you to assume I sleep”

“Bruhh”

Taglist: @ttakinou @angstyx

#caramel writes #c!techno #c!technoblade #c!techo x reader #gn!reader #angel!reader #c!techno x gn!reader #immortal!reader x immortal!techno #blood god techno #dream smp #dsmp #angst #fluff #not beta read #we die like ghostbur

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fruitcoops · 3 years

Note

Hi, I love your blog so much! I recently got ankle lateral ligament reconstruction done, and as an athlete, it sucks so bad. I watched my basketball team play yesterday, and it felt really horrible to watch them lose by one point in overtime when I know I would have made a difference if I were on the court... I know you have lots of asks and prompts, but if you have the time and want to, could you possibly hurt me more than I’m already hurting with some angsty ankle injury stuff😩 like maybe Cap watching the Lions lose without him.

Thank you for all the awesome fics you write! Your blog is amazing!

Anon, this ask really struck a chord with me and I wanted to do it justice as best I could--going through a sports injury like that is the worst feeling in the world, and watching your teammates play without you just adds salt to the wound. Sending all the love and healing vibes your way, okay? Please keep me updated on how you're feeling if you feel comfortable <3

Combined with an ask for pre-Coops and Sirius' photo of Remus! SW credit goes to @lumosinlove

TW for canonical injury and mentioned scars (Remus)

Sirius felt a nudge at his arm and his irritation flared, but he did not take his eyes off the game. “Fucking hell,” he muttered as James missed yet another blatant pass. There’s three.

The next nudge was more insistent.

“What?” he snapped, sparing half a glance to his left and feeling his stomach swoop.

Remus raised his eyebrows and held the mouthguard out further. “Either put this in or unclench your jaw.”

You’re not my mother, Sirius almost snarked back, just to be even more of an asshole. He was cold from being at the rink without his gear, severely pissed off by the general bullshit happening on the ice, and the itch in the boot locked around his stupid fucked-up ankle was slowly driving him mad.

Remus offered the mouthguard again, and Sirius’ temper cooled by a few degrees at the soft encouragement on his face. Pretty, his brain supplied. He swallowed hard around his sudden dry mouth and shoved the plastic between his teeth, beating back the unruly emotions with a mental baseball bat. Nope. Not tonight. Focus on being angry.

Logan got distracted, and Finn paid the price as an enforcer slammed him against the boards; he bounced back immediately, but Sirius ground the mouthguard so hard it squeaked. “Tabarnak—”

“Come with me for a sec,” Remus said, raising his voice just enough to be heard over the angry shouts of Lions fans.

Sirius shook his head. What he wouldn’t give to be in the heart of the fight, letting off some of the steam that had been building with no outlet for weeks. “Game’s not over.”

Remus pressed his lips together, but said nothing; Sirius’ throat constricted as he looked at the scoreboard. There may have been three full minutes left on the clock, but the Lions had already lost—unless they pulled a miracle out of their asses, this game would be a stain on their record. Or if they just let me play.

Sirius sighed through his nose. The urge had been growing stronger the longer he stayed cooped up and restless, banging at the walls of his brain and bringing headache after headache.

“Cap.” The hand on the back of his bicep was surprisingly gentle and he closed his eyes as Remus gave him a light tug. “Come on. We can at least be productive instead of sitting here and stewing.”

He smells nice. How does he always smell so nice? Sirius stood and followed Remus down the tunnel, not even bothering to force smiles for the people pounding on the glass partitions. Don’t focus on the game.

Focus on his shoulders, something close to his heart suggested. You like his shoulders.

He scrunched his nose up at the thought—if he dwelled on the smooth, strong curve of Remus’ upper back for any longer, he would start remembering the one time he saw them bare, covered in sweat with scars that shone like moonlight and—

“Are you okay?” Remus asked, snapping him back to reality. Sirius jumped and concern flickered over the golden planes of his face. “You’re twitchy tonight.”

“Just…” He made a vague, aborted motion toward the ice before continuing toward the PT room, though he did not miss the worried look Remus shot him. Fantastic, now I look like a dick and an idiot.

“What’s going on, Sirius?” The door clicked closed behind them and Remus leaned against it with his arms crossed loosely as Sirius limped over to the table and sat down, pulling the mouthguard out. He stared at the floor and the hunk of plastic—don’t think about how nice his voice sounds around your name. Don’t.

He shook his head; through the door, the sounds of the game were faint. “They’re better than this.”

“Yep.”

“They’re all going to be angry tomorrow, which makes them sloppy.”

“Probably.”

“Coach will be upset.”

“No question.”

“It’s the Badgers.”

Remus made a face. “I know, right?”

“They’re a good team, but—” He tightened his jaw again and looked away.

“But we’re better,” Remus finished for him.

“Yeah.” Silence fell between them for a few moments, though it wasn’t uncomfortable. Being quiet around Remus was never uncomfortable, and Sirius was pathetically grateful for every scrap of it he could get. “I—the game would be different if I was out there.”

“Would it?”

“It would.” He had been going over every mistake for two and a half hours, placing himself in like a chess piece to stop the missed passes, fumbled pucks, and thoughtless plays. “They need me with them.”

The paper crinkled as Remus sat down next to him, and every one of Sirius’ senses went on high alert. “They need to you get better,” he said simply, those caramel-apple eyes making Sirius’ knees go weak. “Have you been doing your exercises?”

“Of course,” he scoffed.

“Good.” There was no defensiveness or indignation in Remus’ voice—guilt snapped, a firecracker behind his teeth.

“Sorry.”

Remus smiled wryly. “When you’re around injured hockey players all day long, you get used to a little bit of bitchiness.”

“I’m not bitchy!” Sirius spluttered. The poorly-concealed amusement on Remus’ face made mortification heat his cheeks. “I’m not!”

“Uh-huh.” The note of smug disbelief should not have been as attractive as it was. “Alright, lay down.”

Sirius swore he heard a few crackling noises as his brain short-circuited. “Quoi?”

“I’m not kneeling on freezing linoleum to check out your ankle, Cinderella,” Remus snorted. “Now get a wiggle on.”

“You have the strangest sayings,” he said as he laid back and stretched his leg out, bewildered and yet somehow relieved.

“And you—” Remus pulled the top buckle free. “—have no appreciation for the great American north.”

“I can take it off,” Sirius mumbled, feeling redness rise once again.

He cocked an eyebrow. “The boot? I might not be a muscle-bound athlete, but I’m pretty sure I can manage a couple strips of Velcro.”

“No, it’s—doesn’t touching people’s feet freak you out? Like, the sweat and everything?”

“If it did, I’d have to find another profession, because I’m damp all the time from you fuckers and you all seem to have a habit of breaking things below the knee. Bend.”

Sirius complied, drawing his knee toward his chest. His bare foot looked weird in the bright lights, pale and still swollen, but Remus was as golden as ever. You can watch from afar, he conceded when the cute little furrow appeared on Remus’ forehead while he felt around the bone. Just for a little while. “Your hands are warm,” he said before he could stop himself.

Remus glanced up, and his small smile caused a flood of butterflies in Sirius’ stomach. “Thanks. They’re usually pretty cold, so I’m glad I’m not accidentally giving you foot hypothermia.”

“Is that real?”

“No,” Remus laughed. Sirius wished he could keep that sound forever. “How’s that feel?”

“Uh, fine.” He blinked a couple times to come back to himself as Remus put light pressure on the sole of his foot. “Still fine.”

“You’re a lot more flexible than before. Things are healing well.”

A loud buzzer went off outside—Sirius closed his eyes as disappointment and frustration fired up once more. The crowd wasn’t cheering. The windows weren’t shaking. He didn’t even want to look at the TV to check the score. I should be out there, he thought for the umpteenth time. I’m letting them down.

“I’m sorry,” Remus said quietly as he worked through a few more exercises.

“Not your fault.”

“It’s not yours, either.”

Sirius wanted to believe him. “I’m the captain.”

“And you’re being responsible by doing this with me so you can heal faster.” People rushed past the door outside, but the PT room remained peaceful. Sirius stared at the plain ceiling and wished for a miracle. “They miss you.”

“Y’know, that’s not exactly making me feel better.”

“Sorry.” They lapsed back into silence. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

“Cool.”

Sirius chewed the inside of his lip for a solid two minutes, following Remus’ simple instructions without looking at him. He should have been out there with them, ankle be damned. It was basically healed anyway; they were just tying up loose ends, and maybe Remus needed to be a little less careful. “Is this really necessary?”

“I’m gonna give you five seconds to ask a different question.”

“I’m just saying, it feels fine and—”

“Time’s up.” Remus let go of his foot and Sirius only spared a moment to mourn the loss of his comforting touch before he caught the stormy, mulish stubbornness that took the place of Remus’ concentration. “Sit.”

“I am.”

He narrowed his eyes, and Sirius dragged himself upright with a huff. Arguing with Remus Lupin was about as useful as arguing with a brick wall, and that was coming from someone who won the ‘Most Stubborn’ superlative at their last end-of-year party. “First of all, ankles are annoying and the soft tissue will still be damaged even if the bone is healed. Second, it’s my job to fix you up so your boys stop whining to me about healing you faster. And third, I’m not giving up on you.”

Sirius paused for a long moment. “What?”

“I’m not giving up,” Remus repeated. His jaw set and he made direct eye contact. “I would love nothing more than to kick Snape in the kneecaps and let you go out there as soon as you can stand on your own, but that’s not what I’m here for. I’m here to make sure you’re ready to kick ass and take names no matter what that little shit was trying to do. So don’t you dare sit there and try to chicken out at the finish line, because I know you want this even more than I do.”

In his chest, Sirius heart was hammering like he had just run five miles. I’m not giving up on you. Sirius had never wanted to kiss him more. “Thank you.”

Remus softened with a slow breath. “We’re in this together, Sirius. You and me.”

“I know.”

“Then let’s get to work. Next time you play the Badgers, make ‘em regret this game.”

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

Sirius walked back toward the locker room feeling rather nauseous. The whole team leaked their bad moods into the air—Arthur had barely looked at them before sending them home with a quiet “we’ll talk more tomorrow”, the equivalent of an arrow through Sirius’ heart. I need a pick-me-up, he thought as the rest of the guys trooped out in a melancholy raincloud. He fist-bumped each of them, per tradition, but their responses were weak at best.

Ice cream sounded good. Maybe a milkshake. Oh, who was he kidding, he needed a solid hug and something other than ice to look at. Not for the first time, he contemplated getting a dog, just so the house wouldn’t be empty and dark when he returned.

Laughter rang out ahead and Sirius inhaled sharply, letting the sound roll over him. “I’m not kidding!” Moody chuckled.

“Bullshit,” Remus countered, still snickering. “There is no way—”

“I’ve been around here longer than you’ve been alive, kid.”

“Yes, yes, I know,” Remus groaned, though Sirius could hear the smile in his voice even from around the corner. “You only bring it up every goddamn day.��

“Brat.”

Sirius entered the room just in time to see Remus playfully knock the side of his foot against Moody’s; both were grinning. “Isn’t it past your bedtime, old man?”

Moody nodded to him. “Night, twelve.”

“A demain,” Sirius called, offering a slight smile as his eyes lingered on Remus. He was leaning back against the wall with stick tape in his hands—his hands, which never failed to make Sirius throw caution to the wind—and raised it in farewell. “See you, Loops. Thanks again.”

“No problem, Cap.”

He grabbed his duffel off the floor and slid his keys, wallet, and phone into his pockets as Moody and Remus resumed their conversation. He wondered how long they usually stuck around, and if they would oppose him staying—he wouldn’t interrupt, but being around people who weren’t going through the five stages of grief already felt nice.

An idea struck as Remus’ laugh raised goosebumps on his arms once again. With a careful glance over his shoulder, he slipped his phone out and snapped a picture before hurrying off toward his car. His breaths were shallow; that was such a creepy move, and surely one of them noticed—

No voices chased him. Nobody gave him strange looks. He waited until he was safely in the front seat of the car before unlocking his phone, and all the air in his lungs left in a rush.

The photo was perfect. It caught the lopsided tilt to Remus’ mouth, his slender-but-strong fingers, his long legs, the scrunch of his nose mid-laugh. Everything Sirius never let himself look at for long. He didn’t have much space left among the collection of paper memories on his dresser, but maybe if he put it in the back where nobody would see it unless they knew where to look…

He turned the car on. Later. He would print it out and deal with the taut rubber-band-ball of feelings later. Until then, he could settle for the imprint of Remus’ warmth taking away the pain in his ankle and the determination on his face as he promised to bring Sirius back from the personal hell he was living in. You and me, he had said, and Sirius wanted nothing more than to believe it.

#fanfic #my fic #sirius black #remus lupin #alastor moody #james potter #logan tremblay #finn o'hara #sweater weather #coops #injury #pre-coops #lumosinlove

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ofendlesswonder · 4 years

Note

ah so exciting! would love number 25

25. “I need a place to stay.”

A shadow falls over Kara’s desk, and she pauses her proofread of her latest article to glance up at the person hovering by her shoulder, jaw dropping open when she gets a glimpse of messy blond curls.

“Carter?” It’s been months since she’d thought of him, longer still since she’d seen him, but the face is unmistakable, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. “What are you doing here? Is your Mom here?”

She hasn’t seen Cat in months, either, not since she left to ‘dive’ into pastures new. No one has seen her recently, in fact—she’s effectively disappeared off the face of the earth, is only mentioned in gossip columns when they’re speculating her whereabouts.

Not that Kara has a Google alert set up for her name, or anything.

“No, she’s in Washington.”

“D.C.?” What on earth is she doing there? And what on earth is Carter doing here, backpack slung over his shoulder, eyes red-rimmed and cheeks blotchy like he’d been crying.

“Yeah. She took a new job there.”

Kara feels like he’s reading from a script she isn’t privy too, has no idea how any of this has led him to be here, standing by her new desk and scuffing his converse along the floor. “Okay…”

“But I don’t want to live there. I didn’t want to leave here, but she said it would be temporary. That we’d come back. Only now she wants to work in the stupid White House and she’s looking at apartments and a new school and I—I don’t want it. We had a fight.” He sniffs, rubs the back of his sleeve across his cheek like he’s scrubbing away the remnant of his tears. “And I said I wanted to come back. Live with Dad, if that’s what it took.”

Kara can only imagine how Cat would have taken that.

Not well, by any means.

“She sent me back, only I don’t want to live with my Dad, I want to live with her, but here in our old apartment. He wouldn’t even meet me at the airport. He said I was old enough to get a cab.”

Kara’s jaw tightens—she knows Chris is an asshole, but this seems like a new low, even for him.

“So, I got a cab, but not to him.”

“You came here, instead.” Here, to some semblance of stability, of familiarity. The apartment is gone—Kara had helped Cat list it for sale, and it had been snapped up in no time, and she wonders if Cat had ever really considered a move back to National City. The apartment is gone, but CatCo. is not, and Kara remembers countless afternoons where Carter had come by after school, curling up in Cat’s office with his homework. Sometimes, Kara had helped him with a particularly stubborn math problem, or talked to him about his favorite anime, keeping him entertained until his mother was off the clock.

“I need a place to stay,” he says, voice small, eyes glued to his shoes. “Can I come home with you?”

Yes, she wants to say, without hesitation, recognizing the small, scared child he so desperately tried to hide, the one who felt like he had nowhere else to go. Yes, of course you can—but it’s never that simple, is it?

She has a secret identity to protect, and he’s supposed to be with his father, and Cat might kill her, and—

Wait.

Does Cat know where he is?

“No,” he says, when she asks. “I didn’t tell her. And I turned off my phone, so she wouldn’t track me.”

“Carter.” She can’t help the admonishment, because she knows how much Cat cares about him—she’d do anything for him, and she imagines her pacing up and down a hotel room in the capital, already on the phone to the police. “You should call her.”

He makes a noise of discontent.

“At least let her know you’re safe. She’ll be worrying.”

“Can you call her?”

“I…I don’t know about that. I think it would be better coming from you.”

“Please?” He peers down at her with eyes so like his mother’s that Kara aches.

“All right,” she sighs, and makes the mistake of glancing across the bullpen. Snapper is glaring at her, his face red. Great. Someone else who wants to kill me. Could this day get any better?

“Kara?” Cat answers the phone sounding harried, and Kara recognizes the faint note of panic in her voice. She lets herself bask in the familiarity of it for one long moment—months, since she’d heard Cat’s voice, months, since she’d last felt the comfort of it. Months of missing her, in a way she knows she isn’t allowed to. “This isn’t a great time.”

“Uh, I know.” She looks at Carter, who avoids her gaze. “Something about a missing fourteen year old?”

“How…how do you know that?”

“Because he’s standing right in front of me.”

“Carter’s with you?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Why?”

“Good question. Should I let him explain it for himself?”

Carter shoots her a sharp look, but Kara forces the phone into his hand anyway, pointedly turning away like she’s not listening as he lifts it to his ear. She stares at the blinking cursor on her computer screen as he talks, trying to summon the will to finish her work.

No such luck.

“Could you…could you keep an eye on him for me?” Cat asks, when Carter gives her back her phone. “I’m going to fly out as soon as I can, but it’ll be a few hours before I can get there. I know it’s an imposition, and he’s supposed to be with Chris, but he said he’d be more comfortable with you.”

Her gaze flickers to Carter, to the hopeful expression on his face, to the pleading note in Cat’s voice, thinks of the opportunity to see her again, even if for just one more day.

“Okay,” she says, and knows it’s the right decision when Carter lurches forward to wrap his arms around her neck. “I’ll watch him.”

“No runaway trains this time,” Cat says into her ear, and Kara laughs, remembering her last ill-fated babysitting attempt, a lifetime ago.

“I’ll try my best.”

***

The knock on her door comes at nine thirty, not quite loud enough to wake the sleeping teenager stretched out on her couch.

She pulls open the door, comes face-to-face with the woman she’s been trying so hard not to think about for the past few months, and Kara thinks, as their eyes meet, her heart thudding painfully in her chest, that she’s been fooling herself, because it all comes rushing back the second their eyes meet.

There was only ever one reason why things would have never worked with James, one reason why Kara hasn’t been able to so much as think about dating since they’d ended things, one reason why her life has felt so empty these past few months.

Only one person who could make her heart pound, set butterflies free in her stomach, make her palms—physically impossible though it may be—feel damp.

And that person is the woman standing in front of her now, her eyes as wild as her hair, mussed from the wind, a faint flush on her cheeks and Kara wonders if she’d raced up the stairs in those three inch heels, desperate to set eyes on her beloved son, to see for herself he was safe and well.

“Come on in,” Kara says, standing aside to let her past. It’s the first time Cat has been inside her home, and the gravity of the moment isn’t lost on her.

She’s glad she had the foresight to tidy up a little, while Carter had been in the shower.

If he’d noticed that the amount of cleaning she’d done shouldn’t have been possibly in such a sort frame of time by human hands, he’d had the grace not to mention it.

“I, uh, didn’t want to wake him up,” Kara says, pitching her voice low, when Cat gravitates toward the couch, gazing down at Carter with such open affection she feels like she has to look away. “Seeing as he’s had a hard day.”

She’d tried to distract him as much as possible, enlisting his help with the fun of filing while she’d been at work, and then with food and games once she’d taken him home. He looked like he’d needed it, lost in his head, spiralling over the choices that had been made for him, bits and pieces of his life over the last few months spilling out over the course of the afternoon.

“Thank you for looking after him.”

Kara shrugs. “It wasn’t any trouble.”

“Still. You don’t owe me anything. Not anymore.”

“On the contrary, Ms. Grant. I owe you a lot.” She’d forgotten how hard it was to think, with Cat’s eyes weighing heavy on her face. “My job, for example. I wouldn’t be a junior reporter without you.”

“Nonsense. You got that job on your own merit. Otherwise you wouldn’t be doing so well.”

“You read my articles?”

“Of course.” Cat looks offended she thought otherwise. “Is Snapper still giving you hell?”

“I think he likes to torture me.” Her nose wrinkles, and Cat laughs, some of her worry ebbing away now Carter is within her sights.

He’s still sound asleep, and Cat doesn’t look like she wants to wake him. Bathed in the glow of the lamp on Kara’s coffee table, she’s breath-taking, and Kara looks away before she’s caught staring.

“Do you, um, want a drink or anything?”

“I wouldn’t want to impose any more than we already have.”

Panic seizes her heart at the thought of Cat leaving so soon, because when would she see her again? Would she leave right away, ushering Carter back to the CatCo. jet and across the country before night truly fell? Or would she linger, perhaps let herself remember all the things she loved about this place?

Not that that would include you, you idiot.

“Please,” she says, trying not to listen to the voice in her head. “I…It would be nice to hear what you’ve been up to these last few months.”

For a moment, she doesn’t think it’s enough. Thinks Cat is going to leave anyway, slip away even though Kara only just got her back.

But then she blinks, and her lips curve into the smallest of smiles, and she says: “Very well. What have you got?”

Good question, Kara thinks, because probably not a lot. Whatever Alex and Maggie had left over last game’s night, which turns out to be a bottle of cheap whiskey Cat turns her nose up at. Kara doesn’t blame her—apparently it left a killer hangover.

“I’m trying to cut down on drinking,” Cat says, and her gaze flickers over to the back of the couch. “I’ve been told it’s not very healthy. Apparently it’s bad for my liver.”

A sentiment she’d never once shared before, but Kara bites her tongue. It’s none of her business, the ways in which Cat has changed. None of her business, to wonder if Cat’s been throwing down scotches to try and chase away the memories of the city she’d left behind.

“How about a tea?” Cat suggests, and Kara blinks at her.

There’s a request she’s never made before.

“Regular, peppermint or camomile?”

“Regular is fine.” Kara brews a pot, wonders why she feels so jittery, but she knows the answer. It’s because Cat is here, in her space, after so many months away. Here, in a place thus far untouched by her, and Kara knows when she’s gone she’ll feel the imprint of her, remember the way she’d stood, leaning against her kitchen counter, looking out of place and like she was exactly where she belonged at the same time.

“So,” she says, once she’s handed Cat a steaming mug. “Washington, huh?”

“Carter told you.”

“Only a little. He didn’t say what you were there for.”

“I was offered a job. White House Press Secretary.”

Kara nearly chokes on a sip of her own tea in shock. But then, she thinks, it makes sense. She could see it—Cat, at the front of a room full of reporters, tearing them apart if they dared ask her the wrong thing. She could certainly think of no better person to have fighting your corner than Cat Grant.

“Is that what you want to do? Get into politics?”

“It’s something I’ve considered.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“My, my,” Cat says, clutching her mug between long fingers and throwing Kara a lazy smile. “Look at you. Am I being interviewed, Ms. Danvers?”

Kara ducks her head, feeling her cheeks warm. “Sorry. Force of habit.”

“It’s all right.” Cat’s voice is gentle, her eyes unguarded when Kara dares to look her way. “To be honest, I don’t know what I want. I thought getting away from here would bring me clarity, inspiration for my next big thing, but…instead I found myself wandering without purpose. Less a shark stuck in a tank and more a tiny goldfish, lost at sea.”

“Then why not come back? It...it’s not the same without you.” Too much, probably. Too close to spilling the truth, maybe, but it’s too late to take the words back now.

“Because my reasons for leaving haven’t changed.”

What reasons, Kara wants to ask, because the ones she’d been given had never made any sense. Cat handing over the reins to her beloved company just didn’t seem like something she’d do, especially without so much as a glance back. What reasons, Kara wants to know, but the line they tread is so thin—she thinks of Cat’s razor-sharp voice saying strictly professional and never wants to feel an ache like that again.

“And what about Carter?”

Cat glances toward the couch again and sighs. “I hadn’t realised he was so reticent until today. I know he struggles with change, but…I thought this would be a good one. He could go to a better school, have more opportunities. I didn’t know he was so attached to this place.”

“Of course he’s attached. It’s his home. It’s all he’s ever known, and you—no offence—are yanking it away from him.”

“I suppose you have a point.” Cat’s lips purse. “When did you get so wise?”

“Learned it from the best,” she says, and Cat’s smile is tight. “Are you…are you going back there tonight?”

“No, I don’t think so. I think Carter and I need to have a discussion, first. One where I listen to him instead of making the decision for him. I just…I thought I was doing the best thing for him. For both of us.”

“So you might stay?” She can’t quash the hopeful note in her voice, watches a shadow pass across Cat’s face and wonders what it means.

“I don’t know. I don’t know if I can.” Her fingers tremble, the tiniest amount, as she sets down her empty mug, runs them through her hair.

“Why?” Just do it, she thinks, because when she wakes up tomorrow, Cat might be gone, and there are too many unanswered questions for her to be left with. “What’s so bad about being here? What are you so desperate to get away from?”

“Oh, Kara.” Cat’s eyes close, a sigh rattling through her chest. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Then help me to.” She knows she’s being obstinate. That there’s a reason Cat doesn’t want to tell her, that she has no right to know.

But she remembers Cat saying goodbye, Cat’s arms wrapped around her, heart beating so loud it was impossible for Kara not to notice, the shimmer of tears in her eyes before she’d blinked them away. Remembers the countless times Kara had reached out, over the past few months, only to be ignored, like she meant nothing when she knew she’d meant at least something.

“Please, Cat. I just want—”

She’s cut off when Cat surges forward, settling one hand on the counter beside Kara’s hip and wrapping the other around the back of Kara’s neck, drawing her down into a kiss. Kara freezes, brain short-circuiting as Cat’s lip brush against her own, soft and warm, but when she feels Cat begin to pull away, her bravado failing, she snaps into action, discarding her mug on the counter and splaying a hand at the small of Cat’s back to keep her close.

It’s been building for years, she thinks, as Cat parts her lips for Kara’s searching tongue, nails digging into the base of her skull. Years of working closely together, a spark igniting but neither of them willing to give it space to grow, too terrified of what might happen, if it grew into a fire they could no longer control.

“That’s why,” Cat breathes, when she pulls away, heart hammering almost as fast as Kara’s.

“Seems like a pretty good reason to stay to me,” Kara says, leaning in to kiss her again, but Cat stops her with a shake of her head.

“It’s not. Kara, you shouldn’t want this. Shouldn’t want me.”

“I know,” she says, and when Cat flinches, she doesn’t let her pull away. “I know there are a dozen reasons why I shouldn’t, why we shouldn’t be together, but I also…don’t really care. I’ve spent the past few months missing you like crazy, and it hasn’t diminished the way I feel about you. Doesn’t that mean something? Doesn’t that mean it’s worth trying?”

“I…” Cat trails off, meets her gaze and traces the pads of her fingers across Kara’s cheek, looks at her like she barely believes she’s real. “I don’t know. I don’t know how to.”

“You start by letting me in. By not running away when—” She hears movement on the couch, hopes to Rao Carter hasn’t heard any of their hushed conversation. “Carter’s waking up.”

Cat is quick to slip from her arms, and Kara feels the loss of her like a physical ache, chilled to the bone in the places she’d just been burning with warmth. “I don’t want this to be the end of it,” she says, knowing Carter’s not yet fully conscious, knowing they have a few more stolen moments. “I don’t want you to go to your hotel room and talk yourself out of it.”

“Kara Danvers, are you asking me to spend the night?”

“No, because I know you’d turn me down.” She can sense it, in the nervous energy radiating from her. Cat isn’t a person who lays her heart on the line, is someone guarded and careful, isn’t reckless the way she had been tonight. She needed time to process, time to think it through, and Kara would give her that—as long as she wasn’t going to slip away without saying goodbye. “But we should talk. Tomorrow.”

“Before five.”

Kara frowns. “Why five?”

“Because that’s how long the Press Secretary job is on the table for.”

“You haven’t accepted it?”

“Not yet,” she says, and Kara feels hope bloom in her chest. “I told them I had some things I need to consider first.”

“And now?”

“Now I have even more things to think about.” She reaches out, catches Kara’s fingers with her own and squeezes, and Kara’s heart thuds in her chest. She wants to lean down, wants to kiss her again, already misses the heat of her mouth, but a head pops over the back of the couch, Carter rubbing at his eyes.

“Hi, Mom.”

“Don’t you ‘Hi Mom’ me,” Cat says, eyes narrowing until Carter gulps. “Do you have any idea how worried I was, young man?"

“I’m sorry,” he says, his head hanging. “But I wanted to stop you doing something stupid, and this was the only way I know how.”

And thank Rao he had. Her day would have shaken out very differently had Carter not arrived in the bullpen, she knows. She’d have finished her article and gone to hang out with Alex and Maggie, probably, tried to ignore the ache seeing the two of them so happy seems to incite, lately, craving something similar for herself.

“Hm. Well, we’ll talk about it later. For now, I think we’ve taken up enough of Kara’s time, don’t you?”

Not enough of it, Kara thinks, but she bites her tongue. Space. Time to process. Not snuggling up together on the couch with a movie.

“Thanks for today, Kara.” Carter looks only a little sheepish as he gathers his things, slinging his backpack over his shoulder.

“Any time, buddy,” she says, meaning it more than he’ll probably ever know. The urge to kiss Cat goodbye is so strong she can barely stand it, and she balls her hands into fists at her sides so she doesn’t reach for her. “I’ll, uh, see you tomorrow?” She asks, before Cat slips through the door, dizzy with the feeling of being on the cusp of something she’s wanted for so long.

“Tomorrow,” Cat agrees, looking like it pains her to say it, looking like she doesn’t know how she’s possibly going to muster the will to leave, green eyes so heavy on Kara’s face it feels like a caress, feels like the ghost of her kiss, makes her feel like she’s burning from the inside out. “Goodnight, Kara.”

Goodnight, and not goodbye, and Kara hovers in the doorway, watches them go down the hall.

“You are in big trouble,” she hears Cat say as they turn the corner, slipping out of sight. “What were you thinking?”

And she shouldn’t listen, she knows, but she catches her name, as they start down the stairs, and can’t help but tune in to a snippet of conversation.

“I was thinking I missed home, and that I was sick of you moping after Kara for the past eight months, and it was time someone did something about it,” Carter says, then: “Ow!” as Cat must smack him over the head.

“Don’t ever pull a stunt like that again.”

“But did it work?”

“None of your business.”

“It totally worked.”

Kara shakes her head, unable to bite back a smile as she steps back inside and lets the door shut behind her.

#supercat #supercat:fanfic #this was supposed to be short... 🤷‍♀️

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im-whatchamccallit · 4 years

Text

Crushcrushcrush//Kim Hongjoong (ATEEZ)

Request: Hi i was wondering if you could do a soulmate werewolf hongjoong x human female reader angst and fluff like she over hears hongjoong saying something and she gets sad and shy and worried and stuff.....

Pairing: Kim Hongjoong x Fem!Reader

Genre: Angst with fluff at the end, Werewolf!AU, Soulmate!AU, a bit of College!AU

Warnings: Hongjoong’s kind of a dick with irrational thinking, cussing I guess

Word Count: 7.2k

(A/N: Lets just pretend I didn’t disappear for 6 whole months, but i am back and my medication is no longer giving me the big sad so I’m a little more motivated to write.This isn’t the best work I’ve done, this is actually idea 10 for this prompt and idk if it’s executed properly but Imma keep trying and hopefully, to keep from falling back into a slump, I’ll start a new series so I have a regular scheduled fic for everyone. Also, I think I botched expressing the AUS here but just let me know what you think. Sorry for always disappearing, I can’t promise I won’t go off the grid again but I’ll try harder to be active in anyway)

Your mother always said crushes stayed crushes for a reason: they hurt. Bad. But you thought she was wrong, that your feelings for someone could one day be reciprocated later if not sooner, and that’s what led you to him. Kim Hongjoong. The day you met was a complete accident, your body slamming into his as you wandered aimlessly during your freshman year of high school. He was gorgeous with wide brown eyes, beautiful pink lips and cheeks, his hair styled differently from the other boys to reveal his forehead, showing his individuality. He was perfection.

“I’m so sorry. Are you alright?” Those were the first words he spoke to you, his voice so gentle, so sweet. And the way he reached out to help you with no hesitation, holding your hands as he pulled you up effortlessly.

It was love at first sight, all until he looked down to your hands, eyes catching a glimpse of your wrist, a row of zeros peeking through the sleeve of your uniform jacket. He slowly pushed the fabric up, both your eyes widening to see your soulmate clock had finally timed out, his hands releasing yours to check his own wrist, a quiver to his lips as his clock matched yours, his once soft eyes now hard as he stared you down.

“Stay far away from me.” He warned, not saying another word as he headed to his homeroom, your body frozen as you watched him disappear. He was so harsh, yet you liked him. Maybe suddenly finding his soulmate scared him, but it was no problem to you! You were bound to end up together so you played the waiting game with him, being the perfect soulmate you could possibly be whether he accepted it or not.

And that led you here, now seniors in college and still acting the way you were when you met. Hongjoong was still cold, treating you like some plague while you could only smile along. You weren’t sure how you missed the fact you lived in a predominantly werewolf area until a public service announcement came on your television one night to remind humans to stay indoors during the full moon, that night dedicated to werewolves being as free as they could be, but it made you even more hopeful when you were on your way home from work one night, taking a shortcut through the woods since it lead right to your backyard.

You were 16 at the time, so the sight of a shirtless person would obviously make you flustered, but a shirtless Hongjoong? Enough to cause a nosebleed. He was 16 as well, the exact age a werewolf develops a mate bond and, seeing as you’ve already been confirmed as soulmates in the human world, the sudden desire to latch onto you and never let you go once you locked eyes only made your lifelong attachment more real, and he was freaking out. He didn’t speak, opting to shift without removing the remainder of his clothes, your eyes wide as he moved deeper through the thick trees and towards the horizon where the orange sky was in full view and, the grin on your face just couldn’t stop growing. You knew werewolves had a stronger drive to their mates, so the idea that he could avoid you forever was laughable. Sure, you were both 23 and he has uped his disdain for you from staying silent to calling you any vile name he could think of, but it was only a matter of time before he came around. You just knew it.

“(Y/n), stop gawking.” Miyeon joked, poking your side to snap you from your daydreams, your eyes widening when you noticed a few of Hongjoong’s friend’s catching your gaze, a blush painting your face as you turned away.

“I wasn’t gawking, just making sure their table was okay. I am their waitress tonight.”

“And every other night because you said, and I quote, ‘I wanna work at any table my Joongie’s going to be at!’” She mocked, your eyes rolling as you looked back towards them.

You took a job at a diner just a few blocks from both your apartment and college campus, the pay great and the distance convenient. It was the only time you had to yourself instead of lingering to Hongjoong, figuring out his classes and breaks to give him snacks and lunches you’d personally make for him since you overheard him complain about the campus food before, only to be told they tasted like shit and he’d find his own food. It was a bit of a kick to the face to hear that, but you had one saving grace: his pack. The first time Hongjoong sent you away with a bitter remark, they were curious about you, tracking you down when they weren’t with their alpha to get more info on who you were and what you found so loveable about the man treating you like some demon. They were surprised by how sweet you were and how accepting you were to be the unwanted luna of an eight-wolf pack. They could never hate Hongjoong but they sure as hell loved you just a little more than him. Unbeknownst to both of you, Yunho and Mingi found out where you worked, making a plan with the others to take Hongjoong there as much as possible so he would have no choice but to interact with you, even if he stayed silent to not appear like an asshole in front of the various strangers dining as well. Hongjoong would honestly never return if he had the choice, but something about the restaurant’s signature burger kept bringing him back, which is why he was here, sipping his soda angrily as he waited on his meal that would be served by his worst nightmare, you.

“I don’t know why you don’t just find someone else. Isn’t it easy for humans to reject soulmates? You could move on with no problems.” She said, helping you grasp onto the steel tray covered in various meals, a huff leaving you as you put on a bright smile.

“Because I know it’s harder to move on for wolves. You guys don’t have a choice on who your mates are, and you just accept it once you meet them. I know Hongjoong will accept me eventually, it’s just gonna take some time.” You gave one more smile before wobbling towards the table in question.

Hongjoong tried not to follow the gaze of his pack as they watched you happily approach them, letting out a huff as you adjusted the tray onto your shoulder, grasping the plates and placing them in front of the respective person, Hongjoong’s nose twitching at the smell of his burgers and fries, not wasting anytime to dig in as the other’s thanked you, but you shyly looked at the male before you, the tray pressed to your chest as you tried to find a casual way to speak with him.

“I-uh- I-I remembered last time you asked for extra cheese, so I decided to put cheese in the burger too! I hope you like it better than the tofu stew I made you for lunch the other week.”

“I didn’t ask for extra cheese this time, so why put it inside my burger where I can’t take it off?” He said spitefully, mouth still full as he set the half-eaten burger down.

Your smile faltered but bounced back as you reached towards his plate.

“O-oh! Well, I can take it back and make you another! This time I ca-“

“’This time’? You should’ve just done it from the start. Your job is to listen and do what you’re told and you can’t even do that? What can you do right?”

You swallowed hard, your eyes wandering to the people now staring at you as the scene unfolded, your heartbeat ringing in your ears as you tried to hold it together. The worst he’s called you in an idiot and that was usually under his breath, so to practically say it out loud, in front of strangers while you were in the middle of a shift and forced to do nothing but smile like you usually would, felt like you were being stabbed and burned simultaneously. You couldn’t keep smiling, looking down as you tried to apologize, only for him to cut you off once again.

“Go bother someone else. Or hide in the back if you’re just gonna keep fucking up this much.”

The space was eerily silent, even with the soft music playing, your eyes not leaving your shoes as you shuffled away. It was a pitiful sight, Seonghwa releasing a breath he didn’t realize he was holding as you went to a neighboring table to retrieve plates and glasses left by a couple from before. He was ready to tear Hongjoong’s head off, not as a gamma to an alpha but as one friend to another, his jaw tight as he prepared to berate him the way he did you but, somehow, Wooyoung beat him by asking a question none of them thought to ask before.

“What did she ever do to you that you have to treat her like that?”

There was a strange but tense silence as they awaited his answer, watching him taking small bites of his fries as he stared ahead at nothing before turning to them with what could only be described as a sadistic smirk.

“Imagine being 13 and finding out the best years of your life, the years of dating, hooking up, just discovering who you are, are gone because your mate decides to show up and take that from you.”

“Are you fucking stupid? That’s the reason we have mates, so we can do those things with one person instead of random people!” Seonghwa nearly yelled, trying to keep his voice low as to not alarm anymore spectators again.

“For the past 7 years, I’ve been trying to get her to leave or just reject me, but it’s clear to me now that she’s just an idiot that doesn’t understand she’s not needed, by me or anyone. And, if you’re as dumb as her, I’ll simplify it for you: she’s unwanted.”

Whatever pain you felt before suddenly disappeared into a numbness you couldn’t explain. He knew you were there, that you could hear him, that you would hear him, and yet he still said it. You were conflicted and sad, your lips curling in a mixture of disgust and anger before settling on a bright smile. Never mind the fact your tears finally spilled over, that your heart ached with every beat and your body felt heavy with the weight of being rejected by someone you waited so long for, you just had to smile. Soulmates were supposed to be a sure thing, supposed to be your happily ever after, yet it just turned out to be a crush, one that you should’ve let die the day you met him.

“(Y/n/n)…” Miyeon spoke cautiously as you made your way towards the bar, your other coworkers watching from beside her as if you were some strange spectacle.

“We have to start cleaning, y’know? It’ll help us get out of here a lot faster tonight.” You said in your usual cheerful tone, tears still flowing and a faint crack to your voice.

“How about you just head home for the day, (Y/n)? We can handle everything from here.” Your manager said, her eyes scanning your face as you moved past them and to the kitchen, their bodies following instinctively.

“What? No! I’m fine! We still have 4 more hours to go and I think if I get a head start with the chefs for tomorrow lunch specials I ca-“

“(Y/n), please-“

“I’m fine, Miyeon! Really! It’s not like I got broken up with or anything, I never even had a boyfriend! Just a crush on someone that thinks I’m a waste of space! Isn’t that super ironic? Spending most of your life chasing after someone that wants nothing to do with you? That’s really funny, right?” You choked out, lips pursing into a thin line to keep in your sobs but your attempts were futile, everything slowly starting to hit you at once until your body collapsed, one of the other servers catching you before you hit the ground.

It was all a blur from there, the words of comfort everyone offered turning into muffled noise as your cries of agony came out freely, the way Miyeon dragged you from the emergency exit at the back of the building and to her car to take you home, and even when you crawled into bed and managed to sleep despite the pounding headache. 7 years came and went and there was nothing to show for it. No soulmate, no boyfriend, no romance, not even a friendship. You were empty and for some reason the only thing filling your heart and mind was the person who broke you.

It felt like time stood still yet hours had passed, Hongjoong back in his own bedroom pressing away at his keyboard, stopping occasionally to write a few notes down from his new composition, but he wasn’t distracted enough to hear his door open, various footsteps entering and even a few bodies settling in on his bed, his eyes not bothering to leave his notebook as he figured this moment would come.

“You don’t need to lecture me.” He grumbled, going back to play a few more notes only to find his keyboard unplugged, Mingi tossing the cord away as his alpha stared him down.

“It’s only a lecture if you listen and learn, which you won’t, so we’re gonna make you feel as bad as possible for driving away the only person that gave a shit about you.” San said with a bright smile, a scoff leaving Hongjoong as he finally turned in his chair to face them, eyes scanning the room to see this situation wasn’t playful but truly hostile, almost like an ambush.

“So, you guys don’t care about me?”

“Trying to get you to accept your soulmate so you don’t die shows we care a lot more than we should.” Yeosang spoke, making himself comfortable as he sat against the pillow and headboard.

“But we’re the real assholes for trying to force her with someone as shitty as you.” Seonghwa finally said, Hongjoong’s head snapping in his direction as he let out a dry chuckle, shifting in his seat so he was leaning backwards, arms crossed as he told himself to stay calm during his friend’s potential tantrum.

“I feel like you have the most to say since you’ve been in love with my mate the longest, so go ahead, tell me how I’m such a bad man, Seonghwa. I’m all ears.” His smugness made the tension worse, Seonghwa stepping closer with clenched fist.

“I’m not in love with you mate, but if I didn’t know someone was waiting for me because we were fated to be together, maybe I would have asked (Y/n) out, because she deserves better than a lowlife with the brain function of a dead goldfish. But I respect her too much as your mate and my luna to not push those boundaries so I tried to help her get closer to you because I know you, Hongjoong. You’re not an asshole or a jerk, but to her? You treat her like shit, when really you’d have no one without her. You’re a short, scrawny, nerdy moron that locks himself in a dark room for days on end just to complete a single project, then emerge to eat cold pizza and watch Despicable Me because your pea-sized brain can’t comprehend anything that isn’t brightly colored animation. If you take away your alpha status, no girl would even look in your direction but you have someone literally at your side, the only human not afraid of you, trying to figure out everything there is to know about you, yet you can’t give her the time of day. You probably don’t even know a damn thing about her.”

“Unfortunately, I know more than enough about her.” Hongjoong spoke, all amusement gone as he glared at the older male, their mindlink clogged with threatening growls and barks, trying to keep their fight from getting physical.

That first sentence alone made Hongjoong’s blood boil, his face contorted in a mixture of pain and disgust. How could Seonghwa even say that to him, plotting to steal his mate all because he was a bit uncertain? That all it was, uncertainty! He didn’t hate you, or wish you weren’t around, he actually grew to anticipate and enjoy your ramblings about your day or whatever new thing caught your attention, he actually even loved the lunches that you’d make for him. He couldn’t help that over the years he grew to crave you more, but the thought of fully accepting you and solidifying that the best years of his life were about to be gone, restricted to one person forever before he could even determine for himself his likes and dislikes, what he considered real love rather than what fate wanted him to feel, was terrifying. So he distanced himself from you, spending the years watching you from afar in hopes that if he didn’t get too close he wouldn’t lose his free will completely.

But it was a bad habit that seeped into your college years, everyone assuming he cared so little for you when he knew everything there was to know. He knew where you worked before any of the boys did, where your apartment was, the fact you were a business major planning to open a bakery once you graduated, he knew you didn’t have classes on Fridays but always came back on campus because you prepared meals for the men’s and women’s wrestling team which is where Jongho first met you, he knew you hated mint chocolate chip ice cream just like him but loved chocolate ice cream with mint chips, he knew you were always cold but overheat at night and wake up at exactly 3am to change into shorts and a tank top to be more comfortable, he knew about the birthmark on your lower back and a scar on your hip from a cat scra-

“Holy shit, you’re insane.” Wooyoung breathed out, Hongjoong’s eyes focusing on the room in front of him, a mixture of shocked expressions and amused ones filling his vision.

“I liked it better when we thought you hated her but, hyung, you’ve been stalking her since your freshman year of high school?” Jongho asked cautiously.

It was a weird feeling bubbling inside Hongjoong, the primary one being embarrassment. He knew he’d sometimes unintentionally rant in their mindlink whenever he was upset but to make an almost decade long secret public to his pack, revealing the intimate details of how you slowly but surely ingrained yourself into not only his brain but his life until he felt like he was going crazy? It made him tear up, his face burn with a blush as he was finally forced to face the truth. He pushed you away but wanted you more than anything. He wanted to spend his years free to explore before finally settling down only to reject every girl that came close to him simply because they weren’t you, and he took that anger out on you. What was he so mad about? The fact you stood by his side with a smile happily accepting him while he tried and failed to lust after other women? Was he that pathetic? He could admit now that he was and, if he could turn back time, he would’ve introduced himself and walked you to class. Just the first step of fully accepting you.

“You’re still ranting in the mindlink, you know?” Seonghwa said softly, regaining the once again lost focus of his alpha who was too consumed in his own pity to notice the tension died down, their gazes soft as they tried to sympathize with their leader.

“Sorry. I wish none of you heard that stuff.” He admitted, sniffling as he realized he’d been crying, hand hurriedly wiping away tears from his cheeks.

“Well, it’s a good thing we did. We still think you’re a moron, but at least we know you’re feeling guilty about all of this.”

“Don’t worry, Joong, if you know (Y/n) like we do, she always sees the best in people, so she’ll forgive you. But you still have to apologize.” San followed up Mingi’s words, wrapping an arm around Hongjoong shoulders while giving a bright smile in response to his weak one.

“She’s my TA in Calc 3 and I have that class around noon tomorrow. She always stays after in case anyone has questions, so I can stall until you get there.” Yunho offered, Hongjoong feeling a slight warmth in his chest thinking about it all. He’d let go of his insecurities, fix everything he’s done wrong, and finally have you as his. Tomorrow couldn’t come fast enough.

And tomorrow did come, but you were nowhere to be found. When Hongjoong arrived to Yunho’s class, he was met with a sympathetic apology on the account that you didn’t show up that day, you weren’t even at any of your other classes. The boys even tried to find you at work only to be met with a mob of your pissed coworkers led by Miyeon, threatening to rip their heads off if she saw their faces again. And that lasted for nearly 3 days, Hongjoong’s hope slowly dwindling away until he noticed two figures sneakily meeting halfway at the school’s entrance to exchange a large white cooler.

He recognized those bulky arms anywhere, and the thick Aussie accent was a dead giveaway as well, especially when it was followed by a distinct giggle. There was no mistaking it was Chan, but he could barely see the person with him, their voice low as they spoke to him and face hidden beneath a hood, but the scent emitting from them was strong, and beautiful, his eyes widening as he finally took it all in. You looked different, wearing a dark grey matching sweat suit which was a complete 180 from your usual attire, and you smelled faintly of passionfruit, possibly a change to your normal shampoo in an attempt to disguise yourself, but that thought only made his heart hurt more. Were you intentionally avoiding him? He could understand you hating him now but you were even ignoring the others in his pack, going from friends to complete strangers in a matter of hours and leaving them all devastated. He was going to fix this, here and now, if not for him and you than for his friends.

“Jongho’s been pretty upset about you not responding to his text. It’d really help if you stopped by to at least let him know you’re okay.” Chan pleaded, giving you a dimpled smile and hopeful gaze that made it impossible for you to hide your blushing face and grin.

“I just need a little more time, Chris. It’s like if you broke up with your mate and all the friends you made through her left you too. Except it’s me being broken up with by someone who was never my boyfriend and his friends came to me instead of me going to them. But, still, it hurts all the same.” You laughed slightly, trying to find some humor in the situation.

“You’re the only person that still calls me Chris.” He commented, trying to redirect the conversation as you clearly weren’t fine, neither of you noticing the burning glare just a few meters away.

“I just think it fits you best.” You admitted, neither of you breaking eye contact until you gasped, staring down to the box of food and drinks you bought.

“You should hurry to practice. You need to eat beforehand otherwise you’ll be weak after warmups alone. And I worked hard making those sandwiches and cutting that fruit, if it goes bad because you stayed here to cheer me up, I’ll really be mad.” You tried to put on your best scowl, your scolding undermined by his amused laughter.

“Alright, fine. Just stay safe, please?” You nodded, waving as you watched him turn to head to the school’s gymnasium, missing the way Chan glared at Hongjoong as he continued forward. Chan and Hongjoong’s packs were close, family almost, so the news of what Hongjoong did and why reached them in no time, and Chan was hoping today things would be fixed soon because, apart from you being the wrestling team’s beloved personal chef, you were like a sister to him.

You wasted no time leaving the campus behind, ready to go back into the darkness of your bedroom to forget you existed. You really wish you could disappear, that the ground would split beneath you and swallow you whole, but you couldn’t just leave when your phone was filled with calls and messages from friends and coworkers wondering where you were and if you were fine. So many people cared, what kind of person would you be to leave them all alone like this, especially when all they wanted was to help you? But being alone helped, trying to live life as normal as possible while adjusting to a Hongjoong-free lifestyle helped. It would take some time, but you’d find your normal someday. All you had to do was avoid-

“(Y/n)!” Your body froze.

He rarely called you by your name but his voice was distinct on its own, and it was the most sickly sweet thing you’ve ever heard. You wanted to run, to never have him see you like this. Dear god, how did you even look right now? You felt like shit, you probably looked the part. Dammit, Hongjoong was right all along, you were shit. You were worse than shit, you were just pathetic. A pathetic, lovestruck loser itching to just turn and say hi, to have the conversation you always dreamed of but you knew that wouldn’t happen. He’ll yell at you again. He’ll-

“(Y/n)? H-hi…” Hongjoong said shyly, standing right in front of you as you shrank into yourself.

His brows furrowed as you looked away, mentally arguing with yourself as you went over the days of self-reflecting you did, trying to find some lesson from your solitude to aid in this situation and it was starting to scare him. You were never quiet with him, you always had something to say even if it wasn’t important but, luckily, he had something important to say and hopefully you’d listen.

“I- T-the other day…. I w-was…. I-I’m sorry.” He stammered out, this confession a lot harder than he thought, especially now that you were facing him, eyes just as innocent as the day he met you, but he couldn’t run away this time.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me, honestly. Everyone told me I was an idiot and I think they’re right. I treated you like you were garbage for years, all because I didn’t want to be mated so young. I just wanted to date around before I finally settled down with someone and, m-maybe I could’ve just said that, so you didn’t have to wait around for me all these years but, I never hated you, and I can’t hate you. I know you won’t forgive me right away but I think it’s only fair that I can be a good mate to you now.”

He swallowed hard, trying to suppress the desperate ‘please’ he wanted to add as your pupils began to shake, almost as if you were a machine malfunctioning, none of your self-reflecting preparing you for this moment, the only thing coming to mind being some sad blog article you found during your second day of isolation. ‘Forgiving and forgetting too soon is dangerous. Find yourself’. It wasn’t what you wanted but maybe what you need, what he needed. So, without hesitation, you smiled brightly at him although it never reached your eyes, clearing your throat as you tried to keep your voice steady.

“Hongjoong, I can’t forgive you easily. I waited for you, I tried to make you accept me and it always ended up with me getting hurt. Honestly, if I just treated you like a regular crush, maybe we could’ve forgotten we’re meant to be together until after graduation or something.” You laughed awkwardly, wanting to look away as his eyes softened in the saddest way, but you needed to do this, eyes locked on his as you exhaled through your nose.

“I couldn’t be by your side all the time, so whether you dated anyone is still a mystery to me but, I’ve been alone for seven years hoping you’d come around, and I think it’s time I take those years back. I’m not sure if what you said counted as a rejection or if we’re still mates but, if we are, we’ll come back to each other eventually. For now, I just need some time.”

You managed to walk past him without completely collapsing in tears, speed walking back to your apartment as you tried to swallow sobs, not even taking in the way Hongjoong stumbled to follow you, almost like a zombie as he attempted to plead for you to reconsider, to force himself to accept your decision but ask how long you needed, but he couldn’t do that. He tried to picture himself in your shoes, seven years of pining only to be publicly humiliated by the person you were meant to spend the rest of your life with. He couldn’t blame you for not forgiving him, and he sure as hell couldn’t force you, so he let you go, trudging in the opposite direction to his two story apartment just to hide in his bedroom until he didn’t feel like dying anymore.

But as more days passed and it only got harder for Hongjoong. He barely left his room but also never slept, every song he created was played in minor scales to fit his now melancholy life. The charisma he typically exuded was hidden with puffy red eyes from crying and a yellow knit sweater a few sizes too large for his body but it was the only thing that comforted him at this point, especially when knowing you had reconnected with everyone but him.

After exactly one week of distancing yourself from the world, you caved and meet with the boys individually (sans Hongjoong), apologizing for needing space although they completely understood, but the way each interaction ended made your guts churn with guilt. ‘Stay safe, luna’, that’s how all of them addressed you before they left, leaving you filled with the desire to return to how things were before. You missed your friends and, the fact your mate was finally ready to claim you, only made you want to forgive Hongjoong sooner. But you needed to be your own person for once. You had seven years worth of relationships to catch up on and you wouldn’t let them keep you from that.

Except when they did.

You should’ve known it was risky letting them know you had a date so soon, just some other human on campus that had yet found his soulmate. They sounded happy for you, Wooyoung going so far to ask where you met and where your date would be and what time, giving suggestions on what to say and wear since it was “your first”. It was a sweet gesture, and you thought nothing of it, but that information meant everything to him which led to now, the boys huddled together in their living room with a slightly paler and sickly looking Hongjoong curled into the corner of their loveseat.

“So they’re going bowling tonight at 8:30? We could ask her about it tomorrow in case she’s into him because hyung isn’t looking too great.” Yeosang commented, everyone looking to Hongjoong as he managed to drown his entire body within the sweater, only his head visible as he stared ahead like some lost puppy.

“He’s just weak from not being around her for so long, but their bond is still there so he’s fine. But we have nothing to worry about. She won’t fall in love with him so don’t get too involved, she’ll just stop talking to us again if we meddle too much.” Seonghwa warned, a chorus of ‘Okays’ confirming their dismissal as they all stood to retreat to their bedrooms.

“Wait, who is she going out with anyways? There’s only 10 other humans at that school.” Mingi’s question cause everyone to freeze, the silence in the room contrasting with the faint answer Woooyung gave in their mindlink, Hongjoong turning to look at him with hurt and pain.

“Why didn’t you say it was Yugyeom?!”

“I did! Just not to you, until now because I forgot to tune you out.” He said shyly, flinching as Hongjoong ran past him and right out their front door, none of them sure of what to do at that point.

It was such a minor yet major detail. Kim Yugyeom was admittedly the most wanted person any of them could think of. Human girls wanted him, werewolf girls wanted him, most guys couldn’t help but stare whenever he passed by. He was gorgeous with eyes that sparkled every time he smiled. He spoke about his soulmate with so much passion despite never meeting her, following his words with how he’d treat any girl before her with the same love and care. It was a pick up line meant to hook any hopelessly romantic girl in, the sweetest way to say their relationship wouldn’t last. But this was Kim Yugyeom, they knew it was only meant with good intentions, not wanting to string someone along with the false hope they’d be together forever. And that’s exactly what you needed. To explore while knowing you’d always come back to Hongjoong. But that’s not what Hongjoong wanted. He didn’t want you dating anyone else, finding temporary happiness when he was supposed to give you a lifetime of it. And humans were more flexible with their soulmates, they had the privilege to move one without the pain or withdrawals of losing their mate. Werewolves just died if they were rejected, heartbreak and loneliness consuming them, so there was no telling how your heart would react to someone exactly like you. Maybe you’ll fall in love with him. Maybe he’ll abandon his soulmate for you once he learns how amazing you are. Maybe Hongjoong would die from lack of food and sleep before he even reached your apartment, which he was still sprinting full speed towards. It was only 7:30pm, meaning he had an hour before you and Yugyeom went out, but he didn’t have a plan. He had no idea what he was doing, but he needed to stop you before you found yourself in love with someone else.

It was like some scene in a drama, Hongjoong’s chest heaving as he finally came to a stop just outside your apartment. His body felt like giving out as he climbed the two flights of stairs to your door, only to find you waving shyly to Yugyeom just as he turned away, trying not to lock eyes with Hongjoong but Hongjoong’s eyes were only trained on you, yours finding his as a panicked look crossed your face. Should you look away? Go back inside? What was he even doing there? You never told the boys your address… You gasped as he approached you, swallowing hard as you tried to remain calm, but how could you stay calm when you finally got a good look at him?

“Oh my god, are you okay?” You didn’t hesitate to ask, stepping further from your door to examine him, reaching for his face only to stumble back to your original position. You were making great progress, you can’t do that now.

“I’ve been better, but even then I wasn’t fine.” He said with a dry chuckle, your lips curling into a fake smile to not show how much his appearance affected you. He looked like he was on the brink of death. You knew wolves would get sick without their mates, but was it really killing him? Were you killing him?

“Joongi-Uhm, Hongjoong, how about you sit down? You look like you’re going to faint.” You offered, stepping back to allow him inside, watching him stumble past you and straight to your sofa as if he owned the place.

It was such an awkward moment for you, watching the poor boy curl into himself as his sweater practically became his body, a sigh leaving your lips as you shut your door. Instead of healing yourself, you had to heal him. It was oddly pitiful but your instincts screamed at you to do it.

Hongjoong shut his eyes as he eased into your sofa, feeling more comfortable than he was in his own home, even more so with your scent invading his senses, your body warmth radiating onto his as you carefully took a seat, trying to figure out what to do.

“Do you need food, or water? Or a doctor?” You asked, the giggle he let out this time weak but still enough to make your heart beat a bit faster.

“I just need you near me.” He admitted.

You let out a squeak as he shamelessly fell into your lap, head comfortably resting against your thighs as he laid face up. You couldn’t stop your hand from easing through his unnaturally colored locks, melting at how soft they were, bottom lip trapped under your teeth as you had to fight off the desire to cup his face. You’ve never gotten this close to him and he wasn’t telling you to go away, instead letting out content purrs as he nuzzled closer to you, your eyes burning with unshed tears. Why couldn’t he just want you from the start? You’d would’ve been able to hold him like this all the time, to see him happy and healthy rather than a shell of his former self. But he didn’t want you, and now he was at your apartment just to keep himself from dying. It was silly to think he cared about you as much as he did himself.

“Of course you do.” You whispered, laughing bitterly as your hand left his hair, moving to his arm to ease him back up into a sitting position.

You couldn’t get past him no matter how hard you tried, nor did you want to, but every word he said, everything he’s done, followed you like a ghost haunting some poor unsuspecting soul. Why did you have to love someone who didn’t love you the same? Why was this your life?

“Can you just hold me a little longer? P-please?” He asked with a cute whine to his voice.

You sighed and grabbed his arm, gently pulling him back into his previous position, fingers massaging his scalp as he finally opened his eyes to look at you. You were beautiful, even with the frown lines etched into your face. He wonder how long they’ve been there, especially when he’s only seen you smiling. Maybe you spent your alone time more upset than he thought. Where you upset before he came? You couldn’t be when Yugyeom was here, no one could be upset with him around. Except Hongjoong. He felt a grudge building inside him just from the mere thought of him with you. He felt like interrogating you on what he was doing here in the first place and why you gave your address out to just anyone, but it wasn’t his place to ask and probably wouldn’t be for a while, but jealousy and rage was all he felt so any reasonable thinking was thrown out the window.

“I don’t want you to see Yugyeom anymore.” He said definitely, your eyes widened as you stared at him incredulously, an amused giggle leaving your lips.

“That’s not for you to choose, Hongjoong. I told you I need time-“

“Those seven years you’ve been waiting I couldn’t be with anyone else. I always compared every girl I met to you and none of them came close to being as perfect, now I have to watch you date some dance major with pretty eyes because I was an insecure dumbass? He has a soulmate, and he’s always going to choose them no matter how much you like each other, so why not save your feelings? I’ll wait as long as you want me to, but just don’t fall in love with anyone else.”

You tried so hard to hide your smile. This wasn’t something you typically liked, possessive guys being on the list of things you found annoying, but considering it was Hongjoong, his soft eyes hard and sharp as their hue seemed to go pitch black as his words were both sweet and demanding, made you fall in love just a little more than you already were. You wanted to take this as his confession, as a truce in your previous one-sided enemyship, to tell him that you told Yugyeom you couldn’t go out with him because you could only see yourself with Hongjoong, but you needed time. Not time to date and explore the way you thought he had, but to watch him work as hard as you did to prove he was ready and willing to love you. It was a little malicious, sure, but it was all in good fun. He’d always be your mate after all.

“I don’t know, Hongjoong, you really hurt me…”

“It hurt knowing I wasn’t with you.” Your smile cracked through, causing his own to appear, your game already over.

“And how do you think I felt? You think you can make up seven years worth of waiting so easily?”

You squealed as he shot up, magically seeming more alive than when he arrived, eyes full of life and his lips and cheeks the same rosy color as when you met him, hands warm and soft as he cupped your face.

“Good thing I have forever to do it.”

The silence was comfortable but unbearable, especially as he hesitated to lean closer, your lips puckering to guide him but he didn’t seem to be catching on and, when he did, you shifted back, laughing awkwardly as you stared at one another, both of you taking a deep breath as you finally closed the gap between you, a weird electric sensation you could only dream of as your lips slowly grew accustom to one another, moving so slow yet feeling so urgent. It was all still new to the both of you, romance and dating only now becoming part of your lives, but it was exciting knowing that you had years ahead of you to perfect it, your entire lives dedicated to loving one another. And it only took a seven year crush to get you here.

#ateez imagines #ateez fluff #ateez angst #ateez reactions #ateez scenarios #kim hongjoong imagines #ateez au #kim hongjoong au #ateez werewolf au #ateez soulmate au #kim hongjoong scenarios #kim hongjoong reactions #kim hongjoong fluff #kim hongjoong angst #kim hongjoong werewolf au #kim hongjoong soulmate au #kim hongjoong fanfic #ateez fanfic #im-whatchamccallit

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combat-wombatus · 4 years

Note

YEAHHH YOU KNOW IM HERE!!! BC I LOVE YOU COCO!!

okayy so for my request 👉🏽👈🏽

can i get bakugo x f!reader and prompts: 14. “You’re so cute when you’re mad.” + 24. “Would you mind if I kissed you?”

okay i love you!! 🥺🥺 thank you for doing this!

14: “You’re so cute when you’re mad.” 24: “Would you mind if I kissed you?” Character: Bakugou

ok so like...i may or may not have gone slightly overboard and turned this into a whole fic-

it’s like 2.2k words lakdjfhasjkdh enjoy-

thank u for requesting aves 🥺

“What? A party? I’m not fucking going.” Bakugou snarled. “Staying up past midnight is overrated. I need my sleep.”

“But Bakubro,” Kaminari whined. “We’re hosting! Mina planned it all, and she spent a lot of time doing it! You should at least go. You don’t have to stay up that late.”

“Tch. As if I care.” Bakugou shoved his hands in his pockets and slumped forward even more. “Pinky can waste all the time she fucking wants to. I’m not going.”

“It’s our last year at UA! Come on,” Kirishima joined in. “You can leave early if you want to! It’ll be mostly in the dorms anyways. Mina did plan a scavenger hunt though, in Gym Gamma. She says that she planted “mementos” of our school experience. Isn’t that fun?”

“Fun my ass. It’s stupid, is what it is.” He glared at Kirishima. “Should’ve visited my parents. Even the old hag isn’t as loud as all of you extras in the dorms.”

“You say that like you didn’t blast a hole in the wall just last week,” Kaminari pointed out.

Kirishima winced. “Denki-”

“WELL WHOSE FUCKING IDEA WAS IT TO PRETEND THAT THEY WERE FUCKING KIDNAPPED?!?” Bakugou waved a fist wildly in Kaminari’s face.

“Fair point, fair point. You should’ve seen the look on your face though! (Y/N) thought you’d murder her!” Kaminari cackled.

“I’D NEVER FUCKING MURDER HER! ARE YOU INSANE??” Bakugou’s palms started crackling.

“Hey, chill bro, we know that.” Kirishima tried to calm him down.

Kaminari was not so lucky. “Why? You joke about murdering us all the time. What’s so different about her?”

Bakugou turned, a quick retort on the tip of his tongue, before he realized that Kaminari was, actually, right for once.

“She’s…she’s…” He stuttered.

Kaminari let out a hoot of laughter. “I knew it!”

“Shut the fuck up!” Bakugou’s face turned beet red. “You don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“Suit yourself. We know the truth.” Kaminari patted Bakugou’s shoulder.

“Oh yeah, Bakubro! (Y/L/N)-chan is going to be at the party too! Why don’t you confess to her there? That would be fun! And then Mina will forgive you for leaving early too!”

Bakugou’s left eye twitched. “There’s nothing to confess, Shitty Hair. And I don’t give a rat’s ass what Mina thinks.”

Kirishima and Kaminari looked at each other, then turned back to Bakugou.

“Sure,” Kirishima smirked. “Nothing at all.”

“Hey! (Y/N)!” Mina ran up to you. “You’re coming to the party, right?”

You turned to face her. “Sure am! Who isn’t? It’s in the dorms anyways so there’s not much of a point in not coming, right?”

Mina sighed. “Kiri and Kami are having a hard time convincing Bakugou to come. Something about his sleep schedule?”

You were a little disappointed, but it was to be expected. Bakugou didn’t participate much in team-building activities anyways. “Can’t relate. My sleep schedule has been fucked to high heaven.”

“Right? What a crappy excuse.” Mina rolled her eyes. “Anyways, Sero’s waiting for me in the gym to help set the scavenger hunt up. See ya later, yeah?”

“Sure! Do you want more help? I can help you guys set things up if you’d like,” you asked.

Mina leaned forward, smiling mischievously. “Nope! It’s all good! And besides, I want you to participate in the game, so you can’t help!”

You smiled. “Ah, okay. Well, I’ll see you later then!”

“See ya!” Mina winked and gave you a little wave.

“So, the rules of the game are simple: whichever team finds and touches our very own 3-A New Year’s Ball, together, wins!” Mina exclaimed from her place on the couch.

“What kind of shitty game is this?” Bakugou growled, leaning against the kitchen counter.

Mina pouted. “Hey! Sero and I spent a lot of time making this happen!”

“Yeah! They were amazing!” Ochaco jumped up too. “Stop being ungrateful!”

“Fine, whatever.” Bakugou crossed his arms. “Get on with it already. We don’t have all night.”

“Actually, we do! Not everyone here has the sleeping schedule of an old man,” Kaminari piped in.

“Shut up, Dunce Face. Nobody asked.” Bakugou scowled.

“Hey! Back to the regular program. You get to choose your own partners! Isn’t that exciting?” Mina waved her piece of paper around wildly. “Now get to it! You have three minutes!”

You looked around the room. You would’ve asked Mina, but she and Sero weren’t participating since they were the ones who hid it. They had also apparently hidden clues all over Gym Gamma as to where the location of the ball was.

“Ocha-” Oops. She’d already teamed up with Iida.

“Oi, Shitty Hair, come over here!” Bakugou yelled across the room. You sighed. Of course.

“Sorry Bakubro, I already have a partner…” Kirishima said rather sheepishly.

“…you WHAT?”

“Yeah…Momo here didn’t have a partner yet and…well…Mineta was hot on her trail,” Kirishima tried to explain as Momo breathed a sigh of relief.

“Shuckers!” Mineta faceplanted onto the couch. “I never get what I want”

“Hmph. Karma’s a bitch.” Jiro smirked from her position next to Kaminari.

“Dunce Face, you got a partner too?” Bakugou sighed, exasperated.

“Right next to me!” Kaminari pointed to Jiro with his thumb. You smiled in satisfaction. They were honestly adorable.

You turned to the rest of the room. Hagakure had already snagged Ojiro, Midoriya had, unsurprisingly, paired with Todoroki. Shoji and…Tsu? Koda had paired up with Sato, and…you snickered a little at the last pairing. Tokoyami had been bombarded with Aoyama’s relentless chatter. Which left…you and Bakugou.

Huh. That was weird. You swore that not everyone had a partner just a minute ago. And it was awfully strange that Tokoyami would choose to pair with Aoyama instead of you or even Bakugou, but…you supposed that he didn’t really have a choice in the matter.

“So. (Y/N).” Bakugou cleared his throat. “Partners?”

“Uh…yeah,” you replied, fidgeting slightly with your hands.

“Ok! Everyone is paired up and ready to go?” Mina was practically bouncing.

“Yeah!” Most everyone chimed in unison.

“Let’s do it then! Sero, come on! Lead the way!” She jumped down from her place on the kitchen counter.

“What the fuck? Pinky and Tape Arms hung that thing all the way up there?” Bakugou swore.

“You can use your quirk to get up there though, right?” You looked at him, brows furrowed.

“Duh. But what about you?” He looked you up and down. “Last time I checked, you couldn’t fly.”

“Easy! I’ll just ride on your back!” You chirped. “Unless you can’t carry me?”

“Tch. As if. Get on.” He squatted down, letting you scamper onto his back. “Ready?” You wrapped your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist.

You leaned into the crook of his neck, breath lightly fanning his face. “Ready,” you confirmed.

Cackling gleefully, Bakugou shot up into the sky, palms ablaze.

And as quickly as he flew, he was dropping to the ground even quicker.

“DAMMIT!” He glared daggers at the ice wall that had appeared over your heads. “Fucking Deku! And that IcyHot bastard!”

Spiraling, he tried his best to save the two of you from a hard impact on the ground, but he was only successful in twirling around in the air like a ballerina.

“Shit!” He tried to flip upside down in order to land on his feet, but the momentum was against him.

With an “oof”, the two of you landed in a pile on the (luckily) snow-covered ground.

“You alright there, idiot?” Bakugou said gruffly.

You groaned. You weren’t sure how, but you definitely sprained something with the way you landed. Ankle? Wrist? Perhaps both?

“Hey. Hey!” Bakugou climbed over the snowdrift to reach you. “Get up! The fuck is wrong with you?”

“Calm down, Bakugou!” You pushed his hand away. “It’s just a sprain,” you pointed to your ankle.

“Nothing else?” He seemed intent on picking you up, so you let him.

“Nope, everything’s fine,” you assured him.

“Sorry about that!” Midoriya called out from atop his perch on Todoroki’s newly-formed glacier. “We got a little carried away!”

Bakugou stilled. You winced. Midoriya was in for a rough time.

“Deku…” He ground out. “What the FUCK do you think you and IcyHot are doing?”

“I-I’m sorry! We didn’t mean to knock you down from the air!” Midoriya started gesturing nervously. “I-I swear it was an a-accident!”

Todoroki sighed. “It was an accident. Let it go, Bakugou. And (Y/N), we are very sorry for having injured you. Would you like for us to accompany you to Recovery Girl? The game is over now.”

“The fuck did you say, IcyHot? No fucking way. I’m taking her.” He stomped towards Recovery Girl’s office, you firmly nestled in his arms.

“Think we succeeded?” Todoroki turned to Midoriya. “They seem to be getting along fine.”

“I…I’m not sure. It’s not great that (Y/L/N)-chan had to get injured for this to work, but…Recovery Girl will fix her up fine and Kacchan might finally realize that he has feelings for her…”

“Hey guys! Great job!” Sero dangled Mina from a tree branch overhead. “Look at them go!”

“It’s all according to plan…” Mina clapped her hands together. “Now, we just have to wait for the clock to chime twelve…”

“Fucking assholes.” Bakugou hadn’t stopped muttering underneath his breath since you’d left.

You giggled. He was so angry over such a small thing. It wasn’t like the fall was intentional; you’d both just been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Bakugou stopped walking and stared at you. “What?” He frowned at you. “Why are you laughing? Did you knock your fucking head on the way down too?”

You started full-on laughing this time. “No, Bakugou. It’s just…you’re so cute when you’re mad,” you tried to explain. “Your eyebrows scrunch up and you purse your lips and…”

By this point, Bakugou was a blushing mess. No one had ever called him “cute” when he was angry before.

After a while, he broke the silence. “So…I don’t scare you?”

You laid your head on his chest. “Not at all.”

“Tch. You should be scared of me, dumbass.” He turned your body so that you were facing him, shielding his tomato-hued face from your gaze.

“And why should I be?”

“Because…because…I’m Bakugou Katsuki, dammit!” He clenched his fists, bunching up your parka.

Snickering, you decided to tease him. “Thank you, Captain Obvious. I thought you were Midoriya Izuku for a second.”

“You WHAT?!?”

The two of you bantered playfully all the way to Recovery Girl’s office. She took one look at you and frowned.

“Tsk. I thought there wasn’t training today?” She rifled around for an ice pack.

“There wasn’t. We played a game and I just sprained my ankle.” You explained sheepishly. “And possibly my wrist.”

Recovery Girl tapped her cane on your knee and sighed heavily. “You guys don’t know how to take care of yourselves! Playing a game and getting injured?” She rubbed her temples. “The hospitals are going to have a field day with the lot of you once you become pros.”

“Sorry. I promise I’ll be more careful next time.” You held in a wince as she prodded your ankle.

“Minor sprains. I’m going to wrap those and give you some gummies. Take this ice pack with you when you go. Ice for 10, leave for 20, and repeat for 3 hours. Got it?”

“Yes ma’am!” You held out your wrist for her to bind.

“And don’t you go do anything else dangerous now, you hear me?”

“Loud and clear!” You hopped nimbly off the table, landing on one leg, and was promptly scooped up again by Bakugou.

“Hey! Let me down! I can walk!” You protested against his arms.

Bakugou turned to Recovery Girl. “Look at her. You really want her to walk?”

“As a matter of fact, I do not. Stay still, young lady, and let him carry you,” she admonished.

You slumped in defeat, and Bakugou carried you out of the room.

“Ahh…young love,” Recovery Girl stared wistfully at your fading silhouettes. “I remember…”

“3!”

“2!”

“1!!”

“HAPPY NEW YEAR’S!!”

The class was situated in the common room, spread out over the numerous couches and munching on fresh cookies (courtesy of Momo and Sato).

And as the clock chimed 12, you looked to Bakugou, sitting right next to you.

“Can…can I…” You started nervously, fingers fidgeting with your ice pack.

“What? Spit it out,” Bakugou stared at you.

“Canikissyou?” You blurted out as fast as your tongue would let you.

He smirked. “What was that? I couldn’t understand you.”

You sighed. “Would…would you mind if I kissed you?”

Bakugou’s lips pulled into a wolfish grin. “All you had to do was ask, dumbass.”

Epilogue

“Do you think they caught on?” Mina whispered excitedly to Sero. “I wasn’t sure if they saw me leading Todoroki and Midoriya to the ball.”

“Nah, I think we’re fine. Besides, it’s not like he can complain. He got a girlfriend thanks to us, right?” Sero chuckled.

“Ok…if you say so…”

Suddenly, they heard a growl coming from the doorway to their left.

“Shit.”

“Run!!”

“I won’t let you bastards get away with this!!”

Coco’s New Year Celebration 20-21

Masterlist

213 notes · View notes

goodlucktai · 4 years

Text

the ship sways but the heart is steady

chapter one: the ship sways

the untamed pairing: jiang cheng & wei ying, lan zhan/wei ying word count: 2549 summary: Wei Ying’s friends are at rock-bottom, and Wei Ying puts his life on hold to help them put theirs back together. To absolutely no one’s surprise except Wei Ying’s, his family goes with him. read on ao3

During family dinner, Wei Ying’s phone rings, cutting mother off mid-sentence.

Jiang Cheng cringes inwardly and his brother’s face goes two shades paler. They have guests over, so mother doesn’t do more than glare hatefully in Wei Ying’s direction.

She won’t make a scene in front of Yanli’s husband, or even Wei Ying’s fiancé—Jin Zixuan is everything Yu Ziyuan wants in a match for her daughter, and Lan Zhan’s family is one of the richest on the East Coast.

Lan Zhan is also willing to give as good as he gets. His eyes are already narrowing in mother’s direction, the tentative ceasefire of family dinner wobbling precariously beneath their feet as he perceives the great and unforgivable offense of insult to Wei Ying. A-Li resolutely tries to pick the conversation back up from where it lulled, with all the steely resolve of someone throwing herself into the path of a rampaging bull. Jin Zixuan has graduated from grimacing into his wineglass to gazing hopefully at the clock every three minutes.

Always willing to fall on the grenade, Wei Ying ducks his head meekly.

“Sorry, I thought I silenced it,” he says, the shape of a laugh in his voice even if he can’t manage to drag it all the way out. He’s rummaging his cellphone out of his pocket, presumably to turn it off as a gesture of good faith. “I’ll just…”

But his eyes catch on the screen, and something happens to his expression that Jiang Cheng has never seen before.

Wei Ying stands up, so abruptly his chair sails back with an awful screech, and excuses himself. Lan Zhan follows him out of the dining room without a single word or a backwards glance. That’s all it takes for mother to pick up a scathing tirade against Jiang Cheng’s good-for-nothing, ungrateful, waste-of-space brother.

He joins Jin Zixuan in watching the clock. Worry swims in the back of his mind like a school of startled fish.

Wei Ying’s apartment is really actually Lan Zhan’s apartment, but the two of them have been inseparable since they were fourteen, and it naturally followed that where one of them would live, so would the other. The place is ridiculous, modern and minimalist, and it would look like something out of a magazine if not for Wei Ying’s inevitable clutter. But even the stacks of books and magazines, and haphazard easels, and little jars of paints and loose brushes everywhere manage to make the place seem charming and lived-in instead of the horrible disaster tornado it rightly should be.

Jiang Cheng asked him once what the monthly rent was but Wei Ying looked so haunted by the question that Jiang Cheng decided he didn’t actually want to know.

They’re all crammed into the conversation pit, recovering from family dinner in the usual fashion. Jin Zixuan is much more likable when his tie is loose and he’s nursing a lukewarm beer.

A-Li is clinging to Jiang Cheng’s hand so hard he’s beginning to lose circulation but he’d sooner agree to amputate than he would shake her off.

“You’re on speaker, A-Qing,” Wei Ying says with mock-severity. “Keep it PG for the children in the room, please.”

“So Jiang Cheng and Jin Zixuan are there?” Wen Qing asks rhetorically.

Jin Zixuan sighs but doesn’t rise to it. Jiang Cheng snaps, “Listen, assholes,” partly out of half-hearted irritation, and partly to hear Wen Qing sigh the way she does when she doesn’t want to reward someone with a real laugh.

“Yanli and Lan Zhan are here, too,�� Wei Ying says cheerfully. His tone doesn’t match how worried his eyes are. “This is a family-only meeting. So tell us what those texts were about.”

Jiang Cheng realizes right away why Wei Ying bailed on dinner.

There was an apartment fire. The Wens lost everything. Wen Ning is in the hospital with smoke inhalation and second-degree burns because he ran in to make sure their neighbors got out safely. All of their savings are wrapped up in putting Wen Qing through medical school. She’s adrift now in a way that Jiang Cheng has never been.

“There’s... we have an old house, somewhere out in the country. It was sold to my grandparents cheap, but they never got around to renovating it. It’s not even livable, just bare bones.”

A-Li starts crying the second Wen Qing does.

“It’s too much,” Wen Qing forces out. “I can’t do this on my own.”

Wei Ying, to his credit, actually does hesitate. A whole five seconds. And then he says, “I thought you were supposed to be my smart friend. Who said you were doing this on your own?”

He says it as easily as if it was an absolute given that he would turn his whole life around and upside down for her. All she had to do was call.

There is a minor disagreement between Jiang Cheng’s siblings.

“A-Li,” Wei Ying says, holding both of her hands in both of his own and looking deeply, imploringly, into her eyes. “You’re way too pregnant to fly.”

Her face crinkles alarmingly, eyes already red and puffy from recent tears. Jiang Cheng, Jin Zixuan and Lan Zhan tense in exactly the same way, at the same time.

“I won’t have you going all the way to California by yourself,” Yanli says in her most eldest-sibling tone of voice. “I won’t have it, A-Ying.”

“I am a grown-up,” Wei Ying points out gently, with all the wisdom of his twenty-four years. “I pay bills and have a job I hate and everything. And I won’t be by myself, I’ll have A-Qing and A-Ning.”

“And me, obviously,” Jiang Cheng grumbles. Wei Ying whips around to stare at him.

“Oh,” Yanli says, a blanket of relief rolling across her face. “Oh, of course.”

“You can’t,” Wei Ying hisses at him, looking more panicked now than he has all night. “Your mother—”

“Okay, first of all, don’t tell me what I can and can’t do,” Jiang Cheng bites back, prickly with worry for the Wens and worry for his idiot brother. “Secondly, you, going by yourself, is not an option. It’s off the table. It was never on the table. Stupid,” he adds, on principle.

Lan Zhan doesn’t contribute much to the conversation at this point but Jiang Cheng learned a long time ago that that doesn’t mean shit. Lan Zhan has more opinions than any three people combined, whether or not he chooses to voice them. There is no fucking way he doesn’t have thoughts about his fiance picking up and moving nearly three thousand miles away.

Maybe there’s some strange alternate timeline out there where he would be content to stay behind and let Wei Ying go off without him, but Jiang Cheng would bet his entire trust fund that that’s simply not happening here.

If ever there was a world where Wei Ying would be backed into a corner and forced to help the Wens alone, this world isn’t it.

There’s a minor disagreement between his siblings, and there’s a whole fucking nuclear fallout at home.

“I forbid it,” mother snaps. She’s livid, but she’s livid so much of the time that it started losing its edge a few years ago. “Absolutely not. I refuse to allow this family to lose face because you want to gallivant across the country for some charity case.”

Jiang Cheng sees it when Wei Ying’s posture changes. The dreamy raincloud gray of Wei Ying’s eyes hardens into heavy steel, and his spine stiffens, and his shoulders go back; the absolute opposite of his downcast self at dinner earlier. He’s willing to fight any impossible battle as long as it’s for someone else.

Jiang Cheng grew up looking up to him. He spent all of his formative years as Wei Ying’s little brother. That’s why he’s willing, too.

“The Wens aren’t a charity case,” he says. Not very loud, but he says it. It’s a lot more than he could have done when he was a kid.

“You don’t even know them! They’re just some random people on the Internet. They’re probably scamming you, and you’re both idiot enough to fall for it!”

That’s so untrue and unfair that Jiang Cheng doesn’t know how to argue for a moment. They’ve never met the Wens in person, but Wei Ying has been friends with them since he was ten. They mail each other presents for Christmas and birthdays. Jiang Cheng distinctly remembers calling Wen Qing for help with biochem homework, multiple times. Wen Ning always Skyped with Yanli when he was stuck on a recipe, the two of them cooking together from three time zones apart. They’re all tangled up in each other’s lives, comfortably, irrevocably.

Of course we know them, Jiang Cheng thinks, bewildered.

Out loud, he says, “They’re not scamming us. And we already told them we’re coming.”

Mother screeches and storms around the house and throws things, but she hasn’t actually hit either of them since they grew taller than her. She hasn’t been a source of real fear since Jiang Cheng started looking down at her instead of looking up. It’s mostly just miserable to be around her now.

He remembers that fear, though. It sticks to his body like a half-healed scar. It reminds him to flinch.

It’s early enough in the morning that it might as well still be nighttime when Jiang Cheng and his suitcases finally show up at Wei Ying’s building. He leaves his luggage in the lobby under the watchful gaze of the concierge and takes the private elevator up, keying in the code to his brother’s apartment.

The doors roll open to the living room. Lan Zhan is holding a tiny animal carrier in his hands, gazing at Wei Ying in an extremely gross and smitten way while Wei Ying discusses the upcoming trip with their pets. Pidan and Bao are not being particularly attentive, snuffling at his chin and chewing on a piece of his hair respectively.

“Diedie has decided to be stubborn and not listen to good sense,” Wei Ying is telling the rabbits seriously, “so you’re coming with me and ruining your life instead of being safe and comfortable here at home.”

“Baba is being dramatic,” Lan Zhan informs them in turn. “And also foolish, if he doesn’t realize that our home is wherever he goes.”

“This is the weirdest domestic scene I’ve ever walked into,” Jiang Cheng says loudly, since apparently the telltale ding of the elevator wasn’t enough to announce his presence. He has to interrupt before they do something horrible, like make out in front of him. It’s a constant fucking risk with these two. “Are we leaving or what?”

So the rabbits go into their crate with a frankly absurd amount of fanfare and Jiang Cheng helps wrestle the luggage downstairs. By then, the shuttle that Lan Zhan ordered is waiting for them at the curb.

He knows it isn’t going to be a vacation. Wei Ying’s friends are at rock-bottom, and Wei Ying has essentially put his life on hold to help them put theirs back together. It’s going to be hard work. It’s probably going to be painful, and a little bit scary.

Jiang Cheng is only involved because he chose to be, but it never occurs to him to choose anything else.

If this is where his brother is going, it’s probably the right place to go. And if it’s not, if the whole thing turns out to be a horrible mistake and he regrets all of it, then at least he’ll be in good company.

Wen Ning is out of the hospital by the time their plane lands, and he’s waiting with Wen Qing at the airport. Wei Ying, who by all accounts should feel as foggy and queasy as Jiang Cheng definitely does, drops his bags and sprints across the terminal towards them.

Jiang Cheng and Lan Zhan follow at a more reasonable human pace, possibly in part to give the friends a few moments together. The busy airport traffic moves around them like a river flowing around a rock.

Wen Ning is sobbing, almost a full head taller than Wei Ying but buried against him like the little brother he is. Wen Qing is leaning quietly against the two of them with her eyes closed, as if filling her reserves and shoring up her strength.

She’s the type of person who would be able to cow his mother with a single glance, Jiang Cheng thinks admiringly, and more efficiently than Lan Zhan ever could. She must have a spine built out of steel to be able to stand there without crumbling under the weight of what she’s lost.

And Wei Ying stands there holding them up, tireless and steady. He’s talking too quietly for Jiang Cheng to hear, saying something that makes Wen Ning nod against his shoulder. He’ll hold them up until the ground falls out from under his feet if he has to. Thankfully it’s more like three minutes.

Introductions aren’t necessary. They all just trade exhausted looks and move as a cohesive unit towards the doors.

Wen Ning starts to help with the bags, bandaged hands and all. Wen Qing and Jiang Cheng both snap at him before he can so much as touch a suitcase, and then he just waffles in place anxiously, like he doesn’t know how to person if he isn’t actively being helpful.

“Hold the kids,” Wei Ying says in the spirit of compromise, taking the pet crate from Lan Zhan and holding it out to Wen Ning instead.

Somehow, they shuffle everything out of the airport and into a rental car. Lan Zhan’s phone starts to blow up as soon as he turns airplane mode off, so he turns airplane mode back on and returns the phone to his pocket.

“My uncle has checked the credit card statement,” Lan Zhan says calmly. “My brother is handling it.”

“Poor Lan Huan,” Wei Ying murmurs.

“We have to call A-Li,” Jiang Cheng remembers with a jolt. He digs his own phone out. “She wanted us to call as soon as we landed.”

Everyone clusters in close for the FaceTime call with Yanli, who is tearful and hormonal and indignant about being left behind. Jiang Cheng begs her not to get into a fight with their mother over this. Yanli raises her chin and says, “We’ll see.”

It’s a very long drive to the estate. Wei Ying’s head sinks against Lan Zhan’s shoulder in an inevitable, unstoppable act of gravity. He falls asleep within minutes.

“You have to help me thank him,” Wen Qing says quietly, tapping anxious fingers against the steering wheel. “Help me figure out how to thank him.”

Jiang Cheng snorts, not unkindly. “What makes you think I know how?”

An entire childhood spent raising each other, protecting each other, annoying the shit out of each other, and there are still some things Jiang Cheng has no idea how to say to his brother in a way that he’ll understand. Like I’m sorry, and thank you.

Lan Zhan turns his head to the side, so that his cheek is pillowed against Wei Ying’s hair. Outside, the sprawling California countryside sprints past the windows, wild and golden under a relentless summer sun.

#mo dao zu shi #the untamed #mdzs #wangxian #yunmeng shuangjie #jiang cheng #wei ying #lan zhan #wen ning #wen qing #jiang yanli #my writing #mdzs fic #it was only a matter of time fellas #the ship sways

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kuredono · 3 years

Text

when the clock strikes midnight | Sukuna x gn!Reader

TW: mentions of being sick, fainting, hands on neck but not strangulation?

“Yuuji!” You scream as your boyfriend finally loses consciousness.

Sukuna isn’t surprised, in fact the damn brat had actually exceeded his expectations and lasted longer than he thought, though it meant that he was in terrible shape. Well, he’ll get healed up later by that girl anyway, so Sukuna just sat back and watched as you defended his vessel from being eaten by the curse. It was a nasty curse, a particularly tenacious vengeful cursed spirit that appeared to learn their moves the more they performed it. You had caught on this pretty quickly, and figured out that it was a new curse only just starting to learn its capabilities, and you were its test dummies. Not that Sukuna cares, but it would mean bad news if it escaped with all the knowledge it has just accumulated. Not that you would let it.

Sukuna’s smirk grew as he saw that switch flick in your head, your gears changing from calculated moves and intelligence to pure strength and instinct, your eyes seeming to glaze over. He loved it when that happened.

Since you entered his vessel’s life, he rarely had to raise a finger because you would always finish the job for him and often stopped his vessel from nearly killing himself. He still took over if and when he felt like it (if Yuuji wasn’t actively suppressing him), and had spoken to you more than a few times. Yuuji would let his guard down when he was tired or sleeping, which was the perfect time for him to talk to you, especially since you stayed up late the majority of nights in a week.

You were interesting. He wanted to know how you were so strong, but you never gave him the answers he wanted. You were usually studying, and he often heard the line ‘if you aren’t here to help me study then please be quiet.’ with a heavy sigh, though you always used polite language when speaking to him. Some nights if he was especially stubborn, he would manage to annoy you enough to have a proper conversation with you, but you were just as stubborn as him when it came to hiding your secrets. You never told your boyfriend about any of your conversations though. Sukuna had considered exposing you to his vessel, but then he probably would never get to speak with you again.

Just as Sukuna had predicted, you dealt with the curse. He almost moved from his throne when you had stumbled over your own feet for crying out loud and nearly lost an arm, and probably your life if you didn’t react as quickly as you did after catching your footing. Sukuna had overheard you throwing up yesterday evening, but he didn’t say anything. Why would he? You insisted it was just exhaustion from doing back to back missions and went to bed, flopping next to Sukuna and promptly going to the land of nod before he could tell you he didn’t care.

Currently you were laying on your back, hand clasping the front of your shirt while gasping for air after finally exorcising the curse. After a minute of catching your breath back, you hauled yourself up, knuckles kneading your temples.

“Ugh... Let’s get you to Ieiri.” You sighed as you looked over at your boyfriend’s body. You shuffled over and ripped up your camisole under your shirt to make bandages to wrap around his head while calling Ijichi requesting a lift to the HQ. You looked beyond exhausted and your cheek was fast blooming into a bruise from when the curse has backhanded you. Ride home confirmed, you let your head hang lowly with a heavy exhale. “I just want to go home.”

After a visit to Ieiri, resulting with the vessel regaining consciousness and fussing over your vast collection of small injuries, nearly 4 hours later, you both arrived home. Sukuna’s vessel was still exhausted and you both had a simple soup which you had the foresight to make last week in anticipation of this week being busy (you somehow could always sense when you were both going to be busy and prepared in advance). Yuuji had wanted to stay up and wait for you to finish your nighttime routine, and he put up a good fight, but lost as fell asleep before getting to wrap you up in his arms.

When Sukuna decided it was safe to switch, he opened his eyes to an empty bedroom, a line of light coming from under the bathroom door where he could hear your strangled sobs and gags. He waited. There was a flush, the sink running, then a gruesome thud. The tap continued running. He waited. You weren't moving. Heaving a sigh, Sukuna rolled out of bed, carpet soft under his feet as he stopped in front of the bathroom. He kicked the door open with his foot, the door stopping as it hit a hand laying on the floor. Stepping in, Sukuna found you laying on the cold tiled floor.

“Human, wake up.” Sukuna nudged your limp body with his foot. Thankfully your eyes fluttered open.

“Huh?” You asked dumbly, watery eyes clouded with sickness, “How did I get here?”

“You passed out. Now get up.”

“I can’t move.”

“Why not?”

“Everything is broken.” You huffed, voice wobbling dangerously, “I feel really wrong.”

“Wrong?”

“I don’t know. Something’s wrong with me,” You stifled a sob, Sukuna rolling his eyes.

“Only now you realise? There are many things wrong with you dumb creature.”

“Sorry...” You rolled your head to the side as your lip quivered, “You’re such an asshole Sukuna.” You hiccuped, tears now falling which only increased Sukuna’s urge to kill you. He hated weak creatures. “Am I dying?”

“No you’re sick. But I might kill you if you don’t stop crying.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t want to die. Can't stop crying.” You wailed.

“You really have a death wish don’t you?”

Sukuna had enough and straddled your unmoving form, wrapping his hands around your neck, but not squeezing just yet. You looked so small in his hands, and now he was close enough, he could feel heat radiating from your frail body.

You bit your bottom lip and sniffled like a child, eyebrows knitting together. “I’ll beat you first.”

“Oh is that so? Not if I kill you here and now.”

“That’s cheating, I told you I can’t move. What’s the fun of killing something that doesn’t move?”

Sukuna’s brows raised as you pouted, serious in what you said. He whipped his head back in hearty laughter, “Oh you know don’t you?”

“I don’t, I just thought you might spare me if I said that because it seems like something you would say.” You were exceptionally chatty tonight, and refreshingly honest with your reactions, though you still kept the polite language. “Can you get off me, I can't breathe and it hurts. I’ll fight you in earnest if you get off me.”

“Will you now?”

“I can try my best King of Curses.” You smirked, though it looked strange when you had fresh tear tracks on your cheeks which were flushed a deep red. This was certainly amusing.

“Fine then. Show me your true self Y/N L/N!” Sukuna strode back to the bedroom, waiting for you to follow. He watched as you shuffled out the bathroom after him, eyes almost shut as you leaned on the doorframe, cursed energy surrounding you and swelling. “That’s more like it- ?!”

Sukuna rushed forwards as your body slumped forwards, a deadweight in Sukuna’s arms.

“S’kuna, can’t see. Sorry. Feel wrong.” You slurred.

Sukuna easily picked you up and unceremoniously dropped you on your shared bed, “If it’s not one brat dying, it’s the other...”

“Sorry.” You huffed, lifting your hand in front of you and slowly closing your hand into a fist, “Fight me...”

“You can’t even stand up.”

“Can too.”

You began to wiggle your arms under yourself to lift yourself up until Sukuna growled, “Don’t you dare.”

“Sorry.”

“Do you ever shut up?” Sukuna growled.

“Sorry...”

Sukuna pinched your cheeks painfully between his fingers, amused as you squirmed in his grip, whining about your bruised cheek, “Apologise one more time and I will rip your little mouth off.”

“No! Don’ do dat! How else am I s’posed to talk to you o’der’wise?” You cried out.

“Hah? That’s what you’re worried about?”

“I like talkin’ to you a’ night. E’en if you are a jerk sometimes.” Sukuna squeezed your cheeks tightly for a second before releasing you. You grabbed onto his wrist before he could walk away and lightly kissed the back of his hand, “Thank you.”

Sukuna snatched his hand out of your grip, “What do you think you’re doing?” He snarled.

“You said I can’t apologise. And I’m thankful to you.

“Stupid human...”

It was silent for a moment as Sukuna glared at your panting form, sweat rolling down your temples. He wet a towel and slapped it on your face, startling you out your probably delirious thoughts. He then went to get you a glass of water when he heard another heavy thump from the bedroom. He growled to himself as he swore he really would kill you. Just as he anticipated, you were collapsed in a heap next to the bed, one hand gripping the bedside table and the other squeezing your temples like a lemon.

“I should leave you to die seeing as you’re so keen.”

“Where’d you go?” You panted helplessly, unseeing eyes briefly scanning around the room, cursed energy flickering around you, before you gave up and hung your head in defeat.

With a sigh, Sukuna set the glass of water on the bedside table and hoisted you back onto the bed.

“Just lie down and go to sleep, idiot.” He sighed, putting the wet towel back on your forehead. You were really in a terrible state, he couldn’t deny it anymore.

Just as Sukuna moved to go back on his side of the bed, your hand gently caught his wrist.

“Are you going now?”

“I was going to lay down. I’m tired from making sure you don’t die.”

You interlaced your fingers with his, “Oh okay. Thank you.”

“Let me go, I want to lay down.” You wordlessly released his hand, albeit hesitantly. But the moment he crashed next to you on the bed, you clung to his arm and began to trace the marks across his chest.

“What are you doing?”

“Thank you for the towel.” You hummed quietly. A smirk grew on Sukuna’s lips, leaning over and caging you between his arms, closing the space between your faces,

“If you wanted to thank me, you should’ve just-” Sukuna found his lips pressed to the back of your hands as you covered your lips. “Hah..?”

“You’ll get sick.”

“I’m the King of Curses.”

“In a human vessel susceptible to illness.”

Sukuna glared at you but couldn’t for long with you looking up at him with big innocent eyes. Your hands moved from your lips to Sukuna’s face, cupping his cheeks and tracing his marks with your thumbs.

“Thank you.”

Neither of you spoke for a while, Sukuna paralysed in place as you gradually weaved your hands into his hair, gently carding your hands through, watching intensely as your eyes watched him lovingly through the growing sleepy haze.

“Thank y-”

“Shut up and go to sleep.” Sukuna finally moved away and lay down next to you. He had expected you to say something, so looked over, only to find you asleep. You did listen to him. He stretched his arm over to rest the back of his hand on your cheek, freezing as you placed your hand on top.

“Love you.” You murmured into his fingers, rolling over to face him, the wet towel falling onto the pillow.

Sukuna rolled closer to you and put the towel back on your forehead before snaking an arm over your waist and pulling you closer to him. If he was going to be stuck sharing this body, he might as well enjoy the perks it came with.

(If anyone asked though, it was because that brat Itadori would usually sleep holding you in his arms, so if he did the same, Itadori wouldn’t suspect a thing when he switches back and wakes up.)

#jujutsu kaisen #sukuna #itadori #jjk #jjk sukuna #sickfic #fluff #jjk fluff #i don't know how to tag lol #fever whump #fever #yuuji #domestic Sukuna

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hopelesshawks · 3 years

Text

Ash and Dust Part 3- Sound the Alarm

18+ Dabi x fem!reader (MINORS DNI)

Summary: You first meet Dabi on the worst night of your life after unwittingly walking into the very bar the League of Villains made infamous. That should probably be the end of the story. You stumble on the remnants of one of the most infamous terrorist groups in the history of Japan, get viciously murdered or call the cops and get them arrested, the end. Except that’s not the end of the story. It’s only the beginning.

Warning for choking

Masterlist Help Lulu <3 (Kofi)

You wake up with a start to the sound of your fire alarm screeching.

Your building just tested its new system a week ago so you know it can’t be a drill. Your heart races, panic making your chest tight and the blood in your veins run cold as you scramble off the couch. You expect to see smoke billowing around you and clogging your lungs as you wrestle yourself free from the blankets but the air is shockingly clear. Just as you finally manage to stand, the very voice you’d been praying to never hear again calls out to you over the persistent wail of your fire alarm.

“Good morning Doll. Couldn’t have you sleeping the day away now could we?”

Dabi is grinning at you as he burns one of your kitchen towels right below the smoke alarm. He only pulls it away and tosses it in the sink once you’re gaping at him. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” you ask incredulously as you scramble over your couch, grabbing a chair on your way. You set the chair down and then climb on top of it so you can press the reset button on the fire alarm, the horrible screeching finally stopping. “Is it so wrong of me to want to make sure you don’t sleep the day away Doll?” he retorts and god what you wouldn’t give to wipe that cocky smirk off his stupid face. Your eyes wander to the clock on your microwave and then widen in disbelief when you see the bright flashing 5:08 staring back at you. “Oh my god, it’s fucking 5am Dabi! Why are you waking me up?” “What can I say Doll I was-“

“Bored.”

You both say the word at the same time and the shit eating grin he’s giving you is genuinely pissing you off now. You’re tired and irritable and unemployed with no game plan and so you snap.

“Of fucking course you were. Y’know what? Fuck this! I’m calling the cops to come get your stupid, beef jerky looking ass,” you growl, grabbing your phone from where it was charging nearby and moving to make good on your threat. You’re just about to dial the number when suddenly you’re being shoved up against the wall, a hand wrapped around your throat, your entire vision filled with Dabi’s cold stare. “No you’re fucking not Doll, you wanna know why?” he asks. You swallow, feeling your throat struggle against his tight grip with the action. “I asked you a fucking question,” he hisses, the hand around your throat starting to get uncomfortably warm. “Why?” you ask obediently as your phone slips out of your limp hand and clatters to the floor. “Because I would burn you to ash and have fucking vanished long before your precious heroes and the inept cops got anywhere near here. Got it?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

His grip eases around your neck but he doesn’t remove his hand quite yet, the cold gaze he was giving you before melting into something more amused. “I respect that you got bite though Doll, you may be even more interesting than I first thought,” he smirks before finally releasing you. “Do you really have nothing better to do than mess with me? Like revenge to plot and shit?” you ask cautiously, hand coming up to rub at your throat as you retrieve your phone with the other. Your mind flashes to Endeavor. You’ll never forget the scene Dabi had made when he first revealed his connection to the then number one hero. The deranged man who had danced for the news cameras is a stark contrast to the smug asshole casually taking up residence in your home. “I’m not an idiot. I can’t exactly draw a lot of attention to myself while I’m still in planning mode can I?” he explains, his tone dripping with condescension. “Well excuse me for not knowing the villain protocol for vengeance,” you grumble, regretting the words almost immediately. Before you can turn panicked eyes to Dabi and ponder the consequences for your sass, the man is laughing. It’s the same cackle from the bar, the one that had been growing on you when you still thought Dabi had a secret nice side. It throws you just as off guard now as it initially did then. When he finally recollects himself he pushes out of the kitchen and makes his way back towards your bedroom. “Thanks for the laughs Doll, but it’s much too early for me so I’m going back to bed,” he grins before slamming the door shut behind him, presumably to get more rest.

You stare at your closed bedroom door in disbelief for several long moments before loudly groaning in frustration. Your uninvited house guest may be able to fall asleep but you’re far too rattled to try and do the same. Between the fire alarm and Dabi’s threat, adrenaline is still rushing around your bloodstream. With sleep off the table you figure you may as well attempt to be productive and go to find your laptop. You spend the next few hours workshopping your resume and job searching. You can’t sit around lamenting your situation forever after all. You even send a message to your boss letting him know you’ll come by the office to finally clear your desk in the morning. By the time Dabi wakes back up, wandering into your kitchen with a stretch, you’ve managed to send in applications to a few new opportunities and decide you’ve earned yourself a break.

“You gonna make me breakfast Doll?” Dabi asks smugly, kicking his feet up on your battered kitchen table across from where you’re sitting with your laptop. “Nope,” you reply easily as you close your laptop. “Oh really? That’s rude considering I’m a guest,” he snarks but even his dramatics can’t ruin your good mood. “Guest implies I invited you and I never said I was a good host. I’m heading out but groceries are in the fridge if you want to make your own damn food,” you tell him cheekily, rising from the table and going to get dressed into clothes you can comfortably paint in. You expect him to be pissed or perhaps to have lost interest by the time you re-emerge but instead he seems to eye you up before declaring “I’m coming with.”

“I’m sorry what….”

“You heard me Doll, lead the way.”

“You’ll be bored.”

“I’m sure I won’t.”

“Dabi I-“

“Get moving before you piss me off.”

“Ok…”

“Good girl.”

A/N: I didn’t originally plan for Dabi to join reader at her art studio but as I was writing the end he kind of demanded to go and who am I to stop him 🤷🏾‍♀️

Taglist: @thechroniclesofawriter @simpsfortodoroki @ahtsuwu @oliviasslut @larkspyrr @oikawaandkuroostan @tina-98 @vibesdontlie

#hopelessad #dabi x fem!reader #dabi x y/n #dabi #bnha dabi #bnhacity

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nightowlfandom · 4 years

Text

Soryu Oh- Bully Me

VOLTAGE FANDOM WHERE YOU AT! Also who here has the Love 365 app? i need to know I’m not lonely lol.

A person sent me a chat message but asked to remain anon, I forgot to screenshot, my bad.

Leggo.

...

Just make it to the door, make it to the door. Almost there!

You made a beeline from the front desk to the doors. If you were able to avoid those damned bidders, you could finally have some time to breathe. Those assholes always had something for you to do. Whether it be washing dirty underwear, or doing something stupid like polishing picture frames for three hours straight.

“Come on, come on!” you sped up even more. “Almost there-”

“There you are!”

DAMNIT! So close.

You froze midstep, hearing Baba’s familiar voice call out to you. He came onto your field of vision, wearing that mischievous smile you detested. He was planning something.

“Um, H-hello.” you straightened up abruptly, staring down at your shoes. “I was just about to-”

“Leave? But why? You have duties to attend to, maid.” he tapped your nose with his finger as if you were a child being told you were silly.

“I just clocked out.” You began to explain. “Plus I’m off for the rest of the day.”

“All the more reason to jump on tomorrow’s work.” he grabbed your wrist and began walking towards the elevator. “Plus, I’m sure the other men will have jobs for you to complete as well.”

“Of course they do.” you sighed in defeat, allowing him to pull you along. Leave it to them to not be able to do anything by themselves. It was almost like they loved torturing you.

You made it to the top floors, still in Baba’s grasp as he walked out. “Look who I found trying to sneak off!”

“Now, Koro. Why would you want to avoid us?” Ota walked out the kitchen to greet you two.

“My name isn’t Koro!” you snapped in reply. You instantly covered your mouth with your other hand. The first rule of working for these guys was to never speak without being spoken to first, and especially not outburst.

“Seems as if, Maid hasn’t learned the rules yet,” Baba laughed gleefully. Glad to know he as entertained by all this. You, on the other hand were mortified. Damnit, Y/N. You’ve been doing this for years, get it together!

“Do you think she needs to be punished?” Ota questioned, smiling.

“Hey idiots, leave her alone.” another voice made its presence known. Soryu came out of the elevator, looking like usual aloof and angry self. “I don’t know why you insist on being so childish but do it elsewhere.” he snapped. Soryu didn’t like you. He made it very obvious. You were so uncomfortable around him.

“Oh come on.” Baba finally released your wrist. “It’s fun to bully, Y/N! You should try it out some time.” he crossed his arm and stared at him. You shifted your weight from one leg to the other, not sure what to do.

“I’d rather eat dirt.” he replied coldly. You weren’t sure if he meant well or not, but for some reason that comment kind of hurt your feelings. Would he rather eat dirt than deal with you, or-

“You.” a snap caught you off guard. Soryu was pointing right at you, looking impatient. “You’re done for the day. Go” he nodded back towards the elevators.

“Yes sir.” you said quickly, bolting for the doors. It seemed like forever waiting for the golden sliding doors to open. You could feel all of their gazes on your back.

Finally, the elevator door slid open, allowing you to scurry in.

...(The Next Day)

“And done.” you finished mopping the floors as you were instructed to do by Mr. Ichinomiya. The entire room was spotless thank to you. Sure, your hard work would definitely go unnoticed but you didn’t care. Being stuck cleaning an entire penthouse wasn’t your idea of a great work day but as long as you could do it in peace, you were fine.

“Helloooo, Maid!” A voice sang. Spoke. Too. Soon.

Baba skipped in again, tipping his fedora to you like the gentleman he wasn’t. “All done for the day?”

“Um...I-” you began to speak, but kept cutting yourself off. If you said yes, he would start messing with you. If you said no, he’d know you were a liar.

“She’s with me today.” you felt something wrap around your wrist and pull you away from Baba. Soryu had a firm grip on you that you found it impossible to let so.

“Aha! So I was right.” you heard Baba’s voice fade as you were dragged into the elevator. Right about what?

Soryu pulled you in with him and shoved his keycard into a slot. You weren’t going to his floor, were you?! Wait, no you couldn’t! “Um...Sir?” you tried to speak.

“No talking.” He cut you off with his firm voice. “We have matters to discuss.”

“Okay then.” you said quietly. You couldn’t protest and you definitely wouldn’t. All you could do was stand there and flatten yourself against the wall. You weren’t prepared for whatever was about to happen. You weren’t ready! You so ready ready. No way in hell were you ready! Your thoughts were too jumbled to even register the elevator doors open.

“Follow me.” Soryu said, walking forward without looking at you. You quietly trailed behind him, heading straight for his room. You followed behind him quietly. Your heart was racing a million miles a minute. Once you made it to his bedroom, you were left to just stare at him as he locked the door. The stone cold mobster sighed deeply before turning to you, slowly undoing his silk lavender tie.

“Um...Why are we here?” you found it in yourself to finally speak.

“Isn’t it obvious?” he huffed. “I’m gonna bully you.” he took a step forward, letting his tie drop to the floor. “I’m gonna mess with you and pick on you.” he stood over you.

“I’m sorry, what?” you stepped back. “Mr. Oh, what are you talking about?”

“You’re gonna let me bully you like you let Mitsunari do.” he said threateningly. “Understand?”

“I don’t let him bully me.” you tried to explain. “He just does.”

“You’re a terrible liar. You let him mess with you because you’re in love with him, aren’t you?”

“No!” you said a little to loudly. “I am not in love with Baba, I’ve never been!”

Soryu made a partially confused face, which in turn confused the hell out of you. “You’re not?”

“Of course not!” you shook your head. “I don’t look at any of the other men that way.”

Soryu glared at you, but not his usual glare. This was different. Jealousy, maybe? “I don’t believe you.”

“W-well you should. I like someone else.” you found yourself saying. You instantly regretted it. No one was really supposed to know that, especially not the culprit himself.

“Who?” He asked, his eyebrows narrowed. “Don’t bullshit me, maid.”

Call it hypocritical, but hearing him call you that made you feel strange, way different that the inner dread you felt when Baba called you that.

“Y-you, Soryu.”

For once, the seemingly cool mobster lost his cool. He began fumbling around as if he didn’t know what to do. You noticed his cheeks turn completely pink. It was kind of...cute.

“Me? You’re in love with...me?” he asked, flustered as all hell. “I don’t do schoolgirl crushes, you know that.”

“I’m aware.” you said boldly, which surprised both him and yourself. “Why do you think I put up with those assholes every damn day.”

“...because of me?” the corners of his mouth turned up. “You let those assholes near you because-”

“...It means I get to see you...even if you don’t like me-”

“What? No!” Soryu went from stone cold to looking like a complete nerd. “I mean...um...I’ve grown interested in you as well.”

“Oh...really?” you fought back the smile threatening to rise on your face.

“Yeah...” he replied. “So...you’re not allowed to be alone with those men ever again.”

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boyduroy · 3 years

Text

Shave and A Haircut

Fandom: It (2017/2019)

Characters: Bill, Richie, Eddie, Stanley

Word count: 2,044

Genre: slice of life, hurt/comfort

Warnings: language, mentions of bullying

Synopsis: Just another day of being bullied by Bowers. Luckily Richie knows what to do.

{Not beta’d/proofread, sorry for any typos}

Bill, Eddie, and Richie are all sitting at the Tozier dining room table, waiting for the fourth member of their party to arrive. Their geometry homework is spread out across the wooden table, most of it unsolved, along with an array of snacks, most of which have already been devoured. Bill looks at the old clock on the wall as Richie and Eddie bicker over who gets the last of the barbeque-flavored potato chips. Stanley should have been done with baseball practice 30 minutes ago, and it doesn’t usually take him this long to bike to Richie’s house. Bill briefly considers riding up to the baseball field to check on him when a knock comes from the front door.

“About time,” Richie mutters, quickly swiping the final few chips from Eddie’s hand as he gets up to answer the door.

“Richie, you turd!” Eddie screams as

“Y’snooze, you lose, skeddi-boy,” Richie calls back to the dining room with a mouthful of chips. He rubs his hands on the edge of his shirt as he reaches for the door handle. He doesn’t remember locking it, and Stan knows he can let himself in, but Richie figures his friend is just being his usual polite self.

“Stan the man,” he announces loudly, swinging the door open. “Where’ve you been? You know we suck at math…”

Richie trails off as he takes in the sight of Stanley on his front porch. The other boy’s head is hung, defeated, and his baseball cap covers his face completely. Still, Richie can see the faint outlines of tear tracks running from Stan’s chin. His knuckles are paper white as they clutch his gym bag, and aside from the usual dirt stains on his uniform, he doesn’t look too roughed up in any apparent way.

“Stanley?” Richie asks, tilting his head to peek up under the baseball cap. Stan’s face is red from either crying or from exercise, or possibly a combination of the two. “What’s wrong?”

Stan sniffs, his dark brown eyes refusing to meet Richie’s. “May I come in please,” he asks, his voice a bit raw.

Richie pulls him inside, taking his gym bag from him. “Go sit down on the couch, I’ll grab you a glass of water.” As Stanley quietly kicks his cleats off near the front door, Richie races to the kitchen, tosses the bag down haphazardly, and grabs a clean glass from the cupboard. Any other day he would’ve just grabbed one of the dirty ones from the sink, which would’ve earned him an earful from both Stan and Eddie about how gross that was – “I drank from it earlier, so why should it matter?” – but right now was not the time to instigate. As he fills the glass from the kitchen sink, Eddie and Bill poke their heads in.

“What’s going on, Rich?” Eddie asks. “You drop something?”

Richie hurries back to the living room, trying not to spill the glass that he accidentally filled up with too much water. “Something happened to Stan,” he calls over his shoulder. “Come on, he’s in here.”

“What h-happened?!” Bill asks worriedly, he and Eddie hot on Richie’s heels as the three of them come to gather around Stan, now sitting stiffly on the edge of the couch. Richie offers him the glass, which spills a little onto the couch cushion, but Stanley accepts it and takes a drink. Eddie perches next to him, his hand on Stan’s shoulder, and subconsciously starts checking his friend for any signs of outward injury.

“You alright, Stanley?” Eddie asks. Stan swallows the water eagerly and gasps, handing the now half-full glass back to Richie. He nods but continues to look down, his face still obscured by his baseball cap.

“What happened?” Bill asks again.

“Bowers and his gang…” Stanley answers quietly. He suddenly shrinks into himself, unwilling to reveal any further information. “I can’t, it’s embarrassing.”

Bill kneels, putting a gentle hand on Stan’s knee. “It’s okay, you can tell us. W-why don’t you take off your h-hat so we can hear you better.”

“I can’t.”

“Huh?” Bill blinks, confused.

“I can’t take it off,” Stan repeats.

Richie smirks. “Don’t worry about your hat hair, Stanley, we’ve all been ther—”

“No.” Stan sniffles and looks up finally, his brown eyes swimming with tears. “I can’t take off my hat, Richie, because Henry Bowers and his asshole friends put krazy glue in it,” he enunciates sharply. “My hat. Is glued. To my head.”

The three of them stare stunned at their friend, whose head falls back down sadly. Bill can feel his own face growing hot with anger. Fucking Bowers… It was one of the cruelest pranks you could do to someone: paint the inner brim of their hat with krazy glue and just wait for them to put it on.

Eddie is the first to break the silence. “Oh Stanley,” he whispers, his own eyes threatening to mist. “It’s okay, you’re okay.” He rubs Stanley’s shoulder and looks to the other two. “What should we do, guys?”

Bill strides towards the door. “I’m guh-gonna got kick the sh-sh-shit out of Bowers,” he says matter-of-factly. Stan is on his feet in an instant.

“Please no, Bill! Don’t, he’ll do something worse to you,” Stanley yells, grabbing Bill’s shirt. Bill tries to shake him off as he opens the front door. “Please, it’s okay—”

“It’s not okay, Stan! He hurt you!”

Stan hardens. “Fine, I know, it’s not okay. It fucking sucks. But I don’t want you to get hurt fighting my battles for me! Bowers is going to get what’s coming to him eventually, but I don’t want you or anyone else getting hurt today.” He loosens his grip and sighs, rubbing his face. “Just… leave it alone, okay? For now, at least. Please?”

Bill huffs but eventually closes the door again.

“Fine,” he says, resting a hand on the offending baseball cap on Stan’s head. “But we still need to figure out what we’re g-going to do about th-this.”

“You’re gonna have to cut it off, I guess,” Richie offers.

Stan frowns. “No, I can’t. It’ll look so stupid.” He tries gently tugging the cap, but it doesn’t budge. “There’s got to be another way.”

Eddie approaches and carefully inspects where the hat and Stan’s hair are connected. “He really did a number,” he admits. “It’s stuck to your scalp in some places.”

Stanley groans. “Great,” he sighs.

“It’s just hair, it’ll grow back,” Richie insists. “My dad has some clippers in his bathroom, we can take care of it right now.”

Stanley shakes his head. “I especially don’t want to shave my whole head, Richie!”

“Why not? It’s just hair.”

“It’s my hair!” Stan argues. “Excuse me if I don’t want to look like Sinead O’Connor the rest of the school year!”

“It’ll grow back, Stanley!”

“I don’t care!”

“Oh my god, you are so sensitive,” Richie grumbles as he marches off and slams his parents’ bedroom door. Bill is about to suggest something when they hear the telltale buzz of an electric razor. The three of them are frozen in place.

“He wouldn’t,” Eddie says, looking wide-eyed at the other two.

They stumble past one another as they race to the bedroom and Bill pounds on the bathroom door. “Richie, what are you doing?!” he yells over the loud buzz of the razor. He tries the doorknob but it’s locked.

“Hey dumbass, you proved your point,” Eddie shouts at the door. “Cut it out, you’re freaking us out!”

Finally, after a few more bangs on the wood and jiggling the doorknob, does the buzzer click off and the door swing open. Richie stands there proudly, glasses off, clippers in hand, and with a freshly (and poorly) buzzed head.

“See? I told you it’s not a big deal, you wuss,” he says, gesturing to himself. The other three just stare at him in utter shock until Stan finally sputters.

“Richie, you… you--” Stanley says, then dips his head down into his hands, his shoulders beginning to shake. Richie frowns, worried for a minute that he’s crying again, but then Stanley tosses his head back and he’s laughing so uproariously. “You idiot! What the hell is wrong with you,” he asks through gasps.

The tension broken, Bill and Eddie also begin to laugh while Richie just smiles stupidly.

“You missed like so many spots, dude,” Eddie snickers. “Geez Richie, were you even trying?”

“Hey, I had to take my glasses off,” Richie protests. He tosses the razor to Bill and points to the back of his head, where tufts of black hair remained in messy patches. “Mind cleaning me up, Bill?”

Bill smirks and gets to work shaving off the rest of Richie’s hair. He actually didn’t do too bad of a job, just missed a few places here and there. At least he put a guard on it so he wasn’t just freehanding it.

“There you go,” Bill says once he’s finished. He hands Richie back his glasses and dusts the loose hair off his shirt. Richie examines himself in the mirror, his hands running over the short buzzcut.

“Looks a hell of a lot better than Sinead, if I do say so myself,” Richie remarks, satisfied with his handiwork. He throws a look to the other boys and grabs a pair of mustache scissors, snipping them threateningly. “Your turn, Stanley.”

Stan shakes his head quickly. “Not from you, four-eyes.” He takes the scissors and hands them to Bill. “Please be gentle.”

Bill nods and carefully starts cutting away the worst of the glue/hat/hair combination until the hat is freed, along with a substantial amount of hair. Eddie throws it unceremoniously into the trashcan. Stanley shuts his eyes, not wanting to see how ridiculous he looks with half his hair missing. Then Bill methodically shaves away the rest of his golden curls and it’s over before he knows it.

“Okay, you can look, if y-you want to.”

Stanley peeks one eye open and looks in the mirror. His face looks back at him, now sporting the same crewcut as Richie. It’s… not as bad as he thought it would be.

“It’s different,” he admits, touching the short prickly hairs gingerly. His heart aches for just a moment. It sucks but Richie was right: it’s just hair, and it’ll grow back. He glances at Richie. “I think I pull it off better than you, at least.”

Richie feigns a wounded look, clutching his chest dramatically. “Hey, whoa, watch yourself there, Staniel! Don’t forget, you copied me. I started this trend.”

They all laugh at this, then Bill looks at himself in the mirror, shrugs, and buzzes a line right down the middle of his head. They watch with amazement as he gives himself a haircut to match, smiling the whole time. Afterwards he clicks the buzzer off and turns to his friends, offering another shrug.

“I wanted to f-fit in with the cool k-kids. This look is v-very in right now.”

Stanley beams and throws his arms around Bill and Richie. “You guys are so dumb, but thank you,” he says. The three of them hug, then Richie looks mischievously at Eddie, who suddenly pales.

“Eds,” he states. “Snip, snip.”

Eddie glances between the three of them who now appear to be ganging up on him. He sighs and digs into his fanny pack. “My mom’s gonna think I joined a cult,” he mutters to himself. He pulls out his inhaler, takes a big puff, and looks to Bill. “Do it.”

Soon brunette hair joins the piles of auburn, blonde and black on the floor of Maggie and Wentworth’s bathroom. The boys take turns dusting each other off and inspecting one another for any missed spots, but Bill was careful and thorough and they all look good, if not a little bit off for the current fashion. Stanley felt grateful for his friends, idiots though they may be, for always making sure he was never alone in his suffering. They return to their long-forgotten snacks and homework, enjoying the pleasant company of one another – until the cry of “RICHARD TOZIER, WHAT IN GODS NAME HAVE YOU DONE TO YOURSELF” from Richie’s mom interrupted their time together.

#it #stephen king's it #fic #fanfic #richie tozier #bill denbrough #eddie kaspbrak #stanley uris

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thorne93 · 4 years

Text

History Repeats (Part 14)

Prompt: Life’s hard, right? Well throw in a not so great job, a broken heart, and chasing a pipe dream in LA. But could someone come along to make all the bad shit disappear? Or is he just another heartbreak waiting around the bend?

Warnings: language, drug addiction, alcohol addiction, angst/heartbreak, adult themes (??)

Word Count: 2525

Note: Aesthetic made by @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo because she’s absolutely amazing Beta’d by @like-a-bag-of-potatoes and @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo . Brainstorming from @carryonmyswansong

**Song Inspiration: I Almost Do by Taylor Swift; 3AM by Halsey; When The Party’s Over by Billie Eilish

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

When you woke up, you felt like shit, and not because of the drugs and alcohol that only recently vacated your system. You groaned, squeezing your eyes shut. Did you really kick Hayden out? Were you honestly that far gone?

Yeah, he broke your heart. He wasn’t the first asshole to do it, but he did stick around. Maybe that was because he had to though.

No, you knew better. He had enough money to stay at a hotel, but he stayed with you. He cared about you. It just hurt so bad to not have him any more. You hadn’t said you loved him, not yet, but you did, you loved him with everything you had and he just… broke everything.

Maybe you should go apologize.

Pulling yourself out of bed, you slipped on a comfortable shirt and yoga pants before you trodded out to the guest room, Hayden’s room. You knocked on the door before poking your head in.

Only, there was nothing there. All of his things gone. His suitcases absent. No note, no letter, not even a post-it note.

A choked sob escaped you. You knew you kicked him out, but you gave him until the next night. He was already gone?

So much for staying. So much for caring.

No text, no call, no letter. It seemed as if he truly did want to be gone from you.

Fine. If that’s the way he wanted it… Wish granted.

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

Months went by and you tried to forget him, tried to turn your pain into art.

Trey worked hard to get your EP ready. You had several tracks that you wanted to feature and he did enjoy your lyrics and tune. He was happy to work with you and the other members of your band to get the sound you wanted.

By the time the singles were released, you were already becoming a hit. You hit all of the media platforms and your work exploded, sending you soaring to the charts. You weren’t quite topping them yet, but you were definitely being demanded on the radio and your Youtube and Spotify numbers were great, rising all the time.

As time went on though, your addiction only grew. With Hayden out of your life, the glaring reminders that you lost all your old friends, and none of your old boyfriends seemed to ever love you, there was nothing to stop you from becoming nearly dependent on the drugs and alcohol.

You’d never been like this in your life, but you’d never been at such an odd time in your life either. On every romantic and personal front, your life was a total flop, a zero sum. But your career, your dream job was finally taking off. The world was your oyster, you were rubbing shoulders with musical big wigs, meeting huge names and musicisinas.

Between the complete amazement you were in from being discovered and having your heart broken for the last time, you were a mental mess.

Hayden wasn’t just another guy. Jason was just another guy, just like every ex before him.

But Hayden, he was different. When you and Jason split up, it wasn’t the man you mourned, but the death of yet another relationship. With Hayden, you missed him, not being together. You missed the light he brought to your life. You missed the way he supported you. You missed the way you two could joke about movies together. You missed how you could act completely goofy and silly and he joined in.

You loved him, you were in love with him, and he pulled the rug out from under you.

That was why your habit of using coke was slowly getting worse. You managed to keep your job, for a while, keep the desires away. Then you started to get where you were barely sober for that too and just when your boss mentioned it, you decided it was time to leave anyway. You put in your two weeks and left gracefully.

As soon as you were no longer tied to the hotel, Trey put you in every lounge, venue, and club he could find. You were singing all of your songs on your EP. Every night you did a show, you got off the stage, got drunk or high, or both, and then you crashed.

Same routine, every night.

Anything to numb the pain of losing Hayden, of feeling like your life was in shambles. It wasn’t just losing Hayden, it was realizing you had no close friends, no one else to lean on. He’d become your best friend, your confidant, your lover. He was everything you ever wanted or needed, and he was gone.

Neither of you had sent any messages to each other. It killed you, but you had to move forward, if that’s what you could call drowning your sorrows in a bottle or a baggie.

Tonight, you just got done singing a set and you were hanging out with Darren, Veronica, Brad, and Tai. Unbeknownst to you, Hayden was actually about to make a stop by this bar. He had some contacts in your circle, a few people he knew in the music world that he asked to keep an eye on you, and if you got too out of control or needed help, they should let him know. He also watched your Instagram and Twitter, keeping an eye on your partying that way.

He’d gotten a few texts before about you, just an update on how you were, but tonight was a red alert from a guy that was somewhat in your circle. He watched you as you did a bump of coke, drink whatever was passed to you, and you were all over everyone in the bar. It was a sloppy mix of drunk-high. You held onto everyone, laughing, trying to crawl on the bar, making a complete ass of yourself.

Typically your antics were cheered on because everyone in your scene was pretty wild, but even tonight some of them were worried about how you were acting.

Hayden made his way downtown as soon as he got the text, looking for the bar. Finally, as he walked by, he saw you through the window. You were laughing, throwing your head back, hanging on other people, and trying to dance.

You were a mess, and that was obvious.

He pressed his lips into a thin line before going into the bar. He made his way over to you. He wanted to say he felt relief when he saw you, but he didn’t. He just felt worse. He wasn’t an idiot about your drug abuse, he also wasn’t stupid to see what had triggered it. He just thought it was stupid for you to get mixed up in this shit over him. He wasn’t worth it.

He could see how it was affecting you. Dark circles painted your eyes, your clothes hung loosely on your body, you looked as if you were awake solely from the drugs. He hated how bad you looked.

“Hey,” he greeted loudly over the bar music and patrons.

You looked over and saw him, your eyes going in and out of focus. “Oh my god, it’s you! Hey! Stay! Have a drink!” you encouraged as you fell all over him, putting your arms around him. In your current state, none of the pain that would’ve normally come from seeing him happened.

“Hey, no, I’m good. This isn’t really my scene. Y/N, you seem really far gone, do you want me to take you home?”

You pushed away from him, frowning. “What? No, why would I want that?” You reached in your purse and grabbed something, about to put it in your mouth. “I’m having a good time here, Hayden. You should try it,’ you urged giddily.

“Are you fucking crazy?” he demanded as he slapped the little white thing out of your hand. “Was that fucking E? On top of what you already have in your system?”

“The fuck is your problem?” you ordered, angry.

“My problem is you destroying your life and your body,” he informed. “I’m taking you home,” he stated firmly. He started to turn you around and push you outside. Everyone started to look your way.

“No, you aren’t!” you protested loudly, moving wildly, but he just persisted. He went around in front of you, grabbed your wrist, and tugged you outside and started walking you down the sidewalk until you got yourself free of his hold. “Jesus! What the fuck is your deal? Those are my friends. I’m having a good time!”

“A good time?” he demanded, his voice reigned in anger. “You think this is a good time? You’re out of your fucking mind.”

“Hey, Mr. Entertainment Business newsflash,a party-girl image is great publicity. Trey encourages this so long as I’m fine to record.”

“Oh, I’m so glad to hear that your producer endorses you getting high and drunk, as long as you’re off the clock.”

“You aren’t my handler, you’re not my parents, yo’re not my baby sitter, so just fuck off.”

He stared at you, clenching his jaw. “If you want to stay here and become like---If you want to stay here and party, that’s fine, but I’m done. I’m done with this. I’m done watching you ruin your life and throw so much potential away. I’m not gonna stick around to watch you drive your self into rock bottom when I’ve tried like hell to get you to wake the fuck up.”

“You didn’t stick around! Newsflash, asshole! You left! You left me high and dry.”

“You kicked me out!” he reminded. “After I tried to approach you about your addiction. And I did stick around, you just didn’t know it.”

“You didn’t approach me about it, you attacked me about it. Besides, what the hell do you mean you’re not going to stick around or watch me? You haven’t been around.”

Letting out a sigh, he ran his hand down his face. “When I left, I may have asked some friends to keep an eye on you. I told them to update me if you were getting worse or better.”

“You were spying on me?” you asked, gasping.

“No, I just had people keeping an eye on you. If they were at the same party or something, they’d just let me know how you were doing.”

“Oh, nice to know you cared so much,” you retorted, rolling your eyes. You were getting more and more sober with the fresh air and the anger.

“I do care. I think I’m the only one you know who does’ fucking care about you. I’m the only one not letting you just become an addict. I’m fighting for you.”

“Oh, is that what you were doing when you broke up with me? Fighting for me?”

He glared at you. He didn’t want to have this conversation. “Yes, I was. I was trying to make sure we were making the right choice.”

“Oh, spare me the bullshit!” you shouted, your head falling back. “I’m sick of this. I’m sick of the lies. Just be honest with me. You didn’t care about me, you didn’t love me, you wanted a rebound. You weren’t worried about the both of us. You’re just like everyone else. You wanted something to distract you from your ex leaving you and I was the perfect replacement. Then when you got bored, you cast me aside.”

“You weren’t a replacement! You weren’t my rebound,” he yelled.

“Then what was it?!” you screamed. “Because from where I stood, you and I were perfect, more than perfect. We could spend time with each other, lean on each other, support each other, we lived together, I met your child, we had date nights all the time and all of that just -- you ended it. Without warning. We didn’t even talk about it. You didn’t even ask me how I was feeling, if I cared about you. You just decided for the both of us that it would be better if this wasn’t a rebound. But it wasn’t ever about that. It was about me taking putting someone else before me like I always do, and I’m the one who got fucking hurt, not you.”

He shook his head. “I’m sorry that you got hurt. I didn’t mean to hurt you. It hurt me too. And it hurts like hell to watch you do this to yourself. You think I liked watching you come home high and drunk all the time?”

“I don’t imagine it bothered you too much. We weren’t dating any more.”

He shrugged. “So? Just because I’m not dating you, it doesn’t mean I don’t give a shit about you.”

“See, in my world, it does. You don’t break someone’s fucking heart then try to tell them you still care. You’re the one who decided to date me. I asked, you shot me down. Then, when I was really happy, when I thought this was real, that we had a shot, that this was something that would last and you just ripped it away. No conversation.”

He shook his head. “Yeah, and I’m sorry for that. I am. I should’ve talked to you, but is this really what you want? You want to be so numb and fucked up on drugs you can’t function?”

“I can function just fine, thanks for checking in!”

“I can’t believe you’re fine with this. You’ve been so strong since I met you. Going after your dream, working hard at your job, you never would’ve given into this bullshit, despite what happened between us.”

“Yeah, well shit changes. Clearly you know that.”

“Nothing changed. I cared for you then, and I do now.”

You scoffed. “Spare me, alright? It was clear to me after you left you never gave a shit. I licked your wounds so you could heal and then you left me. Fuck off. You don’t get the right to tell me where I can hang out, what I can do, or when I can do it.” You got in his face, your voice low before you turned around to head back inside.

He stood there more upset than he had been when you two first broke up. He wasn’t sure what he thought he would gain from coming out tonight. He just thought he could save you from yourself. He knew he was the reason you went on the downward spiral but he didn’t know how to fix it.

He bit his lip to keep from crying as he watched you rejoin your friends and pick up a shot glass and knock it back. He shook his head as he turned to walk down the street.

He couldn’t keep doing this to himself, or to you. He needed to move on. He couldn’t watch you suffer any more. He had tried to help you. Every time he did though, you turned him down - hard.

With his heart heavy, he took a taxi back to his new hotel and tried to forget all about you.

If only it were that easy.

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

Forever Tag:

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@marvel-imagines-yes-please

@missinstantgratification

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Hayden Christensen:

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History Repeats:

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#history repeats #hayden christensen x reader #hayden christensen fic #hayden christensen

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flyingupward · 3 years

Text

critical role - vox machina chapter 5 - venturing for vestiges

all sentences taken from episodes 57-69 of the first campaign of critical role. feel free to change pronouns, phrasing etc. to fit your needs!

“I don’t know what that means, but I’m sure I take great offense.”

“I was just eating an apple! Why am I dying?”

“Excuse us while we reminisce, apparently.”

“This is really your fault as much as it’s mine.”

“You might be blown up if you go in there.”

“There’s a fine line between psycho and practical.”

“Sorry, I thought I was going to watch a fight. I was really prepared for that.”

“Yeah, we’ll see you next time, shitface.”

“Thank you for keeping my home safe.”

“I think I’ve always been in love with the idea of you.”

“Can we get shitfaced one last time?”

“If you need us, blink of an eye and we’ll come back.”

“I’ll try and keep the kids safe and I’ll try and not be the thing that kills them either.”

“I plan on coming back. I’m not dumb.”

“I’m going to curl up in a little ball for a minute and rock.”

“Of course we remember that thing that happened when we were drunk two and a half years ago.”

“I’ll have my revenge, but I love you.”

“Things get prettier as they get older here? That’s not fair!”

“Oh jeez, here comes the internet.”

“We are really shit at making friends.”

“Stop talking to the air. It upsets them.”

“If I could pull the blood of you from my veins and give it back I would. I want no part of you.”

“As foolish and as damned deadly as some of these endeavors may be, you inspire. That’s more than I’ve done in my lifetime.”

“We don’t need heroes right now. We need survivors.”

“Does everything look like hitting on people to you?”

“It’s the gift of smugness. It never goes away.”

“You’re the lady of the house I burned down.”

“That’s a very dark and disturbing thought. I’m very impressed.”

“I wish I could say this isn’t true, but it’s actually true.”

“You’re taking us to the lost and found? Please!”

“Good job. You successfully parlayed with a field.”

“Is there anyone here of reasonable intelligence who wants to stop this from happening? Just checking.”

“Everything here has attacked us.”

“I don’t walk in the middle of dangerous forests for fun!”

“I know it’s appealing to you, but don’t get cursed again.”

“I feel like we were very reasonable considering how unreasonable we usually are.”

“Next time, everything dies.”

“Everyone was bad, including us, and we lived. That's it."

“I just want to say, that was a death threat in front of a thousand people.”

“If there was a time to not be us, this is the moment.”

“I am a backpack right now.”

“I’m trying to activate these and they require pain!”

“Life needs things to live.”

“We don’t get a lot of time to talk alone because everything is so fucked up.”

“I’m certainly in support of anything that gives our father heartburn.”

“A tree is just a door that hasn’t been made yet.”

“Well, we’re just stuck in a tree now.”

“My heart is someone else’s.”

“I have no respect for anyone who says, ‘We’re not so different.’ It’s the worst line ever.”

“Come on, dangerous nerd, do it!”

“Girl power healed me. I feel it.”

“Don’t let any man, or anyone for that matter, make you feel like you need them to be great. Because you don’t.”

“You know, for someone who hates the theater, you've made quite a show of all of this."

“Dear God, let’s get out of here before something else happens.”

“Can someone who can’t successfully lie to me please explain to me what’s going on?”

“Yell loudly if you need me.”

“We’re not fighting battles anymore. We’re fighting wars.”

“Your mind is a grandfather clock, you know that?”

“I’ve had my fill of gods, but I’m not so foolish as to think that we do not need them still.”

“I do not want to die who I am. I would like to live long enough to be someone else."

“I am finished with gods. They will not help me. Maybe you will.”

“I’ve been traveling with you fuckers for years and I still don’t understand magic.”

“This is what a plan is: Everything going wrong.”

“We’re going to have the greatest I told you so if we survive this.”

“There is a God and he hates you.”

“Take your time wisely for the hourglass burns quickly.”

“You flirted with grass better.”

“I feel like I should have learned some sort of lesson here. I’m just not entirely sure what it was.”

“I’m a vampire. Just deal with it.”

“If we are not to seize the opportunity for kinship, we miss the opportunity for survival.”

“He loved you well, princess.”

“Death is unavoidable and it’s all the more reason for life to be lived.”

“It’s not on you. I mean it might be a little on you, but it’s kind of on both of us.”

“I haven’t stolen anything in years!”

“He’s right. We’re not ready. We’re stupid assholes.”

“I love a good panic attack.”

“Sometimes math is not enough.”

“Somehow no new information yet still TMI.”

“You’re not that ugly. She just meant that to hurt your feelings, but you are a piece of shit.”

“You’re arguably one of the greatest minds in existence right now.”

“I think I stumbled into the correct answer. I’m not sure I chose correctly.”

“You know, I thought it was a possibility, but this is the first time I’m sure: Your girlfriend is way cooler than you.”

“You two really follow her? Are you idiots?”

“Rainbows are a motherfucker.”

“Well, that’s one way to die.”

“Everything you do, we will turn into preschool.”

“Take it from us, we’ve been unconscious a lot. You’re fine.”

“This is such a bad experience on every conceivable level.”

“If we get taken out by Single White Female, I’m going to be so pissed.”

“I’m sorry my issues have guns!”

“Has anyone else been to a horse tranquilizer party?”

“Are we really all going to die today?”

“Your inner insecurities can not be the cause of the entire group’s death!”

“We are being killed by a metaphor.”

“You can curse, it’s okay. You killed one of us.”

“The best thing you can do for your friend now is sleep, so do that. Save your tears for later.”

“I should have told you. It’s yours.”

“In many ways, you are my total opposite, but you’re also my best friend.”

“No Hamlet death for you.”

“Everybody could have just slapped my face while I was dead. That would have been much more convenient.”

“You just lied to me. I’m so proud of you.”

“And what did we learn? Don’t get killed again.”

“You’re outvoted. Go to bed.”

“Nobody wants to talk to you right now. We want you to go to sleep.”

#MEME | incoming #yes you can send me these!#pls do!#i need to start trying to get my shit together on this account again

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thetravelerwrites · 4 years

Text

Geteb (Troll) Lemon

Rating: Explicit Relationship: Male Troll/Non-Binary Reader Additional Tags: Exophilia, Monster Boyfriend, Troll, Non-Binary Reader, Reader Insert Content Warning: Speech Disorders, Dysarthria, Stuttering Words: 2741

A commission for @mxnsterbabe! After getting sick from drinking contaminated water, the reader comes home to find the plumber fixing the water problem. Please reblog and leave feedback!

The Traveler's Masterlist

Moving to Willowridge hadn’t been your first option, but it was the only one that made financial sense. You were going to school at E.U. for business management, but Coleville was just too expensive, even living in the dorms, so you transferred to the Willowridge campus. There was an apartment complex with plenty of studio apartments for the college kids, and you rented the only ground floor apartment they had left. There was a trade-off, of course. You didn’t have to climb up and down seven flights of stairs every day because the elevator was perpetually broken, but you did hear every argument, party, and session of loud sex your neighbors decided to have.

Well, college life was college life, regardless of where you lived.

The only real problem was that the water was an odd color and tasted funny, and before your first day in your new place was over, you were in the hospital for suspected salmonella poisoning. You were in the hospital for over two days, and when you were released, there was a large stranger in your apartment, looking under your kitchen sink.

“Excuse me,” You said in alarm.

The stranger jumped and hit his head on the cabinet, swearing and dropping a wrench. He stood up, and you could see he was wearing a workman’s jumpsuit. You were suddenly confronted with a solid wall of man, easily seven feet tall, with a broad… everything. He was a troll, you realized, and judging from the dusty, pebbly texture of his skin to the tusks jutting out from his lower jaw to the hair like green moss that curled around his ears, he was a field troll.

Trolls were distantly related to orcs, though they didn’t have the same warrior culture as orcs did, if you recalled correctly. They were typically creatures of nature, keeping to the forests and mountains, often seen as slow or stupid. You weren’t sure if those claims were true or not. You’d met a few before, and they seemed normal to you.

“Sorry,” He said very slowly, his voice deep. “Are you… the one… that… got sick?”

“Yes,” You replied, coming inside the apartment but leaving the door open. “And who are you?”

“Sorry,” He repeated. “I’m Geteb. I’m the… plumber… for the building. I came to… fix the pipes.”

“Oh,” You said. “What was wrong with them?”

“The pipe… that p--pulls water…. from the city… broke… and street water… got in it,” He replied in the same slow cadence. “That’s why you… got sick. Your apartment is… the first in the line. When you… got s--sick, we shut it… off. We only just now… turned it back on.”

“Well, I guess it’s good no one else got sick, then,” You said, trying not to come across as bitter.

“I’m sorry… you did,” He said solemnly, though it was an odd sound, like a puppy whimpering after being scolded. “I… b--brought you… clean water.” He pointed to several jugs of water that were stacked along the wall in the kitchen area.

You nodded numbly. “Oh.”

“Just in case. We’re flushing… the system… now. I was just… checking the water… in the tap… to make sure it’s clean.” He held up a cotton swab that was inside a tube. “It’s a test, see? If it’s blue… then it’s con…” He stopped and struggled with the word. “Co... conta…taminated. But it’s not, see!” He held out the test swab for you to inspect. “So it’s all safe. But you should… drink the jug water… just in case.”

“Okay,” You said tiredly. “Well, if you’re done, I’d like to lie down. I still don’t feel very well.”

“Oh, okay,” He said, picking up his tools. “I hope you… feel better… soon. Call the front office… if anything is wrong… and I’ll come back… and fix it… any time.”

“Sure,” You said, ushering him out of the door.

You spent the next couple of days in bed, unable to eat. You managed a few sips of tea, but there wasn’t much else that your stomach could tolerate. As suggested, you drank the water from the jugs that Geteb had brought, but mostly because you just didn’t trust the tap water anymore.

Three days afterward, when you were finally starting to feel better, there was a knock at the door. Geteb was standing there in his work clothes with three more jugs of water in each fist.

“I brought you… m--more water,” He said.

“Oh,” You said in surprise. “Okay. Uh, bring them in.”

You stepped aside and let Geteb in, who had to duck to clear the doorframe.

“I’m sorry if I was rude the other day,” You told him. “I didn’t even really thank you.”

“It’s okay! I understand!” He replied. “You felt bad. I’m cranky… when I feel bad… too.”

“I just hope I’m well enough to continue classes next week,” You said.

He chuckled. “School was fun. I remember college. Lots of parties.”

He seemed to be better at speaking short sentences. “You went to college?” You said in surprise.

“Yes,” He said reproachfully, looking hurt. “I know… I’m not that smart… but I’m s--smarter… than people think. Just because… I’m big… and I talk slow… and I have trouble… with big words… it doesn’t mean… I’m stupid.”

Horrified, you said, “Oh, no, I didn’t mean…” But then you stopped. That’s exactly what you meant, and you knew it. “I’m sorry. That was uncalled for, and I apologize.”

His frown melted, and he smiled. “It’s okay. I’m not mad.”

“What did you get your degree in?”

“S--struc…tural engin…eering.”

“Oh, wow,” You said. “That’s really impressive.”

He chuckled again. “Lots of people… don’t believe me… when I tell them… I h--have a… Bachelor’s degree.”

“Well, they’re idiots,” You said. “Listen, can I buy you a drink? To thank you and make up for being a rude asshole.”

His face lit up. God, he reminded you of a puppy. “Okay! I’d like to. I should… change clothes, I’m really dirty.”

“Aren’t you still on the clock?” You asked.

He stopped and thought about it. “Oh. Yeah. Later then?”

It was your turn to chuckle. “Later then.”

He met you after work at a local college pub and you bought him a round. Well, a pitcher for him. He had big hands.

“So, I don’t want to offend you, and I’m trying hard not to be an asshole, but can I ask something?”

“You… want to know… why I… talk so slow?” He asked with a patient smile.

“Yeah,” You replied hesitantly. “I’ve seen other trolls and they don’t talk like you do.”

“I have… dysarthria,” He said. “I had a… really bad ear… infection… when I was… s--seven… and it turned into… men…ingitus… and caused… a stroke. I was… in… a coma for… a while after.”

“Oh, god,” You breathed. “I had no idea you could have a stroke from an ear infection.”

“It’s rare,” He said. “I’m special… like that, I guess.”

You smiled at him. “How long were you in school?”

“The standard… four years,” He replied. “And then another… four years… app…p--prentice for the… plumbing job. T--that’s a long time… for people… to still think… I’m stupid.” He didn’t seem angry about it, just resigned.

“You’re definitely not stupid, Geteb,” You told him.

“It’s not just… the talking,” He said, gesturing at his mouth. “People… look down on… labor jobs. Just because… we work with… our hands… and get d--dirty… doesn’t make it… less… of a skill.”

“You’re absolutely right,” You replied sadly. “And it’s a shame people are like that.”

“You’re not… like that, are you?” He asked you.

“No, Geteb, I’m not,” You told him. “My dad was a carpenter. I know all about how difficult working with your hands can be.”

“That’s good,” He said. “Because… I’d like to… take you out again. My treat… this time.”

Your smile widened. “I’d like that very much.”

You went on several dates with Geteb. Because he was such a big guy, a lot of them were outdoors or in places that were wide open, like museums or aquariums. He liked looking at things and letting you talk, shy about talking in public or around a group of strangers. He was already unusual, and his speech impairment made him stand out even more.

Despite dating for almost a month, he still hadn’t kissed you yet, and you wondered why. You knew he was shy, but you’d been more than affectionate with him, so he had to know you wanted him to. Maybe you’d just have to do it yourself.

At the end of the next date, you said, “Bend down.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s hard to kiss you when you’re way up there,” You said, laughing.

He didn’t laugh. Instead, he sighed heavily.

“Do you not want to kiss me?” You asked him, teasing.

“It’s not that,” He replied seriously. “I do… v--very much… but if I… kiss you… that means… something to me…”

“It means something to me, too, silly,” You said. “It means I like you.”

“It means… more than that… to me.” He asked. “I’m… never going… to be normal… you know that… don’t you? I can’t… fix this.” He gestured at his mouth and head. “Kissing me… after so many dates… means… you’re commit…ting… to that… reality. Are you sure… you can… do that?”

“It’s not like kissing you means we’re getting married, Geteb,” You said, your brow furrowing. “It doesn’t bother me how you talk.”

“It doesn’t… right now,” He said. “But what… about in a… month? Or five? What about… when your friends… say something… or a stranger says something… that makes you… uncomfortable with… the idea… of being… with me. You may be… able… to tolerate it… now, but you… may not… be able to… forever.”

“Geteb, don’t be silly,” You said, frowning. “If someone has something to say about it, I’ll bite their ears off. And if my friends have something to say about it, I’ll get better friends. It’s that simple.”

“For you,” He said, looking away, and you took his face in your hands.

“Has something like that happened before?” You asked.

He frowned and looked at his feet. “I almost… g--got married once,” He told you. “I bought… the ring and… everything… but b--before… I could ask her… w--we got in a fight… she said… she always ha--hated… how I talked. After we… calmed down… s--she said… she didn’t m--mean it… but that’s all… I could think… about when I… t--talked to her… so I stopped… talking… and we b--broke up…” He sniffled a little. “I still… have the… ring. I couldn’t… bring myself… to return it. I didn’t want p--people… to be sad… for me. I was already… sad enough.”

“I’m so sorry, Geteb,” You said, stroking a thumb down his cheek. “Even if what she said was true, I’m not her. I love the way you talk. I can understand you perfectly fine. All it takes is listening, and I’m more than willing to do that.”

His expression looked so pained. “Are you… sure?”

Instead of answering, you turned the key in the lock of your front door, opened it, and pulled him inside.

“Let me show you,” You said. He gulped and allowed himself to be led.

Inside, you had him sit down on the pull-out couch-bed and sat in his lap. He carefully placed a hand on your lower back, as if testing the waters. You laughed softly and leaned against his body, laying your head on his chest.

“Isn’t this nice?” You asked him.

“Very,” He said, his lips in your hair. Not quite a kiss, was it was contact. “I have missed… holding someone… I have been… lonely… I guess…”

“I’m not surprised,” You said. “That’s kind of what happens when you try to keep people at an arm’s length.”

“I don’t mean to,” He said. “I just don’t… want people… to be hurt… because of me.”

“And you don’t want to get hurt, either,” You said, sitting up and looking at him. “I totally get that, Geteb. That’s a natural reaction when you’ve been hurt. I’ve been hurt too. You think my parents took it well when I told them I was non-binary? Or my boyfriend? Sorry, ex-boyfriend, because he can’t be with someone--excuse me, something--who isn’t a girl, which…” You scoffed and rolled your eyes. “I know it’s not the same as having a lifelong, debilitating condition that people don’t understand, I do get that. What I’m saying is that in some ways, I completely understand what you’re going through. And I want to go through it with you.”

“You’re sure?” He asked again.

“Yep,” You said. “You’re stuck with me, pal, like it or not.”

“I like it,” He said, smiling.

“Good,” You said, standing up so that you could be eye level and wrapping your arms around his neck. “I like it, too.” Then you kissed him. It was long and leisurely, not pressing him too hard if he didn’t want to go there yet.

Acceptance is a funny, powerful thing. It gives confidence to the meek, solace to the troubled, and in this instance, it made him very, very aroused. You could feel it the moment you climbed into his lap and straddled him. His hands gripped you more firmly and his kisses deepened. The tip of his large, broad tongue brushed across your lips, and you opened your mouth so that he could slip it inside, tangling with your own.

You kissed down his body, opening the button-up shirt and pulling it out of his pants. His jeans were tented, and you thought it might be painful, so you popped the button and unzipped the sipper, stroking him through his underwear, and he moaned.

“You don’t… have to…” He said between gasps.

“I want to,” You said, kneeling down. You opened the slit in his underwear and freed him, swirling your tongue around him. He grunted and his hips bucked upward involuntarily.

“It’s been… a long time…” He said. “I’m a… little… sensitive…”

“I’ll be gentle,” You said, and pulled him slowly into your mouth. A long groan of satisfaction issued from him, and you figured you were doing alright.

It didn’t take long before he was writhing under your touch, panting and gasping. He was throbbing inside your mouth, but before he came, he lay a hand on your shoulder to stop you.

“Can you… get undressed… please? I want… to look at you,” He asked, heaving in deep breaths. You obliged, making a little bit of a show of it. He watched you hungrily, and when you were fully nude, he reached out for you. You climbed back into his lap, and he caressed your body, kissing your neck and shoulders. You rose up and positioned him at your entrance and slowly, carefully, slid down on him.

You kissed him deeply as he grasped your hips, bouncing you a little. You braced your hands on his chest and came down harder on him, making your bodies slap together. You threw your head back and he kissed your throat, his tusks poking into the skin, his hand in your hair.

“I’m… close…” He wheezed.

“Me too,” You whimpered, speeding up. You felt the rush of pleasure hit your body just as he abruptly pulled you up and came all over your thighs and his jeans.

“Sorry,” He said as you collapsed onto his chest.

“It’s okay,” You panted. He held you close until you got your breath back. “You can use my mini washing machine to clean your clothes. I don’t have a dryer, though, so you’ll have to stay until they dry. It could take a while.”

“I d--don’t mind,” He said. “I can sleep… on the floor… if that’s okay.”

“I’ll make us a nice pillow fort,” You said. “Good thing it’s the weekend. We can just stay in our fort and order out and be naked the whole time.”

“The best weekend… ever.”

“Yes, it does. And we can do it every weekend from now on. What do you think?”

“I think… that sounds like… heaven.”

You stood up and dragged him to his feet. “Shower first.”

Since my work is no longer searchable, please do me a favor and reblog this story if you enjoyed it. Help me reach a wider audience! To help me continue creating, please consider buying me a Kofi, becoming a Patron, or donating directly to my PayPal!

Thanks for reading!

My Masterlist

The Exophilia Creator’s Masterlist

#Exophilia #Troll #Dysarthria #Speech Impediment

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