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jeonsjiddies · 4 years

Text

little things | jhs (m)

⏤ Pairing: single dad!Hoseok x reader ⏤ Genre: smut, fluff ⏤ Word Count: 6.1k ⏤ Warnings: very brief mentions of abortion (that didn’t happen), breast play, daddy kink, impregnation kink, cream pie, dirty talk

⏤ Summary: The best things in life are often unexpected. Like the two year old girl who ran up to you for comfort, and her devastatingly handsome father.

Thank you to @excusemin and @sugaflake for beta reading. I love you.

Part of my Milestone Celebration Event! Check out the other fics here.

The weather was absolutely perfect. The sun was bright and shining but it wasn’t hot enough to make you sweat. The wind was gentle and rustled the leaves on the trees with a tender caress, the birds were singing, and for the first time in a while, you felt good. You had taken a walk to the nearby park, making a few laps around the walking trail before settling yourself against a tree to soak in some sun and relax. You had promised yourself you’d get out more after being holed up in your apartment alone with only your red wine and oreos to keep you company. It had been a few weeks since you’d broken up with your boyfriend of the time, and you were finally ready to become a productive citizen of society again.

It was the perfect day to do so in your opinion, everything around you seemed so tranquil. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, allowing the warm air to soothe you. That was, until you heard a shrill shrieking and your eyes popped open seconds before a girl who couldn’t have been older than two, catapulted herself into your arms. She was screaming, crying, clinging to you for dear life, one hand pointing behind her and you looked up to see a disgruntled goose hissing at the two of you, stalking closer with a threatening posture.

You slowly stood and backed up behind the tree, holding the small girl close to you, ready to use your body to shield her own. The goose hissed a few more times, but thankfully did not advance any closer. You waited, watching quietly, and it seemed to decide you weren’t worth it before hissing in warning once more and stalking off towards its nest. You let out a breath of relief, and tried to set the little girl down but she clung to you and made it clear she wasn’t letting go, so you rubbed her back soothingly.

“Where’s your mommy and daddy?” you asked quietly.

“I don’t know.” she sniffled into your neck.

“That’s okay, I’ll help you find them.”

You carried her closer to the playground section of the park, looking around for someone who might be looking for her. Soon you heard a frantic male voice booming through the air.

“Yeona! YEONA!”

The little girl’s head popped up at the sound, her head turning towards the voice.

“Daddy?”

You looked up and followed her line of sight, your gaze landing on a hunk of a man. He was tall, well-built but not bulky, with thick, black hair and lovely tan skin. The man’s eyes locked with the child in your arms and he visibly melted in relief seeing his daughter alive and unharmed. He ran over to the two of you quickly, guiding the fluffy dog on the leash with him. He reached the two of you almost instantly, and Yeona slipped from your arms into her father’s embrace easily, snuggling up to him.

“Thank goodness you’re okay! I was so worried!” he fretted, smoothing down her hair and fretting over her, causing her to let out the cutest giggle you’d ever heard in your life.

His gaze turned to you after he’d calmed down enough to pay attention to anything but the little girl in his arms, and it was then that you noticed his perfectly straight pearly white teeth, soft lips, and eyes that shimmered like diamonds. Your breath caught in your throat as he watched you and then he began to ramble.

“Thank you so much, I am so sorry! Mickey got his leash tangled around a pole and I turned my back for two seconds and she was gone! I was so scared I thought I was going to throw up, I kept thinking about all those stories I heard about little girls getting kidnapped and sold into slavery and I think I almost passed out. Thank you so much for keeping her safe, I don’t know how I can ever repay you. She is my everything I don’t know what I’d do without her, she’s all I’ve got left and I…” he sighed, taking a deep breath and opening those shimmery eyes to meet yours once again, “thank you.”

“It’s really no problem, I get it. Kids can be a handful.” you smiled reassuringly.

“Thank you so much. For helping. For not judging. Oh! I’m Hoseok.” he extended a hand to you and you shook it gently, feeling sparks racing up your arm and down your spine but you shook them off.

“Y/N. Nice to meet you.”

You both heard Yeona’s stomach growl and Hoesok laughed.

“Time for lunch, little one?”

She nodded and pouted adorably.

“Say bye to Y/N.”

Her little face scrunched up in displeasure and she started crying, reaching out desperately for you, and Hoseok almost dropped her from the unexpected shift in her weight. Taken aback, you allowed her to jump into your arms once more, cradling her close so she didn’t fall. She buried her head in your neck and you looked at Hoseok in shock.

“I’m so sorry, Yeona come on we have to go.” he tried prying her from your frame but she only wailed in response, clutching tighter.

“NO.”

“Yeona please, Y/N must want to go home.”

“No!” she sobbed.

You rubbed her back soothingly, rocking from side to side a bit to calm her down.

“Hey, it’s okay, don’t cry. Look at me, okay?”

She pulled back slightly to look at your face and you smiled.

“There’s a pretty girl!” you smiled, smoothing down some hair that had gone awry. “How’s this? If you go get lunch with daddy, I promise we can play together at the park soon. Okay? Well, if that’s alright with you?” you looked up at Hoseok.

“Of course!” he agreed quickly.

“But… I want you to come too.” she pouted, looking up at you with pitiful puppy dog eyes.

You looked up at Hoseok for some direction and he watched the two of you carefully.

“Would you like to join us for lunch? My treat. As a thank you.” he offered, scratching the back of his neck nervously, a shy smile gracing his lips.

“I don’t want to impose-” you began but Yeona whined loudly.

“Please!”

“I mean, if you’re sure…” you trailed off.

“Yay!” Yeona grinned, hugging you tightly then wiggling out of your grasp and taking your hand, pulling you along with her towards the car.

Hoseok laughed and followed the two of you with Mickey on his leash. Yeona insisted that you sit with her in the back so she could show you her collection of stickers. You gave the appropriate excited responses to each one, even gifting you a shimmery mermaid, pressing it into your shirt, telling you it was her favorite but she wanted you to have it.

Hoseok pulled up to a local cafe that had outdoor seating, saying he didn’t feel comfortable leaving Mickey in the car alone, a fact that warmed your heart. You helped Yeona slide onto the bench, Hoseok sitting across from the two of you. You ordered something cheap, not wanting to burden him, and made small talk while you waited for your food.

“Thank you again, so much, for keeping Yeona safe. I don’t know what I’d do if something had happened to her,” Hoseok sighed.

“No problem at all, thank you for lunch!”

Hoseok smiled, and turned to watch Yeona draw something on one of those kids menus they give out with crayons, her picture depicting the day at the park.

“So is your wife at work?” you asked, sipping on your soda, attempting to avoid the silence.

“I, uh, don’t have a wife,” he chuckled, scratching the back of his neck nervously.

“Oh I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize - your husband?”

“I’m single.” Hoseok laughed.

“Oh. So it’s just you raising Yeona?”

“Yeah, it’s been just us since the beginning. Her mom… it wasn’t a permanent thing, and when she realized she was pregnant, she wanted to…” he glanced over at Yeona, and though she was busy messing with Mickey, Hoseok still imitated the scissor motion with his hands, rather than saying the word.

Your eyes grew wide and you glanced over at Yeona.

“I mean, I believe in choices, don’t get me wrong, but I couldn’t imagine that happening to my child. I begged her to reconsider and promised I wouldn’t ask for anything if she let me keep Yeona, and here we are.”

“Wow, I don’t know what to say,” you watched his face for a reaction.

“You don’t have to say anything! I just wanted to thank you again.”

“Anyone would’ve done the same, I hope.”

“You would hope, but oftentimes I just get judgemental looks or scowls. People aren’t very kind to single parents, apparently,” he sighed, twirling the straw around in his drink, “so your kindness is appreciated.”

“Of course. I’m sorry you’ve been treated that way. I can’t imagine how hard it must be to raise a child alone. If you never need anything, you can call me? If you feel comfortable?” you offered, holding out your phone.

“Really? You wouldn’t mind?” Hoseok’s eyes widened in shock.

You shook your head with a smile, handing over your phone for him to input his number and texted him so he had yours. Hoseok looked star struck, and you wondered why someone so bright and happy could receive such backlash. You couldn’t focus on that thought for long, because Yeona jumped up excitedly, clapping and pointing to the waiter who was bringing your food.

You helped her cut hers into smaller bites and entertained her throughout the meal whilst eating yours so Hoseok could relax and enjoy his food, and you didn’t miss the appreciative smile he sent you.

Throughout the next few months, you spent more and more time with both Hoseok and Yeona. You’d meet them at the park, accompany them on little adventures, video chat with them before bed. You began hanging out at their house, spending your days nestled in the crook of their couch with Yeona snuggled up against your side while you watched Frozen 2 for the six hundredth time, or conducting a rather elegant tea party in which you’d convinced Hoseok to wear a tiara for.

You spent so much time around the pair, their home had begun to feel like a home away from home. You often found yourself crashing on the couch after playing too hard and staying too late. You searched YouTube and learned how to french braid since Yeona couldn’t stop talking about “princess hair” and Hoseok was… less than talented with her hair. You would sit behind her on her bed, braiding her hair and telling her silly stories and jokes, and began to love the little girl as your own.

Hoseok would sneak up behind you and attack the both of you with tickles or start a bubble fight. Sometimes it was hard to forget you weren’t a family, especially when strangers in public mistook you for one. You’d blush and look away, while Hoseok would gently correct them… at first. Slowly, Hoseok stopped correcting them, saying they could think whatever they wanted.

You tried not to read too much into that, but you couldn’t help the way your heart fluttered when he would just let other people think that you were together, that you were a family. Sometimes, he’d even play it up, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and pulling you in close, purposefully giving people the wrong idea with a mischievous smirk on his face.

You’d try to hide the heat on your skin, the way your heart pounded, the way your breathing seemed a little uneven when he got too close. While you’d just seen Hoseok as an attractive man and a wonderful father at first, the more time you spent with him, the more you had begun to fall for him. He was so sweet and funny and kind and cared about Yeona so much it burned your insides with joy.

The nights when you’d stay, you both had a habit of sipping on a glass of wine while you chatted, just enjoying each other’s company, and enjoying the peace and quiet. You’d never trade Yeona for anything, but sometimes she was so energetic the both of you couldn’t quite keep up, needing to unwind and relax after she’d fallen asleep.

You’d met his friends and parents at Yeona’s third birthday party, and they loved you as much as Hoseok did, a fact that caused his bright smile to glow to the point he rivaled the sun. You’d become a staple in their lives, a constant, someone they could rely on. It was crazy to you how one fateful day had changed the course of your life, and these two unsuspecting strangers had grabbed onto your heart and refused to let go. You couldn’t say you were complaining though.

Not when you were the cause of Yeona’s adorable little giggle, her tiny hands coming to cover her face while her entire frame shook from the force of her laughter. Not when you’d look over and catch Hoseok watching the two of you with a wistful, joyful expression. Not when he’d join the fun and you’d both chase her around the yard, Mickey following and barking while his tail wagged a million miles an hour.

There had even been a few nights you’d awoken on their couch to find Yeona crawling up next to you, whimpering pathetically as she mumbled “bad dream” and reached to you for comfort. You’d hold her close and stroke her hair, humming gentle lullabies to soothe her weary young mind. There were nights when you weren’t there and you’d get a FaceTime call at an unholy hour, Hoseok apologizing, saying Yeona wouldn’t go back to sleep without speaking to you.

You’d comfort her and assure her everything was alright, and you would visit her soon, and the two of you would have so much fun she wouldn’t even remember why she was sad in the first place. Hoseok would thank you, apologizing that he couldn’t convince her to leave you be, and you’d shrug him off, telling him you were available anytime. You loved her and would do anything to make her happy. What you didn’t tell him was that the same applied to him...

It was almost embarrassing how badly you wanted him, how badly you wanted to be a true part of their little family. You knew you had a special place in their hearts, that you were an honorary part of the family, but you couldn’t stop yourself from imagining what it might have been like if you were to be with Hoseok, if you were to accept Yeona as your own. Would you be able to make them happy? Or would you just be trying to fill a void meant for someone else? You’d shrug those thoughts away as soon as they came and focus on living your life as normally as you could.

That’s when your other thoughts about Hoseok would set in. To say you wanted Hoseok would be quite the understatement. Yes, you wanted to be a part of their family in the simplest ways, to be there for them and love them unconditionally, but there was also that lingering attraction. You couldn’t keep your eyes off of him some days when he laughed, when his shirt rode up and accidentally displayed the trail of hair leading down to the promised land.

When he’d display his strength by helping you move something, or when he’d wrap his arms around you just a little too tightly, allowing your bodies to press against each other. If you weren’t cooing over how cute the two of them were, you were thirsting over Hoseok and trying desperately to think innocent thoughts, lest your arousal get so potent he would notice.

Once, you’d gone to the pool with Hoseok and Yeona, thinking nothing of the invite until you’d shown up in your bikini, ready to swim. Hoseok had physically ceased moving and his gaze had slowly trailed down your body, drinking in the sight of you so scantily-clad. His gaze had your skin burning more than the hot summer sun and you squirmed under his undivided attention, unable to stop yourself from also peeking a glance at his shirtless chest. Smooth skin, abs that weren’t too defined but were definitely there, that drool-worthy v shape that disappeared into his trunks…

You’d both snapped back to reality when Yeona had whined loudly, asking you to play with her under the waterfall station. Heat had flooded your cheeks and Hoseok had looked down with a guilty expression, scratching the back of his neck with a chuckle, saying he’d find a chair to place your items at and would meet the two of you over there.

There was also the time you’d come over for movie night a little earlier than planned and Hoseok had answered the door in a towel, loosely hung low on his hips and you’d been mesmerized by the water droplets that slowly traveled down his almost naked body. You’d audibly sucked in a breath, your mouth parting just slightly, and Hoseok had apologized, then rushed off to get dressed, but you hadn’t gotten the image out of your mind since.

On Friday night, you’d just arrived home after a long day at work, flinging yourself onto the couch with your amazon package in hand, a cute JoJo bow you’d picked up for Yeona after seeing it on the app during your late night scrolling. All your targeted ads were now centered around items for young girls rather than women your own age from you spoiling the young girl so much. You smiled to yourself and just as the thought had left your mind, your phone rang.

“Y/N!” Hoseok gasped, sounding panicked.

You immediately sat up, “what’s wrong?”

“I have this event for work tonight that I absolutely can not miss and my babysitter just cancelled. I tried calling the guys, my mom, everyone! No one’s available and I hate to ask this, but do you think you could watch Yeona? I swear it’ll only take like, two hours! Tops!”

“Hobi, calm down. I’ll be there in ten, okay?”

“What did I ever do to deserve you?!” he sighed in relief.

“You ordered me pizza for tonight.”

“You got it. The usual?”

“You’re the best, I’ll see you soon.”

You hoisted yourself up from the couch and trudged out the door, making quick work of your drive to Hoseok’s place. The door swung open before you could even knock, and Yeona flung herself into you, wrapping her arms around your legs, then reaching up for you to hold her. You leaned down and picked her up, snuggling her close to you as she wrapped her arms around your neck.

“Daddy said you’re going to play with me! By ourselves!” she bounced excitedly in your arms.

“It’s true! Are you excited?”

“Yes!”

You giggled and placed her on the ground, turning to Hoseok who was slipping his jacket on. He leaned in to give you a tight, thankful hug that allowed you to smell his intoxicating aftershave. You swooned silently to yourself, hugging him back.

“Thank you so much, Y/N! The pizzas on the way, I already put the tip in. I will be back by 8 at the latest!”

“Take your time, I love hanging out with Yeona.” you reassured him.

He shot you an appreciative smile before leaning down and kissing Yeona on the cheek, then absentmindedly doing the same to you before rushing out the door. You stood frozen in place, staring at the closed door Hoseok had just exited from, shell shocked until Yeona tugged at your tights, forcing you to avert your attention to her and not your racing heart.

“Y/N, come play.”

“Oh! Right. I got you a present,” you dug into your purse and pulled out the shimmery bow, clipping it into her hair.

“Jojo!” she shrieked excitedly.

You giggled and followed along as she tugged you towards the mirror, surveying her new bow and twirling around like the diva she was.

“I look like a princess!” she said in awe, her eyes shining.

“You are a princess!”

Her chubby little cheeks tinged pink with glee and she pulled you into her room, deciding she wanted to play dress-up with her princess dresses and find the one that matched the bow the most. Mickey lay on her bed, looking up at you with curiosity and wagging his tail. You sat beside him and gently stroked his head, causing him to nuzzle into your touch.

You watched with amusement as Yeona tore apart her closet to find the best dress to go with her new bow, absentmindedly picking up the used dresses and hanging them back up for her. If she drug out her toys though, you’d make her pick those up. But she was just having so much fun you didn’t want to interrupt, and the clutter bothered you so you picked it up in between your choruses of “ooh I like that one” and “you look so pretty!”

The doorbell rang, causing Mickey to let out a protective bark and you soothed his fur down before standing to open the door. The man on the other side greeted you warmly, asking you to sign the receipt for the pizza, which you did, before wishing him a good night. You drooled a bit, smelling your favorite toppings that Hoseok had remembered to order.

“Yeona! Dinners here!” you called, grabbing two plates and setting the table.

Yeona came skipping into the kitchen, and you helped her climb into the booster seat on her favorite chair before placing a bib on her so she didn’t ruin her dress. You cut the pizza slice into more manageable pieces for Yeona to eat before sliding into your own chair, biting into the heavenly food. You groaned happily and Yeona giggled, eating hers with her little cartoon character utensils.

Putting the leftovers in the fridge to ensure Hoseok had a snack later, knowing he didn’t eat before rushing off to work, you continued to play with Yeona for about an hour or two before she started yawning and you checked the clock, realizing it was almost bedtime. You helped her clean up the toys and mess you’d both made before pulling out some pajamas for her and assisting her with brushing her teeth.

You tucked her into bed and she pulled on your sleeve, looking up at you with the sweetest puppy eyes you’d ever seen.

“Are you going to read me a story like daddy does?”

“I can! What do you want to read?”

“If you give a mouse a cookie!”

You grinned and grabbed the book off the shelf, leaning against the headboard next to Yeona and began reading.

“If a hungry little mouse shows up on your doorstep, you might want to give him a cookie. And if you give him a cookie, he'll ask for a glass of milk. He'll want to look in a mirror to make sure he doesn't have a milk mustache, and then he'll ask for a pair of scissors to give himself a trim…”

About halfway through the book, Yeona’s eyes started drifting closed, but her little hand reached out to hold onto your free one, and you looked down at her, setting the book down in your lap.

“I love you, Y/N,” Yeona mumbled, snuggling closer to the warmth of your body.

“I love you too, sweet girl,” you cooed, smoothing her hair out of her face with a tender touch.

“Wish you were my mommy.” she sighed, barely awake.

You didn’t move, didn’t breathe. You didn’t know how to respond, but thankfully she didn’t seem to be looking for one, her eyelids fluttering shut before you heard her soft, even breathing.

“Baby girl, I would never leave you behind if I were,” you whispered, knowing she couldn’t hear as you continued to stroke her hair, “I would take care of you, my love. I wish I was your mommy too.”

You watched her sleep for a little while longer, her precious face looking so peaceful and pure. You wondered how anyone could ever walk away from such a beautiful little girl. Stroking her hair one last time, you stood and placed the book back on the shelf, exiting the room with Mickey on your heels and slowly shutting the door.

You let him outside to use the bathroom and gave him a treat before settling into the couch with him in your lap, petting him absentmindedly as your thoughts raced with the events of the night. How Yeona had been so cute dressing up, had been so entertaining with the little tea party you’d both held, how she’d told you she wished you were her mom… How Hoseok had kissed your cheek, clearly not thinking about it, and doing it out of habit, but how it had sent your heart lurching out of your chest. Just as the thought of Hoseok had crossed your mind, the door opened and Hoseok rushed inside, quietly but profusely apologizing for being late.

“I am so sorry, the function ran over and I was on the cleanup crew so I couldn’t leave.” Hobi whisper-shouted.

“It’s fine, I had fun, I barely realized what time it was. Yeona’s asleep.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you.” Hoseok gushed, reaching into his pocket to pull out his wallet and hold out some bills for you to take.

You looked up at him with one eyebrow arched, a sassy look on your face, and that had him putting the money away.

“Are you sure? I can pay you, I know you probably had other plans, it is Friday night after all.”

“Hobi, there is nowhere I would rather be, no matter what day of the week it is.” you smiled.

“You’re a god-send.” he groaned.

“It’s late, I should get going.” you smiled, seeing how exhausted he was and wanting to get out of his hair.

“Nooo, it’s too late for you to drive home alone. What if you fall asleep at the wheel? You should just stay. You can take my room, I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“I’m not going to kick you out of your room. I can take the couch.”

“Are you thirsty? Want some wine?” he offered, walking backwards towards the kitchen.

“Sure.”

Hoseok grabbed two glasses of wine and the bottle, setting the objects on the coffee table in front of you and easing himself into the seat beside you, and you both sipped on the dark red liquid as you talked.

“I really am so thankful for your help tonight, all your help with Yeona. It’s not easy doing everything on my own. I know I have my parents and the guys, but sometimes I wonder if I’m giving her the best life or if I’m holding her back from having a happy family,” he sighed.

“Hobi, that little girl adores you, there is no one she’d rather have as her father.”

“I know, but is that what’s best for her? Doesn’t she need a mom?”

“She needs people who love her and support her, and she has that,” you comfort, rubbing his back soothingly, “she has you, the guys, her grandparents, me…”

“You’re right, thank you. I just get insecure sometimes, thinking she deserves better than… well, me.”

“Hobi, you’re an amazing dad! You’re so good with her, you’re raising her so well. She’s sweet and smart and well-behaved. She is so loved and it shows, because she displays love. You are a wonderful father, and you are more than enough.”

“Thank you, really. You always know just what to say. I’m so glad I met you, you’ve been so good to Yeona and I.” he smiled.

“I’m glad I met you too, you two are so important to me! I couldn’t imagine a life without you both in it.”

“...really?”

“Of course!” you immediately replied with conviction, holding onto Hoseok’s hand without realizing it.

Hands still in yours, Hoseok’s gaze lifted to meet your own, and you didn’t shy away like you’d immediately wanted to, wanting to both comfort him, and also look into his beautiful eyes for a moment more. You couldn’t believe Hoseok was insecure about his abilities to raise Yeona, he was the best father you’d ever seen, one of the million things you’d come to love about him. His eyes flickered from yours to your lips momentarily, and he slowly leaned closer to your now-shivering frame.

“Tell me to stop, and I will. Tell me you don’t want this, and I’ll back off,” he whispered as he closed the gap between your lips.

You didn’t say anything, instead opting to close the remaining distance yourself, pressing your lips to his in a sweet, chaste kiss. Hobi scooted closer to you, wrapping his arms around your waist and bringing you against his body, your arms coming up to wrap around his neck. The kiss was sweet and tentative at first but quickly lit a fire inside your core, and somehow, you found yourself straddling his lap, grinding your core down on his semi-hard erection.

“Fuck, Y/N…” he groaned, moving his kisses down to your neck, muttering into your skin, “I’ve wanted this for so long.”

“Me too.” you admitted through breathless exhales, working your hips against his while he worked his lips against your skin.

You slipped your fingers under his shirt, feeling his stomach up to his nipples, grazing your nails gently across the buds, causing his body to jerk towards you. You smirked to yourself, lifting the shirt which he aided you in removing. Your mouth watered at the sight of his smooth, tan skin. You gently nudged him backwards until his head rested on the arm of the couch, and kissed your way down his torso until you reached the hem of his jeans.

Hoseok’s breath hitched as you undid his belt, looking up at him to make sure it was okay and he grinned at you, running his hand through your hair to gather it into a makeshift ponytail. You took that as an okay and slid his jeans and boxers down just enough to reveal his throbbing length, precum, leaking from the tip. You licked along the slit, gathering the precum on your tongue and swallowing, making a pleased noise in the back of your throat.

Hoseok shivered, biting down on his lip and watching you lick a bold stripe along the underside, your hand reaching to cup his balls while you sunk down on his length, hollowing your cheeks around his throbbing member. Hoseok gripped your hair a little tighter in an attempt not to buck up into your mouth. You took him as deep as you could, letting the tip hit the back of your throat as you sucked him for dear life.

“Fuck, I’m not gonna last long if you keep doing that,” he moaned helplessly, his grip on your hair loosening.

In response, you simply bobbed your head up and down faster, sucking harder on his length, using every trick you had to get him to his orgasm. Hoseok groaned, probably a little too loudly, before tapping the side of your cheek to warn you, but you didn’t pull away. Hoseok groaned, his back arching off the couch as he spilled his seed down your throat and you swallowed it all, licking your lips once you’d pulled off of his softening cock.

“Holy shit,” he breathed.

You giggled and leaned up to peck his lips, which he returned with fervor, licking along your bottom lip and deepening the kiss, pulling you closer , letting your hips settle atop his while his mouth worked against your own.

“I really want to be inside you,” he groaned.

“Fuck me, Hobi,” you pleaded, grinding yourself on his length, and you felt it stir to life once more.

“Need to prep you.”

“No, I’m so fucking wet for you, I’m ready,” you groaned, lifting yourself off of him to shed your panties from under your skirt, bunching it up around your hips and lining your entrance with his now-erect penis.

“Are you sure?”

You nodded, sinking down on his member and groaning at the way he stretched your walls, the slight burn being aided by the amount of arousal that had pooled in your cunt, allowing his length to slip into your inviting heat with minimal resistance. Hoseok bit down on his arm, holding in a moan at the feeling of your wet cavern wrapped around his cock so perfectly.

Hoseok’s hands came to rest on your hips, guiding your pace as you bounced on his cock, riding him with enthusiasm, your walls clenching around him each time the tip of his cock kissed that special spot inside you. Hoseok lifted his hips to meet yours, keeping time with your thrusts and you bit down on your lip to hold in a moan.

“Fuck, you feel even better than I imagined.”

“You thought about this?” you wondered, swiveling your hips down on him.

“Every night since I met you,” he admitted.

“Fuck, Hobi. Me too. Want you so bad,” you whimpered.

“Yeah? You want Daddy to fill you up? Want me to fill this pretty pussy with my seed? Fuck a baby into you?” he growled and you clenched at the words.

“Yes, fuck.”

“Mmm, you like that? Wanna be filled with Daddy’s cum? Wanna see it drip out of that tight little pussy.” he groaned, speeding up his thrusts.

“Hobi, yes,” you whined, his dirty words spurring you closer to your release, “close.”

“Me too, baby. Come on, cum for me,” he urged, leaning up to bring one of your nipples in his mouth.

Your orgasm crashed over you the moment his tongue ran over the sensitive bud. You held your breath to keep from crying out as Hoseok worked you through your high, reaching his before you had finished yours, the feeling of his warm seed filling your battered hole making your orgasm even more intense.

Coming down from your highs, you lifted your hips to allow his length to slip out of you, watching as his cum dripped out of your sex, running down your leg and his. Hoseok groaned at the sight, pulling you into his chest. You snuggled up to him for a moment before you both got up to clean up, him assisting you by gently running a damp rag along your folds and you running it along his leg to clean up the mess you’d both made.

You pulled your clothes back on and Hoseok grabbed your hand, leading you to his bedroom and offering you a t-shirt to sleep in. You weren’t sure he would want you to stay, but you were thankful he did. And not on the couch. After changing into Hobi’s clothes and cuddling up to him, his arm wrapped around your middle, you felt at ease. Hobi was the first to break the silence.

“Please tell me this means you’ll be mine,” he whispered against the skin of your neck while placing little kisses along the skin there.

“I’ll be yours if you’ll be mine,” you answered, leaning down to capture his lips with yours.

One year later

Pushing the key in the lock of your brand new house, you opened the door and looked around the foyer, and heard little footsteps running through the hall, a sweet giggle echoing.

“Mommy! You’re home!” Yeona grinned, launching herself into your arms, and you spun her around, holding her close to your chest.

“I’m home, baby girl. How was your day?”

“It was good! I missed you though, you and my baby sister!” she grinned, her tiny, chubby hand caressing your plump belly.

“We missed you too, pumpkin. Where’s Daddy?”

“He’s in his office, he’s been boring today, but he did take a break to play with me. He doesn’t play dress up like you do, you’re more fun,” she whined, clutching at your neck.

“Hmmm, how about we play a little before dinner then?”

She squealed excitedly, wiggling out of your grasp and running to her room. You followed behind her, leaning up against Hoseok’s office door on the way.

“Hey, handsome.”

Hoseok looked up, immediately standing and walking up to you, his hand gently caressing your baby bump while he pressed his lips to yours.

“Welcome home, baby. And baby,” he grinned.

You rolled your eyes with a smile on your face, pecking his cheek.

“Yeona says you’re boring and don’t play dress up the right way,” you smirked, mocking him.

Hoseok groaned, throwing his arm over his eyes dramatically before his smile reached his eyes as he softly said, “Well, it’s a good thing we have you.”

710 notes · View notes

fluffi · 3 years

Text

MY DETENTION BUDDY :: JAY

pairing: jay x gn!reader genre: fluff, badboy!jay, highschool!au, friends-enemies-lovers!au word count: 2k event: for @lovesick-net and (early) jay day 200421 <3 author’s note: simple little one-shot for jay’s birthday (i wont be uploading anything for his actual birthday). i had to speedrun this fic because i kept changing the plot and this hasnt been proofread twice (unlike my other fics) T-T i hope it’ll still work out. warnings: (reader makes one bad decision)

Ring...ring...ring...ring..ring…

Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring

Ringringringringiringringringring.

RIRIRIRIRIRIRIRIRIRIRIRIRIRIRRI-SLAM!

The alarm clock stopped its boisterous wailing

10 more minutes. I don’t have to style my hair today.

Thirty minutes passed.

RIRIRIRIRIRIRIRIRIRI- SLAM!

Ugh. I’ll just miss assembly.

RIRIRIIRRIRIRI-

This time, the ringing stopped before he could slam his hand over the alarm clock.

“Jongseong, do you not have school today?” Jay could only make out a bush of black that stood above him as he sat up, dazed and drowsy.

“Yeah, I do. I’m about to get ready. Why?”

“It’s 9 am! You should be at school! At this point, you don’t even have to go anymore.” His mother huffed in disappointment.

It was an exaggeration, but she had a point. School started at eight in the morning. It was already an hour later but he was still sitting in bed.

“I’ll get ready now. 10 minutes. Good to go.” He shooed his mom away, already running to the bathroom to wash up.

“I’m leaving now Jay. You know darn well that I have an important meeting today and I can’t miss it just for you to not get a tardy. Heck, you’re already late! You’re-”

“Mom! I can’t walk to school! It takes too long.” Jay whined as he brushed his teeth, his muffled voice interrupting his mother’s speech.

“Young man, stop interrupting me. I told you a week ago about today’s event and it’s not my fault that my oldest son can’t take care of himself. You’re going to have to take another mode of transport, you’re old enough to deal with this yourself!” With that, his mother stormed out of his room, her feet obnoxiously thumping on the floor.

“I’m also your only son...” Jay muttered.

Of all days, why did she have to have her meeting today? Monthly evaluations aren’t that important. Dangit, I should’ve been taught how to drive. Jay returned to his rapid multitasking, grabbing his school uniform while washing his face. He didn’t even look twice,

After taking the quickest shower he had ever taken in his entire life and shoving all of his essential (what he determined as essential, at least) belongings into his bag, he opened to door and dashed outside only to be met with…

Rain.

Rain everywhere. Drenching the front yard’s perfectly tended flower garden and creating heaps of watery mud. It was pouring at 9.15 am. There was thunder and occasional flashes of light zooming through the clouds. The city was in shambles.

Not like, shamble, shambles. It was shambles in Jay’s opinion as he groaned and stomped his way through the rain.

Screw school. Screw this stupid rain, screw my alarm clock, screw this-

“Dude, why are you running in the rain? You’re soaked. Are you heading to school?” A pink-haired boy in a red Ferrari shouted from across the street.

Jay sighed in relief, immediately running across the road to said Ferrari. “Choi Yeonjun. You are a life-saver. Could I get a ride real quick? I’ll pay back for engine fees and for soaking the inside of your Ferrari with rainwater.”

“Hop right in, and don’t worry about returning. Let’s have some fun with this baby.” Yeonjun smirked and revved the engine, swerving past cars and buildings like it was a little RPG game.

At this rate, I’ll make it to school in no time.

“Dude, I’m so sorry. I guess you have to walk.”

Just as he thought things were taking a better turn, Yeonjun decides to show off his new driving skills and zooms through roads at a rapid speed, so fast that he crashed the car by a tree. It was a miracle that both of them didn’t get hurt but as far as Jay was concerned, he could worry about that some other time. This was just slowing him down on his long and tedious journey towards his form of hell.

On the bright side, the rain had stopped and the sunshine was back as if nothing had happened.

“I’ll get going to school.” Jay internally groaned and started sprinting in the direction of his school.

“Hey, at least I helped you get closer to school! Didn’t I?” Yeonjun shouted from behind and coyly smiled.

Such a boastful punk, Jay thought. “Whatever, bro!” He turned back and gave his older friend a quick wave before dashing off.

“Park Jongseong! You’re late...again.”

“I’m aware.” Jay didn’t spare his English teacher an eye and slung his backpack over the chair, about to take a seat.

“Stop giving me attitude, I’m your teacher.Why are you tardy for the fourth time this month?”

“Alarm clock.”

“Alarm clock what? Are you afraid to speak up? I don’t see you acting like this in the hallways.”

Jay looked down at his feet and sighed before side-eyeing his teacher. “Overslept, okay? Sir if you could just let me off the hook you would be able to proceed with your Shakespeare nonsense.”

The entire class snickered. It was no secret that Jay loathed Mr. Jung, the English teacher. Who didn’t? Mr. Jung treated every student in school like they were incapable toddlers and it was a wonder that anyone would dare to stand up to his stupid remarks. Jay’s carefree attitude towards his horrible teachers was one of the reasons why he earned so many fangirls.

Not like you were one, of course. You watched as he pulled his chair out and sat next to you out of the three other vacant seats at the back of the class.

Mr. Jung rolled his eyes and continued writing on the blackboard. “Also, Jongseong,” he added, “you’re wearing your school shirt the wrong way round. See you in detention for your tardiness.”

A few of the girls in a few seats in front of him whispered rapidly, although whispering didn’t stop Jay from finding out about their gossip.

“Lol! So much for being the bad boy of our grade. He looks like a wreck today.”

“I know right? I wonder what the other fangirls will think of this. Should we send the pictures to the fan club?”

The second girl giggled. “Yeah, duh. Name it jay-park-wreck-images.”

So much for my reputation. Jay could only roll his eyes as he pulled out his supplies, ignoring the camera clicks coming from the seats in front of him.

“Oh, yay. At least I’ll have a detention buddy now.”

Jay eyed you up and down like your statement was some sort of monstrosity. “Detention? You, detention? Pfft.” He laughed.

“Yeah, Jay. Me, detention. Why are you so happy about it? Glad to be stuck with another girl?”

“What, no-no. You just...don’t seem like the type to be in detention. How’d you get it?”

“This..may be kind of embarrassing, but...” You turned to the side and Jay gasped.

On the sleeve of your uniform was a...rabbit? It wasn’t too obvious as to what the marker doodle was but it was apparent that you had intentionally spent time to draw on it.

“Look, I was bored in assembly this morning and found a spare marker in my pocket! Don’t judge, we all know how bad assembly can be.” You blurted just as Jay was about to ask why you had done what you did.

“You could’ve just drawn on your hand or done something else with the marker.” Jay sighed and shook his head at your dumb decision.

“I was out of my mind, okay? Ugh, Assembly always drives me nuts. I got called out for for the horrendous ink bleed when Mr. Jung saw as I walked into the classroom. He said it ‘didn’t follow school guidelines’.”

“For once, I agree with Mr. Jung. It was a stupid choice, you know? If you didn’t draw on your uniform then you wouldn’t have to go to detention now.”

“Jay Park, the bad boy of school, is telling me to be a rule abider. Biggest twist of the century.” You rolled your eyes.

Jay frowned and turned back at you, losing that little spark in his eyes that he once kept. “I’m not a bad boy you know? I just don’t like the system in place here.”

“As if anyone is going to believe that. Go hang out with another girl of yours. I’m not here to be your toy.”

“People like you are the reason why everyone thinks I’m a bad person. I thought you were different, you know?”

You had been preoccupied with taking notes for class, but now you looked at him with squinted eyes. “Well, I am different. Different as In someone who doesn’t fall for your useless charms. Go suck up to your fangirls or something.”

Jay rolled his eyes and scooted away from you. He thought he had been lucky to meet you, but he guessed not.

You always do this, you idiot. You were so close to making a new friend.

You put your hands in your head and side-eyed Jay, who seemed to be struggling as Mr. Jung blurted out an entire unit’s summary.

The boy hadn’t brought any stationery and was definitely on the wrong page of the textbook. You figured that he was this disheveled from his absolute lack of planning but you still felt bad.

His hair was a mess, it was still damp from the rain before. If only you could help him style it…

Why do I want to touch his hair? That’s weird and gross.

You were so occupied with thinking about Jay that you realized that he was still struggling in class.

Maybe you could make things better.

“I’m sorry.”

Jay was struggling to find the page you guys were on for class when a pencil blocked his view.

“What do you want?” He said as he tried to look past your pencil swinging.

“It’s a pencil for you since I realized that your table is practically empty and you’re going to need something to take notes with for later. Also, it’s page 153, not 53.” You leaned over to help him flip the pages.

“Oh, that makes so much more sense. I was wondering why we were relearning unit 3 when finals aren’t even near yet.”

You raised your eyebrows, looking up at a relieved Jay. “So you do pay attention in class.”

“Of course I do! I’m a student. You should stop using that stereotype on me.” Jay frowned and a tinge of disappointment shadowed his face.

“Right, I know. I’m sorry. I’m trying to work on it, it’s rumors and assumptions that have built up over the past few years and I understand that it shouldn’t get in the way of our friendship.”

“Friendship? We have a friendship?” Jay chuckled and cocked an eyebrow up, teasing you.

Maybe it was that eyebrow slit or the weird tension that was building up between the both of you. You felt your face heat up. “I mean- yeah, friendship. Are we not friends?”

“I don’t know, hun. I thought we were something more.”

“Um...best...friends?”

It was perfect timing as the bell rang and you immediately started packing things into your bag, eyes glued to the clock instead of the amused boy next to you.

Jay laughed, running his hands through his blonde locks and watching as you started running out of class, your eyes occasionally looking back at him to see if he was still staring at you.

“See you in detention!” He called, drawing the attention of your classmates.

Jay Park needs to learn how to shut his mouth. Everyone was now staring at you and you were flustered, embarrassed, shocked, and confused. The weird mix of emotions were driving you nuts. All you could muster was a little nod and you dashed out of there as fast as you could.

“Today we’re going to learn about Murphy’s Law. It is where anything that can go wrong will go wrong.”

“But everything that can work, will work.” Jay raised his hand and added, sparing a glance at you jotting notes in the back of the classroom, oblivious to his reference towards you.

“You’re right Jay. Murphy’s Law works both ways. Reversing it is considered part of science…”

Today morning was a storm (figuratively and literally) and everything seemed to be going wrong for Jay. Murphy’s Law prevails. but there’s always a rainbow after the storm. You were his rainbow and his lucky charm.

2021 © fluffi

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xiyao-feels · 3 years

Note

☕ possibly unpopular opinion, but I don't think lxc survives his seclusion. I think his world view is too badly shattered and he either wastes away slowly or outright kills himself.

I like—one-quarter agree with this, I think?

On the one hand, as I've said before, I do think CQL LXC kills himself. The man is just... really completely broken. And also just tried to die with JGY. I mean, I don't even think he goes into seclusion first, necessarily.

On the other hand, while MDZS LXC is also very much broken, I don't think he does die; even aside from anything else, JGY is still sealed in the coffin, and dying would be leaving him behind in a way it wouldn't in CQL—so in MDZS I don't think he does.

The part where I totally disagree with you is—I don't think it's about his worldview. It's about JGY being dead. I—think people very much want it to be about something other than that (including his grief for JGY /and NMJ/, which, still no) , and I am as ever prepared to look at a textual argument in favour if someone wants to assemble one, but honestly I think the text is pretty clear here. Throughout the temple, he's reacting and processing pretty normally—to borrow from my own previous work, here's an overview of some of his reactions to things and people other than JGY:

Obviously we see [LXC] react when he’s telling LWJ about WWX’s feelings, but even beyond that, even when he’s occupying a more background role in the narrative, we’re given his reaction quite a few times. He sighs when LWJ seals his spiritual powers (ch 100); he tends to NHS, covering with his outer robe (ch 102), comforting him when he’s disturbed at the sight of the coffin (ch 103), protecting him from SMS (after NHS frames him for stabbing him, ch. 107) and from NMJ (ch 107), and comforting him and giving him pain medicine about the wound in his leg (ch 108); along with LWJ, he’s distressed by the sound of JC’s sword-scraping technique against JGY’s music (ch 101); he tries to warn JC a couple of times when JC is fighting JGY (ch 101), cautions JL (ch 101) and later JC (ch 102) about worsening JC’s injuries, and along with JL, WWX, and LWJ freezes when JC slaps JL to the ground (ch 102); he asks Minshan why he’s being rude to LWJ, and a little later, with SMS and JL, pauses in astonishment when LWJ laughs (ch 100); he averts his gaze from and seems perhaps embarassed by the ghosts that WWX summons (ch 104); he calls out to WWX to remind him that his current body is closely related to JGY, and will therefore attract NMJ’s fierce corpse (ch 107). He actually has a couple of entertaining reactions to Wangxian being Wangxian: he coughs and tells WWX it is maybe not the best time and place for this when WWX is about to repeat “I really wanted to sleep with you,” and then later he and Jin Ling inexplicably! move their sitting cushions far away from Wangxian’s and gaze into the distance (ch 100).

And of course he reacts to JGY again and again, and—again!—is engaging and processing. Again pulling from my previous post—

And more than anything else—in what I think is a very instructive contrast—he reacts to JGY, in a way that reflects an ongoing continual emotional investment. He is, quite notably, consistently worried about JGY and unable to stand the sight of him in pain, even when he thinks he shouldn’t be. When the coffin trap goes off, and they overhear Jin cultivators wailing and a pungent smoke emerges, there’s worry in LXC’s eyes; after JGY and Minshan make it out, and JGY takes some medicine against the poison, LXC hesitates for a moment and then asks what happened (ch 103). After LWJ cuts JGY’s hand off—which means /after/ he’s taken JL hostage, note—LXC “seemed as though he wanted to help him for an instant,” though “in the end he dared not” (ch 106). When Minshan asks him for medicine for JGY, seeing how terrible JGY looks, he hesitates slightly before they’re interrupted by NMJ’s success fighting the Jin cultivators (ch 107). After they’ve defeated NMJ, he treats JGY’s wrist; moreover, “Seeing that Jin GuangYao almost passed out from the pain, Lan XiChen, who in the beginning wanted to use this to punish him, still didn’t have the heart to bear it,” and goes for the pain-relief medicine from NHS. And this is all not even accounting for his reactions to JGY either during his questioning of JGY or post-stabbing!

and

For the first, he calls out Sect Leader Jin when JGY starts in on JC after JC calls him the son of a prostitute (ch 104), although notably he does not do the same in their earlier confrontation when JGY is distracting JC in order to defeat him, only warning JC (ch 101); when JGY confesses to having burned down the brothel, he’s distressed when JGY says that it wasn’t entirely to remove the traces (ch 105); he becomes /less/ angry about the second siege and about QS when it turns out that he was operating under constraint in those conditions (ch 106); and of course, the thing he’s angriest about is JGY killing his father, “and even in such a way” (ch 106). In ch 103, looking down at the coffin he is shocked that JGY buried something that caused such horror to its surroundings, but without further information about JGY’s reasons this does not metamorphose into anger.

And there's even more! I don't want to quote all of that section because it's really long, but you get the point: before JGY dies, he's distressed, sure, but he's still processing.

And then after JGY dies, it's—

Lan XiChen staggered a few steps back from the push. He hadn’t realized what happened yet.

Lan XiChen stared at the coffin enveloped in seven guqin strings. He was still lost in thought. Nie HuaiSang extended a hand and waved it before his eyes, terrified, “… B-Brother XiChen, are you alright?”

Lan XiChen, “HuaiSang, just now, was he really trying to catch me off guard with an attack?”

Nie HuaiSang, “I think I saw it…”

Hearing his hesitation, Lan XiChen pressed, “Think it over some more.”

Nie HuaiSang, “If you ask me like that, I can’t be sure either… It really did seem like…”

Lan XiChen, “Cut out the ‘seem like’! Did it happen or not?!”

Nie HuaiSang answered with difficulty, “… I don’t know, I really don’t know!”

This was the only thing Nie HuaiSang knew to say when he was desperate. Lan XiChen buried his forehead in his palm. He seemed as if his head was about to split, unwilling to speak again.

Lan XiChen was startled, “Induce? Induce what?”

Lan WangJi’s voice was low, “Jin GuangYao’s killing intent.”

If it were the usual ZeWu-Jun, he couldn’t have failed to fathom this. But right now, it was likely he had no more space in his mind to think.

(ch 109)

Veins suddenly lined the back of the hand in which Lan XiChen placed on his forehead. His voice sounded muffled, “… Just what does he want to do? I once thought I knew him well, and then I realized I did not. Before tonight, I thought I knew him well once more, but now I do not.” Nobody could give him an answer. Lan XiChen repeated in frustration, “Just what does he want to do?”

Of the people here, some were cleaning up the scene, some were solidifying the seal on the coffin, some were thinking about how to move it safely, and some were feeling angry. Lan QiRen raged, “XiChen, what in the world is wrong with you?!”

As his hand pressed the corner of his forehead, Lan XiChen’s face was full of an unspeakable grief. He seemed tired, “… Uncle, I am begging you. Ask no further. Really. Right now, I really wish to say nothing.”

Lan QiRen had never seen Lan XiChen, a child he single-handedly brought up, look so agitated and discomposed. He looked at him, then looked at Lan WangJi, surrounded by disciples alongside Wei WuXian, and felt more irritated the more he looked. He felt that of these two of his proudest disciples who had been absolutely perfect, neither listened to him anymore and both gave him much worry.

Lan QiRen watched Lan XiChen who followed behind him sluggishly, still absent-minded, and sighed forcefully before he left with a flip of his sleeves.

(ch 110)

And then in the banquet extras, three months later:

Wei WuXian still clung to Lan WangJi’s chest, face buried at his neck as he felt the sandalwood aroma on Lan WangJi’s body grow even richer. He felt lazy all over, eyes closed, “Is your brother alright?”

Lan WangJi embraced his naked back, stroking again and again. After a while of a silence, he answered, “Not really.”

Both of the two were sticky with sweat. Wei WuXian felt an itch crawl from his skin all the way to the bottom of his heart as Lan WangJi stroked him. He twisted somewhat uncomfortably, swallowing Lan WangJi even deeper.

Lan WangJi lowered his voice, “In the years when I was in secluded meditation, Brother had always been the one to comfort me.”

Yet now the situation was the exact opposite.

Likely because Lan QiRen got a heart attack whenever he saw Wei WuXian, he simply decided not to look at him, staring straight forward. Lan XiChen was pleasant as always, holding the hint of a smile at his lips that always seemed like spring wind. Yet, perhaps because of the secluded meditation, Wei WuXian felt that ZeWu-Jun looked a bit frail.

(ch 115)

After the tasteless meal, the servants took away the plates and tables. As usual, Lan XiChen started to summarize the recent plans for the sect. But after listening for just a few sentences, Wei WuXian began to feel that he was a bit absent-minded. He even remembered two night-hunting locations wrong and didn’t realize after he spoke, causing Lan QiRen to throw a couple of sideway looks at him and puff his goatee into the air. A while later, he finally couldn’t help but interrupt him. Fortunately, the sect banquet finally ended, although somewhat hastily.

(ch 116)

So to recap—before JGY dies, he's distressed but he's still processing and reacting to things basically normally, he's got his head in the game. And then after JGY dies, he is very much /not/ processing things, he's not reacting normally, the things he's preoccupied with are entirely about JGY, LQR is like 'I've never seen him this way before.' And when we see him three months later, failing at very basic tasks he's long performed perfectly, it's the same kind of symptom—just as it was in ch 109, he seems to have no more space in his mind to think.

There's also the explicitly-drawn parallels between him and LWJ—by LQR, and by LWJ himself, paralleling LXC's current state with his own time in seclusion. And what would LWJ have needed comforting about while he was in seclusion? It's not the shattering of his worldview—it's Wei Ying.

I'm not going to go and rewatch and cap CQL temple, but the same basic pattern shows. Before JGY's death, he's functional and processing: afterwards, he's broken. I do think CQL LXC is more emotionally agitated before JGY's death than MDZS LXC is, but he's also even less functional afterwards so it evens out. If you go to 18:40ish in ep 50 (on YT, might be a different timestamp in Netflix) you can watch LXC stand frozen and stare into space and totally fail to react to anything including the conversation right next to him about his brother and WWX having run off.

I mean, I think it's also about the manner of JGY's death, if JGY had, idk, died heroically saving JL's life or something a year earlier he'd still have broken but probably not as badly? But it really is about JGY.

Tldr: I do think he kills himself in CQL; I don't think he does, even passively, in MDZS; but either way, his state at the end of canon isn't about his shattered worldview, it's about JGY being dead.

#ask meme #a gentle warmth filling the deepest of needs #the best of men

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haikyu-boys-am-i-right · 3 years

Text

Yn breaks her leg during a match

Character: Bokuto

Warnings: talking bad about oneself and giving up on dreams.

Requested: no

Word count: 1,079

Summary: yn breaks her leg during a match and Bokuto comes to comfort her who she is in the hospital.

Reblogs, likes, and comments are appreciated but please don’t repost my works.

Disclaimer: I do not own haikyuu or any of the characters.

———————————————————————

Time seemed to tick by slowly as yn sat in her hospital room listening to the sound of the clock on the wall. She hated the smell of sterilization all around her as she stared down at her leg wrapped in a thick cast which in her opinion appeared to be an eyesore. Why did that have to happen!? Yn crossed her arms as she bit her lip as a wave of emotion crashed over her. She wanted to cry but she had already drained herself of tears a short while ago after the doctor told her she could never play volleyball again. She didn’t know how she was going to face her boyfriend when he came to visit later and she had no idea how to tell him that her dreams were crushed. She was afraid he would leave her for someone who could actually stand beside him as his perfect match in a game of volleyball.

A week before

The sound of the crowd all around her roared in her ears as yn and the girls fukurodani volleyball team were trying their best to earn their spot in the spring nationals and this was the last team that they needed to beat in order to do so. Just this last one I can do it, one more point and we are in the nationals!

Yn watches as the ball soars through the air back over to their side of the net and she runs as fast as she can to reach the ball in time before it hits the floor in front of her. Yn jumps and pushes back with her arms as the ball connects with her hand and soars back over to her team and she hears a loud cheer as the scorekeeper yells that the ball is in.

Yn gasps as she feels her legs buckle beneath her as she comes down on her leg and she knows immediately that something is wrong as she rolls across the gym floor and she crashes into a table set up for water bottles which crash to the floor around her.

As she goes to get up from off of the floor, yn lets out an ear splitting scream as she collapses on the floor clutching at her leg. “What’s wrong yn”, her team asks as some of the members rush over to help her. “My leg, it hurts so bad”, she wails and she sobs as her entire body begins to shake. “Yn”! Yn looks over to see who is calling for her and through the haze of pain yn sees her boyfriend rushing onto the court. “Koutarou”, she whispers, reaching out towards him as she passes out from the pain.

A knock on the door of her hospital room pulls her from her thoughts. “Come in”, she says, thinking that it must be a nurse coming in to give her the next dose of pain medicine.

“Hey, hey, hey yn”, Bokuto says as he enters the room carrying a large bouquet of sweet smelling flowers in a vase. He sets the vase down on her beside table and he turns back to look at her with his hands on his hips. “How are you doing, ya feeling any better today”? Yn shakes her head sadly trying away from his gaze and Bokuto sighs sadly as he pats her on the head. “I see you still aren't talking to me,'' he says sitting down in the chair by her bed. “I wish you would tell me what's on your mind yn-chan I want to be able to help you in any way that I can”.

A tear trickled down yn’s cheek as she sobs and with an alarmed look on his face, Bokuto stands up so that he can hug ber. “Kou”, she sobs as she buries her face in his chest as she clutches at his shirt. “Yeah yn” he whispers as he holds her close to him. “I’m sorry our dream is gone,'' she says, shaking. “What do you mean, what dream are you talking about bunny”?, Bokuto asks while running his fingers through her hair.

“Our dream of us both playing on national teams is gone”, she says as she shakes and hiccups and sobs again. “The doctor told me this morning that I’ll never play volleyball again so what use am I to you if I can’t play sports”. “Is that what you’ve been thinking and worrying about for the past week yn-chan”? Bokuto asks pulling away so he can bend down to her eye level as he sits back down and he rests his head on the guard rail of her hospital bed. She nods as she rubs at her eyes. “Do you still need me kou, now that I no longer can play the sport that we both love?'' she whispers.

“Of course I need you”, he says, shocked that she would ever say that. “I’ll always need you now and forever I fell in love with you, not your skills at playing volleyball”. “You won’t move on without me will you”?, she asks. “Of course not you’re my girl and you’re my good luck charm, you always know how to make me smile and to be honest I’d be lost without you'' he says as he leans up to kiss her cheek.

Yn sniffles as she gives him a watery smile. “I love you koutarou,'' she says. Bokuto gazes at her softly as he stands back up and he pulls the guardrail down on her bed so he can sit beside her on the bed. “I love you too,'' he says as he tries to sit on the bed beside her. “Kou we both can’t fit on this bed, We will both fall off”, she says with a laugh. Bokuto pulls her into his lap being careful not to jostle her broken leg. “I won’t let you fall I promise”, he says as he raises the guardrail back up again. “I’m not going anywhere and you can count on that so I don’t ever want to hear you say that you are worried that I will leave you okay”, he says as he wraps his arms tightly around her. “Okay I trust you”, she says as she leans back onto Bokuto’s chest. Bokuto grins as he buries his face in her hair as they lay back on the bed and they both fall asleep cuddled in each other’s arms.

#haikyu x reader #haikyuu!!#haikyū!!#bokuto x you #bokuto koutarou x reader #Bokuto koutarou x you #Bokuto koutarou x y/n #my fics #sfw #Bokuto x reader #Bokuto x y/n #hq!! x reader #hq!! scenarios #hq!! fanfiction #angst #comfort fic #angst to fluff

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thedistantdusk · 3 years

Text

Arcadia, Chapter 3

Thanks to everyone who followed along! Things are heating up with this chapter! Most of the referenced triggers from chapter 1 apply in this chapter specifically. Here's the link to chapter 2, if you're just seeing this now :)

Thanks again to @secretkeeper13, @accio-broom, @remedialpotions, @jamezbot, @jenoramaca, @not-steve42, @ginisbetterthanfirewhiskey... god, I'm forgetting people, and I'm sorry! But you're all amazing <3

___________________________

D A Y + T H R E E

As fate would have it, Ginny wakes before 0-700.

Not that she sleeps.

Nightmares, the likes of which she hasn’t experienced in years, torment her throughout the night. They leave her scared. Miserable. Guilty. Around 3 AM, she finally reaches for her Dreamless Sleep potion with shaking hands. For more reasons than one, she’s pleased that Harry’s slept on the couch.

She knows now just how stupid this entire mission truly was. The longer she analyzes it, the more she accepts that her bloody pride got her here in the first place. A chance for a promotion, however small, gave her false confidence in her ability to disregard a decade of sexual tension, all while trapped in close quarters with the person she wants the most.

She hopes Harry makes himself sparse today, though she knows that sounds cruel. But the longer they spend together, the clearer it becomes they’re on the cusp of something… and not something that would look good on a performance review. He’s been kind and understanding so far, even when she’s fucked things up. She just hopes she can ignore the most human parts of herself until they’ve dealt with this.

So at half-past 8, Ginny — Jenny — emerges from the house in a bright floral sundress and nude pumps. Were it not for the secret weapon clutched in her right fist, she might have fit in quite well... but Jenny has no intention of fitting in. Not anymore. In three confident strides, she marches across the front lawn, bends down, and spears the prongs of a lurid pink flamingo into the grass.

Yes.

She grins and takes in her work. How ghastly against the backdrop of earth tones! How repugnant!

Ginny steals quick glimpses over each shoulder, only to be met with the eerie, blanketed silence that’s defined Arcadia since their arrival. No activity at all. Which means she’ll have no issue with the next bit…

She strides to the mailbox at the end of their driveway and gives it a sharp kick. The post slides out of alignment, leaving it askew. Perfect. She returns to the house with a bounce in her step. Living with the twins taught her a thing or two about how to infuriate complete strangers.

She just hopes it’ll be enough.

___________________________

As luck would have it, it is enough. Her efforts receive reward more quickly than she thought— more quickly than she’s been conditioned to expect.

Scarcely an hour passes before she finds the warning she needs. And to be honest, it could’ve been there sooner; she just figured she’d give it that long before she checked.

Still, it’s not even 10 AM when she opens the door and sees it on their welcome mat: a folded paper with Pee-tri scrolled on the front. She can’t help but admire the sheer cheek as she unfolds it; this is the closest they’ll get to a public call-out for the way Harry insists on correcting everyone’s pronunciation. The message inside doesn’t surprise her, either.

Be like the others before dark. Or else.

Ginny glimpses out at the lawn, just to confirm— and yes. Sure enough. Just as she’d suspected, the flamingo's gone. The mailbox is straight. Everything’s back to normal.

She kicks the door closed with a smirk and wonders if they’re aware of how easily they’ve exposed themselves. How—

“What’ve you got there?” Harry calls from the sofa in the living room. He looks up from his laptop with bleary, dark-rimmed eyes. A wave of guilt washes through her; that sofa clearly didn’t get more comfortable overnight. Not that he would’ve accepted the alternative.

“Erm. A letter.” She waves in front of her and walks into the living room. “I’ve done a great job annoying them!”

He offers a gentle smile. “Any chance you’ll let me know who this ‘them’ is that you’re so worried about?”

Ginny rolls her eyes and settles on the other end of the couch. “You know I can’t—”

“Talk about your work,” Harry finishes, turning back to his computer. “Right.”

“Mm. Not exactly that I can’t… talk about my work,” she ventures, putting her feet up on the white ottoman. “More like I can’t give information until it’s essential knowledge for all parties involved. Based on criteria that I also can’t share.”

“Sounds like a fun job,” Harry deadpans, still looking at the computer. “But anyway, if I were to suggest something like… I don’t know…” He casually tilts the screen in her direction. “The fact that Oliver Skinner definitely has a criminal record, and maybe that’s worth looking into. You couldn’t confirm or deny that?”

Ginny just shrugs. “That’s correct. I can neither confirm nor deny.”

His theory is wrong, of course. Dead wrong.

They wouldn’t have sent an Unspeakable and an Auror into the country if this were a simple Muggle murderer. Harry would be able to suss this out, she reckons, if he had more sleep. Poor bloke.

He groans and cracks his back. “I’m starting to understand why King’s always so frustrated.”

“Probably because he has to deal with you all the time,” Ginny quips, reaching for a magazine on the floor. Ugh. Of course, it’s only the TV guide, Radio Times. They don’t even have a TV, but it came with the Daily Mail on Sunday.

Harry reaches for a glass of water on the coffee table. “Fine,” he relents, in between sips. “I’ll stay in my lane. But if I get bored, I’ll get tetchy.” He gestures to the computer. “And since they’ve given us this laptop, I’ve had time to do a bit of—”

“They’ve given me a laptop,” Ginny corrects, arching a brow. “As you’re well aware, Auror Potter, that is technically the property of the DoM.” She returns to the guide with a shrug. “I just don’t care if you use it, mostly because I don’t expect you’ll be looking up tits all day.”

He chokes on his water; Ginny just laughs and turns the page. Ooh, lovely! Eurovision looks particularly flamboyant this year…

“You’re absolutely right,” Harry says, once he recovers. “I’d never look up tits on government property!” He looks affronted as he hands over the laptop, but she knows he’s not done... not when he’s set that up so perfectly. Annnnd sure enough…

“You of all people should know I'm an arse-man, Ginny.”

Now it’s her turn for an unattractive snort as he winks over his shoulder and marches upstairs.

When he’s gone, Ginny rolls her eyes and opens her laptop. He’s an incredible liar on the arse-man front, but it was a good joke. A simple joke…. one that didn’t deserve looking into.

It’s just unfortunate that can’t stop these stupid fucking butterflies from erupting in her stomach like she’s ten years old again.

___________________________

He launches into the air again, the gardens of his neighbors spanning out in front of him. Each perfectly manicured. Each disturbing in its performative precision. None of this is real; none of this is life.

He pulled out the trampoline after dinner, when Ginny okayed it. He’s not used to that— checking before he does things. This whole exercise has been a great reminder that his teamwork skills are rusty, especially when he’s in a subordinate role. Ron left after their first year to work in the magic shop instead, which only made sense after… yeah. Harry draws a deep breath and jumps again. Ron and Hermione haven’t been problem-solving in his head for ages. There’s been no one to share the burden of choices or—

“OI!” Oliver’s voice thunders across the garden.

Harry smiles and takes another huge leap into the air. Just in time…

He rips open the fence door and stomps over, hands balled into fists. Harry’s never seen anyone look quite so furious while dressed in cashmere. And standing beside a trampoline.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Oliver hisses, eyes narrowed to slits. “Are you trying to make enemies, Henry? Is this entire estate a bloody joke to you?”

“Of course not!” Harry lands on his bum before he jumps up again. “This is very serious!”

“Oliver!” Sharon wails, hurrying over. “Oliver. Please! This really—”

“Keep your nose where it belongs, woman,” Oliver snarls, looking at her like she’s scum on his shoe. “No one wants your opinion!”

Sharon flinches… and this, more than anything else, gets Harry’s back up. “No need to take it out on her!” he snaps, climbing down from the trampoline. “Talk to me if you’ve got a problem, Ollie. Why not—”

But just as Harry’s feet touch the grass, something very weird happens: A dull buzzing fills his ears. Sharon and Oliver hear it too, but unlike Harry, they aren’t looking around in bewildered confusion. In a flash, the rage on Oliver’s face transforms into something much different: fear. And as the pressure grows, Harry can only watch as Oliver grabs Sharon’s hand, yanking her from the garden, when—

An unmistakable sound replaces the buzzing. A large piece of glass from somewhere in the front of the house shatters on the pavement. And with that, the buzzing stops.

Birds chirp again. Someone laughs in the distance. Harry jabs a finger in his ear, trying to clear it, but it seems Oliver’s returned to his furious state. He lunges towards Harry, a vein ticking in his neck, his hands outstretched as if to push him over— but Harry doesn’t have time for this. He’s already running around him, bolting towards the source of the sound, his hand inching for his pocket…

Because whatever they’ve got going on isn’t related to Oliver, is it? No… definitely not. That buzzing was too creepy to be muggle. Harry hadn’t really been convinced of the Oliver theory in the first place, even if the wanker has a criminal record for drunk driving. He mostly suggested it to Ginny to see if she’d give him any information.

Harry spots the broken glass the second he reaches the pavement. The lamppost right outside their house has shattered, light bulb and all. Bits of glass sparkle on the street, but the lamppost is at least 10 feet high. Harry scans around for signs of a ladder, or some form of a projectile… any method someone might’ve used to— oh! A baseball rolls around in one of the open garages across the street. He’s about to march over and collect it when his conscience stops him.

Because that’s the definition of circumstantial evidence, isn’t it? Harry sighs, rubbing his forehead. Snatching the baseball while working alone is one thing, but it’s not worth risking Ginny’s job. Especially because he reckons these thoroughly unmemorable homes are each equipped with monitoring systems. At absolute best, that would be… awkward to explain to the muggle police, especially without an obvious connection between the ball and the shattered lamppost...

Harry’s just about to turn back inside and write it off a freak occurrence when—

Shit.

His breath freezes in his throat.

What the...

He blinks a few times to make sure he’s not imagining it, but no...

There’s no weird buzzing this time… but something else is happening instead. The grass on the far side of their yard is bulging and curling, right in front of his eyes. The soil creaks as this… this mass — a huge sphere of some sort — passes through; bits of dirt fly into the air before settling back.

Harry’s veins turn to ice, his stomach churning. Work has introduced him to new, vile varieties of ghouls and nasties. He’s been bitten by a leprechaun. Stalked by a vampire. He’s encountered every disturbing otherworldly menace that one could imagine.

But he’s never seen anything like this.

His only solace is that it’s headed towards Mike’s empty house… this massive, rolling boulder that travels beneath the soil. ‘Boulder’ isn’t exactly the right term, though; he’s never seen a boulder move with a slinking, predatory grace. He’s never gotten gooseflesh from a rock, no matter how large.

And try as he might, he can only stand there, wide-eyed, his heart racing. Because now he knows for sure what Ginny only alluded to before: whatever they’re chasing isn’t human.

And it’s aware of them.

___________________________

The door creaks open less than five minutes after the glass shatters, but Ginny’s prepared.

She’s standing in the alcove just off the entryway, wand in one hand, fire poker in the other. It’s probably not the best strategy she’s ever had— but she reckons that if a Muggle were to catch sight of an altercation, it would be an easy memory supplantation. Wands and fire pokers don’t look that dissimilar, and—

“Ginny?” Harry calls. Directly into her ear.

Shit! She jumps into the air, the poker clattering to the ground.

“When did you learn to move like a cat?” she demands, turning to face him. “You nearly—”

“We need to talk,” he says brusquely. It’s only then that she takes in his wide, haunted eyes. His white pallor. The way he hasn’t even commented on the ridiculousness of her fire poker.

Oh.

He’s scared.

Scared in a way she hasn’t seen him in ages. Maybe ever. Which means he heard…? Shit. She’d might as well ask.

“What do you erm…” She toys with her wand handle. “Want to talk about?”

Harry heaves a tired sigh. “I’m only going to ask you this once,” he says flatly, rubbing his hand over his forehead. Then he blinks up at her, his eyes pulsing and stern. “What the fuck was that?”

“The… shattered lamppost?” she hedges. “I’ve no idea. I just—”

Apparently, that was the wrong response.

Harry groans. “You know damn well I don’t mean the bloody lamppost!” he snarls. “I mean that… that thing! First the weird buzzing, then whatever moved through the grass! It was like some creepy worm, or—”

“—not a worm,” she amends, staring at her cuticles.

This, too, was the wrong reply; she’s never seen him go from bewildered to enraged quite so fast.

Harry lets out a furious roar and kicks at an empty box. “This is why Unspeakables are so fucking annoying!” he shouts, tossing his hands in the air. “You never fucking say anything — even if it might help someone!”

Pfft! He can do better than that...

“Not sure what you expected,” she deadpans. “Would it help if I were a Speakable instead?”

Harry rolls his eyes and throws himself on the couch. Ginny just leans against the door… and waits. She can’t say she blames him for being angry. It’s probably made him feel vulnerable in ways he hasn’t in ages.

“The least you can bloody do,” Harry says, cutting into her thoughts, “is to let me know how to kill it.” He glimpses up at her, his chest still heaving. “Because if anything happened to you….” His hand curls around his wand, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. “We both know I’d never forgive myself.”

Fuck.

Her heart clenches; as embarrassing as it is, tears sting the backs of her eyes. She wasn’t expecting that… but it makes perfect sense. He’s not angry because he’s vulnerable; he’s angry because he doesn’t know how to protect her.

Because he’s Harry.

Her Harry.

And try as she might, she can’t deny that. He’s hers… even though now he’s broken and angry and scared and alone. Which is probably why she loves the fucking fuck out of him.

No.

She stops herself, squeezing her eyes shut. Mission. Mission. They’re on a mission.

Right. She clears her throat and steps forward, two papers clutched in her hand.

“What’s that?” Harry grumbles as she hands them over. He scans the pages, brow furrowing. “Sugar… engine oil. Red Dye 40. What am I supposed to do with—?”

Ginny smiles and tries to make this easy. “It’s the report from the necklace. The thing that was on Mike’s medallion… it’s rubbish. Not blood, not some ghost slime. It’s just a weird mixture of types of rubbish.”

She should’ve figured he wouldn’t find this significant.

“What a brilliant scientific discovery.” Harry tosses the paper to the side. “Hermione would be thrilled.”

Ginny gnaws at her cheek, choosing her words carefully… but if he’s already seen it, if he’s already heard it, surely there’s no harm...

Harry rises to his feet and takes a step closer until he’s towering over her, all warm and brooding. They aren’t touching… not exactly. He’s just hovering close enough to give her strength, whether he knows it or not. When she finally gets the nerve to look up at him, his green eyes are swirling with more pain than rage. Truth be told, she prefers the rage. “I deserve to know,” he says thickly, like he’s suppressing something in his throat, “what the fuck is going on.”

Ginny breaks their eye contact. Some of this she hasn’t even shared with Attica yet. She’s violating about a million protocols by telling Harry first, but if they’re together on a mission…

“It’s… not what we thought. Not what I thought,” she admits softly, after a moment. “We came out here under the assumption of chasing something from the Thought Chamber. Something that erm… may have escaped. During a routine experiment.”

He’s not impressed, though. “Yeah,” he says, arching a brow. “I gathered all of that from your intro with the camera, thanks. Do you ever plan on telling me anything new?” He jerks his chin towards the window. “Because you’ve sure as hell never mentioned Evil Grass Monster Experiment #6, and that may have been helpful to fucking know before I saw it.”

Oh, for fuck’s sake!

His attitude is more infuriating than his actual words, but she lacks the patience for dealing with either. The bloody nerve, to act all impatient with information that’s kept secret for a reason...

“I don’t have to tell you shit, actually,” she says, crossing her arms over her chest. “And in case you’re unaware, I can protect myself.”

Harry pulls back with a laugh, but this one is cruel. Dark. The sort she’s never heard from him before. “Makes sense,” he says with a fake grin. Then he taps her on the nose. “Because when that thing outside inevitably kills someone else, we all know how well you’ll manage the guilt.”

Ouch.

She reels back, stung. He’s got to know that’s a low blow. Younger Ginny would have Bat Bogeyed him into oblivion, but she’s better now. She’s changed.

At least that’s what she tells herself as she glares at him, her hands fisted so tightly they turn white. “Say what you mean,” she manages several moments later, when rage isn’t clawing at her chest. “If you’d like to rehash our breakup, Auror Potter, I’m all ears!” She gives her best impression of an icy smirk. “This isn’t exactly professional… but then again, when have you ever been?”

Harry looks like he’s going to respond, but a loud vibration starts in his back pocket. “Fuck!” Now it’s his turn to leap into the air before he realizes it’s just his wand. And really, she’s tempted to laugh— but the look on his face helps her put the pieces together.

Because if his wand’s vibrating, that means it’s an emergency; only department heads can summon their employees like that. They’re the only ones with access to that sort of technology, not that she’s really interested either way.

“It’s King,” he mutters. She’s about to get on him for stating the obvious, but when he peers at her again, his face is filled with such timid yearning that she can only see the 11-year-old boy on the train platform. “Can I…erm. Use your mobile?”

Fine. Ginny nods towards the bedroom, her head still spinning. She’s still a bit angry with him, but he’s so fucking broken. They both are. And besides, they’ve got bigger problems. What could possibly have King so worried that he’d call Harry from a mission? The man is unflappable.

Harry returns a minute later, his face stony, jaw set. In another life, she might’ve seen the bulge in his pocket and asked if that’s just her mobile, or if he’s happy to see her.

Instead, she tucks her hair behind her ears like the seasoned professional she is. “There’s no reception inside,” she points out. “I’ve had luck calling Attica from up the street, right at the corner. Just watch out for…”

Harry smirks. “Grass monsters?”

Ginny draws a breath to consider her options. She could keep him in the dark forever, but isn’t that the whole point of this assignment? To learn? It’s time for the truth, she reckons...

“It’s erm. It’s called a tulpa, actually.”

His eyes light up at this. “A tulpa?”

Ginny shifts her weight and searches for the right words. “It’s a… it’s sort of like an evil imaginary friend, created by a group of people to do their bidding,” she explains, reaching for the discarded papers. “They come from the material of whatever’s underground. I’ve only heard of creatures made from clay or water, but since this village was built on a rubbish tip”— she flicks the papers with her fingers— “that’s our guy!”

She can almost see the gears spinning in Harry’s head as he studies the far wall. “So…” he says slowly, still peering off, “it’s basically an evil dump monster, made of rubbish, that can murder people.”

A laugh slips past her lips. It sounds a bit dumb when he puts it that way. She clears her throat and continues. “I was wrong because it’s not something that’s escaped, more like something that’s—”

“Formed,” Harry finishes quickly. For the first time all week, he sounds intrigued. Like he’s happy to be here. “So… they’ve made it to keep order, then?”

“It would seem so.” She shrugs. “I… honestly don’t know. But between the weird buzzing and the rubbish, it’s the closest match we’ve got. According to the system database, anyway.”

There’s another pause as Harry mulls this over. “So, how do we get rid of it, then?”

How fucked up is it that her heart warms at the way he says ‘we’?

Ginny brushes that aside. “Considering the mask in Gogolak’s house and the way they’ve made a point to tell us he’s in charge, I’d say he’s the one we need to get rid of.”

Harry crosses his arms over his chest but doesn’t object.

“Or at least… knock him totally unconscious,” she adds, swallowing; Gogolak’s a wanker, but she’d rather not kill him, either. “Beyond just being asleep. Because he sleeps at night, but the tulpa’s still here, which means he needs to be down for the count. Comatose, even.”

Harry’s wand buzzes again. Ah, shit; in all the hubbub, she’d forgotten about that.

Concern floods Harry’s face. “Give me five minutes.” He blinks. “Ok?”

She waves towards the door. “Duty calls.”

He gives her a weak smile and turns away; she begins the trek upstairs to send Attica an email update.

“Ginny?”

She stops to look down at him. Harry’s paused, halfway out the door. “Thank you,” he says softly, meeting her eyes. “And… I’m sorry. For everything. Ok? I’ll always, erm…”

But she can’t right now. She actually fucking can’t.

“Later,” she whispers, nearly begging. “Please. Let’s do this later.”

Because of course she loves him.

She’s always fucking loved him, even though that’s changed forms. It’s shifted. It’s evolved. He feels the same way… she knows he’s bloody feels the same way. She just doesn’t have the resources to deal with whatever this fuck is reigniting, right in front of her eyes, as the tulpa dances in the back of her head.

Luckily, he understands. Harry just swallows again, nods at her, and heads out into the night.

___________________________

As it would turn out, he was wrong about the identity of the summoner.

“Great news!” Hermione announces on the other end of the mobile. “MLE found Yaxley. He was hiding in a cave in Romania, just like you said.”

Harry snorts; he wishes that gave him more pride. “Well, if you’d listened to me months ago, then—”

“The important part is that we have him,” Hermione says, cutting across. “We need you back ASAP to prep for witness questioning. You’ll take the stand, of course. The trial’s set to start next week!”

He can practically hear her bouncing with excitement. Very little brings her more joy than trials of former Death Eaters.

“Erm… about that.” Harry rubs the back of his neck. “We’re actually right on the cusp of something here. I’m gonna need a couple more days to wrap things up.”

“Really?” Hermione sounds surprised. “Kingsley and Robards said you’d be pleased. Said you found this mission as useless as they did.”

Fuck, he was such an arse.

“Well, things… changed,” he offers lamely. “It’s going really well. This mission is so important to her. I’d just hate to leave at the last minute.”

“Ohhh?” Hermione draws out the word in a way that suggests she finds herself quite clever. Even before she asks, he knows what she’s on about. “How’s it going with Ginny, then?”

Harry rolls his eyes. Her coy prodding is obvious, even over the phone.

“As I already said, it’s going well,” he replies flatly. “We’re a great team. Always have been.”

But she can’t let him have that one, can she?

“Well… not always,” Hermione allows. “After Percy—”

Harry groans. For fuck’s sake, what’s her obsession with stating the obvious? “Yeah, well,” he retorts, “I’d like to know who you think did well after that, especially since…”

He trails off with a sigh.

Especially since what, exactly?

He toys with the fraying ends of his hoodie string.

Especially since Ginny was the last to speak with Percy? That she still carries the weight of the guilt for what she said that night? That she’s never admitted it, but that he suspects her choice to become an Unspeakable was influenced by the things she wishes she could un-say?

Harry makes a face. That’s corny as fuck, isn’t it? What a thing to pull from his arse...

Hermione interrupts his thoughts for a bit of bragging. “Well, Ron and I have done just fine.”

He can almost imagine her staring at her engagement ring in dreamy affection. The mental image makes his reply sound more bitter than he intends.

“Well,” Harry snaps, “Ron wasn’t the last person to speak with Percy. So I’m not sure how you could compare the two, really.”

Shit.

The silence on the other end tells him he needs to apologize, even if it’s true. Fortunately, Hermione gives him an easy out. “Anyway.” She clears her throat. “I’ll give you until tomorrow night, but we really need you the following day. If you haven’t settled this, we’re swapping you out. Got it?”

Harry sighs. He’s exhausted, but this couldn’t possibly take much longer. Ginny’s more or less got the proof she needs now. They just need to confront Gogolak, knock him out, and—

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

Harry cranes his neck towards the source of the noise. Huh… weird. Far up the street, flashing lights tip him off. That’s definitely Oliver’s Audi, the one parked in the driveway directly beside theirs. It’s in utopia blue with a metallic finish, a detail Oliver probably mentioned at least fifty times the other night. Then, while Sharon and Ginny were out walking the dog, Oliver began a mind-numbing lecture on the car’s exact miles per liter. Harry was a bit drunk, which is probably why he interrupted to ask a much more important maths question: How many blow jobs per week is too many, exactly?

Even from a distance, Harry can tell that Oliver’s nearly the same shade of murderous red now; he storms from the house and turns off the alarm with his key fob. But then he pauses, glancing around like something’s spooked him. He must decide it’s not that significant, though, because he huffs back inside soon enough. Fucking wanker...

“....Harry?”

“Sorry!” Harry shakes his head. “Yeah, sorry, that works. See you then, Hermione.”

“Can’t wait!” she trills. He doesn’t need to see her face to know she’s smug and grinning.

___________________________

Two minutes after Harry leaves, Ginny feels it again: that same sensation she experienced while walking Captain Bone.

She’s sitting at her laptop when it starts… this deeply unsettling shift. It stands the hair up on the back of her neck. She rushes to the window on instinct, but just like before, everything outside looks the same. There’s no “moving grass monster,” as Harry called it. Not yet, at least.

Still, she can’t deny it’s growing louder. Getting stronger. And now that she’s felt it for a bit longer, she can put more words to it. It’s like she’s plummeting through the absence of sound; like all the wind’s been sucked from the air. It’s a building pressure, a mounting unease, and before she knows it, her whole body starts to shake.

Then two things happen in quick succession: that weird feeling stops, and a car alarm begins to blare in the distance.

Weird.

She shudders. This whole thing is so fucking weird. Weird is her job, and this place is still Very Fucking Weird. Seriously, who enjoys living here? She’s reaching for her wand, just in case, when the front door slams open.

In retrospect, it’s a blessing she knows Harry as well as she does… because she can tell that those heavy, clobbering footsteps don’t belong to him. She knows he’s not the one drawing deep, ragged breaths as he marches up the stairs.

She hides around the corner of the bedroom, her heart racing, and goes through a mental list of spells she might use. Shield charms. Enchantments. The buzzing’s stopped, so this probably isn’t the tulpa… but who else would be here? Gogolak? It sounds more human than—

“Jenny?” a deep, soothing voice asks. “Are you in here?”

Her breath freezes in her throat. She’s only heard that voice once before… but it’s so similar to her former life that she identifies it at once.

“Mike?” A wave of relief washes through her. She shoves her wand into her dress as she comes around the corner. Sure enough, there he is, in the flesh. Mike Snodgrass. A man she presumed dead days ago.

“Hi!” Mike pants. He cracks a smile. “I’d offer to shake your hand, but.” He winces, wiping a palm on his ripped khakis. “Been hiding!” Fuck. His whole outfit (yellow Polo, khakis) is the same he wore days ago to unload their boxes, except now it’s filthy. Stained. Like he’s been living beneath cars and inside drains. He’s just missing his Saint Julian medallion, which she’s sent to the Ministry.

Ginny feels sick. She wrote him off as dead so carelessly...

“I’ve been trying to take it down,” he adds earnestly, peering at her. His cheeks are caked in something red and grimy, the same stuff she stuffed into her bra. He’s been tailing the tulpa, she realizes, her stomach plummeting…

Except he’s got no clue what he’s doing.

“I was about to leave the development, to just run away, but that’s when I figured out it was coming for you two!” He shudders, closing his eyes. It feels like he’s been waiting a long, long time to say this. “And I’ve been aimless without Jess in the first place. So what was the point in leaving, really, if I could save…?”

He trails off, clearing his throat; when he looks up at her again, there’s a flash of annoyance in his eyes. “I’ve been leaving clues, though! Why didn’t you listen?”

“Clues?” Ginny sounds like she’s a million miles away.

Mike’s nearly pleading now. “You had to go and kick the mailbox and stick the flamingo in the grass, didn’t you?” He raises his pointer finger. “And even though I left you a note, you had to make it even worse! It only attacks when the sun goes down, see.”

“You… you left the note?” she whispers. She was so certain that it was from Gogolak...

But Mike proceeds in such a rush it’s clear he hasn’t heard her. “It was about to get Henry by the trampoline, so I threw the baseball as a diversion. I broke the lamppost, too— which worked. For a second,” he adds hastily, glancing over his shoulder.

“How did you also set off the car alarm— oh.” Her head’s still spinning. “Buddy system. Right.”

Mike dangles a keyfob. “Covenant rules. Stole the spare off Jane.” He glances into the hall again before whipping back to face her. “It’ll need a sacrifice tonight, though,” he adds grimly. “And every night, until you all have perfect behavior. It was coming for you earlier, see. We aren’t meant to be outdoors after dark without a permit for dog-walking, so.” He shrugs. “If there’s an unapproved disruption like a car alarm, it knows just where to hunt.”

It’s then that the final pieces of this dreadful puzzle slide together in her brain. “Captain Bone,” Ginny breathes; she swears a feather could knock her over. “He was the first since we arrived. Punishment for us sticking out.”

“I couldn’t save him,” Mike laments. “It came up and snatched him. So I threw in my medallion, right after his collar, just to make them think I was already gone.”

“That’s… that was brilliant,” she admits, biting her lip. “Thank you. You didn’t have—”

“Nah,” he says firmly. “I did. For starters, you remind me so much of…” He stops mid-sentence, an odd expression on his face.

For a second, she thinks he’s being sentimental, but then she feels it too.

Shit.

The hairs on her arm stand up. It’s back… that weird way she felt before. Like the air’s sucked from the room. That creeping, clawing silence. This time, though, it only gets louder, louder, louder, until she’s throwing her hands over her ears, all hope of self-defense forgotten.

But Mike knows what he’s doing. He knows exactly what he’s doing. She doesn’t have the chance to object or get her wand before he’s ripping open the closet door and throwing her inside. Ginny opens her mouth in a startled cry, but it’s like she’s screaming underwater, the sound distant and distorted. Mike slams the door closed with her inside and stomps to the center of the room— but now the thundering, roaring wind is causing her physical pain… it’s so loud now that it reverberates in her chest, so loud that her hands shake as she reaches for her wand at long last, but fuck fuck fuck, it’s too late…

It’s too fucking late.

Because Mike’s made a choice. One he can’t take back. He just stands in the middle of the room, puffing out his chest, offering himself as the proud sacrifice, even as the noise grows so loud that Ginny screams her throat raw.

She feels it enter the bedroom, this looming, shifting mass— but by then, she’s certain her ears are bleeding, her eardrums bursting. Her whole body rattles and shakes as she peers through the slats in the closet door, but she’s frozen. Stuck. Miserable. She couldn’t cast a spell if she tried… even as the tulpa oozes into the room, lunges itself back, and swallows Mike with a sickening squelch.

Even though the slats of the door, Ginny’s sprayed with blood. Covered. And she’s dizzy now… so dizzy. A drop of blood trickles into her eye; she reaches up to wipe it from her face, and it’s only then that she hears her own screams again. They reverberate through the small space, anguished and pleading, so loud that she’s certain someone up the street could hear, but she doesn’t care. She doesn’t fucking care. She just screams over and over and over, her nails clawing at the walls, until the world slips away into darkness.

___________________________

Blood.

It’s the first thing he smells as he charges up the steps. His chest squeezes, his eyes water, his head pounds over and over again with one word: No.

No. No. No.

Not Ginny. It can’t be.

But almost as soon as he smells the blood, he hears her screaming, and yes! His heart soars. Screaming is good; screaming means she’s alive and breathing and—

Fuck.

His dinner rises in his throat as he steps into the bedroom. He smelled the blood from the steps, he hadn’t expected… this much. It always takes him aback, exactly how much blood is in one human body, and he’s certainly never seen it sprayed, all over the floor… covering the walls. Covering the closet, even, where Ginny’s still screaming.

He flings open the door, thinking he’s prepared for what he might see. Somehow, though, none of that measures up. Because he’s dealt with tears in his line of work… but he’s never, ever seen her so broken. His chest clenches when he takes her in. Her perfect suburban dress — the yellow floral one, the one he liked so much— is now red and grimy, caked in blood, as Ginny rocks back and forth on the floor, sobs wracking her body.

Blood’s covering her face, too, and her arms. Dried trails of it have crusted around her eyes, like she’s fallen asleep wiping them away… or perhaps lost consciousness. The thought is too terrible to bear. He kicks the door open completely and brings her into his arms in one fell swoop.

She melts against him, her voice raw and broken. “H-Harry!” she manages. “P-please! I need-I need!” She begins to shake, pressing her face to his chest.

“A shower,” he says firmly, stepping into the en-suite. “You… you just need a shower. Ok? And maybe some calming draught, I’ve got some in my luggage, and—”

“No!” she cries, shaking her head. Her eyes are wide and filled with horror. “Don’t… don’t leave. Don’t leave me, Harry, please!”

“I… ok,” he allows, carrying her to his luggage to retrieve the bottle. She clings to his neck as he reaches for it, but she weighs next to nothing. Fuck, she’s so thin… he’d just been too busy eyeing her up to realize exactly how thin. What a complete wanker.

It’s not difficult to unzip the suitcase with one hand and pass her the bottle. “Take this,” he urges, thrusting it into her hands. “Please, Ginny. You’ll feel—”

She’s already downed it before he gets to the end of the sentence. She tips her head back, drawing air into her lungs. “Thanks.” Her voice is still hoarse. Ragged.

“Shower, then,” he murmurs, walking her into the bathroom. He feels her start to relax against him, her body growing looser, as he opens the curtain and turns on the tap.

“Thanks,” she whispers again, her head tucked beneath his chin. His fingers itch with restraint; he’d do anything, he thinks, to hold her against him. To press a kiss to her temple. To tell her he loves her and that she’s beautiful and perfect and he’s sorry, so sorry, that any of this happened and—

She peers up at him, her eyes more focused now, less wide-eyed and horror-struck. “Would you stay here?” she asks, biting her lip. “While I shower? Just so I’m not—”

“‘Course.” Harry swallows, putting her on her feet. She lands with unintentional grace, one foot after the next.

“And can you… erm.” She turns her back to him, lifting her hair above her zipper. His hands shake as he reaches for the clasp. He knows the exact shape of her back as he slides it down, over the middle bump of her white bra strap. He nearly unstraps that for her, too, before he catches himself. It reeks of intimacy, doesn’t it? All of this…

His eyes linger on the soft swell of her bum before he turns around, self-disgust hammering in his throat.

“I’m… I’m sorry,” he adds feebly. He balls his hands into fists as her dress hits the floor… followed by her bra. And her knickers.

“Not your fault,” she croaks, stepping into the shower. He smiles, his glasses fogging up as he moves to sit on the closed toilet seat. Even covered in blood and traumatized, she can't bring herself to blame him.

She finishes several minutes later.

“Erm… towel?” She shuts the water off. “Could you?”

“Sure,” he soothes, thrusting one through the curtain. “D’you want me to leave, or…?”

Ginny manages a weak snort. “Nah. Nothing you haven’t seen before.”

He chuckles at the door as he turns around again. She’s right, of course; he knows every bloody inch of her… but it’s not quite the same now.

There’s a tap on his shoulder. He whips around to face her. Admittedly, she looks… better. The blood’s gone. Her eyes are still red-rimmed from sobbing, but she’s looking a bit less like a woman who witnessed a death. Which reminds him…

“Erm. Give me a second to get it all cleaned up?”

Ginny shudders and settles on the toilet seat; he immediately kicks himself for asking. “Yeah,” she says a moment later. “Just… come get me, ok? When you’re done?”

He nods.

___________________________

It can’t be later than 10 PM when he finally carries her to the bed, still wrapped in a towel.

He’s exhausted from the nights on the sofa, but he knows she’s worse off. He’s cleaned the bedroom fairly well, he thinks, considering. There’s a rust-colored stain above the closet that he reckons won’t go anywhere anytime soon. He just hopes she doesn’t see it.

He rests her on the duvet surface, fully prepared to head downstairs for the night— but the pleading look on her face informs him he’s got other plans, instead. So without sharing a single word, he spreads his palms, lies beside her, and waits.

It comes eventually, as he knew it would. One person can’t deal with all that, see all that, without eventually cracking. And as a fellow fucked-up individual, he would know.

It starts as simple tears, ones that he wipes away. It progresses into sobs… full-body sobs. The sort he heard coming up the stairs. He’s surprised she’s got any left, but Ginny’s always been the sort to keep him on his toes. And just as her water-dark hair starts to dry and sprout red tendrils, he faces the thing he expected least of all: a kiss.

She starts softly. Slowly. Her lips so tender and soft that he forgets everything. She moans against his mouth, her whole body leaning into it; he’s instantly reminded of how much he’s fucking missed her. How lonely he’s been. How could he have forgotten the tiny mewl she makes in the back of her throat as her tongue parts his lips? He must’ve blocked it out, he realizes, as she begins to slide her body against him, panting, as she tips her head back. His lips trail down her neck, nibbling and biting, as she grips his arms and hair and bum. Because if he’d remembered all of these little details, he’d have gone mad long ago.

He’s throbbing hard by the time he gets to the tail end of her towel, which brushes the tip of her thighs. He tries to adjust himself, to—

“You can take it out, you know.”

Oh. He blinks up at her, his breath freezing in his throat. She’s peering down at him, her lips red and swollen.

“I know you’re hard,” she adds, her voice still raw. “So if it’s uncomfortable… take it out.”

He arches a brow from his position at her thigh. He’s about to retort with something snappy. Something that might keep them bantering for ages. But Ginny has no patience.

“Please.” It’s nearly a command. She blinks down with glassy eyes, her lips swollen. “I want you, Harry.”

Fuck. He groans, rubbing his cock against his palm to relieve some of the pressure. It doesn’t help for long, not that it matters; he’d rather focus on her, anyway. So with a slip of his fingers, the towel opens. She releases a breathy moan, tipping her head back.

Naked.

She’s finally naked. In front of him. His breathing grows ragged, his eyes scanning the territory somehow both totally familiar and completely new. She is thinner; he was right. Her hip bones jut out now, her stomach more sunken. But most of her is the same. The smattering of freckles on her chest. The way her breasts have puckered and darkened, the way her chest is rising and falling so fast. The thatch of dark red hair at the apex of her thighs.

“Well,” she quips. He blinks up at her as she reclines on her elbow. “Are you going to fuck me, Harry, or just stare all day?”

With that, he removes his glasses and gives her a smirk— her only real warning— before he kisses her one more time, just as his fingers spread her thighs.

She opens beneath him with a breathy sigh. Fuck, she’s so wet… he groans into her mouth as he dips his fingers further and further down. She’s dripping by the time he finds her clit… by the time he begins to swirl in tight circles. Clockwise. The pattern that screams of such intimate familiarity that it’s as if the years never passed.

He’s scarcely done anything, but she’s already writhing against his fingers, arching her back. “Please,” she slurs after a minute, “put them in.”

He’s never been one to deny her, has he?

It’s like muscle memory how quickly he finds his face between her thighs instead. He spares a moment of self-indulgence as he closes his eyes, breathing her in. She smells like home. She always has. It’s comfort… but more than that, it’s proof. Proof she wants him as much as he wants her. It’s why he stuffed his face in her knickers whenever he got a spare moment on the Horcrux hunt: one hand on that black lace, the other pulling at his cock. It’s bloody erotic, seeing proof of how much she wants him… but it’s more than that.

It’s love.

And despite all the things he’s forgotten tonight, he’d never forget this. He presses two fingers inside her, his hands shaking, and lets his body do the rest. Fuck, he’s missed this. She cries out above him, her hands grasping at his hair, tugging him closer. He’s never forgotten this… the way she tastes. The way she smells. The right way to run his tongue against her clit. Exactly how many fingers she needs, pressed against her just there… crooked in a certain position… just as she begins to thrust herself up and down on them, her cries growing louder, more insistent… and yesssss, there it is, she’s right there, right fucking there—

“Harry!” Her hair rubs against the pillow with abandon. “I’m… I’m so close,” she pants, her body starting to shake.

“Come for me,” he commands, his cock fit to burst, his face slippery. “Come for me, Ginny.”

He returns to her clit for a split-second before she says the words that change everything.

Her whole body tenses, a blush spreading up her chest. “I love you!” she cries, her voice strangled… and with that, she’s coming, clenching around him, her body shaking as he rides her through it.

What he doesn’t tell her is that he comes, too. The second those words wash over him. Those fucking words that prove he’s fucked up, fucked up, fucked up… but he can’t exactly help that, can he?

He just shoves his face into the duvet, thrusting his hips once, twice, and with a grunt, he’s off. His cock tightens and bursts, filling his boxers. Soaking through his jeans. He pulls back, dizzy, when the clenching finally stops.

Luckily, she seems too distracted to notice. Ginny’s half-asleep as he rises from between her thighs, pulling the blanket over her. He presses a kiss to her temple and makes quick work of removing his soggy clothes. Fairly embarrassing, this. Like he’s 16 again and rutting on the lawn.

He mutters a quick cleaning charm and changes into basketball shorts before settling down beside her in bed… making sure he’s on top of the duvet.

But as he drifts off, there’s something far less sentimental that hammers through his chest: They need to get their shit sorted.

Before he ever, ever lets that happen again.

#harry/ginny fanfic #harry x ginny #harry potter fanfic #harry potter fanfiction

43 notes · View notes

salmon-sushi · 4 years

Text

woops | aobajohsai & fem!reader

summary: Iwaizumi’s day isn’t as bad as he thinks, especially with his friends.

genre: crack(?), just teenagers being teenagers, also platonic relationships!

words: 2.1k

a/n: this piece is largely inspired by @akasuns‘s amazing manager!fic and i just couldn’t resist writing something for seijoh boys! thank you very much to @dokifluffs for giving me helpful advices and proofreading this! i hope you enjoy my first piece aha mwah 🥺🥺💕💕

index

The crispy cold, the mist-ridden foggy morning and the melodious whistle of the winter birds makes the winter morning most charming, in Iwaizumi’s honest opinion. Icicles glittering from barren tree branches in the sunrays, light reflecting off the icy ground and bringing crystalline joys to pedestrians such as himself as he walks to school. Nuzzling his face into his red woolen scarf, Iwaizumi huffs when the frozen air delicately nips on his nose. The warmth of his scarf makes him even drowsier than before and Iwaizumi allows himself to close his eyes for a little bit.

But this is clearly a mistake as he fails to notice the slippery surface of an unsuspecting puddle. He opens his eyes in shock, and he is falling. It suddenly feels like 10 years of his life are gone as he lays, groaning in pain on the wet stone pavement, his heart racing in his chest as his nose and forehead burn. It didn’t help that he is suddenly hyper aware of the people walking nearby him with their footsteps becoming audibly louder than before.

Is he embarrassed that he fell on his face? Yeah. But he’s glad that none of the other pedestrians are bothered to help him up. Sure, he heard some snickers and giggles here and there, but he doesn’t mind it, knowing that he isn’t going to meet any of those people after this.

At least, that’s what he thinks until he sees you, his club manager and classmate, looking at him with a worried face and ready to fret over him.

“Don’t come here! I can handle this alone!” he screams in his mind while giving you the sharpest glare he could muster, hoping that you would get the message.

However, you are already used to all of his glares. You ignore his scowl and run towards him with your hands already rummaging the inside of your bag for a tissue to help him wipe his wet face. Before Iwaizumi could warn you not to run, you suddenly feel your body shifting forward, your legs no longer supporting your body. To your horror, your bag’s contents are sent flying towards Iwaizumi.

Iwaizumi cringes as your body drops with a thud, your heart pounding loudly against your chest and you can feel the adrenaline rush in your legs. He merely stares at you when you slowly lift your beet red face to meet his subtly panicked eyes as if to say, “See what happens when you don’t mind your own business?”

You can feel your cheeks grow warmer as you press your lips into a thin line. Covering them with your ice cold hands in an attempt to cool down, you stare back at him with teary eyes, “I’m sorry, Iwa-chan!”

Time feels much longer as you stare at each other, until the both of you pale when you hear two familiar voices approaching, discussing intensely about the latest episode of their favourite variety show that airs every weekend on the local television channel as the sound of their footsteps grow closer. “Out of all the people here, why is it always them?” Iwaizumi slams his face onto the ground, making you hiss, “Iwa-chan, stop it!”

“Oh? What do we have here?”

Hanamaki and Matsukawa stop their tracks when they find both you and the team’s ace sprawled on the wet pavement with your belongings scattered around Iwaizumi. What makes it worse is that the both of you didn’t make a move to get up and leave the place like normal people would.

This is embarrassing, Matsukawa thinks.

Hanamaki snickers as he takes out his phone to snap a picture of their manager and the ace’s shameful display in public. Hell, he will even make sure to take a picture of Iwaizumi’s red face. “Iwaizumi, nice fall!” he laughs as Iwaizumi groans into the pavement.

Matsukawa sees the threat lies underneath your glare as Hanamaki proceeds to make comments for you to look at the camera and decides that risking your wrath is not worth the fun, even if there would be no blackmail content as good as this. Wrapping his arm around Hanamaki’s shoulder, Matsukawa tries to drag his friend away from the scene, “We should leave them alone, Hanamaki.”

“There’s no way I’m leaving without blackmail material!” Hanamaki cackles, obviously enjoying himself.

While he is busy crouching to find a good angle to capture Iwaizumi’s faceplant on the wet pavement, his left leg suddenly spreads itself to the side and out of panic, he grabs Matsukawa with him.

Their impending fall, however, is cushioned as they land on top of Iwaizumi, who only whimpers in pain.

Widening their eyes in horror, they scurry away from the poor boy in the speed of light before flipping him over. “Shit!” Matsukawa curses, “Iwaizumi is as pale as a ghost!”

“Iwa-chan, no! Don’t give up just yet!” you shout before crawling to grab your heating pad next to Iwaizumi’s legs in order to give him some warmth. You can feel the jagged edges of the pavement scratching your knees, but nothing is worse compared to your friend’s likely death. In the corner of your eye, you could see Hanamaki grabbing Iwaizumi’s hands, rubbing them between his own as he sobs dramatically “You still have a lot more to live, man! Stay with us!”

Iwaizumi didn’t expect the situation to escalate so quickly.

Only a few moments ago, he was hoping for a quiet incident. Like, “Oh, you fell?” then the subject would be dropped and never be spoken again. A one time thing. Only now that he realises that he hoped too much, something he should fix soon. He should have known that he could never have a quiet incident, not when he has the three of you wailing and begging for him to survive.

I kinda want to crawl in a hole and die right now, he muses. His eyes catch several students from the basketball team laughing at the four of you and a group of girls whispering and giggling to each other. He sighs deeply, his whole chest heaving and he closes his eyes.

“Iwaizumi!” “Iwa-chan!” you scream with Hanamaki and Matsukawa.

Matsukawa’s body stiffens as he points a shaky finger at Hanamaki accusingly, “You killed him, bro.”

Hanamaki gasps, turning his face away from Matsukawa in disbelief while raising his hand defensively, “Stop it. Don’t say it, bro!”

You sit up, hands covering your mouth as you gape at Iwaizumi’s still body, “Iwa-chan..”

Matsukawa quickly brings a hand to your back, rubbing it silently in a comforting gesture while Hanamaki slams his fist on the pavement, before turning to Matsukawa with a crazed glint in his eyes. “Fine! But I’m not the only one at fault here,” he begins.

Matsukawa raises his eyebrows, feigning confusion, “What are you talking about, Hanamaki?” He tilts his head, “You’re the one who ended his life.”

Hanamaki growls, “Don’t play dumb with me! You’re just as guilty as I am! If anything-” his voice drops lower, “-you’re the one who ended his life.”

Gasping, you slap Matsukawa’s hand away, feeling betrayed by the boy you called friend. “[Name]-chan, listen–”

“Save it, Mattsun. I never thought you of all people would do this kind of thing,” you cut him off, not wanting to hear anything from Matsukawa. He grits his teeth before turning to Hanamaki, raising both of his hands. A sign of surrender. He looks at Hanamaki with regret in his eyes, sighing, “As expected from my best friend. You got me good, bro.”

Hanamaki kneels in front of Matsukawa, placing a hand on his friend’s shoulder. His eyes are suspiciously glassy, Matsukawa notes. Perhaps, Hanamaki is a good friend after all.

“Bro..”

Meanwhile, Iwaizumi is fed up with your impromptu drama session. He quickly sits up and readies himself to berate the three of you but the world has better plans to make Iwaizumi’s day worse when a couple of rings startling all of you back into reality. With you helping Iwaizumi up by supporting his slightly throbbing back, thanks to those two, he is not surprised to find Oikawa pedaling on a bike towards your group.

“My, my, what are you guys doing here on the floor?”

Iwaizumi knows that Oikawa is purposely making his voice loud so everyone would watch their circus show- not that everyone hasn’t already seen the soap opera between you, Matsukawa and Hanamaki, but still!

In one tiny corner of Iwaizumi’s heart, he wishes something bad would befall to Oikawa, just because he is grating Iwaizumi’s already thin patience. He also conveniently forgets the old saying that goes, “Be careful what you wish for.”.

Oblivious, Oikawa continues in his airy voice, “I don’t know what you guys will do without me, your very reliable captain. Here, let me help!”

Oikawa clutches the brake of his bicycle and he raises a delicate eyebrow when the brake is not in effect. He clutches the brake harder and only then the realisation sets in- the brake is faulty. I should have walked to school instead, Oikawa smiles in acceptance before his bicycle crashes a bench at the pavement. His body feels very light as he is flung across his friends, seeing their shocked faces and mouths agape makes his heart pound wildly against his chest. Time seems to slow down when you’re falling, he muses. In the seconds it takes him to reach the ground, he knows that it is going to hurt.

His body drops with a loud thump, worrying the four of you. Hanamaki whistles slowly, “Oof, that’s gonna hurt.”

You quickly collect your belongings and shove them into your bag while Iwaizumi and Matsukawa help the poor captain up who might have damaged his pretty face, Hanamaki silently grabs Oikawa’s busted bicycle.

“Oikawa!” he looks at you with a dumb expression when you grab his face in panic, “What? What’s wrong, [Name]-chan?”

A trickle of warmth suddenly drips from his nose and the captain unknowingly sniffs it back. With a disgusted noise, Iwaizumi knocks the captain’s head, “Don’t do that, you idiot!”

Before Oikawa could complain about Iwaizumi’s brute force, you gently plug his nose with a tissue and give him more tissues for him to wipe his bloody hands once Matsukawa and Iwaizumi let him stand on his own. Although Oikawa’s injuries only consist of his bloody nose and hands, you’re pretty sure that he has more injuries on his legs- especially his knees. “I think you need to visit the nurse’s office, just to be sure.”

“Will you be taking care of me, [Name]-chan?” he asks, mustering his saddest face. You only give him an unimpressed look, “Nope, we have class. But, the nurse will take care of you, though.”

Unsatisfied with your answer, he whines and Iwaizumi is quick to knock his head again, which you proceed to scold the both of them, “Leave it, both of you!”

Matsukawa smirks, “It’s what you get for being a dumbass. Who told you to speed down the pavement?”

“I tried to slow down but the brake wouldn’t work!” Oikawa retorts.

“And who told you to not check your bike before using it during winter?” Hanamaki adds in with a grin. He and Matsukawa give each other a high five when Oikawa deflates, failing to come up with a comeback.

“Well– who told you guys to create a soap opera in the middle of the road, huh? I’m only acting as a caring captain would, like, stopping all of you from making a fool of yourselves!” Oikawa glares at his friends and looks at you for backup, which you look away guiltily, making him gasp in betrayal. “[Name]-chan!”

“Sure you are.” Iwaizumi replies, ending the conversation as the five of you continue the walk to school completely poker faced, as if you didn’t cause a scene earlier. Despite the embarrassing incident, Iwaizumi manages to look at the bright side of it. The soft wind gently caressing their cheeks, the red tinges on their noses and ears, which he is sure from the incident, and most of all, he grins into his scarf, the warmth and memory he made with his friends.

Extra:

Just before the gradual slope that leads to the crime scene, Kindaichi and Kunimi stand still as they witness their captain being knocked out from his bicycle. Wordlessly, Kunimi walks the other way to school, perking Kindaichi up.

“Oi, that route is farther to school.” Kindaichi informs his friend.

“Do I look like I want to join them down there?” Kunimi frowns as he jerks his head towards their senpais.

“I bet they’ll rope us in to save themselves from the embarrassment.” He waves his hand dismissively before turning to the other direction to school. Kindaichi looks back at his scrambling senpais before following his friend with no hesitation.

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marrys-dream-world · 3 years

Text

you drank so much sunlight you’re drowning in it

Read on AO3

Summary: When Marinette agreed to pretend to be Adrien's girlfriend so he could throw his father off the scent of his actual girlfriend, Ladybug, she didn't think anything could go wrong during the span of one dinner. Turns out she was wrong, of course. Fortunately, there's always a friendly cat looking out for her.

Notes: Guess who was inspired? This is a companion piece to “lovers alone wear sunlight”, but can be read as a stand alone.

One lesson that Marinette had to learn quickly after becoming Ladybug was that there was always a chance of even the best made plans going sideways.

So when she slept through her alarm, had to rush into getting dressed for class, dumped salt instead of sugar in her coffee and tried to eat her croissant so fast before class started that she choked and had to be escorted to the infirmary by a worried Alya, she tried to not see it as an omen of what was to come. She held her head high and soldiered on through the day with her mismatched shoes and mouth tasting like a mix of salt and bitterness, not letting any of it bother her.

She did have one weakness, however.

“Marinette, can I talk to you?” There it was. Suddenly, her knees felt weak.

Be still, my beating heart. She scolded.

Adrien had rushed to ask her as soon as Ms. Bustier finished the class for lunch, drawing the attention of everyone else in the room. At that, he flushed and figdted on the spot.

“Alone?” He added quietly, doing a decent job at ignoring the way their classmates leaned in.

“I- hum, yeah, I mean, yeah.” She said eloquently, feeling her neck burn. “Won’t you home at lunch? No, lunch at home? E-eat lunch at home? Today?”

“Not today, no.” He said. He casually put his hand on her shoulder and leaned in to whisper in her ear. She wondered if he could hear her heartbeat. “I need your help.”

Wasn’t that a bucket of cold water?

She straightened up. “Of course! C’mon.”

Marinette grasped his wrist in one hand and her backpack in another, pulling a stunned Adrien from the classroom. She caught a glimpse of her classmate’s knowing smile, Alya’s confused face, Chloe trying to pretend she wasn’t watching and Lila looking contemplative. She took him to a classroom that was usually empty around lunch time, something she knew from always needing a handy place to transform to fight akumas like Lunch Lady.

“No one comes here at this hour.” She reassured him and he relaxed against a table. “No one will overhear or anything.”

My father said that he heard it from a “reliable source from school”. He had told Ladybug, the day before. I think there’s someone spying on me for him.

“Marinette, I… Wow, this is awkward.” Adrien said, putting his hands in his pockets and kicking the air in front of him.

“Take your time.” She said. It sure wasn’t an easy tale to tell.

“Okay, this will sound really weird, but let me finish: father told me yesterday that he knows I’m dating someone and I told him you’re my secret girlfriend.” He started, tensing up again. When she just raised an eyebrow and nodded, he went on. “I panicked. I do have a girlfriend, but I can’t introduce her to my father due to some personal reason, but he wouldn’t accept that. And I can’t deny it because, apparently, everyone says I’m ‘obviously lovesick’ and my father wouldn’t believe otherwise.”

Well, there’s her confirmation that he read through the “Lovesick Agreste: is Paris’ biggest teenager bachelor off the market?” articles. Not that anyone in class hadn’t noticed his sighs and blushes and random daydreaming. She liked to think she was more subtle than that.

“So I told him it was you because you’re one of my best friends and he likes you a lot!” Hearing it for a second time doesn’t make the idea that Gabriel Agreste likes her any less surreal. “But now he wants to meet you for dinner today and I know it’s a lot to ask, but will you pretend to be my girlfriend? Just for today?”

Marinette stared at him for a moment. She had known the full story almost as soon as it happened, Adrien spilling it and his plan for dinner to Ladybug the night before. It had given her time to prepare and she was grateful, having no idea how she would react if he had caught her blindsided. But it was still weird watching it play out, like the merging of an outsider perspective and her own.

“Can I ask a question?” She managed to croak out. There was really only one answer she wanted.

Adrien twitched. “Y-yes, of course.”

“This girl… does she make you happy?”

Adrien looked straight into her eyes and answered solemnly. “Deliriously happy.”

Marinette couldn’t hold back the grin that took over her face.

“Let’s do this, then!” Her heart was swelling so much she thought it would burst out of her chest. “Adrien Agreste, I’ll be your fake girlfriend!”

The beaming smile she received made it worth it already. She just had to be discreet about it.

“Soooo… What did Adrien want to talk about?” Alíx asked, a teasing grin on her face that was matched by Mylene, Rose and Juleka. They had crowdened her desk as soon as class let out.

“He just wanted help with… homework.” Marinette word-vomited. Alya paused on putting her things away to facepalm.

“Marinette, it’s okay, you don’t need to pretend.” Mylene said calmly, which only confused her.

“Pretend to what?”

Rose laughed. “We know you’re dating Adrien.”

Marinette.exe has stopped working.

“You know what?”

“We understand you’re trying to keep it a secret, but you’re not exactly subtle. You both keep daydreaming in class and smiling and blushing.” Juleka pointed out. Fine, maybe she wasn’t as subtle as she thought. “It’s okay, we won’t tell anyone.”

There’s nothing to tell! She wanted to scream.

We aren’t dating at all. Are you guys crazy? She wanted to deny.

Then, something in her mind clicked.

“You guys figured me out.” Marinette said, injecting a proportionate amount of defeat into her voice. Distantly, she heard Alya choke. “Adrien and I are dating…”

The four girls cheered.

“... but we were keeping it a secret because his father is, you know. “ They all nodded, including Alya. Unfortunately, they did know Gabriel Agreste. “But he figured it out and now I’m going to have dinner at his house today.”

Rose and Alya let out high pitched screams for two very different reasons.

“Oh, Marinette, you’re formally meeting your in-laws, this is serious!” Rose chirped. Marinette decided to focus on that instead of Alya’s murderous eyes. “We have to give you a makeover!”

“Great idea!” Marinette shouted, jumping up from her seat and avoiding Alya’s hand that was trying to claw into her arm. “Everyone is invited to my house today!”

Sorry, Alya. She thought as the other girls started to talk over each other as Alya silently fumed. But I can’t have this conversation right now.

She did regret that decision, eventually.

Between Alíx’s surprisingly accurate tips on how rich people ate dinner and which fork to absolutely not use for salad, Juleka’s makeup tips and Rose and Mylene’s debates on which outfit suited her the best, Marinette is left even more nervous. It doesn’t help that Alya spends the whole time sitting in the corner, just staring at Marinette. Even when Marinette brings out her favorite tart as a peace offering, Alya eats it, paper mold and all, while staring deeply into her eyes.

It was incredibly unsettling.

“Ta-da!” Rose chirps, presenting a dolled up Marinette to her four-people audience. They all clapped.

Marinette looked into the mirror. She could admit she looked amazing, make up well-done and outfit impeccable. But at what cost?

“Our baby is all grown up.” Alíx said, wiping a fake tear from her cheek. “She even knows how to use forks now.”

She swallowed back a sob. After Marinette misused the fish fork for the eleventh time, Alíx had taken to ripping an Adrien picture everytime she got it wrong. She learned pretty quickly after that.

“Great work, girls.” Alya said, her first words in three hours. She got up from the chair and clasped her hands. “Now, Mama Alya needs to have a word alone with her daughter.”

“Of course!” Mylene said, finishing putting the rest of Marinette’s clothes away.

As the girls left, Marinette looked longingly at her window and only stopped thinking of escaping, halfway through a plan, when she saw the look on Alya’s face.

“So, peach really brings out my complexion, huh? Or maybe Juleka is just that good with makeup.” She tried.

Tikki, coming out of her hiding place, sighed.

“Marinette, that’s the dumbest thing you’ve ever done.”

“What? I think I had worse makeup looks before.”

“Marinette.”

She winced. “In my defense, I don’t think this makes it into the top 10 dumbest things I’ve ever done.”

“Why did you tell the girls you’re dating Adrien?”

“Because I am dating Adrien.”

“Ladybug is dating Adrien.” And by Alya’s tone, her opinion hasn’t improved on that either.

“And Marinette is helping Adrien throw off his father from that by pretending to be his girlfriend.” Marinette said, then, at Alya dumbfounded look, made jazz hands and added a weak: “Ta-da.”

“Tikki.” Alya said, voice restraining a mix of frustration and desperation. “Why do you let Marinette do dumb stuff like this?”

Tikki swallowed a whole cookie. “I don’t control the speed in which Marinette does dumb stuff.”

“Hey!”

“Why not?”

“I’m still here, you know?”

Tikki and Alya’s combo stare shut her up.

“How do you get yourself in these situations?” Alya asked, helplessly.

“Welcome to my life.” Tikki said, offering Alya a cookie. They toasted before biting into their perspective treats.

“It’s not that bad.” Marinette said. Neither gave her a response.

The Agrestes sent her a car to take her to dinner.

Alya and her parents sent her off. Her, on her tenth fruit tart and judging-and-supportive-at-the-same-time stare, and them, her mother comforting her crying father that wailed that “his little girl had grown up”. The three of them demanded at least fifty pictures before they let her go. She loved her family, but the quiet ride there was a respite to gather her thoughts and calm down enough to not make a fool of herself.

So, of course, when she got to the house and saw Adrien in a carefully styled outfit and his father waiting for her on the top of the stairs, she tripped on her heels and was only saved by falling into the hard concrete by the Gorilla’s grip on the back of her dress.

“Marinette.” Adrien said adoringly as she reached the top of the stairs, cheeks flushed and eyes shining.

He could be an actor if he wanted. She thought, dazed, as she took the hand he offered her.

“Good evening, Ms. Dupain-Cheng.” Gabriel Agreste said, nodding at her.

“Good evening, Mr. Agreste.” She responded, managing to keep her voice from trembling.

The dining room was excessive, much bigger than she thought it would be needed for a three-people dinner. Adrien, like a gentleman, held her hand till she was seated and sent her a fond look. She barely managed an awkward smile back. It was weird, trying to pretend to be in love with Adrien when she was in love with. Hell, they were dating, he just didn’t know that. Would he recognize her lovesick look as the same he got from Ladybug? That the way their hands fit together was familiar? These questions wouldn’t leave her mind.

“Ms. Dupain-Cheng, that’s an interesting dress you’re wearing.” Mr. Agreste said as the first course was served. Marinette’s hands immediately went for the right fork as the sound of paper ripping ringed in her ears. “Care to say where you got it?”

“I, uh, designed it myself.” She said, gesturing vaguely. “It’s a new piece.”

“Marinette is a very talented designer.” Adrien said and she puffed up a little, chest full of pride.

“I was not speaking to you, Adrien.” His father said curtly and the light in her boyfriend’s eyes dimmed.

Ah, another reason she wasn’t looking forward to dinner. All of Adrien's friends know him as a very strict and overprotective man, but Ladybug, as Adrien’s girlfriend and constant secret visitor to the Agreste Mansion, knew better. She saw how he constantly put Adrien down, berating him for the slightest mistake and made him cancel plans last minute because of missed notes on a piano performance. Adrien was genuinely scared of his father and if Marinette wasn’t doing this whole thing to help him, she would dump the bowl of hot soup she was now sipping on his father’s lap.

“But you’re right. The dress is craftily-made.” Mr. Agreste said. “You’re looking for a future in the fashion scene, right, Ms. Dupain-Cheng?”

“Yes, that’s actually why Adrien and I are dating in secret.” She said, noticing the glint in his eyes. “We don't want anyone to think I’m using him to climb up the scene or anything like that.”

“An admirable effort.” He said and Adrien beamed at her. He really had the prettiest smile in the world, it never failed to raise butterflies in her stomach. “Tell me more about your dress. How did you choose the material?”

The main course continued like that, Marinette and Mr. Agreste talking about fashion and Adrien’s interjections now being welcomed. She got enough pointers and constructive criticisms that her hands itched for a notebook to write it all down. Adrien looked incredibly happy, throwing her sunshine-filled gazes and grasping at her hands every time he wanted to punctuate a sentence.

I love him. She thought.

Of course, that’s why it went south before dessert.

“Ms. Dupain-Cheng, I must admit that you’re an admirable young woman.” Mr. Agreste said and she allowed her feeling of pride to swell, before he popped it like a balloon at his next words: “And completely unfit for the Agreste Brand image.”

“What?” Adrien and Marinette shouted at the same time, shocked.

“No matter your intentions, the media will see this as a young designer trying to get an advantage in the industry by dating the heir to a fashion empire.” He said simply.

“But it’s not true!” Marinette blurted out.

“It doesn’t matter.” He dismissed, before continuing, voice cruel: “There’s also the problem of your background.”

It felt like someone scooped out Marinette’s stomach and filled the empty space with ice.

“M-my background?”

“Father…” Adrien started, surprisingly firm.

“You’re a baker’s daughter, Ms. Dupain-Cheng, hardly worthy of the Agreste name.” Mr Agreste said, like it wasn’t breaking her heart. “You two have to break up before this… fling tarnishes the family image.”

“Father!” Adrien said, sounding more serious than she ever heard him. “How can you even say something like that?”

Marinette felt like she was underwater, everything felt muffled and Adrien and his father sounded like they were both far away. This couldn’t be happening to her.

“I… have to go.” She said, getting up from her chair. “I’m sorry, Adrien.”

She left, ignoring Adrien’s calls of her name and running into the streets. Her feet hurt from her shoes, so she stepped into an alley and opened her bag, deaf to Tikki’s reassurances and transformed quickly. She swung through the city before detransforming near her house and coming in the front door, her parents excited inquiries quickly giving away to fretting that left her wrapped in blankets in her room with a tub of ice cream on her lap and a worried Tikki on her hair.

Thank god Alya already left. Marinette thought. If one more person looked at her with a pitying gaze, she would scream.

“I’m fine, Tikki. I’m not sad.” It was true, her whole body just felt numb. There wasn’t room for anything else. “I just want to be alone for a moment.”

With that, she climbed up to her balcony, leaving Tikki alone with a phone that was buzzing with dozens of unseen messages.

The cold air nipped at her skin, but she refused to go down and get more blankets. She stared unseeing at the blinking lights of the city. She wanted to stay there and watch them. She wanted to fly through them. Neither felt like enough, so she closed her eyes.

“What’s upsetting such a pretty lady on a pretty night like this?”

She snapped her head to the side at the sound of that voice. A voice she hadn’t heard directed at her since…

“You could at least pretend that you actually think I’m your partner and trust me , how about that?!”

“Chat Noir…” She gasped, hungrily driking in his messy blond hair and grinning mouth that didn’t hide worried his cat-like eyes were.

Eyes that wouldn’t look into hers since the fight where he found out she told someone her identity and the issues that spiraled from that.

“Hey, Marinette.” He said, sitting down beside her. “So?”

She tilted her head. “So what?”

“What got you so upset?”

“I-I’m not upset.” She said, a tremble escaping into her voice.

He raised a hand to her cheek, touching gently. She watched, entranced.

“You’re crying.” Chat Noir said, soflty.

“Oh.” Marinette said and it was like a dam broke.

Chat Noir held her as she sobbed, huge tears rolling down her red face as her body trembled. It should feel weird, they only met as Marinette and Chat Noir a handful of times, but her heart knew her partner and could never feel anything but safe in his arms.

“It’s okay, princess.” He said, the nickname falling easily from his tongue. “Cry all you need.”

And she did, until it seemed like she had, finally, run out.

“S-sorry.” She mumbled against his shoulder.

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” He reassured, stroking her hair. “Do you want to talk about what happened?”

She sat up, detangling herself from his arms. His eyes flashed with something that she couldn’t quite place.

“I went out to help a friend and it ended up pretty badly.” Marinette said, wiping her cheeks with her blanket.

“Did you two have a fight?” He asked, oddly subdued.

“Not exactly, it’s not really his fault but… I don’t want to talk to my friend right now.”

Because how could she even begin to explain that it wasn’t Adrien’s fault, but she couldn’t bear to see his face right now? That it was a fake date, but the fact that his father wouldn’t approve of her even if it was real broke her heart? That it wasn’t because of anything she could change and didn’t want to change, anyway, but her essence itself? To look at the guilty face of her friend, her secret boyfriend, wouldn’t help her at all.

“I understand.”

“Because of you and Ladybug?” The words left her mouth before she could think them through.

His eyes narrowed. “What do you mean me and Ladybug?”

“I-I, erm.” She swallowed heavily. “I mean, Alya said you two are probably fighting, since you are going on all-solo patrols and have been kinda stiff during akuma fights.”

He deflated. “I didn’t see anything on the Ladyblog.”

“She wouldn’t put ammunition for Shadow Moth on the Ladyblog.” She defended. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I… don’t know?” He looked genuinely confused. “I haven’t really talked about this with anyone but my kwami.”

She was surprised he said that, before realizing he thought she knew what a kwami was because of Mullo and her time as Multimouse.

“You can vent if you want. You already saw me being all, you know.” She gestured vaguely at herself. “Just say as much as you want.”

“Ladybug and I did have a fight. We don’t let it interfere with our job or anything, but our friendship is kinda on the rocks right.” He said quietly, cat ears dropping. “I can’t tell you why, but sometimes it just feels like I’m not important to her.”

“Of course you are!” She exclaimed, protests falling automatically from her mouth like on hero discussion day at school.

(She was officially banned from debates after she made a student that said Chat Noir sucked cry.)

“Am I really?” He chuckled, self-deprecating. “Everyone thinks Ladybug is the best. I don’t blame them, they’re right. But when they call me a sidekick, they might just be right. She doesn’t see me as her partner, she doesn’t trust me.”

His voice cracked at the end and she wrapped him in her arms.

“You won’t let me help you, Ladybug.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” She said, holding back tears as it was his turn to cry.

He laughed wetly. “Why? It’s not your fault.”

But it is. “I’m still sorry.”

“It's just… I love her.” He said and it ached. “I love her so much but I don’t think she cares about me half as much as I care about her.”

“Of course she does.” Marinette said, but her words sounded weak even to her own ears.

“She doesn’t.” He answered, simply.

“I wish… I wish I could make her love you.” She said, surprising him and herself so much it startled a laugh out of him.

“There’s no need for that, I’m not mad she doesn’t love me like this or anything.” Chat Noir said, honestly. “I just want to know she cares.”

“She cares.” Marinette defended fiercely. “I care.”

His eyes softened. “That means a lot to me, princess.”

Then he took her hand, mindful of his claws, and squeezed. Together, they watched the lights until she fell asleep.

Her heart felt full.

#Marinette Dupain-Cheng #adrien agreste #chat noir #ladybug #ml fic #my stuff #adrinette #marichat #fake dating #you drank so much sunlight you're drowning in it #lovers alone wear sunlight #companion piece

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jiejie-eonni-onee-sama · 3 years

Text

The only one I need...

For the sweet @stardancerluv 🥰🥰🥰🐇🐰

Hope you like it!

Sitting on her couch, (Y/N) glanced at the window of the penthouse with a thoughtful look in her eyes. She distantly stroke her slightly rounded belly. The young woman could not still believe that in five months, she would become a mother.

This perspective positively thrilled her, of course. She was happy to start a family with the man she loved... even if the latter was not the suited man for being a father, according to many Gothamites. Indeed, (Y/N) was married to Roman Sionis, one of the ruthless mob bosses of the city. Of course, when he was in business, he was cruel and wicked. But, when he was with her, Roman was the perfect husband.

The young woman sighed: honestly, he was happy to be a father. Well, she guessed he was glad. Since the beginning of her pregnancy, she cannot confirm if her husband was ready to start a family.

Moreover, she felt that he was distant from her. Roman barely even hold her when he was an insatiable hugger. Perhaps being pregnant made her look less glamourous in his eyes. After all, Mister Sionis was a man who showed interest in appearances. Sure, a changing body was not a pleasant view for him. He certainly preferred spending time with gorgeous women in hourglass bodies.

(Y/N) felt tears rolling down her cheek. Of course, she had everything she dreamt of, but she felt so alone.

"Hi, (Y/N)! You're alright?"

Wiping her tears, she turned around and saw Victor, who stood there, a puzzled expression on his face.

"Oh, hello, Vic. I am sorry I did not hear you coming."

"That's okay... Are you sure you're alright? You seem upset."

"Me? No, don't worry: I am just tired. Pregnancy mood swings, you know."

"I guess so. Well, I mean: I trust you on this one... Is there anything you want?"

She shrugged.

"No... Unless you know where Roman is?"

"He has a business meeting at the club. Stu and Joe are with him."

She nodded, a sad look on her face.

"I see... Thank you, Victor. You can go if you want."

Shaking his head, the scarred man sat on a chair and asked:

"Do you think I am going outside and leaving you like that? I may not be the smartest, but I am not blind. I see there is something that worries you."

(Y/N) stuttered:

"No, no, no! I assure you..."

The skeptical look Victor gave her made her stop. She sighed:

"Okay, you won. But I don't think that the wailings of a pregnant woman are interesting."

"I will see... Go ahead!"

She bit her lip before explaining with a quivering voice:

"I feel so alone. Since I told Roman the news, he acted distant towards me. It feels like he did not want this child or that he found me ugly. I cannot tell what he thinks... Argh, I am getting mad!"

The henchman gently patted her hand.

"Don't worry, (Y/N). Roman always acts like that when something new happens. I know him for years, and I can tell you that he would never think about having a family of his own... until you tripped in his life!"

"Do you just said that I am clumsy?"

"Maybe! Seriously, (Y/N): he always told me that no woman could compete with you, concerning beauty or cleverness! But he just tried to cope with this new situation. And you know that he does not easily share his feelings..."

She slowly nodded.

"I guess so... I wished that he opened up to me about his opinions."

She slightly grinned.

"I appreciate your help, Victor. Thank you!"

"Hey, you make my boss happy! It's the least that I can do!"

He looked at his phone.

"Ha, I have to leave: Roman needs my help!"

"Is there anything wrong?"

"No, no: he just needs my... special skills!"

"Okay, okay, I got it! See you later!"

"Bye, (Y/N) replied Zsasz before leaving the penthouse.

While (Y/N) relaxed, Victor drove to the warehouse where Roman and his bodyguards waited for him with their prisoners.

"Hi, boss!"

"Ah, Mister Zsasz! You come at the right time! You see, those gentleman tied upside down belonged to the gang of the Davinovitch brothers. And they thought messing with our dealers was a good idea. Anyway, peel off their faces! I want to send a warning to their bosses! Make sure they suffer!"

Victor sadistically grinned.

"With pleasure, boss! Just let me pick my tools!"

And while Zsasz peeled off the faces of the prisoners, Roman asked:

"I wonder... Where were you before I called you?"

"I went to the penthouse checking on (Y/N)."

"Ah, my beloved wife! So, how is she doing?"

His henchman grimaced:

"Well, she is physically healthy. However, I am afraid to tell you that she is upset, to say the least!"

The mob boss started to worry.

"What do you mean?"

"Honestly, boss: she is on the verge of depression!"

"WHAT? AND YOU SAID THAT JUST NOW?"

"I just saw it today. I asked (Y/N) what's going on, and she confessed that something upsets her. Well, someone upsets her."

Roman turned towards his bodyguards and yelled:

"WHO DARED MAKE MY WIFE FEEL MISERABLE?"

The henchmen denied their involvement, shaking with fear: the last one who dared made (Y/N) cry rested in pieces with the fish.

"You better not lie to me because if I found the guilty, he would finish like those jackasses! Am I clear?"

His guards nodded.

Once Victor finished his job, they went to the club. The scarred man cleared his throat and said:

"Boss, when I said that someone upset (Y/N)..."

"Yes?"

"Well, I was talking about you!"

"I beg your pardon? How can I upset the woman I love, the mother of my child?" asked Roman, annoyed.

"Seriously, boss. (Y/N) feels alone, and you do nothing to reassure her! If only you saw her, she was down depressed!"

Roman frowned.

"To that point?"

"I'm telling you!"

The mob boss sighed.

"What have I done?" he muttered.

He turned towards Victor.

"Call Dean: tell him I have a specific order!"

"Consider it done, boss!" smirked Zsasz as he dialed the number.

The next day.

Thanking the driver, (Y/N) went out of the cab and entered the penthouse. Her appointment with the doctor went well. She was in good shape, and her baby was healthy. Moreover, she knew that she expected a boy.

The woman smiled: a mini-Roman. Let's hope that he won't inherit his father's temper!

She headed to the living room when a pleasant smell welcomed her. Intrigued, she went forwards and discovered a table perfectly laid with her favorite meals.

"Is anybody here?" she asked.

Suddenly, Roman appeared with a huge bouquet in his hands.

"Here comes my beautiful wife! How was your appointment?"

"Uh, it went well." (Y/N) answered, taken aback by Roman's behavior.

Yesterday, he was cold as ice, and today, he acted like at the beginning of their relationship. Something was fishy...

"Wonderful! Now, let's sit down and enjoy our dinner! Let me take off your coat!"

"Thank you, Roman. But I can do it."

"No, no, no: let me take care of you, darling. You must be exhausted!"

Once they sat down, they started to eat. (Y/N) ate a few mouthfuls, which confused her husband.

"Is everything okay, sweetheart? You don't eat that much. Yet, you must build your strength for the baby!"

"Can I ask you a question, Roman?"

"Of course, my love. What do you want to know?"

She sighed before requesting:

"Can you explain why do you plan this dinner? Do we celebrate something? A successful trade?"

The mob nodded before he put down his fork and said:

"So, Victor was right. Do you think that I neglect you?"

"WHAT? No, I would never say..."

She mentally cursed Victor: why did he need to tell Roman?

"My little doe, there is no need to panic. Besides, I owe you an apology..."

"What for?"

"I made you feel miserable. You, the only person who sincerely loves me for who I am and not for who I seem. And how do I thank you? By letting you alone with your insecurities and sadness!"

(Y/N) was impressed: she did not expect Roman to do this!

She gently put her hand on his:

"You know, I appreciate your gesture. But I can understand that starting a family might trigger you, as you don't have good memories of your parents..."

"As it happens, it gives me a lesson: it taught me what not to do with a child! I don't want my offspring to suffer as I did!"

He paused before he explained:

"About my distant behavior, I know I have no excuses. But... I was scared!"

"Scared?"

"Yes, I know: coming from me, it sounds weird. But I feared to fail you and our kid. Imagine that I end up being like my old man: a pure jackass!"

His wife firmly stated:

"But you're not your father. You succeeded better than he would ever do! You just proved it: you have concerns about how to raise our child properly!"

He smirked:

"That proves I rightly choose my life partner. I don't know what would I do if you were not here!"

Roman leaned and gave her a small kiss on the lips.

"And don't ever think that you are ugly! No matter what happens, you're still the most gorgeous woman in all Gotham!"

(Y/N) felt her heart melt: she never managed to resist his sweet talk!

She hugged him:

"Thank you."

"No, thank you!" he muttered while hugging her back.

They stayed like that a few minutes before Roman exclaimed:

"Now, let's finish our dinner, and then, let's go to bed!"

An hour later, the spouses laid in their bed, in each other's arms. Roman gently stroke (Y/N)'s hair while she laid her head on his chest.

Suddenly, she felt his hand resting on her belly, making her chuckle.

"You wanted to check if the baby is alright?"

"Kind of... I just want to let them know that I am here for them, no matter what happens!"

(Y/N) beamed.

"I am sure our baby boy would appreciate it!"

"Indeed... Wait, did you just say...?"

"You heard it right: there will be another Mr. Sionis in Gotham!"

Roman happily laughed.

"Amazing! I can't wait to meet him"

"Let's hope he won't have your flair for drama!"

"What?" exclaimed Roman, faking shock.

They both laughed and talked during the night, planning what they would do with their son.

In the end, while they drifted into sleep, (Y/N) heard Roman whispering in her ear:

"You're the only one I need..."

And as she closed her eyes, all her fears vanished in the air. She could not wait to write this new chapter with the two men of her life...

Thanks for the reading!

I hope you like it and do not hesitate to ask for another story!

Take care! 😘🥰😍

#requests #dceu #birds of prey #roman sionis #ewan mcgregor #eva green

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collabwithmyself · 4 years

Text

1-3: Turnabout Transfix (1/2)

Ray and Maya both teased him about his "old man phone," but in Miles's opinion, it worked perfectly well, so he saw no point in replacing it. It was simple, it was solid, and most importantly, he could still customize a ringtone with it.

This meant that waking up abruptly to a tinny rendition of the Steel Samurai theme song had him in a marginally better mood than if it were a normal, repetitive ringing dragging him out of slumber an hour earlier than usual. He fumbled blindly for the cell phone chiming away on his nightstand and dragged it over to him, squinting futilely at the caller ID before answering.

"Mlejerth," he managed.

"My!" screeched a voice, shouting directly into his ear and startling him into sitting up. "It's a disaster!"

"Wh-- Maya? What happened? Are you in danger?"

"It's the Steel Samurai!" Maya wailed. "He killed the Evil Magistrate!"

"Well, that seems largely out of character for him," Miles mused, rubbing his eyes. "...Wait, hold on, where did you get this information? Why are you giving me spoilers?"

"I mean in real life! Turn on the TV, or whatever it is you old men do to get news!"

"In real--" Miles's sleep-addled brain struggled to comprehend what Maya was trying to tell him. "You... do you mean their actors?"

"Yes! Duh!"

He fell back against the headboard in shock. "You're telling me Will Powers killed Jack Hammer?" Why didn't she say that in the first place?!

"That's what the police are saying! You're a defense attorney, My, do something! There's no way the Steel Samurai would kill anybody!"

"Wh-- Maya, you can't expect me to be able to catch the attention of a celebrity, let alone be picked by him to defend him in court! I've only acted as an attorney in two trials!"

"Yeah, and you beat Sascha von Karma! That's better than a whole resume of cases or whatever! Come on, My, you gotta!"

Miles pinched the bridge of his nose. "You won't stop pestering me until I agree to this, will you?"

"Nnnnope!" Maya popped the P emphatically. "Meet you at the detention center!"

"Yes, I'll see you--"

Click.

"...there..."

What had he just gotten himself into?

⁂

"So this is Global Studios?" Maya asked, hands on her hips as she peered around. "I kinda expected it to be... I dunno, bigger."

"Bigger isn't always better, you know," Miles replied, pushing up his glasses. "They make do excellently with what they have, wouldn't you agree?"

"You can say that again!"

Maya strolled closer to the gate, standing on her tiptoes. "Geez, where's the handle for this thing? You think we might have to climb it?"

Miles gave her a look that he hoped conveyed his lack of amusement properly. "We are not breaking into the studio. I highly doubt they'd let just anyone in, especially after a murder just took place. We might need to go back and get, well, a permission slip from Mr. Powers."

Maya smirked at him. "You just wanna get his autograph."

Miles's ears burned. "It's important to the case--"

A horrible screech startled them both, and Maya sprang back from the gate, reflexively snagging Miles by the sleeve and making him flinch a second time. It took him a moment to recognize the piercing cry as a human voice instead of some furious animal.

"Hey! You there! You wanna get in, you're gonna have to go through me! Honestly, all day I've had to deal with nothing but gawkers and sightseers, it seems like nobody in this city knows how to keep their nose out of things, they've all got another thing coming if they think they can get past me--"

He turned to find a person in blue storming out of the nearby security station and towards them both. Intimidated, but knowing better than to let that show, he straightened up, and beside him, Maya did the same.

"Er, pardon me. I'm a defense attorney, and this is my," Miles hesitated, "paralegal. We're here on behalf of--"

The elderly woman squinted at him, then brightened like a light being turned on. "Oh! What a lovely young man you are, aren't you just a sweetheart?"

Miles blinked at the praise. Beside him, Maya made a sudden retching noise, though he couldn't fathom why. "Er, I'm representing Will Powers," he continued, gesturing to the badge on his lapel, "and I was hoping you could let us in to conduct an investigation? You are the security guard, aren't you?"

"Oh, where are my manners? Wendy Oldbag, Global Studios security, but you can just call me grandma!" The old woman waved a hand at him. (Miles was... not going to do that.) "Why, you're so polite, not at all like most people these days, so pushy and impatient, looking to sightsee just because something horrible happened! No, I can tell you're an honest young man, you wouldn't dream of causing trouble, would you?"

Miles shook his head. Oldbag continued to ramble, so his gaze slipped away from her and towards Maya, who looked positively mortified.

"My, I think she likes you," she stage-whispered.

"Is that not a good thing?" Miles was puzzled. "She'll be more likely to let us in."

"Ohh, boy..."

It took a lot of convincing to assure this woman that they didn't need a personally guided tour, thank you, and it was Maya being her blunt self that eventually got her to take the hint and leave in a huff.

"That was..." Miles searched for the right word as he gazed about the studio grounds.

"Yikes," Maya finished.

"Maya, she was a perfectly agreeable woman--"

"Are you that oblivious, My? She was totally into you!" She threw her hands into the air. "You get such a bad crush you practically block out your memory when Mr. Powers talks to you, but this lady flirting with you doesn't set off any alarm bells?"

Miles spluttered. "She was not flirting!"

"She was totally making kissy eyes at you!"

"This is an entirely irrelevant discussion topic anyways, we should be investigating."

Maya puffed her cheeks out, balling her fists. "You can't just stand there and let weird old ladies creep on you, My!"

"Believe me," he huffed with finality, "I would never let any weird old person get into my head."

They didn't get far before a figure standing under the archway leading to the studios spotted them. The already large detective puffed up in anger when they approached.

"Hey! Aren't you that murderer from the other day?!"

Maya squeaked, bravado evaporating. "Yikes! It's that himbo detective...!"

"I-- I beg your pardon, Maya, what--"

The detective - Gumshoe, was it? - stomped a foot in frustration, chest heaving. "Prosecutor von Karma's real upset because of you! All frustrated and can't focus on work, staring out the window and muttering..."

Maya seemed to regain her resolve. "How is it our fault she's a sore loser, huh? And besides, if anyone's at fault, it's you for doing sloppy detective work!"

This only served to agitate Gumshoe further. "Don't you insult my boss!" he exploded. But then, all at once, he deflated, brows knitting together guiltily. "...I did my best..."

Maya looked thrown. "Um... s-sorry," she stammered. "I didn't mean to hurt your feelings..."

The detective shook his head. "Nah, you got a point, pal... I shouldn't be blaming other people like that..."

Miles refrained from pointing out that it was pretty much his job to be blaming other people, along with his boss's. "Well, I suppose there's always the next case."

"Yeah... hey! Speaking of which! What the heck are you two doing here?!"

Maya put her hands on her hips and tried to make herself look bigger. "Well, we're on this case too, pal!"

Gumshoe's mouth fell open in offense. "Hey! You can't just go around calling people pal! That's my endearing character trait, pal!"

"Well, what are you gonna do about it, pal?!"

"Pal, I'm gonna--"

"Are you here," Miles interrupted loudly, "on behalf of Miss von Karma?"

It was the wrong thing to say, evidently, as Gumshoe set his jaw again. "I told you to address Prosecutor von Karma by the proper title! Don't let me catch you saying that around my boss, or you're in for it!"

What an odd thing to insist on, Miles thought, but he nodded along nonetheless. "Well? Are you?"

"Am I what...?" Gumshoe took a moment, most likely replaying the conversation in his head. "Oh! Yeah! Prosecutor von Karma's on this case, and this time, we've definitely got it in the bag!"

Miles remembered the strange, uneasy feeling he'd gotten when staring down that woman in court. How her eyes burned with a disgust and hatred Miles couldn't hope to decipher. How her cold composure had dissolved into furious outbursts and frantic bluffs in an effort to save face as Miles took her case apart. How angry, humiliated tears had pricked at the corners of her eyes, and she'd clung anxiously to her right side like she was preventing a wound from bleeding out.

"I'd be worried about her punching you, My," Maya had said to him, "but I think she might just break her hand trying."

How the scrawny brunette managed to be so imposing, Miles had no idea. Everything about her made his stomach twist, like something was inherently incorrect about her. He almost felt sorry for her, having to be raised by a man like Manfred von Karma, but she had been molded into his likeness - a ruthless prosecutor who sought no less than a perfect win record - which made her his enemy.

Some part of him wondered if they could have been friends in another life - a life where they'd crossed paths earlier.

But Miles had far more important things to worry about than that.

#roleswap au #turnabout transition #ace attorney #long post #collab writes #miles edgeworth #maya fey #dick gumshoe #wendy oldbag #misgendering #misgendering tw #I don't think the word existed in 2016 but the comedic potential of Maya calling Gumshoe a himbo is too good to pass up

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missturtleduck · 4 years

Text

The Girls of Ba Sing Se - (Sokka x f!Reader) Pt. 8

Part Seven│Part Nine

“You, girl of secrets, may stay.”

The library was surprisingly easy to find, considering it was buried under centuries of sand. Watching Toph siphon it up as smoothly as Katara could shape water, Y/N stood pointedly ignoring Sokka and Professor Zei rambling to each other. Sure, she was as much of a nerd as they were, what with learning languages and arithmetic from a young age, but it wasn’t like she was about to drop Sokka’s attitude and divulge in ancient secrets with them.

They did sound like pretty cool ancient secrets though.

Trying not to pout, Y/N sighed and began to scale the tower freehand. Was it to spite Sokka, who had just thrown a grapple to the top window? Perhaps. Only beaten by Aang, who had the power of airbending on his side, Y/N sat on the ledge of the window, staring down at Toph, Appa, and Qin.

“You sure you’ll be alright, Toph?” She called down to her friend, who had a firm hand on Qin’s back.”

“Don’t worry about me,” Toph brushed her off. “Like I said, books don’t do it for me.”

With a nod, Y/N readied to descend. “Send Qin in after us if you get in trouble.”

Satisfied that Toph would be okay, she leapt from the window, Aang catching her in a swirl of air. It was fun, almost like jumping onto a bed laden with pillows, although she never remembered jumping on her auntie’s bed to ever be that dangerous. The inside of the tower was beautiful, even Y/N had to admit in her bad mood, decorated with mosaic depictions of owl, glittering dark onyx and blues as the sun filtered through the cracks in the old brick. Three guesses on what form the spirit of the library took, Y/N chuckled to herself.

Rustling interrupted her admiration as she pulled the nearest person behind a great pillar. Peering around it, she held the person close to her chest, listening for any signs of movement, praying to Agni that it was just one of those cute fox spirits.

“I know you’re back there,” A voice said, menacing and low, leaving goosebumps up her arms; it was pure adrenaline, a fight or flight reaction.

Eyes wide, she went to hiss at Professor Zei, who had stepped out from behind the pillar. A hand clamped over her mouth – Sokka. Nose wrinkled in disdain, Y/N fought the urge to lick his hand then and there, grossing him out enough to reveal him too. Maybe the owl spirit would keep him as a pet.

“Hello!” Zei said, the word Y/N had been stuck on finally coming to her head: naïve. “I am Professor Zei, Head of Anthropology at Ba Sing Se University!”

The avian monster leered down over the professor, who seemed unfazed in his thirst for knowledge. “You would leave the way you came, unless you want to become a stuffed head of anthropology.”

As much as she disliked the man, she wouldn’t let him die. Pushing off of Sokka’s chest, not thinking about how he felt under her palms and pressed that close in the moment, Y/N rushed forwards, bowing lowly. “Oh, great spirit! Are you the magnificent one who brought all of this knowledge into the physical world?”

“Indeed,” The spirit said, a tad less malicious than before. “I am Wan Shi Tong, ‘He Who Knows Ten Thousand Things’.”

“Oh, how marvellous!” Y/N exclaimed, coming out of her bow to look at Wan Shi Tong with as much respect and as little fear possible. “To grant the physical world, the world of humans with such a resource! You are far too benevolent.”

The spirit peered its head up as Sokka, Katara, and Aang came out of their hiding place. “Yes, and you are obviously humans, which, by the way, are no longer permitted in my library.”

“What do you have against humans?” Aang blurted out, not unkindly, but with a lack of respect that made Y/N cringe; surprisingly, she had no intention of being eaten by a giant owl spirit!

“Hmph!” Wan Shi Tong sneered, standing tall to look down on them all.

“Humans only seek knowledge to get an edge on other humans, like that firebender who came to this place a few years ago seeking to destroy his enemy. So, who are you seeking to destroy?”

“What?” Sokka said, stretching the vowel too long to be anything but suspicious. “No-no-no-no destroying of anyone! We’re not into that.”

Wan Shi Tong blinked with his great, owlish eyes. “Then why have you come here?”

“Um... knowledge for knowledge’s sake?”

His shadow loomed over the boy. “If you’re going to lie to an all-knowing spirit, you should at least at some effort into it.”

This was it then. Y/N steeled herself, ready to see Sokka eaten in front of her. He’d be sorely missed of course, the git, but what happens had to happen, right? Although, what would happen to the rest of them if he was eaten? Would they be resigned to the same fate? She knew Katara would never forgive herself, that Professor Zei would manage to turn Sokka into some sort of parable – a caricature of the person he truly was. Eyes widening at her sudden epiphanies, Y/N darted in front of the men making fools of themselves, offering her bō staff out in a low bow.

“Please forgive the indiscretion of my idiot companion,” She grovelled, ecstatic at the jibe she managed to fit in. “I offer one more bit of knowledge to your vast collection, if you’ll have it.”

Reaching with one fluid motion, the spirit practically absorbed the staff. “You, girl of secrets, may stay.”

Wan Shi Tong looked amongst the group, expectant. One by one, each of them gave away something precious; a scroll, a tome, and a poster were added to his collection. But what of Sokka? A special knot was offered with a grin.

“You’re not very bright, are you?” The spirit blanched, enough sarcasm to match the boy himself. “Enjoy the library.”

Flourishing out of sight, Y/N pushed down a snort, “He’s dramatic for a spirit.”

Falling back to walk with Katara, she allowed herself to breath in the atmosphere of such a grand place. Every tome had collected dust over what must have been centuries; it felt wrong, sinful, to touch them, let alone peruse through its words. This seemed to be a shared opinion of Katara, who avoided picking up every tome that seemed mildly interesting.

Aang and Sokka, however, were picking up works because they fancied the colour.

“Hey, look at these weird lion turtle things!” Aang said, shoving a scroll in their faces.

“Eh,” Sokka waved his hand, “I’ve seen weirder.”

Deeper into the library they ventured, the hallways growing darker and the tomes growing dustier – rarer – as they went along. Though, maybe it wasn’t dust. All colour flushed from Y/N’s skin as she saw the room marred with burn marks and ashes. A firebender had done this. They had committed an atrocity she didn’t think possible. This was the human that the spirit had so spitefully told them about.

“They destroyed everything to do with the Fire Nation,” Katara gasped.

That’s what they do, Y//N thought bitterly.

Taking a seat in the remains of such precious knowledge, Y/N watched with some amusement as her friends chased after a Knowledge Seeker. The little fox led them away swiftly, and what they may find could be vital, but she couldn’t bring herself to follow. Something about the room they had discovered made her stomach turn, waves of guilt rolling continuously, growing greater and more violent until she wanted to be sick.

“I’m sorry,” She whispered, looking up to see the owl spirit stood over her. “I’m sorry on behalf of the evil person who did this.”

The spirit considered for a moment. “Would you indulge me with a secret? I find secrets to be the greatest knowledge of all.”

“Will it compensate you for the damage?”

“Not entirely,” Wa Shi Tong admitted, not nearly as menacing as he had been, “But enough for forgiveness,”

And so she spoke. She indulged the spirit in every secret she had in her soul, feeling lighter and lighter as every one left her lips. Y/N told him of the family she had lost, her lineage, her first crush, her greatest rebellion against her uncle. How much value could be put on her secrets, she wondered.

She didn’t wonder for long as a Knowledge Seeker came running up to them on four legs, propping itself to two as it communicated silently with its master. She wondered if the value of her secrets could pay the spirit for the insult that was just delivered to him. With a final look at Y/N, the spirit swept away with all the rage of a warrior.

It was when the ground began to shake that Y/N realised something was truly wrong.

Exchanging looks with the spirit servant, something that she would’ve never expected to happen, she sprinted out of the room. Following the creature, it led her through the maze of bookshelves until she recognised where they were. Back at the beginning, the fox gave a frantic little bow before scurrying away. With the open window filtering light, Y/N heard the desperate cries of Appa, Qin, and Toph.

Panicked and determined, Y/N clambered onto the bannister that prevented patrons tumbling into the abyss of tomes. It was instant death, she noted, but she needed to get to the rope hanging from the tower. Inhaling a sharp breath, she leapt across, hands burning as she struggled for a grip. Darting her eyes back to the library, she spotted the spirit tormenting her friends and the professor.

“Oh, great spirit!” She called to him, shimmying her way up the rope. “Let me be proof that not all humans carry evil, even if you cannot see it yet.”

The rage he carried was chilling.

“I’m coming Toph!”

The wails had subsided since, Appa now silenced above her. Making quick work of the rope – darting ever downwards to ensure her friends were safe – Y/N clambered through the window, narrowly avoiding Toph. Qin caught her with her tail, groaning lowly, wincing. A gash was open on her back, creating a storm of blind rage within her. Appa, however, was nowhere to be seen.

Despite what she may have said afterwards, Toph was crying. With all of her strength, she was preventing the spirit from killing them all. Once Katara, Sokka, and Aang leapt out onto the sand, Y/N made quick work of pulling Toph into a tight hug, whispering apologies over and over again until the words merged into numbness. Any spite she may have felt only hours ago had dissipated as quickly as it came. Y/N had hit her limit.

TAGLIST: @lunariasilver @maragreene

#atla #sokka x reader #sokka #aang #katara #toph #the library #wan shi tong #the girls of ba sing se #missturtleduck

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shreddedparchment · 5 years

Text

Pseudo Princess Pt.24

A Stressful Morning

02/03/2020

Pairing: King!Steve x Reader Word Count: 5,127

Warnings: fluff, smidge of angst, lots of sweet Steve

A/N: So I had planned on making this chapter super long. Like probably 10k words but rather than have you all wait longer for more, I decided to just post what I had ready to go since it was at a good stopping point too. I hope you like it! If you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work! Reblogs are SO appreciated. xoxo

“Are you alright?” Nat’s gentle touch is reassuring.

“I’m nervous.” You confess, holding your arms out as Nat pulls over your shoulders a warm linen nightdress.

There is a thick sash that wraps around your waist several times before she ties it off with a bow at the back, a large slit down the middle for the ease of the doctor’s inspection.

The fabric is heavy. For good reason.

Outside the blizzard that had begun to freeze you by the small shack full of Steve’s past had hit harder over the night and you’d awoken snug in Steve’s arms with the strong wailing of the winter storm making the ancient stones of the cottage quake.

You and Steve had only a few moments alone—eager to reassure you that he’s capable of making love to you, his hands had traced down the length of your leg until he could flip your nightdress up and trail tickling fingers up until he gently coaxed your legs apart to feel for his prize—before a gentle knock interrupted your good morning.

It had been Bucky and Nat, whispering in tense tones, cutting your good time short because something much more pressing had come up.

“Who will be there?” You swallow the lump in your throat and then reach down to rub the small swell of your stomach.

Your little one is still so tiny. So fragile. What if they hurt him?

“It will be the doctor, Lord Ross and Lord Pierce.” Nat leans down, sweeping her crimson and silver threaded skirts back as she takes hold of your left calf to lift your leg and slip on your foot a simple satin slipper.

“There will be men in the room?” You gasp, staring with wide eyes as your heart begins to pound.

“You’ll be behind a screen, dear one.” She slips on your second slipper then stands up, fixing her skirts before she takes hold of your arms and gives them a reassuring squeeze.

“And Steve will be there, with you. And I, to make sure that they respect your dignity as a woman and Queen of Broklin.”

The way Nat says it, the truth of you having a right to your dignity as ruler of the kingdom…the respect that the title should command. A reverence that you’ve never had before.

Can I possibly do this? Is this my life?

“Nat…” You nearly whine, but really your nerves are frayed. You’re absolutely on edge. “What…what if Grandmother was wrong? What if I’m not really pregnant? What will they do to Steve if I’m not as I should be? We have so little time left!”

Nat chuckles sympathetically with you, reaching to pull you into her arms. She strokes the back of your head gently.

“Shh, oh Y/N. Don’t worry. You are most definitely pregnant. And they will know that as soon as they see you.” Nat pulls back, cradling the sides of your belly. “Look at you.”

You’re not sure what she’s seeing, but the look of fondness in her emerald eyes soothes your worry if only a smidge.

“You are a vision. Glowing with life. And I have never seen Steve so smitten. Even with Margaret.” She smiles and you halfway manage to return it.

“Because I’m pregnant?” You wonder.

“Because you’ve embraced it so readily. So happily. Margaret wanted to wait. Steve…would have done anything to make her happy. She was a good woman, but her life was in her work. As was Steve’s but he was ready to be a father.” Nat nods.

“For Margaret, the Avengers were the most important? The work all of you did?” You try, not having spoken of this to her just yet.

Nat continues to caress your belly, feeling the warm fabric of your nightdress.

“He finally told you?” She smiles, nodding and biting her lower lip. “We have a lot to talk about.”

“You don’t have to tell me.” You tell her, trying to catch her eye. “It doesn’t matter to me whatever it is that happened before I met you.”

Nat’s smile grows, her eyes twinkling with pure joy.

“You’re not like anyone that I’ve ever met before.” She nods. “I will tell you my story, my Queen. But perhaps later?”

She finally meets your eyes.

You nod. “I love you, Nat.”

Nat nods. “I am so grateful. You know that you have mine. You are my closest friend.”

You like the way she looks happy. You don’t want her to think that her past will weigh on your opinion of her.

“When my little one is born. Will you be his Godmother?” You ask, and the look of utter shock on Nat’s face makes this choice worth it.

She will make a wonderful second mother to your prince when he is born. No one better to protect him and nurture him if something should happen to you.

“You are the only real choice.” You tell her. “I trust you, with my life and the life of my son.”

She stares at you, dumbstruck.

“Nat?” You check, starting to worry.

Snapping out of it, she pulls you into a hug once again, so tight you groan but laugh.

“Of course, I will be the baby’s Godmother!” She squeezes you. “You honor me.”

In all of the joy, you almost forget what you’re about to face.

There’s a knock on your door, and you’re suddenly reminded.

Panic begins to bubble up in your tummy. As Nat pulls back, she quickly wipes away tears from her cheeks, shocking you back into forgetting your impending inspection.

“Nat?” You ask, reaching out to hold her arms as she smiles and laughs a little in an attempt to shrug this slip of unexpected emotion away. “What did I say?”

“It’s not you.” She assures you, reaching to take your hand. She pulls it to her lips and kisses it in genuine affection. “Later.”

Her promise is heavy, the sadness in her eyes is real, but there’s happiness there too. Gratitude.

“We’ll speak again later. Maybe send the men away and spend some time just us ladies?” Her offer is tempting and how can you possibly resist?

“I’d like that.” You nod.

Another knock on your door interrupts, and this time there is a voice to accompany it.

“Y/N?” Steve’s voice, gentle and coaxing. “Are you ready for us?”

“What’s wrong?” Thor’s booming voice sounds on the other side of the door and your heart gives an excited beat.

“Thor?” You call, instinct pulling you forward as Nat moves out of your way.

You pull the doors open and Thor stands beside Steve wearing thick dark trousers and a stylish charcoal jacket with a set of sterling silver buckles all the way up to his neck where the collar of a yellow shirt peeks around his perpetually sun kissed skin.

“Little bird!” Thor smiles, looking just as elated as you feel.

“Thor!” You spring forward, throwing yourself into his open arms as he rushes to meet you.

He laughs, a big rumbling laugh that shakes your ribs but fills you with warmth.

“How have you been, little bird?” He asks fondly and doesn’t put you down as he pulls back to look at you.

You reach up and push his hair back, caressing his cheeks fondly. It isn’t the same way that you caress Steve. Not one bit…but as you chuckle once, happy to see Thor after so long an absence, you catch sight of Steve’s pout.

You wiggle down out of Thor’s hold and he looks over his shoulder at Steve.

“Oh, I forgot you were there.” He says playfully.

You chuckle, but Steve frowns.

“A jest, my friend.” He tells Steve then rests his hand briefly on your cheek in affection before taking it back.

Steve moves in to stand at your side, his arm wrapping around your waist as the other finds a resting spot on the small swell at your front which is much more visible now in the thick white nightdress for your examination.

As he meets your gaze, his glowering look fades, replaced by the cutest look of adoration you’ve seen on his face to date.

For a moment you’re flabbergasted. You can’t reconcile this man…those storm blue eyes absolutely full of love, had once looked at you with distaste and resentment. The man on your wedding day seems like a different life.

The normally angular lines of his chiseled chin feel softened by the warmth in his eyes. The small curve of his lips, the pink in his cheeks.

He’s so happy and you’re so giddy to be the one to make him so.

Steve leans down to press his lips to your own for a quick peck, then stands tall and holds you against his side, dropping the hand on your belly.

“I’m glad that you came around.” Thor nods, approving of the sight before him.

“So am I.” Steve indeed sounds grateful.

Your mind begins to wander however, and Thor’s sudden appearance, while very welcome is a surprise.

“Thor?”

“Yes, my little bird?” He gushes, chuckling again at the frown that Steve gives him.

There’s a playfulness in their looks, a fight of siblings.

He knows that Steve doesn’t like his little pet name and he’s calling you by it on purpose. It’s not malicious and Steve’s distaste for it is superficial.

“Don’t misunderstand me, I don’t want you to think that I’m not happy to see you but, why are you here?” You ask, brow furrowed with thought.

Thor’s playful expression shifts, curious confusion etching is own brow.

“Well, I brought the doctor for your examination.” Thor says.

“You did?” You reply with a gasp.

“Yes. He’s a close friend though not many know it. His name is Selvig. Erik Selvig. He is a very skilled doctor. And he has assured me that if he finds you void of an heir, he will happily lie to the council that you are indeed pregnant.” Thor smiles.

You look between him and Steve as they exchange a look of amusement.

“You’re teasing me.” You accuse them and both of them chuckle.

“Only a little, my petal.” Steve kisses your head. “But Thor really does know Doctor Selvig and escorted him here as a favor to me. The council was presented with several doctors and they chose Doctor Selvig.”

“Of course, they did not know that he is a close friend of mine.” Thor explains. “And we will keep them in the dark as long as we can.”

“Must you leave straight away?” Steve asks Thor, his tone changing quite a bit from its disapproval to careful and easy flowing concern. “Have the attacks ceased in the Southern villages since I left?”

“They have.” Thor nods. “I can spare a few days. I will stay.”

Steve nods. “You can take the tower on the North side of the house. There’s a balcony if you need to use it.”

“Thank you. I’ll go there now. I haven’t slept in three days. Not the longest I’ve ever gone without sleep but if I can, I will take it.” Thor smiles and for the first time you see the small signs of his weariness.

He’s still beautiful, Godly…but tired. Listening to them talk, the ease and the familiarity with which they converse is pleasing.

You suppose that now that you know about the Avengers, they don’t feel the need to be so tense around you.

“Good luck, little bird.” Thor tells you, his smile winning and knowing. “Don’t worry. I only look this tired.”

You frown at him. “You’re both insufferably self-sacrificing.”

Both of them chuckle.

Thor leaves the two of you without another word, smiling fondly at the two of you before he shuts the door.

“Are you ready?” Steve asks, chaffing your arms with the intent to give you comfort.

“What if-?” You begin, terrified once more at the reminder of what’s to come, but are interrupted by more knocks on your door.

“Doctor Selvig is here, your Majesties.” Peter’s voice chimes in. “Uh…shall I show him in?”

“Why are you waiting out here?” A deeper irritated sounding voice butts in. “Where is her Majesty?”

“Is she refusing the examination?” Says another more charming sounding tenor.

He almost sounds hopeful that you are.

“First one was Lord Ross. He sounds angry but he’s on our side…mostly.” Steve whispers for you. “The second was Lord Pierce.”

Steve’s voice darkens as he speaks the second name and you have to wonder what makes him hate the man, because clearly, he does.

You cling to his arm, feeling suddenly nervous about them being in the room while you’re exposed and vulnerable and Steve so clearly disapproves of one of them passionately.

“Let them in, Peter.” Steve instructs and the door creaks open.

Peter peeks in first. When he gets his eyes on you and Steve and sees that you’re alright, he smiles at you and straightens up to stand at full height.

“This way, my lords.” He pushes the door open fully and holds his arm out to show them in.

Nat appears to your left pulling a folding screen along with her. It’s made of what looks like deer hide. Thick. No one is going to be able to see you through it. It comforts you a bit.

She begins to unfold it, blocking the bed behind you from the view of two large chairs set before a smaller fireplace than what you’ve become used to the past few weeks.

It’s a little cold in this room but with Steve beside you, you’re fine for now.

Still, you’re grateful for the room. You and Steve had discussed very quickly where you wanted your examination done and you were terrified of doing this in the bed where you both spend so much time together. So, you chose to have it done here.

This examination is invasive and you’re terrified of having yet another bed that you share with Steve be tainted by a feeling of violation.

No. You might have to go through with this in order to help Steve keep his crown, but you will be damned if you don’t demand to control that which you can.

The first man that walks through the open door is stern looking. His brow set firmly with disapproval. He looks displeased with everything he sees. Even you.

Still, he bows, the sleek gray tunic and trousers he wears have no frill. They are simple but made with beautiful linen and only the intricate stitching gives away that he has money. There is no vanity in his outfit at first glance, but you can also see the pride in his demeanor.

It’s slightly aggressive. Combative. The cold look in his eyes gives you pause.

“Your Majesties.” He says, bowing at the waist to both you and Steve.

Already tucked into Steve’s side, you hide even further behind him, hoping to shield your baby from this man’s disapproval.

Steve gives you a glance before he clears his throat lightly and tugs on your hand back forward.

You know what you need to do and what he’s reminding you of.

After steeling your nerves, you come around from behind Steve and offer the man your hand.

“Lord Ross.” You assume, and it seems correctly so.

Lord Ross gives you what must be the closest thing to a genuine smile, takes your hand, and kisses it gently. A mere brush of his prickly lips with their black and white moustache.

“You are looking radiant, your Majesty, if you don’t mind my saying?” He flatters you, as every good subject should do to their Queen when she’s expecting.

“Thank you, Lord Ross. I’m glad to finally meet the man who keeps my husband from my bed.” You feel weird talking to him, but he seems at ease as he releases your hand.

“I will endeavor to do better, my Queen.” He says. “In your delicate condition however, is a husband really what you need around you? Should you not rather have more ladies?”

You smile, taking no offense. He’s only making conversation and from what you’ve seen here in Broklin, the gentry tend to let their wives take comfort in their servants rather than spending the time themselves.

“All I need is Steve.” You tell Lord Ross and he seems taken aback for a moment by the real way that you say those words. Not to mention the use of his name sounds natural and casual as it slips from your lips.

Ross bows his head again and moves to stand by his designated seat as a second man with a rounder face but handsome. This man was very good looking in his youth. The red of his hair is still speckled throughout his head.

His skin is more vibrant than Lord Ross’s. More pink.

You do see what Steve meant about the charming nature of his character. At first glance, Lord Pierce looks like a kind man. A gentle smile stretched across his lips. The aura that surrounds him is non-threatening, and he keeps his body bowed so as not to appear a threat.

He’s trying so hard not to be intimidating that it makes him seem suspicious.

Only the sinister gleam in his eyes gives him away. You don’t trust him.

“Your Majesties.” He gushes, his voice a lovely tenor, aged…but inviting. “How lovely to see you, my Queen.”

“Lord Pierce,” You state, then offer him your hand.

Steve steps closer, wrapping one arm around your waist and you feel like this is more for his state of mind than for your own. He needs to feel you safe there beside him maybe?

Pierce takes it and kisses it briefly before releasing it.

“I’m sorry that we must meet again under these circumstances.” He tells you, not meaning it.

“We’ve met before?” You cock your head to the side, trying to remember when you’d made his acquaintance.

He stutters. “Uh, not formally, my Queen. I was at your wedding feast. Both of them. I hope you are fully recovered after the illness that kept you from court for so long?”

He’s probing into you, searching for a crack. You don’t like it. Still, you smile.

“I am recovered. It seems my pregnancy did not fair well with me the first few months. It put me in bed and made me very ill, but I am much better now.” You assure him, then reach down to cup your barely bulging belly. You caress it, rub it, and hope that it looks bigger than it really is. “And as you can see, faring well with our heir growing ever stronger within me.”

You smile at him, smug, but genuinely happy.

Pierce’s smile falters, its truth momentarily exposed as ire.

“That is as it should be, your Majesty.” He bows once again then moves to stand by his own chair.

Where he stood now stands a man with a wide face. He’s handsome for his age but is younger than the two lords waiting to sit.

With ashy blonde hair and sharp blue eyes, he approaches you wearing a kind smile. It’s unthreatening, but almost secretive and makes you feel as if he knows something you do not.

You offer him your hand, feeling comforted by the fact that this man is a friend of Thor’s.

The doctor takes your hand, kisses it, and holds it as he knows.

“Your Majesty,” he remains stooped over but looks up to meet your gaze. “It is so wonderful to finally meet you.”

His voice is lightly accented. The cadence a little different but otherwise his voice is smooth and relaxing.

“Good day, Lord Selvig.” You smile.

“Oh, no.” He smiles wider, a small chuckle escaping his lips and a tinge of pink painting his cheeks. “I am no Lord, your Majesty. Only a doctor.”

“Is that so?” You ask, raising your eyebrows, amused by his blush.

He nods and finally releases your hand.

“Nat?” You call.

Nat comes around the screen and stops to look at you.

“Are we ready?” You glance back at the screen and find it perfectly set up and angled to give you all the privacy you may need.

“We are.” Nat nods, she motions for you to follow her behind the screen but you turn to Lord Ross and Lord Pierce first to give them a small smile.

“I hope you will find the results to your liking.” And the slight venom in your voice is reserved for Lord Pierce specifically.

Lord Ross seems to know that because his eyes twinkle with delight at your bite, and speaks first. Before Lord Pierce can maneuver is charisma for you.

“I am sure we shall everything as it should be, your Majesty.” He says, then nods once.

You move around the screen and Nat follows. Doctor Selvig comes too.

Nat helps you onto the bed and with a pounding heart you settle yourself where she indicates. Doctor Selvig giving her quiet instructions.

“Just here at the end. A legs here.” He points at the base of the bed and where he wants you to place your feet.

You do as he says and slide close to the end, legs still clenched closed as your nerves begin to fray.

He seems to realize your worry and places his hand over yours while you sit.

“I’m sorry that this must be how we meet. It will be over quickly. I promise.” He swears, and you believe him.

You begin to lay back then realize that Steve isn’t with you.

“Steve?!” You call, a little more frantic than you like.

You don’t want Lord Pierce to know how this whole thing is affecting you.

“Nat?” You turn to look at her as you sit back up. “I thought you said-?”

Nat rushes around the screen.

“Excuse me, my lord, but our Queen needs her King.” You hear her say.

“She-?” Lord Pierce begins, confused.

For men to be present at these things is strange in itself. To be right there while it’s happening? Unheard of.

“Excuse me, Lord Pierce. My wife needs me.” Steve says, cutting him off.

A moment later, he rounds the screen and moves to stand to your right, taking your hand gently between both of his.

“I’m here.” He assures you. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Having Steve beside you helps, but as Doctor Selvig settles between your ankles, your heart begins to pound.

“Ready?” He asks you, and you are.

You nod.

The examination takes only ten minutes. The most invasive portion is over in less than a minute. As Doctor Selvig straightens up, he gives you a nod then looks at Steve as he brings your legs down and together.

“Healthy so far.” He tells you both and Steve releases a breath he’d been holding.

You look to meet his gaze and see the same nervous energy you can’t seem to escape reflected back at you from those storm blue eyes.

“Are you alright, petal?” He checks, brow knit with worry.

Still on edge, you can only nod as Doctor Selvig moves over to your left.

“I’ll be feeling for the baby now.” He tells you, then waits a moment to let your mind catch up before he begins to feel your tummy.

He traces the sides of your bump, up and down, pressing with gentle but firm fingers.

“There he is.” Doctor Selvig says, pressing on your left side more than your right.

“I-Is he okay?” You stutter, frantic energy coursing through you as the possibility of this pregnancy being in your head flies out the window.

“Perfectly fine, as far as I can tell.” He says, then scoots up closer. “If I may, your Majesty?”

He indicates your chest and you’re not sure what he needs but if it’s for the health of your baby, you’re willing to do anything.

“Of course.” You say weakly.

Steve’s hands tighten.

Doctor Selvig dips down, resting his ear between your breasts. You turn to Steve who stands chewing on the inside of his cheek, restraining himself. He doesn’t like this any more than you do.

“Nice strong heartbeat.” Doctor Selvig says. “I foresee no complications, as long as you take care and remember to prioritize your health over everything else.”

“So, she’s alright?” Steve wonders.

“Perfectly so. She is indeed with child and very healthy. Congratulations, your Majesties. I cannot wait to meet the young Prince.” Doctor Selvig’s smile widens and his words fill you with comfort.

You are indeed carrying Broklin’s future. You are mother to Steve’s heir!

And no one will take that from you.

Smiling, you look at your husband. Steve is beaming and he reaches over to shake Selvig’s hand before placing his hand on your belly and leaning down to kiss you.

You chuckle, ecstatic. All of your stress has melted away and you can’t imagine how anything might bring you down from this high.

There’s a knock on the door.

As Doctor Selvig moves back around the screen to deliver his findings, Steve helps you sit up while Nat rushes to answer the door.

“What do you need?” Steve asks, scooting closer so that your side is pressed up against his chest, his arm extended behind you on the bed to help prop you up and support your weight. “Are you…okay?”

“He was very gentle.” You assure him.

“Good.” Steve smiles. “Good. I’m glad it’s over.”

The relief in his face is apparent. He’s so glad that the examination is done, and you don’t blame him.

“Are you hungry? I can have some food brought up here or to our room?” He offers.

Just as you’re about to tell him you’re fine, your stomach grumbles loudly.

Steve huffs a small laugh, reaching up with his other hand to smooth out a stray hair along your right temple.

“Are my loves absolutely starving?” He asks you, a slight teasing quality to his tone.

Your cheeks burning, you nod.

“You were so worried this morning; you really did eat like a little bird.” He points out. “I’ll have something brought up.”

He kisses your cheek then gets up to pull on the cord by the bed while you scooch over to the end of the bed and reach down to put your slippers back on.

“I’ll do that.” He fusses and hurries around to the end of the bed before dropping down onto one knee.

He takes your left slipper and coaxes your leg up, wrapping his large hand around your calf. His fingers tickle the skin there as he slides your shoe on. He does the right too and you can’t stop smiling.

“You’re a king.” You remind him. “You should not be on your knees.”

Steve smiles, his beautiful lips twisting up into a half smile as he runs both hands up from your ankles, calves, to rest behind your knees where he hooks them and pulls you a little closer.

“For you, my knees must bend. Only you.” He says, flooding your tummy with heat.

“Your Majesty?” Nat calls from the other side of the screen. “Lord Barnes and Wilson are here to see you. They say it’s urgent.”

Steve looks back at where her voice floats in from before breathing in deeply then sighing forlornly.

“Urgent?” You worry.

Steve looks at you, smiling sadly. “I suppose I can’t forgo everything forever for you, no matter how much I may want to.”

Caressing his bearded cheeks—which he grew out for you after you mentioned how much you missed his scruff—your heart aches just a little.

“If you must go, you must. But please stay out of danger? I only just got you back.” You stress.

Steve chuckles, amused by your worry.

“I’ve had worse, my petal. No matter what I face, with you waiting for me, how can I do anything but come back to you?” His attempt to reassure you is weak and he can see it in your pout because he gets up to sit beside you, wrapping your up in his arms. “I promise that I will not do anything reckless.”

“Truly?” You lean back to look up into his face.

“Yes. I promise.” He reaches down to rub your tummy, a loving caress as he leans down to kiss you silly.

His lips are soft and slow, his tongue coaxing your lips open as both of you lose yourselves in it.

Someone clears their throat, Bucky it sounds like.

“Your Majesty?” He urges.

Steve pulls away, a quiet smack, as you pull apart.

“I’m coming.” Steve says, voice deep. It penetrates your bones and makes you want to trap him back in your bedroom where you can ravish him and also keep him safe.

“Will you be alright without me?” He checks, and you see that he doesn’t want to leave you either.

This gives you comfort.

“I will cope. I won’t be alright until you return.” You admit.

“Then I shall return quickly.” Steve kisses you again quickly and with one final caress to your cheek he turns and leaves. “What’s happened?”

“More attacks in the South. I didn’t want to wake Thor.” Bucky says.

“No. Let him rest.” Steve agrees, their voices fading as they leave. “Peter, stay close to her Majesty until I return.”

“Will do, your Majesty!” Peter replies.

Nat pushes the screen away, revealing Steve’s wide shoulders as he moves down the long hallway on the other side of the open doorway, Bucky and Sam moving briskly at his side before they turn the corner and disappear from sight.

“I’ve ordered a feast for us.” Nat tells you. “I heard his Majesty ask if you were hungry.”

“Nat…”

“Don’t worry.” She offers you her hands and you take them. She pulls you to your feet then hooks your left through her right and begins to lead you out of the now empty room.

Lord Pierce and Ross must have left just after the examination.

“If he promised not to do anything reckless…” Nat thinks for a moment.

“Something tells me that he’s always a bit reckless.” You frown.

“Looks like you’ve gotten to know your husband a bit more.” She praises. “But if he promised you…he will keep it.”

You frown, not really believing her.

“Are you ready for our day of self-indulgence and bonding?” Nat offers, smiling at you with those green eyes of hers betraying no worry. “Are you ready to hear my truth?”

In all the craziness of your examination, you’d almost forgotten Nat’s promise to tell you why she cried when you asked her to be Godmother to your little one. Now it’s all that matters.

#king!steve x reader #king!steve x reader fanfiction #king!steve x you #steve x reader #steve x reader fanfiction #steve x you #steve rogers x reader #marvel fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #medieval au #medieval fantasy au #royalty au #marvel au #mcu au #pseudo princess #pseudo princess pt24

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ylaskayekaterina · 3 years

Text

Traitor

What have I done wrong?

What did I do?

Those are the words swirling in Denali's mind.

How could she?

How-----

How am I not still enough?

It was on the news, on the lips of everyone she knew and faceless strangers.

HEADLINE: The young Broadway star Rosé and the new and upcoming pop star diva Olivia Lux shared a kiss at the red-carpet last night!

Dread and hurt has spread like wildfire in her entire body.

The words are everywhere, In her twitter, her Facebook, her Instagram hell---- even her tumblr and stan account. The font might be different and some headlines might have different captions but it only tells her one thing. She kissed somebody else, somebody else who wasn't her.

Denali didn't know she was gasping for air until she saw that Kahmora was calling her, with shaky hands she declined the call. Then Mik started ringing her up to until all their mutual friends are leaving her messages and calling her.

She read every single article, watched every video that was associated with Rosé and Olivia. She knew their little set up can end up like this, knew the possibility that Rosé might fall in love with somebody new when she tours all over the world whilst she was in Chicago. She felt like she was stuck in a vast of nothingness.

Even when she closes her eyes she can still see the headlines vividly.

Rosés management actually wanted them to break up they advised that to Rosé but she resisted said that if she says yes to their every whim then what would she stand for. For Denali that was a declaration of love but thinking about it now, if she really did love her why fight for her then only to ruin her now? Only to rip her heart in pieces and shred her soul into shreds.

She could respect her decision if she decided to leave her for something greater, for her dream. She has always imagined how Rosé would leave her but never in this shade of betrayal.

Rosés management told her that it's only wise to break up since it will be an advantage for her career, She almost let go of Rosé because she wanted the best for her but she fought against it. She said that without Denali this is all for nothing. So they compromised and hid their relationship to the media.

It's not like she doesn't know this is coming, she knows but she shrugged it off in the back of her mind, tossed into the darkest realms of her worst fears. She can tell that Olivia was in love with her Rosie, she saw the long glances she gave her girlfriend, the way she just let her hand linger a little bit longer in Rosés shoulder, the way that she always seems to ask for Rosé. She knows, she knows.

Maybe it was her fault for not talking to her girlfriend about, for shrugging it off. The white lies, the phone calls they kept in Rosés private phone, the way she instantly always nods when she spit out white lies outright to her face. Maybe it was all her fault for always trying to excuse her girlfriend’s actions.

She thought she would wail and scream until her throat become soar, surprisingly. She doesn’t cry, she just stared in oblivion whilst clutching her chest, she badly wants to talk to her to try and understand why she did this to her when the only thing she did in the entirety of their relationship is to love her.

It's not like nobody has told her about this their mutual friends has told her their opinions about the set up even Rosé's sister Jan and Lagoona has utter their share of suspicions about Olivia but she shrugged it off and maybe she shouldn't have.

This betrayal is a long time coming, the cold lonely nights, the empty bed she comes home to every night and the fact that they haven’t talked for almost a month now has finally led to its course.

She knew that it might come to this when Rosé told her about the showmance that her and Olivia would be playing up for the cameras but her trust for her girlfriend always suffices her doubts.

Rosé started to call her multiple times but she just sat there and closed her eyes. She declined all her calls and took out her suitcase.

For a brief moment she just stared at the ceiling wandering why her first impulse was not to talk to Rosé and fix them because that was the routine that they're used to. For a brief moment a sense of panic arises in her and that made her want to call Rosé.

She wanted to scream at her, to get mad but at the end she decided against it.

She types out a text to Mik and Kahmora telling them to come to their apartment. A few minutes later they arrive with worried faces and chocolate chip cookies ice cream in tow.

When they saw her suitcase, they shared a worried glance at each other.

I only smiled at them and utter a thank you for getting at my place at such short notice.

"We brought ice cream and also I hope you don't mind but---" Mik sentence was cut short when Jan and Jackie appeared at her doorstep

Jan hugged her tightly and Jackie pulls her away.

"Thank you for coming guys, Help me pack?" I mutter with a grin that show my dimples.

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thequibblah · 4 years

Note

Fic prompt 27 in fluff or 20 in angst. 😘

lmao sorry this is 3853847 years late but i wrote #20 here. no more prompts please!

“Don’t fuck up the plan,” are the first words James hears when he walks into the room.

“Hello to you too,” he tells Trevor, taking his seat on the far side of the table, fourth from the head.

Trevor shrugs. “Just passing on the message.”

“The message came from me. It was my bloody message.”

Trevor obviously doesn’t believe it. “You?”

“This is a comic relief venture,” Sirius informs him, one seat down from James. (God, he really did oversleep, if Sirius made it in before him. Start of term tends to do that to James, though he’s otherwise very much a morning person.)

“It’s a comic relief venture to throw the president a surprise welcome-back party?” says Trevor, still incredulous. “I thought this was Dorcas’s doing.”

“If it goes well, I helped,” Dorcas chirps. “If not, it was all them.”

To be fair, James understands, even though Trevor must be the only one complaining about a surprise party in the first week of the new term. He and Sirius are the comic relief on their student council, so their schemes tend to be dubious.

That’s not a metaphor or anything. While others were elected to specific positions, such as Dorcas the freshers liaison or Trevor the secretary, the two of them were specifically elected to keep things fun. In James’s opinion, though, this is one of the most beautiful time-honoured traditions of Gryffindor College, and he would never, ever violate it. Most importantly he would never, ever violate it and fuck with Lily Evans, Gryffindor College JCR president, at the same time.

Truthfully, the point is just to have a day-drinking event, but that’s far too simple for James and Sirius. Also, James might be twenty years old, but he’s well aware that he hasn’t outgrown his desire to impress Lily. Remus calls it near-pathological.

Whatever. It’s a character flaw he’s working on.

So they’ve staged this elaborate tableau: a meeting called not by Lily but by the vice president, the alcohol hidden underneath the famed JCR table (with the Gryffindor lion carved onto its surface, allegedly so that students can’t use it for beer pong), the other students told to stand by for the sound of confetti cannons.

The confetti cannons were James’s idea. He’s proud of that.

“Abigail, did you bring the food?” Peter’s asking, frowning down the length of the table.

“Shit, I forgot them in the kitchen—”

“The food, of all things,” says Dorcas, exasperated. She jumps to her feet. “Right, come on, all hands on deck. I’m not ferrying trays back and forth.”

“I believe in one-trip shopping bag runs,” says Sirius, following her out the door.

“Don’t start without us,” says Remus.

“I’ll hold down the fort,” James says belatedly. Everyone’s already left.

Restless, he too stands and paces around the table. He picks up a stray confetti cannon, juggling it between his hands as he walks. Shopping for the cannons was a trip — they’re advertised bizarrely, with the most detailed descriptions of what the confetti within them will be like. Perfectly-shaped strips of fine crepe paper, weird shit like that. James can’t pinpoint why they make him vaguely uncomfortable. These cannons are called glitter bombs. That’s weird in and of itself, but he’s too preoccupied to consider it.

It’s their final year at Hogwarts, which means he and his mates have a to-do list longer than his tutorial syllabi. But between all the Gryffindor College bucketlist items is one that’s a touch more personal. This is the year he’ll finally untangle his feelings for Lily Evans.

It’s not as though he’s ever been particularly subtle. Subtle isn’t really in his vocabulary. But, well, Lily doesn’t really pick up what he puts down, so to speak. Whether that’s because of what’s happened in the past, he can’t say.

Then again, he doesn’t want to be that guy — the guy who awkwardly comes on to a girl he saw in school, years later, only to discover that she cares not a whit for him after all and any residual awkwardness is from the fact that she cares not a whit for him after all rather than lingering romantic tension.

He really hopes it’s lingering romantic tension, though.

James is never uncertain. He’s not a second-guesser; rarely does he even think before he speaks or acts. But given his history with Lily, overthinking is absolutely the play.

“Am I early?”

He whirls around, the confetti cannon still in hands. It’s Lily in the doorway, because of course, and he is holding the confetti cannon. James is certain he looks like he’s been caught red-handed mid-heist, not just because that’s fairly accurate, but because a small, amused smile is playing at her lips.

“Er,” James says, “Dorcas wanted everyone’s help bringing in meeting snacks.”

“That’d be a lot of meeting snacks,” says Lily, walking over to the throne-like chair at the head of the table and taking her seat. “James?”

He turns to face her, his heart thumping as wildly and as stupidly as though he’s seventeen again. “Yep?”

“Why do you have a confetti cannon?”

“Oh, this.” James looks down at it like he hadn’t realised he had it at all. “It’s a glitter bomb, actually.”

Her smile widens. That has been the best thing about this week, in his opinion. It’s her first week as JCR president, and she’s so bloody thrilled, the sort of upbeat envied by cartoon princesses everywhere. It’s impossible not to be buoyed just by her presence.

“Why do you have a glitter bomb?” Lily says.

“We’ve got a big prank planned,” says James. He sits down in the chair next to her, which is several seats closer to her than he usually is at meetings.

“Oh?”

“Oh, yes. We’ll set off this...glitter bomb.”

This is it, James thinks. This is the day he finally tells his mother she’s right for saying he ought to have learned impulse control and how to filter his thoughts.

Lily motions for him to hand it over. “Give it here.”

“What? No. It’s my glitter bomb.”

“Come on, you’ve got a whole stash over there.” She motions to the mantel, on which some absolutely idiotic motherfucker has left the entire bag of confetti cannons and-or glitter bombs. That definitely was not James’s doing. (It was.)

“It’s very important that the glitter bombs only go off when, er, when everyone’s in the room,” James says. There, he’s fixed his own derailment of the plan.

“Well, why not?” And to his dismay — but, simultaneously, his delight — Lily skips over to the mantel and grabs a confetti cannon of her own.

She’s just retaken her seat when the others troop back in, party snacks in hand. If James was worried that his own poker face was too transparent, theirs are a thousand times worse. Everyone freezes at the sight of Lily. Peter’s mouth falls open as though he’s never seen her before. Abigail looks as though she might cry at the spoiled surprise.

Sirius strolls through the lot of them and collapses into his seat, setting down his tray of crisps.

“You don’t have to wait for my invitation,” Lily says to the rest.

James doesn’t move, because surely there’s some way to salvage the situation. That is, he can salvage it from right here, with Lily leaning forward next to him, her flowery perfume filling the air. Apparently everyone else is so unsure how to act that he’s allowed to keep this seat.

“Dorcas is on the way,” says Trevor, which James takes to mean Dorcas is on the way and will kill you if this goes wrong.

“Is she,” says Lily mildly, shooting James a conspiratorial look.

Oh, no.

Awkward conversation finally breaks out among the others. Lily kicks him under the table. “Count us down when she walks in,” she whispers.

“That’s...not a very...” But his voice dries up. How can he say it’s a bad idea, when she’s obviously so excited by something as small as a confetti cannon? Lily Evans loves being JCR president. And James Potter, as elected comic relief, isn’t there to spoil anyone’s fun.

Dorcas arrives carrying an entire stack of trays. What, James wonders, was the point of taking the whole room with her if she was going to haul all of that herself? Her eyes go wide as saucers as soon as she spots her friend.

When Lily kicks James under the table again, it’s less of a kick and more of a nudge. His resolve, worn down as it is, vanishes altogether.

She nudges him again. He sets off the glitter bomb perfectly on cue. The sound of both cannons going off at once is deafening.

“Surprise!” says Lily.

Dorcas shrieks. The JCR doors — which she’s left open — are suddenly full of whooping students, speakers already blasting music. James is honestly impressed. The council members are on their feet at once, Trevor included.

Well, that might be because of the glitter just as much as the music.

“So they weren’t confetti cannons,” says James, frowning. “Bloody Amazon scammers.”

Over the sound of a thrumming aughties hit, he vaguely hears Dorcas wail, “Why the hell is there glitter everywhere?!”

But James isn’t paying attention at all, because Lily — speckled with said glitter — is laughing beside him, one hand on his arm (how and when did that happen?). Emboldened by this bizarre turn of events, he ducks his head to shout in her ear, “Save me a dance for later, will you?”

Her grin turns sly. “Why not right now?”

#jily #jily fanfiction #jily fanfic #jily fic #constancezin #me: why write a drabble when you can write exposition with a side of fluff instead #i hope this is remotely enjoyable #ask me

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misssophiachase · 4 years

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Sequel for how to save a life please

Sorry for the delay nonnie. You got it, here goes...For anyone who didn’t read part 1 you can catch it on AO3 HERE - Let me know what you think.

In the last part Caroline showed up hungover for her first day as a surgical intern only to discover her drinking buddy and one-night-stand is none other than her attending and famed neurosurgeon, Dr Klaus Mikaelson.

Original Synopsis from nonnie’s prompt: Caroline as Meredith Grey and Klaus as Derek Shepherd.

How to Save a Life - part 2

Monday 6am

“I’m going to kill him,” she growled, holding her syringe precariously so it looked like she was cocking a firearm instead.

It had been a twenty-eight hour shift so far and she decided to blame it on that if they decided to report her for malpractice or for ‘accidentally’ killing an attending.

“Easy, tiger,” Kol offered, lowering her arm in the process. “I’m only an intern but maybe we should be conserving the life saving drugs for the actual patients. You know, just a thought.”

“Cute,” she drawled by way of response. Caroline wasn’t hungover this time, which was definitely a bonus, but it didn’t stop Doctor know-it-all from sharing his opinion more than a few times throughout her never-ending shift.

“No Dr Forbes, not that way Dr Forbes, listen carefully Dr Forbes,” he’d chide, except he sounded so sexy and authoritative when he called her Dr Forbes. And that was every shift, not just this one. If he didn’t have such a pretty face, she’d most likely slap him, even if it was frowned upon in the workplace.

“Trust me, I’ve been in your position too many times to count and letting him get to you is not the way to handle things,” Kol broke into her Klaus Mikaelson trance, which was probably a good thing.

But then his words caught her attention. Too many times to count? It was only day nine. What exactly had Kol done to earn his wrath in that short amount of time?

Caroline looked at him curiously, besides his first name she didn’t know much about her fellow intern, except the fact he liked to talk a lot when most people weren’t interested in hearing what he had to say. He’d also taken an instant liking to Bonnie which definitely hadn’t gone unnoticed.

“Who are you?”

“Just your friendly, fellow intern who has impeccable hygiene,” he offered, sending her his most dazzling smile. “And while we’re on the topic.”

“Of you having impeccable hygiene?”

“Yes,” he answered. Caroline, meanwhile, still had no idea where this was going. She consulted her watch to hurry him up given she knew how much he liked to talk. “I understand you have a room for rent and I happen to be looking for a place to stay.”

Obviously word of her mom’s large house had made the rounds. Yes, she’d been looking for a third roommate but didn’t expect it to be Kol. Given both Bonnie and Kat were living in her upstairs bedrooms, Caroline wasn’t so sure it was a good idea.

“Kol, now’s not the best time...”

“I can pay you three months of rent in advance and my share of the utilities?”

Now, that proposal caught her attention. Caroline needed money and fast. But at the same time who was this guy? And why did he have so much money to spare? Most of them were struggling to get by given the hefty school loans they had to repay.

Which brought her back to his proposal and how much she needed it. She’d just have to explain to Kat and Bonnie that she had no choice and surely they’d understand her dilemma. Well, hopefully.

“Okay, fine,” she relented. “But we’ll do it on a trial basis. Four weeks and, if that hygiene isn’t anything short of spectacular I’ll be kicking you out much sooner.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he saluted. Caroline figured most responsible people would interview someone and at least get one reference but she was far too distracted by the attending to focus on proper process.

As if on cue, Enzo was already bellowing at them from down the hall to get their asses into gear. Caroline wondered just what the patients must think of the spectacle.

“Hang on, what’s your last name?” She asked, thinking she should probably know that if they were going to be living together, but he was already making his way dutifully towards the sound of the dictator’s voice.

She’d get to the bottom of that once her shift was over. As well as drinking a much-needed glass of wine or six, her memories of that recent hangover after doing the nasty with the overbearing attending well and truly forgotten.

Until next time, of course.

“Nice of you to join us, Forbes,” he barked. “Dr Mikaelson has requested you join him at MRI.”

“Me?”

“I don’t think anyone else goes by that name, Forbes,” he growled, emphasising her surname for added effect.

“Maybe someone else could..” she could see Bonnie and Kat trying to silence her with their eyes. She wouldn’t hear the end of this after their shift.

“If you don’t get up there right now I’ll send you to do that enema. Remember Mrs Jones from last night? You know the patient that hasn’t...” Caroline didn’t need to be told twice given just what she’d have her hands elbow deep in.

“Took your time, Dr Forbes. I’m just glad this wasn’t an emergency.” He hadn’t even turned his head and was too busy consulting the on-screen images.

Rather than trying to explain herself and the fact she’d run from the ground floor ER to MRI in record time she decided to keep her thoughts to herself. Professionalism and all that, even if he was an ass.

She made her way by his side, trying to ignore just how good he smelled from this close proximity. It was a problem she’d experienced too many times to count.

“What do you see?” He asked, finally turning to look at her.

She was momentarily caught off guard given the way those navy scrubs brought out his eyes. Caroline closed her eyes briefly reminding herself that this was too important. This was work and he was her superior. Nothing else.

If only memories of their night together weren’t still so vivid and causing places to stir that really shouldn’t be stirring right now. Caroline was pretty certain if her mother was looking down on her right now she’d be extremely disappointed.

But she needed to concentrate for the patient’s sake.

“There seems to be a tumour in the left hemisphere of the cerebrum,” she noted, pointing to the screen.

“Can you tell if it is cancerous or benign?” She looked at it again closely wondering if he saw something she hadn’t, he was the neurosurgeon after all. It was too easy to second guess herself but Caroline knew she needed to own her diagnoses.

“I can’t tell from the scan.” She really hoped that was the right answer, especially given she’d been awake over 32 hours straight.

“So, based on that diagnosis, what is the required course of action, Dr Forbes?”

“Biopsy surgery.”

“And what does that entail?”

“Obtaining brain tissue samples to diagnose whether the tumour is cancerous or benign.”

“Good work, Dr Forbes,” he murmured. “I want you to scrub into the surgery.” Caroline looked at him incredulously. Trying to figure out if he had a motive but at the same time really hoping he didn’t.

“You deserve this,” he murmured kindly. Not like everything she’d experienced so far in his presence. “As much as I like to give you a hard time on the floor, you are a quick learner and you work hard. But, not gonna lie, that attitude needs some work.”

“Okay,” she replied quietly thinking the attitude was probably sexual frustration but didn’t want to share that with him. “But I fully expect you to tell me when I’m not doing a good job. I happen to be a lot more resilient than you think I am.”

“And that’s why I like you.”

Caroline decided she needed to leave the room quickly before she said or did something she might regret. Like throw her arms around him or kiss him. She was still learning how to deal with a superior she’d done the nasty with after all.

“I’ll see you in surgery,” she offered, walking out of the room, not bothering to respond or look back. She decided it was safer that way.

9 hours later...

“My butt cheeks have gone to sleep,” Kat groaned, her head hitting the bar. “I was tasked with just watching someone and that shit hurts, let me tell you.”

“Consider yourself lucky, Pierce, have you monetarily lost your hearing due to the wailings from the patient in 3A?” Kol shot back, tipping back a whiskey for his trouble.

“No, I was too busy trying to pretend I was professional during that x-ray of someone sticking random things up his, well you know what,” Bonnie shared, albeit quietly.

“You do realise you’re a surgeon and a doctor so anatomy is not a dirty subject...”

“Call it a professional courtesy,” she huffed.

“I think Bon Bon here is definitely in the wrong career, just saying.”

“If I needed your opinion Kol, I’d ask for it,” she growled.

“For the love of god, Kol,” Caroline groaned, swirling the red wine in her glass and trying not to fall into its hypnotic tendencies. “I’m barely alive here.”

“Says the girl who scrubbed into surgery today.”

This is what Caroline was worried about, the fact her friends would think it was blatant favouritism. She didn’t sign up for that. At least they didn’t about what happened with Dr Mikaelson and for that she was grateful.

“Yeah with Dr McYummy”

“Who?”

“It’s what all the nurses call him,” Kat shared. “I really think it could take off hospital-wide.”

Caroline wasn’t sure if she wanted it to and weirdly Kol seemed freaked out at the prospect too given his outraged expression.

“Or it could be one of those things that you accidentally blurt out during surgery. Like ‘here’s the scalpel, Dr McYummy’ and that’s just asking for trouble and a demotion for being unprofessional.”

Trust Bonnie to see the sense in it all.

“I’m with you Bonnie,” Kol offered. “Better we don’t equate any names with any of the attendings.” Seems like the two most expected to disagree had finally agreed on something. Hopefully that would soften the blow when Caroline decided to reveal they were all rooming together.

Caroline was still trying to get her head around everything she’d done the past ten hours, glad that she had a day off before her next shift to properly focus. And to finally get some sleep. Until it happened.

“Kol!” She looked up towards the sound.

“There goes my reputation,” her fellow intern muttered.

“Can I buy you a drink?” Caroline was trying to reconcile the intrusion in her half asleep state. But when Klaus approached their table she knew things were unfolding and not in a good way.

“And you wonder why I was so glad to move in with you,” Kol whispered before their attending appeared in all his glory. Something she wasn’t expecting and was trying to .

“So, you two know each other?” She asked, probably against her better judgment.

“Siblings,” Kol offered gingerly.

“And you two?” Klaus asked, his expression telling her he was trying not to show his jealously but killing his brother wouldn’t be out of the question.

“We live together.”

If this was supposed to feel awkward then it really did now.

#klaroline fanfiction #klaroline fanfic #klaroline #how to save a life #misssophiachase

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