#‘⠀THIS CONSTANT COMPROMISE BETWEEN THINKING AND BREATHING ( MUSINGS ) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cryptiql · 3 years

Text

cherry starbursts

pairing: bakugou/reader (male reader in mind but is gender neutral)

warnings: none, i think?? lots of cussing though, courtesy of lord explosion murder

words: 3.6k

a/n: yuzuya's audios giving me so much brainrot...gonna be thinking about this all week. also the way this started out as god tier writing but gradually turned into shit at the end 🏃 nonetheless, i hope i did this gremlin man justice </3

a contemplative hum tickles your throat as you observe the paragraph laid out before you, the pads of your fingers tingling as you trail them across the pages. on the occasions where you've found your nose nestled deep within them, a muted scent of pears and sawdust would invade your senses, and the urge to rest your head in the plains of your chemistry textbook would become overwhelming. however, the threat of being cuffed over the head by a rolled up magazine makes you think twice about slacking off, so you begrudgingly slump back into your seat with a resigned huff. the clock in your dorm is no doubt ticking away like always; the second hand rounding at great speeds while the minute and hour hands crawl by at a sluggish pace; but you aren't there to hear it.

instead, you reside in bakugou's room, basking in the unencumbered atmosphere created solely by his diligent efforts to keep his space clean and organized. it's just the way he is, you have to remind yourself. not because you stubbed your toe on his dumbbells last week and he felt sufficiently guilty as to make sure nothing was in your path the next time you visited. that would be silly. all that considered, bakugou's room isn't much different from your own—save for the few comfort objects brought from home that give off a hospitable air—but the lack of stimulus it holds is apparent. anything that could disturb your tranquil study date has either been stored away or placed beyond your reach.

damn him, the bastard! he's completely oblivious, you silently muse, bracing your elbows on the desk to plant your face in the palms of your hands. you chastise yourself at the same moment for forgetting your headphones, but in your defense, bakugou screaming for you to hurry up had prompted a hasty departure. if he had the patience to wait two more minutes. . .

rather than finishing the thought, you pull the textbook closer, hoping that somehow the enlarged print will stick to your brain like a temporary tattoo. you only need this information long enough to pass the exam, but once it's over, you swear you'll never mention anything chemistry related unless it's the bond between you and your neighbor. the idle scratching of pencil led against paper erupts from his side of the room, lessening the static in your head by a fraction, but it doesn't last. he mutters something unintelligible under his breath as you spin in your chair to look at him in desperation.

he remains ignorant for the next minute or so, only glancing up at you briefly before returning to his notes. your nostrils flare as you reach down to untangle your laces and pull off your shoe. you chickened out last time this happened, but being ignored has successfully fed the flames of your frustration, and you simply will not stand for it any longer. you blame your sleep-addled mentality for the lack of better aim, but it stokes your pride when bakugou flinches as your shoe hurdles past his shoulder.

"the hell was that for, dumbass!?" he growls, his eyes narrowing into slits. you respond with a high pitched whine; one that would be considered overexaggerated in his opinion, but in yours, was perfectly reasonable when being held against your will to study a subject that has no business being this tedious. "sukiii, i'm booored."

the blonde makes a 'tch' sound, positioning his arm in a warning manner before throwing his pencil at you, which you manage to catch easily. you revel in the deflated expression he wears, twirling the pencil between your fingers and kicking a leg over one arm of the chair. all this, while never breaking eye contact, was sure to break through to him. you're hopeful, what with the way katsuki's gaze—gradually failing to hide his infatuation—travels over your build from head to toe. whether because you giggle at his reaction or decide to kick your feet like a giddy child, he snaps out of his trance with an all too familiar scowl and shuts his own textbook with unnecessary force. his demanding stare is fixated on you as he tosses it haphazardly to the edge of the bed.

"give me back my pencil, idiot." he completely ignores your previous statement and jumps straight into business, as always. "give me back my shoe first, hot stuff." you challenge, smirking in a way that you very well know gets him hot under the collar. the teasing endearment will either put the odds in your favor; earning you your shoe as desired, and perhaps the lovely little blush that often dusts his face whenever you flirt with him; or seal your fate in hell where the everlasting flames may burn similarly, if not just as hotter than bakugou's explosions. it has taken years of practice to uphold your smug attitude in the face of his unyielding rage; nose wrinkled and canines grinding. even now, he is the image of perfection—a powerful god emblazoned in brimstone and baneful inferno—and you, a mere lover of art. after a moment, bakugou's resolve seems to falter. his piecing glare relents only slightly to give way for a pensive expression as he sighs, gently rubbing along the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. he throws you your shoe while standing from the bed, and as you slip it on, he shuffles over to his clothes drawer to pull out his own pair of sneakers. this prompts you to raise a brow inquisitively, but your silent question is left unanswered up until bakugou claps a hand on your shoulder and grumbles.

"c'mon, i'm fucking starving. there's a seven eleven nearby that's got spicy ramen."

and just like that, all thoughts pertaining to the test have been pulverized to dust by katsuki's unrelenting fists. the promise of food after hours of relentless mental abuse has you brushing off the sudden change of inclination in seconds, meanwhile the hothead to your right mulls over it during your trek through the empty hallways, stuffing his arms into the holes of his jacket. he had been able to overlook your constant fidgeting and intermittent noises of vexation, but too soon it became obvious that you weren't getting anywhere with the session. he would have simply offered to help if not for his own inability to concentrate, which had made itself known within the last half hour when he caught himself staring at you between taking notes. so what if he found your pouting cute? just maybe, he had started to fall in love with the way your brows furrowed at the instance of a misunderstood question; the absentminded tugging of your earlobe; the way your eyes looked without seeing, as if the smallest things held the greatest importance. sure, the tapping of your nails against a desk was a bit much, but he could always put a stop to your fretting by lacing your fingers together and kissing the back of your hand. just maybe, your bashful reactions made him want to hold you closer; to see you lounging across his lap—a throne befitting for a king—with your rose hued cheeks nestled in the crook of his neck.

not that you needed to know any of that. no fucking way would he endow another reason for you to tease him when the list was already so long.

curfew isn't for another hour, but bakugou would rather not waste time dawdling, so he uses this as reasoning for hooking your arm with his and practically hauling you out the exit. he mutters something about you being "too fucking slow" and "leaving you behind if you don't keep up", but the fact that he's dragging you along at all shows that he would have no problem resorting to desperate matters. the right amount of groveling and or compromising might mean a piggyback ride to the store, but regardless of how tempting the idea is, you decide not to further burden your friend with carrying you.

the towering shape of heights alliance becomes more and more like a speck of dust as your journey continues, the weight of your thoughts heavy on your already weary mind. you eye katsuki's side profile, noting the distinct lack of malice upon his handsome features, and smile softly to yourself. friend. it was the first word that occurred to you, albeit the least desirable and in no way comparable to the term that caused your heart to flutter within the confinements of your ribcage.

you aren't together. you don't know if you'll ever be, but when the the milieu; brimming with chaotic screams, booming laughter and disorderly merriment belonging to that of your closest friends; is whisked from the narrative, katsuki looks at you differently. whatever fragments of disdain and spite tend to crumble within the first few seconds and are replaced by an emotion that was unheard of ever having manifested in the depths of his vermillion hues. it holds a semblance to adoration, perhaps even respect, and for as long as you can recall, that is all you've wanted to see from him: to be regarded like no other.

sure, it's not like how you dreamed—he isn't very affectionate in public, though you doubt he would be even if you were together, and it always stings when he shrugs your affections off with a deriding comment—but that's just it. it's not a dream. after every scornful remark; after the day has passed and the dwindling moon takes its place in the evening sky, breaking through the curtains of his dorm; he'll kiss your hand, your blooming cheeks, your lips, all to atone for it. where no one else can see, he treats you like a divine being, and part of you wishes to think that it's because he's selfish. a bit of possessiveness has lead to many nights of a shared bed, ruffled sheets and smothering cuddles, but who are you to complain? everything he gives you is more real than any well-constructed reverie.

he may not be yours, and you may not be his, but no one else will suffice for either of you, and that is the unspoken truth.

the minimal bitterness in the autumn breeze makes for a refreshing atmosphere with the only discontent being the hunger that claws at your stomach. bakugou has never been merciful towards anyone, let alone the self-acclaimed nuisance who interrupts his studying with half-baked plans of adventure, but you're ever so grateful for the rare times where he is.

you know you won't have to wait long now that the smell of milk bread and takoyaki trickles into the air, much like the faint pitter patter of raindrops on the concrete. the shower is horribly ill-timed, but you hardly mind, especially when the droplets cling to bakugou's eyelashes like crystalline gemstones; glimmering faintly with every blink as they catch the suns rays. it settles below the horizon, only a sliver of golden yellow to be seen dancing in the tree boughs above, and the fuck if the way it illuminates your not-boyfriend's visage isn't absolutely breathtaking. the glimpse of honeyed skin and kissable lips—pulled into a pensive pout—draws you in deeper, and deeper, and oh god i've been caught—

"you got a staring problem, dumbass?" he grumbles, a roseal color dusting his ears that he swears is from the cold.

even his offensive nicknames are laced with an abnormal tenderness, and knowing that you're the only one with the privilege to hear it causes your chest to swell with delight. you nibble your bottom lip, hoping that it will somehow hide the fleet of giggles bubbling in your throat, but it does no such thing. "yeah, it's weird. whenever i see something beautiful, i just feel compelled to stare at it."

you don't need to look at him to know you've struck a nerve, but you do anyways, and his face grows redder under the intensity of your teasing leer. he sputters, curses falling from past his lips like a waterfall, and rips his arm from your grasp to cradle it as if you've burned him. any sane person would have backed down the second mini explosions began flaring up from his palms, however, you are perhaps the exact opposite, as to be expected when surrounding yourself with the infamous bakusquad, who (excluding bakugou) procured one braincell to share amongst themselves. years of having to put up with and, by extension, learn how to effectively handle bakugou's fits have proven to be time well spent.

you remain none the wiser to the concerned stares of others as he spouts a line of insults; incomprehensible from behind his curled fist pressed tightly to his mouth.

"you-you can't just say that kinda shit out loud, dumbass!" and although he may seem mad, he's already dragging you down the street. you test your luck by huddling closer and resting your chin on his shoulder, your steady pace never faltering.

"is the katsuki bakugou stumbling over his words from a little compliment?" it almost feels like you've won, but then the blonde proceeds to cover your face with his still damp hand. the little shit had timed it perfectly so that your open mouth would taste the saltiness of his sweat—quite the contrary to its sugary caramel aroma—and if you weren't so preoccupied by the resonance of his cackling laugh, you might have spent the rest of the trip gagging and complaining about the whole ordeal. he hardly seems bothered, wiping your saliva on his trousers and going forth with that customary lumbering strut, which always has you torn between fawning, chortling or questioning if he has fucking weights down his pants.

nonetheless, you can't help but murmur how cute he looks as you swing your free arm in tune with your steps.

by the time you've arrived at the shop, the sun has long since disappeared; welcoming hues of purple, navy blue and hints of orange to dapple the heavens, along with the foretelling of stars. you can't begin to describe how lucky you are to be living in a city with such beautiful scenery, even when the thin clouds of smog from factories often hinder your view of it. the fluorescent lights from the 'open' sign flash sporadically, casting a cobalt glow to dance across your dazed expression. katsuki watches with intent, chuckling at how easily distracted you can get as he tugs you inside by the cloth of your shirt.

the person behind the cash register spares a customary greeting before returning to their magazine, and bakugou makes a beeline for the intended isle, something akin to excitement radiating from him. he wears it much differently, and it resembles is go-to callous guise in almost every way, but you're able to detect the slight shift in demeanor as if its the easiest thing in the world. you hardly register that he's removed himself from you until the distance grows too large to ignore, and you shuffle over to the place beside him with a newfound adrenaline. the crisp air of the corner store heightens your senses as you tap your foot to the pop song playing overhead.

the only other sound is of katsuki examining the ramen and deciding what level of spice he should get, encouraging you to ponder what sort of hellish nightmare he has planned for the rest of the group. it was just last week when he dared kaminari to try some of the noodles, and the poor boy had spent ten minutes weeping in snot-nosed agony that you would have to be insane to put something that hot in your mouth. bakugou had laughed at his misery and carried on eating with vigor, mocking the others for their weak taste buds.

after a beat of silence, you decide to test your luck again by poking is shoulder, as well as batting your eyelashes at him and cocking your head to the side.

"can we get some candy?"

bakugou waves his hand dismissively, which is all the conformation you need before rounding the corner to peruse the variety of sweets on display. you immediately spot the marked parcels of sour gumdrops and assorted licorice and giggle to yourself as you pick them out, unaware of the gentle smile the blonde wears in regards to your child-like glee.

"yeah, just don't eat it all in one sitting. you go through that shit way too fast—it's unhealthy."

you won't bother commenting on his strict, motherly advisement, because you know it's in his best interest. he's grumbled about "stuffing your body with all that garbage" on numerous occasions, and while the hypocrisy might have annoyed you at one point ("and i assume gouging yourself on spicy ramen is completely different?") you realized rationing your candy would benefit both your health and your wallet. you nod, despite knowing he can't see, and idly feel for your back pocket, wondering just how much katsuki plans to stock up. money isn't exactly an issue, so you suppose it doesn't matter, but the amount of packets he normally brings back is downright criminal.

"don't be shy," he eventually says, "i'm buying. you're responsible enough not to buy out the whole store, right?"

your confusion overwhelms the urge to roll your eyes at his sarcasm, but there also lies a hint of elation that he would offer to buy.

"i figured i'd be paying as compensation for messing with you." you stand on the tips of your toes to poke your head over the isle, feeling very tempted to ruffle his hair whilst he gathers the packages of ramen into his basket.

"nah, you can pay me back in some other way." his eyes flick upwards to meet your devilish smirk, and he turns away with an affronted noise, blood rushing to his cheeks.

"oh? i can't wait to see what you have in mind~."

and there go the sparks. they last but a few moments before katsuki composes himself, presumably because he realizes making a scene won't help the situation, but he still throws a glare at you from a distance as he beckons you closer. it seems like he's gotten all he needs, so you hastily grab whatever sweets are left on your mental list and rush back to the counter. a comfortable silence sits between you both as your items are checked out, and in that time, you observe the significant difference between pre-late-night-shopping-run bakugou and food-deprived-study-date bakugou. his shoulders are more relaxed, as is his facial appearance, and you'll be damned if you ever forget the way he smiles when he catches you looking from his peripheral vision.

it's soft and unguarded and leaves you struggling for breath as he waits for the cashier to turn away, then promptly laces your fingers together. what? katsuki takes the bag and pulls you effortlessly; like a ragdoll; a mere toy at his disposal; out into the brisk evening. his thumb brushes the back of your hand, making you jump in surprise at the suddenness of it, and he titters freely. what? the streetlamps glint brightly, flickering at random intervals as you travel onward at a leisurely pace. the roads closest to U.A. aren't as packed as the ones deeper into the city, and thus you are the only two souls to be found, save for the few cars that speed by under the faint luminescence of nearing traffic lights. katsuki squeezes your palm, then slithers his hand out of your hold to replace it at your waist, methodically caressing the skin there in a way that has your knees buckling. you sputter witlessly, attempting to catch the thoughts that flee from your mind like birds to the wind. the blonde is nothing less than ecstatic to be the reason for your flustered state, and he takes full advantage of it by leaning in and hovering his mouth just inches from your own.

"i'll take my payment now." and oh lord, you think. he doesn't have to ask me twice. your lips collide with his, molding together like melted toffee; just as sweet and addictive. you've shared kisses before; ones that left you bruised and scrambling for a coverup the next day; ones that felt like fire but were tinged with honey that soothed your throat; fleeting ones that were never enough. you were sure that your need for affection would never truly be satiated unless it was from the boy you held most dear, and with the moon as your sole witness, katsuki was happy to oblige.

"starbursts. . ." he huffs after pulling away, massaging your hip to subdue your dissatisfied hum. "you taste like cherry starbursts."

he doesn't seem to mind by the way he leans in for another kiss, and another, and another, until you're a jittery mess in his arms. you press against his chest, a wistful sigh escaping you when you part once more.

"not that i'm complaining, but where's this coming from? you're usually not so touchy." the last bit of your utterance trails off as bakugou presses his lips to your forehead and keeps them there. moments pass, and when he finally pulls away, its to hide his blush by walking ahead of you. "i should be able to kiss my partner whenever i please, shouldn't i?" he doesn't even give you a chance to catch up, because his words have you rooted to the spot. what urges your feet to move is the haughty smirk he tosses over his shoulder, and even then, the race has only begun; your demands for him to stop echoing down the street as you chase him.

cheeky bastard.

#💥.katsuki #bakugou x male reader #katsuki bakugou x male reader #bakugou x gn!reader #male reader insert #mha x male reader #gn reader #mha x gn!reader #boku no hero x reader #bakugou x you

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5-falsehoods-phonated · 3 years

Text

(Prompts with boxes have been taken, highlighted have been written)

Requests for this card are closed, thank you to anyone who sent in requests! If you don’t want to see these you can block the tag #false bthb. As always shoot me an ask if you wanna be tagged in future stories, whether it be for bad things happen bingo or any of the other series, one shots or in general!

I’ve been picking at this particular request since early December as the person who requested it had a lot of details they wanted put in making the writing process a bit more challenging. As a disclaimer, note that the chapter is split between present time and the past; with Logan recalling things in his past in an attempt to make the details requested for the story flow better. I received this request from AO3.

General taglist: @im-an-anxious-wreck

Experimental Socialization

Summary: Logan was raised by the government to be nothing more than an experiment and a weapon, utilizing his unique abilities as a mutant. When he finally escapes things are much different than he imagined they’d be but thankfully finds others like him willing to help guide him right where he needs to be.(Happy Ending)

Warnings: allusions to abuse, physical punishment and human experimentation, tw for weapons and fire, panic attack. If there are more please let me know

Prompt; Not Used To Freedom (requested by AngstyEmoGal on AO3)

Ships: Intrulogical, Logan x Remus

WC: 3432

“You just gotta breathe, Logan. In four, hold seven, out eight remember? You’re doing great, just keep going.”

Logan felt himself slowly coming back to reality as his breathing evening out, the raw panic that had gripped his chest easing slightly as Virgili continued coaxing him through the exercise. He felt the other slowly rub up and down his arm in a slow, steady beat that helped ground him further in reality and he smiled up at his friend gratefully and nodded to let xem know he was okay. Gripping his knees as Virgil’s voice trailed off he squeezed his eyes shut tightly and let out one last calming breath.

“Thank you, Virgil. I-” He struggled to find words, gesturing flippantly in the air making Virgil grin.

“It’s okay. Take your time, L.”

Logan puffed his cheeks out in frustration, thoughts swirling too quickly for him to comprehend anything but the apprehensive fear he held for the plans Remus had made for them later that evening. “I am- not used to being outside. Given my history and the threat I pose as a potential compromise to our place of hiding I fail to understand Remus’ reasoning for going out when we could just as easily celebrate our relationship here.”

“Hm.” Virgil leaned back on xyr hands and looked up at the low ceiling of their underground paradise. “Can’t really see the stars from here, no matter how many stickers Princey finds and puts up it can't really be compared to the real thing.”

Logan had made the mistake of going on a tirade of space facts a few months into his stay in the hideout, Remus patiently listening to the extensive infodump of constellation facts and space physics and planetary rotation. Having a limited amount of books to entertain oneself with for extended periods of time meant memorizing entire books on one subject, which Logan had used all too happily as a figurative escape from his situation in the past until he had actually managed to escape when he was 16. Hearing Logan speak so passionately about the subject had apparently made his mind up that he was taking Logan outside for their first “official” date to view the stars, which had then landed Logan in his current state of panic as he realized that date was today and he was decidedly not ready for what might lay in store outside of safety of the hideout.

“I can stay close by if you want. I won’t spy or anything and Remus won’t have to know.” Logan looked over as his thoughts were interrupted by the offer, Virgil turning invisible and reappearing a couple seconds later to emphasize xyr point. Smiling Logan shook his head, knowing the other derived as much joy from going outside as Logan felt about going himself.

“Thank you for the offer though, you’re very kind.” Letting his thoughts drift again he idly wondered when Virgil had discovered xe could disappear and reappear at will and if xyr parents had tried to hide it before the government had found out. His own parents-

-----

“Logan?” A very small Logan turned at his mother’s voice, losing his concentration which made the hidden jar of Crofters fall from its suspended place in the air and smash to the floor. His parents hadn’t known he possessed any sort of powers, and even as small as he was he still understood the position he’d put them in if they ever found out. Fearfully his hands dropped to his sides as his mother covered her mouth in shock, tears rolling down her cheeks as she took a step back.

Men in suits and long coats were there just a few hours later, speaking in hushed voices while both of his parents cried and he was ushered out the door and into an unmarked car, quiet as he understood yelling and crying would do him no good now. What’s done was done, all he could do was be compliant and hope to be treated gently.

-----

The room suddenly brightening with a flickering light brought him back out of his thoughts, Roman entering with his signature bright flame held proudly in his hand. The image of him in his rather scrapped together Princely outfit posing subconsciously in the doorway was almost enough to make Logan roll his eyes but he didn’t want Virgil to think it was because of xem so he managed to restrain himself.

“My dearest brother has been pacing in the same spot for two hours now and I haven't been able to calm him down soooo I thought to check on our resident nerd.” Roman declared with his usual flare. Logan actually did roll his eyes this time but Virgil did as well so he figured it was fine.

“The ‘resident nerd’ is doing fine, Roman. Though it's concerning to hear Remus is nervous as well considering he’s the one who suggested the date.”

Roman waved his hand at Logan dismissively. “He’s just a sap- moreso than me surprisingly. He doesn’t want to do anything to put you in danger but he wants to do something nice, so he’s worried that’s all. Remus is an idiot but I trust him with my life; believe me when I say you have nothing to worry about except his terrible sense of humor.”

Logan merely hummed in response, staring at the way the flame moved around as Roman gestured with his words.

-----

He panted as he rolled out of the way of another flamethrower, singeing the tips of his hair in the process but he couldn’t afford to slow down enough to worry about that. Years of training with different fighting styles had earned him incredibly fast reflexes but a good portion of his accuracy in knowing where to step and when was owed to him working even harder to focus his powers. Thoughts from others constantly surrounded him on a regular basis, getting more and more prevalent the older he grew. Learning to block out the constant string of stimuli was a useful skill to keep him sane but learning to hone in on specific thoughts to predict actions was what had kept him alive.

He ducked below another bullet and brought up his leg in the same motion, kicking a throwing knife to the side and sending it to clatter harmlessly between one of his assailants feet. A twirl to the side and a tilt of the head let another bought of flame boil the air beside him while another knife just barely brushed his ear. The constant bang of bullets and roar of flames and whistling of knives was overwhelming and made the air so thick he could barely draw a breath and it was becoming a struggle to concentrate the way he needed to and-

A high pitched alarm sounded one, twice, three times- a blaring flash accompanying it that left him blinking painfully. His shoulders slumped as the barrage finally ended, another successful training day completed. He watched as everyone began putting their weapons away, laughing and congratulating each other, clapping themselves on the back and discussing whatever they had planned after this. No one even spared the thing they had been firing at seconds before a spare glance, save for the director of the branch, who took long steps forward to stand in front of him only to snap his fingers and motion forward no doubt to see him back to his room until dinner. Absorbing the sounds around him he drank in as much praise as he could that wasn’t his and would never be for him; people rarely congratulated weapons after all.

-----

“Is this where we all decided to hide today?” Logan looked up to see Patton sitting cross legged on one one of the beams in the ceiling, grinning happily down at them even as their fluffy ears twitched nervously and even fluffier tail whipped back and forth in agitation. They must have come back from trying to calm Remus as well, Logan mused; Patton had never done well being in the same room as Remus who tended to voice his thoughts abruptly and without much care to how they might sound to others which always managed to set Patton on edge no matter how hard they tried not to show it.

Patton was a rare mutant in that as opposed to being born with abnormal traits or abilities they had been a science experiment from the start- an effort to create super soldiers rather than stealing them away from families and training them. Even rarer was the fact that the DNA splicing had taken extraordinarily well by pure chance as Patton was born with a mutation that left their DNA incredibly malleable- a mutation that never would have been discovered had cellular manipulation not been the reason for them being in the experimental branch that they were. They had tried cloning Patton at first to see if their power could be duplicated but when that failed to work they began trying to combine them with different animals to see if desirable traits would come forward. By manipulating them on a physical and anatomical level they were able to change some parts of them to be more cat like, intending, Patton had guessed, to turn them into a kind of stealth soldier but they got away before they completed it, leaving them with heightened agility and surgically coaxed cat ears and a tail. They were only a child when the lab had done this but somehow they were never bitter, simply preferring to leave their past alone and embrace whatever future they could make- a trait Logan greatly admired them for even if their unending optimism could be somewhat grating at times.

“Did Janus brush your tail out Pat? It looks fluffier today.” Patton preened at Virgil's compliment, their tail beginning to wave in a more relaxed manner as their mind was distracted from whatever it was Remus had been ranting about.

“He did! He found a cat brush and got it for me so I could finally get the undercoat out!” Jumping down and landing lightly on their feet they posed a little and flashed another wide grin.

“Beautiful as always, Patton.” Roman said genuinely as he lowered his hand into a barrel to light up the paper scraps and wood in it for the night, the dim sunlight that had filtered through the grated having long since died. The home was a modified branch of a sewer system, thankfully the part most removed from the city where it flowed without the stench and was sealed off inconspicuously enough that in the ten years Janus and Remus had been using it no worker had ever found it.

-----

It had been Janus and Remus who had found him, beaten and bloody from an escape attempt he had made just days before his real one. He had made a weak attempt to coax the scientists into a false sense of security, holding back the full scoop of his powers during training for a year in anticipation for his final escape. He had punished severely but had simply thrown him in his regular cell, assuming he wasn’t strong enough to do any more damage than they had seen him do already and trusting that they had beaten him down enough that it would be a while before he tried again- if he ever did. Not six days later the mangled metal of the front of his cell was tossed into a group of guards, walls torn apart in a straight line to the exit and the huge buzzing gates leading to the outside world thrown open wide and stuck there with varying amounts of heavy debris.

The outside world, as it turns out, was a lot bigger and louder and downright terrifying when you weren’t being sent out as a personal assassin or field missions or training sessions- all controlled on some level to keep him from being killed and compromised. Without the begrudged protection from the labs and moreover having to hide from said lab was another story entirely. The times they searched for him and how closely they came to his spots were random and made it incredibly hard for him to pick out their thoughts from anyone else’s in the city and figure out how close they were. On more than one occasion they passed right by him crouched under piles of garbage or laying low under a hedge, his breath held as he tried desperately to keep himself as still and quiet as possible, thoughts of what they would to him once they found him pounding against his head and making him squeeze his eyes shut to keep his terrified tears from falling.

That was how Remus had found him. It had been dark and hours had passed since the searchers had left that park he had been hiding in. He had still been hiccuping down his sobs as he rolled out from under the hedge that he hadn’t bothered to scope the area for anyone’s close by thoughts, having shut out as much as he could after they had left to try and block out any other hate fueled thoughts that may send him spiraling again. His heart had leapt in his throat so high his breath caught painfully, immediately shifting to offense as he tensed, ready to fight as long and hard as he could. He couldn’t go back- he wouldn’t. No matter what they did or promised him or punished him with; he’d go down fighting or not at all.

But Remus had only raised his hands in the air in a motion of peace, eyes widening as he locked onto the government issued bracelet that marked him as an experimental mutant. He had grinned impossibly wide then Logan remembered, briefly disappearing from his sight and reappearing a moment later, setting him even more on edge but curious nonetheless.

“I’m like you.” Remus had said quietly. “Basically I run real fast and the government hasn’t figured out how to get me yet.”

Logan had watched as he jiggled his wrists a bit for emphasis, bare save for colored chords that he assumed didn’t associate him with any government branch since they didn’t look official.

“Are you okay?” Remus had asked next and mutely Logan nodded, unsure of how to react to this fellow mutant who had never been caught by any sort of lab, apparently living as free as one could when you were as different as they were. He stepped back as another man appeared behind him, Janus he later learned.

“Liar.” Janus had hissed, making Remus reach around and smack the back of his head.

“It was a polite thing to ask that he tried to dismiss Jan. Let the adults speak for a second.”

Logan had noted the faint pout on Janus’ face though he was still trying very hard to look intimidating. And then all at once his eyes had turned cold as his attention was once again focused on Logan, glaring menacingly from beneath a black bowler hat. “I’m younger than you and yet I’m the one that has to put my foot down. He’s being chased clearly; we are not bringing him back with us.”

Remus has turned, Logan seemingly forgotten for the moment. “That’s not how it works! He needs help and we’re not leaving him to starve or be found in the middle of a park! What would Patton say?”

“Patton is a soft fool who needs to figure out where their morals stand. I myself am choosing not to compromise our place of hiding and three other people that you know those power hungry idiots would love nothing more than to get their hands on!”

Remus rolled his eyes so hard his head had lolled with it, face going pale as he watched something in the sky. It was then that Logan heard the telling sound of a helicopter flying low and getting closer but he had barely tensed before he found himself gripped around the middle and held vertically with the ground flying underneath him. They stopped abruptly and he was set down, blinking in rapid confusion as Remus grinned sheepishly at him.

“Welcome to the hideout?”

Logan’s eyes had widened and his breath had caught yet again, chest tightening as he shook his head vehemently. “You can’t- I need to go back! They’ll do anything to get me back-!”

He was stopped from going forward with a finger to his chest, his blue eyes locking with beautiful brown as Remus held his gaze. “And we will do everything to keep you safe.”

Safe. With that one word Logan was his. He hadn’t known why and he still didn’t quite understand it but he had trusted Remus with everything he had- and he still did. Even as Janus had stalked off grumbling and Virgil and Roman had kept their distance at first Remus had kept him close and showed him how much better his life could be, even if they were living in a modified sewer system.

Back in the present he looked up as a hand was thrust under his chin, smiling softly as he took Remus’ hand and let himself be led away from the others’ idle chatter. He counted himself extremely lucky in the end that Janus had eventually come around to him, seeing how happy he made Remus and how Remus made Logan feel it had been him to finally talk to Logan about it and get the two to officially talk about how they felt, going on about the being “hopeless gay idiots” when they had finally started to date officially. Logan wasn’t sure what he’d do without Remus at this point, just a year later and he was so attached to their small group of hideaways he wouldn’t trade for the world.

They approached the exit to the sewers, Remus swinging their hands between them. Logan held his breath right before they crossed the threshold, closing his eyes and letting it out slowly as his feet met grass and he opened his eyes to the darkened field. There were a few tunnels that lead out to different places depending on where they needed to go and this, Remus had told him, was his favorite because of how empty it was. The city lay far in the distance so there was almost no light pollution to block out the sky. Soft grass and flowers brushed his ankles as he scanned the area carefully, seeing nothing but trees lining the far end of the field with a road so far away he could barely, make it out in the darkness. Remus tugged his hand softly to get his attention, searching his eyes for any hint of discomfort.

“Is this okay?’

Logan took another breath and let it out, the last of his nerves fading away as he took in the quiet. “It’s perfect Remus.”

The other grinned and tugged a little harder this time, walking fast to the middle of the field where he stopped suddenly and raised Logan’s arm up to lead him into an impromptu twirl. Logan laughed quietly and then louder as he was dipped, secure in Remus’ strong hold as he reached up to grip the back of his neck. He was safe. He was free and safe and happy finally with someone who truly loved and cared for him. His breath caught in his throat again but this time in awe, Remus chuckling as he was laid down carefully tucked into his side, till with his arms around his neck.

The stars shone bright and winked lazily while swirls of color dusted faintly behind them. The moon was waning, a barely there light that let the beauty behind it show fully as the wind whisked away any clouds that dared to try and cover it. It was everything Logan had ever hoped it would be and more, excitement thrumming through him as he squeezed Remus tightly in an attempt to convey it. He felt Remus grin against his scalp where his face was buried in his hair.

“It’s beautiful isn't it?”

Logan looked back at him, light from the stars reflected in his eyes and wild brown hair framing his face. He leaned up slightly and kissed him, a faint brush of their lips that left them both grinning like the idiots they were. Placing a hand on Remus’ cheek Logan smiled at him, thumb brushing over his cheek in adoration.

“Absolutely stunning.”

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sorcerersofnyc · 3 years

Text

The Last Thing Left (Zemo x F!Reader) 6/9

If it wasn’t so painfully ironic (and hilarious to watch,) Helmut would find the relationship between Sam and James a little sad.

Ghosts weren’t enough to hold two people together.

While they wait for Torres to locate Donya Madani, Zemo brings Sam and Bucky to the home he once shared with you.

You reunite and he reflects upon his relationship with you (his wife’s friend and his friend’s wife) and your journey from being people with mutual friends to partners.

Chapter 6: When he wakes up beside you, Zemo remembers the day everything changed.

Angst, various mentions of death & mourning, Zemo’s wife’s name is Heike because of comics. Implied alcoholism by Zemo as a means to deal with his guilt. I use Serbian Cyrillic as a stand-in for Sokovian. The reader likes waffles (this is a non-negotiable fact).

Note: Main Character is neutral in most regards, but the story was written with my own cultural background in mind. (In other words, I won’t say what she looks like but I envision her as being black.)

First Chapter | Previous

***

Grief softens, but it never truly leaves.

So when Helmut wakes beside you, he isn’t surprised to find grief there as well. Pain has been a constant companion over the years but today’s grief is nothing but a dull throb in his chest.

He had a dream about his wife again. It wasn’t a sad dream, it didn’t hurt to look upon her face, but his heart ached for her regardless.

In his dream, she was happy, happy to sit and chat in a home that wasn’t quite in Sokovia or Spain, but rather a mix of them both. You were there, too, laughing and smiling alongside her.

She was taking the time to explain something to him, something you already seemed to understand. You both laughed when he failed to get the joke.

With a sigh, Helmut sits up in his bed and turns toward the window.

It’s dawn. The rising sun baths the room in an orangy-pink glow and you sleep soundly beside him. He traces little circles unto your shoulder as he thinks about breakfast, what might he make for you. The answer is obvious, really.

He then turns his thoughts toward his mission, whether or not Sam’s associate would locate Madani soon.

He also thinks about what you may do if he kissed you awake.

He thinks about many things as you sleep beside him.

And as he listens to the steady rhythm of your breath, he thinks that he’s truly happy.

***

You never asked what happened to Vasily Zaev and Helmut didn’t offer.

News of his death never reached any headlines in Spain or any other International News Broadcast for that matter.

There were the occasional rumors of a scandal, many of which were exacerbated by social media, but nothing outside the ordinary.

His demise was attributed to liver failure and he’d given his entire inheritance to a young woman about a quarter of his age. Tragic indeed.

In the weeks that followed that night at the Opera, you took an interest in his work. There would be no more missions like the one with Vasily (none would ever be that easy and he didn’t like to see you so scared,) but there were plenty of opportunities to conduct research.

And on some nights, you’d talk about more than just mission, nights when you shared your hopes and dreams for the future, your past sorrows, and secret anxieties.

He’d sit with you while you worked on your art, bought you flowers when you completed a commissioned project, and asked plenty of questions about some of your more unorthodox means.

Sometimes you’d take breaks together and watch television or read.

It was strange, just like the day you first hugged him, Helmut felt as though the two of you had breached something.

He now knew where you were born, how you became involved in the arts, how you felt the night you met Dominik at Heike’s dinner party, (“I always thought she set us up on purpose, but she always denied that she did.”)

It was those stories, those small, stolen moments that made him see you differently.

So by the time autumn settled and painted the leaves orange, red and brown, you were no longer just a friend his wife had—you weren’t even the wife of a friend that he had.

You were a friend to him as well.

“Have you seen this?” You asked one day, sitting right beside him on the couch. You were so close, Helmut could feel the heat of your body pressed up against him.

“See what?” He asked, though he knew what you would say.

“This article.” You slid your phone closer to him, leaned forward so close that the curve of your bosom pressed against his arm for just a moment before you leaned away. For the sake of your pride, he pretended not to notice.

The articles mattered more than creating an awkward situation.

He learned that you found articles about the Avengers to be the most interesting. Each headline would often read something like: ‘Accountability: Who Pays for the Avengers’ Mistakes?’ or ‘Sokovia Six Months Later’ and ‘‘Banning Ironman? One Minister Holds Firm.’

They were engrossing.

“They say the U.N. may get involved.” You said one day. “What do you think would happen if they did?”

“Something I’d like to see.” Was his thoughtful reply. And it was true; because even with your help, even as you grew closer together, the weight of his promise still bore down upon him.

The weight of his failure still haunted his sleep.

So for every moment he spent with you, he worked ten times harder. He worked late into the night to complete his research, learned everything he could about the Avengers and the Winter Soldier to complete his plans.

He had to work; he had no choice. Because every laugh, every smile, every lingering glance, every reprieve from his grief was a betrayal to that promise he made to his family—because happiness, even for a moment, meant that he had forgotten them.

There was no other way to justify his actions. In what other way could he be happy in a world where his family was dead?

He hoped to find the answers at the bottom of a bottle, but scotch, whiskey, brandy, and vodka, couldn’t provide a balm for his soul. Not the way your smile did.

So clearly drinking was his only option, the safest option, because he couldn’t let his thoughts linger on you.

He couldn’t compromise his mission.

But then one day, in mid-November, something changed.

Helmut read the headline for an article he knew would suit your fancy, but you didn’t come down for breakfast to discuss it with him, nor did you open when he knocked on your door.

“I’ll be down in a minute,” you told him—but you never came.

You left your room around noon but you barely spoke a word.

Helmut should have been happy for the opportunity to work, the chance to focus without you stealing his gaze, but he couldn’t ignore the lump that formed in the back of his throat when his thoughts drifted to you.

Over the past 7 months, you encouraged him to talk about his feeling, to open up more—but it seemed you weren’t interested in doing the same.

You left the house a word to him.

So Helmut waited for you to return:

He conducted his research and decrypted more files.

He brewed a pot of coffee.

He prepared lunch.

Had a glass of whiskey.

He checked his phone for messages but found nothing from you.

He reorganized your spice cabinets, bringing the most used containers to the front.

He checked his phone again.

Had a glass of whiskey.

And finally, when evening arrived and you still hadn’t come home to him, Helmut went into your room without permission.

He was careful not to disturb your things, (even if he wanted nothing more than to pick your stray socks off the floor,) and looked around the space.

There were books and magazines neatly stacked across every surface, their genres ranged from art and fashion to relationships and grief.

He lingered on that last title before turning his attention to a paper on your nightstand. The page was wrinkled, spotted, and ripped in many places, but he knew what it was before he even held it in his hands.

It was the letter Dominik kept in his pocket, the one he held on to so tightly, the one he had with him when he died.

He frowned, and his eyebrows knit together in concern for you.

You were grieving, and your grief had taken you backward, back to the promise of a simpler time. The letter was filled with the musings of budding love, a love that had grown and flourished before the cruelties of life intervened.

Helmut understood the unpredictable nature of grief, how it came and went without reason or regard, how days or even months could go by before it returned in full force.

So he set the letter down with a sigh and left your room as quickly as he came. You arrived home 20 minutes later.

“Hello,” He greeted you by the door.

“Oh—hi.” You paused by the door, a bag of groceries in hand. He followed you into the kitchen.

“Is there anything I can do to help you?” He asked.

“No, I’m… I got it.” You placed the bag on the counter, unloading a bag of flour, eggs, and a box of powdered cocoa.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.” You said, but then pause when you opened the spice cabinet. Your movements slowed before you stilled completely.

“Helmut? Did you…”

“Did I do something wrong?”

“No, no, it’s just… I…”

Helmut didn’t know it at the time, but Dominik would organize your cabinets when he returned from duty. It was his way of telling you he was home if you weren’t there to greet him.

It was that gesture that broke you.

You placed both your hands over your mouth but even that couldn’t force back your cry. “I’m sorry,” you apologized, “I’m sorry—I’m ok,” you lied, but it only seemed to make you cry harder.

“Tell me what’s wrong,” Helmut spoke softly. With a hand on your shoulder, he turned you around to face him but you only shook your head. "Let me help you.”

It took a few more moments of coaxing, but once you calmed, you told him everything.

“His… his birthday is next week.” You said, and it didn’t take a genius to know who you were speaking of. “He wanted me to bake a cake.”

You set a yearly reminder to try new recipes a week in advance, a reminder you’d gotten that morning. “Sometimes I look down at my ring and I still can’t believe it. That’s I’m a...that I’m a widow.” Your voice shook around the word and you sniffled again.

Helmut walked you over to the table, helped you sit on a chair, and poured you a glass of Chardonnay.

“… I never wanted to move to Sokovia—did he tell you that?” He did, but Helmut thought it best not to interrupt you. “I wanted to be with him but I never would have considered it before I met Heike… but I loved him, Helmut, I loved him so much and he promised I’d be happy. There are days when I wake up and-” You didn’t finish that sentence, but he thought he knew what you’d say. There were days when you’d wake up and wonder why you were saved, why your loved ones died and you survived. He didn’t know if you remembered, but you told him this before, on the day he first brought you to Spain.

“… He used to wonder if he made a mistake,” Helmut started, “If he’d done you a disservice by asking you to move when his duties kept him away.” He released a bitter laugh at the memory. “He asked me once if he were selfish.”

“What did you say?”

“That he was.” Helmut shrugged, remembering the look of resignation that crossed his friend’s face, a look you then mirrored exactly.

Helmut put his hand on your shoulder.

“He was selfish, but he didn’t make a mistake… your happiness wasn’t wasted and he’d want you to be happy again.” After all, you didn’t fail Dominik. You hadn’t given him a false sense of security, a promise of safety away from the fighting—Not like he had with his own family.

At first, you looked as though he said something outrageous, something you couldn’t quite believe. But then you nodded, releasing your emotions with a shuddering sigh.

“You’re right… he would want me to, want us both to…”

He sat beside you for the rest of the night. He’d listened to you talk and then when there was nothing left to say, he sat with you in peaceful silence, your head against his shoulder.

And on his birthday, Helmut helped you bake a cake.

You stood in the kitchen together, mixing batter and flouring pans. The sweet scent of your creation spread and the home you shared was filled with joy and warm memories.

By the time you finished, you were exhausted, so he offered to take you to the best restaurant in the city.

It was the least he could do for you.

When you arrived, Helmut told the hostess of your reservation—Zemo, a party of two—and she checked his name off a long list that he somehow managed to get ahead of. The hostess noticed your wedding bands, and as she stepped away from the podium, she said,

‘De esta manera, el señor y la señora Zemo.’ Right this way, Mister and Misses Zemo.

Your eyes growing to the size of dinner plates as you turned to him, but he kept his gaze settled on the hostess, his jaw set closed.

It was an honest mistake, one he’s sure others made before, but to hear it said aloud was baffling. He intended to correct the young lady, but she gestured for you to follow before he thought of what to say.

If he said you were friends, others would presume you were having an affair. Normally, the opinions of others wouldn’t concern him, but he didn’t want anyone to think badly of you.

“That was weird,” you said. “I forgot people must think we’re…”

“Should I have corrected her?”

“It was an honest mistake, nothing worth embarrassing her over.”

And that was that.

You both agreed to treat it as a joke, to have fun with the idea because the alternative, explaining how you came to be together, was much worse.

And besides, Helmut thought while taking in his second cocktail, it wasn’t exactly hard to feign some level of attraction to you; you looked beautiful that night. He liked the way your formal clothing fit around your curves, and the way your heels gave shape to your legs.

He felt immediately guilty for that, however, and followed that guilt with another sip of his drink.

But that night wasn’t the only time someone mistook the two of you for a couple. Like meeting someone whose face one begins to see everywhere they go, he began to notice it more and more.

When he signed for your packages the delivery person would look at his ring and never bother to ask for familial confirmation. The old woman at the bakery would smile a secret, knowing, smile when he asked for two pastries to take home with him. The list of culprits went on and on. Everywhere he went people saw his ring and they’d assume he had a wife at home—that you were his wife at home.

On a gloomy day in January, you convinced him to visit an art gala with you. You made a group of friends around the area but one fell violently ill after a trip to New Jersey. You didn’t want to go alone so he agreed to put his work on hold for the evening.

You lead him to a room of abstract paintings and his attention was torn between the open bar and dizzying array of dark shapes pressed across the underside of a canvas. He couldn’t appreciate the work the same way you did, but he tried.

As he looked for what you described as ‘the emotional turmoil conveyed by the paint strokes,’ you drifted to the next piece and a gentleman approached you.

He was tall, with neatly trimmed hair and a clean-shaven face. The man seemed to recognize you from somewhere and offered his deepest condolences for Sokovia.

“Thank you,” you nodded.

“It was a genuine tragedy, a modern-day Pompeii.” His words gave you a reason to pause, which he seemed to take as permission to wax poetic about Sokovia’s demise in some futile attempt to prove his intellectual prowess.

“Yes, well, thanks for that.” You continued on politely. He didn’t seem to notice the exasperated edge. He opened his mouth to say something else, to perhaps touch you on the shoulder, and Helmut made the immediate decision to ensure that didn’t happen.

“Драга,” Dear, he called as he approached you, placing his hand on your lower back. “I’ve brought you a drink.” Helmut offered you the cocktail from the table, one he was about to drink himself before the man made you uncomfortable. You smiled, a look of relief on your face.

The man was no genuine threat, probably just a lover of art, but something in the way he looked at you, the way his gaze drifted from your face to your wedding band and the instant look of shame that overtook his (admittedly handsome) features, gave his intentions away—and Helmut didn’t like his intentions at all.

“Хвала ти љубави,” Thank you, my love, you replied with the mischievous smile you adopted whenever someone mistook you for being his wife. It was a playful flirtation, one that meant nothing.

Helmut greeted the man with a simple nod, pretending to have been oblivious to his blatant flirting, before guiding you away.

“I never would have thought to compare the destruction of Sokovia at the hands of an Artificial Intelligence to the eruption of Mount Vesuvius near Pompeii. How truly genius.” He said in a mocking tone.

“Stop that,” you nudged him, hushed laughter in your voice.

“I hope that isn’t what passes as flirting these days.”

“Flirting? He wasn’t flirting.”

Helmut struck you with a judgemental look. You tilted your head in contemplation.

“He wasn’t flirting,” you repeat. “It was just weird, that’s not really a topic most people bring up at parties.” You finally slowed your steps and you looked at a statue in the center of the room. It was clearly meant to represent a couple, but their abstract forms created a tangle of limbs that hurt his eyes to look at.

It was then he decided he hated contemporary art.

You took a sip of your drink—his drink—and turned to him. Your eyes met briefly, and you smiled, your eyes sparkling with mischievous glee.

“Let’s see what’s in the next room, душо,” Honey. You exaggerate.

“Of course, драга, lead the way.” You hooked your arm around his and you explored the rest of the gallery.

Eventually, you reached the main lobby where you set your empty glass on a table with dozens of others. An orchestra played a mix of soft melodies and something he thought to be tunes from an action movie. The music found it’s underscore in the murmurs of the guests who indulged themselves in cocktails and hors d'oeuvres.

He watched them for a moment and a dark feeling filled his belly.

This was the life he should have been living—perhaps not at a gaudy contemporary art gallery but something just as fabulous and amazing. This was the life you deserved to live.

Had it not been for Ultron, for the Avengers and others like them, he’d be enjoying this life between missions and military tours.

He might have even retired early, lived his life in bliss.

He felt angry, distraught, and disappointed all at once. So many dangerous thoughts spun around in his head and without even thinking, he looked at you. In his moment of grief and self-pity, he looked toward you to anchor him.

Your eyes landed on the couples swaying back and forth on the polished floor of the gallery. He noticed how close you stood to him, how your arm wrapped around his, the way your hand rested on his forearm.

He took a breath and he made himself smile.

“Would you like to dance, драга?”

“I’ve seen you dance, Helmut. I don’t.”

“You wound me.” He said, pulling you toward the others anyway. “You’ve yet to see me waltz.” (Or perhaps you did, at his wedding or your own, but it wasn’t the time to bring that up.)

He unraveled his arm from your and slid into position, pulling you close.

“You remember the steps, don’t you?” He asked because you had far less practice waltzing than he did. You nodded, but your eyes proved less certain than the gesture implied. “Don’t worry, I’ll lead.”

And he did.

Helmut led you through the steps of the dance, a simple box step he mastered many years ago.

“I think people are looking at us,” you whispered.

“They can take notes,” he replied. You were the only person in his gaze.

You anchored him; your kindness, your friendship, your playful banter, and your outlandish sense of design. With you he felt like less of a failure, his grief softened and he could see a clear path forward in your eyes—an alternate path if he was strong enough to take it.

But the U.N. taking actions against the Avengers seemed all but inevitable then. Helmut knew he could use their plans to his advantage, but it also meant he was running out of time.

Still, part of him wanted to surrender to your gaze, but the other part, the part that won, held firm. He tried to look away but then somehow ended up noticing the soft curve of your mouth and the fullness of your lips.

When the orchestra stopped playing, your dance slowed to a stop. But you couldn’t stop staring at each other, both cursed with the knowledge that something between you had changed.

***

Thanks for reading! Next time we'll get to see what happens when your flirtation with Helmut is no longer a game.

Feedback is very much appreciated. Please tell me what you think! This was a fun chapter to write.

Tag list:

@actuallyanita @fillechatoyante @viviace @buckyandlokicanhaveme @sapphiredreamer26 @robur-bellicum

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#zemo #baron zemo #helmut zemo #zemo x reader #mcu zemo #this was the longest chapter yet #my goodness

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kileyrose-2003 · 3 years

Text

Tina’s Tuesday Night Mini Fic Pt. 1

Word count: Who cares? Lol

A/N: Hi lovelies! I am back!! First thing, I know. You're probably saying Kiley, wtf? It's not Tuesday. I know. Life happened. I've had a busy past few days and a final today. Anyways, this was something I did with @merci-bitch when the U.S originally went on lockdown. It was a fun way to keep me busy and get my mind off of stuff. We both decided to restart this about a week ago. So, I dedicate this to my dear friend Tina. Love you hun and hope you enjoy this! And please, if you haven't been to her blog to read any of her work, go do so. She works so hard on what she writes and is amazing.

Pt. 2 will be coming next week

To everyone waiting on fics: I'll get there. Eventually. And I'm not going into reasoning. But anyways, love you all and I hope you have a great day!

"...This is the greatest show!" You slammed your hands down on the piano keys and breathed in sharply. "God damn it, Jenny!"

"What?" You let a groan and handed her the sheet music. "Look there at that line there. Do you see that note?”

“I can see, can’t I?” Her bright green eyes lost their cool shade of arrogance when she seen how pissed you look. "Not F!” You pointed to the paper in her hand. “D! You hear that note there?" You pressed down on the key repeatedly. "D!"

"Sorry." The red head smiled at you impishly. "No, you're not. This is the fifth time we've done this and yet you still insist on doing this your own way." She sat next to you on the piano bench and gave your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Well, I think the change makes it sound better.”

“Phineas liked it better this way,” you seethed through gritted teeth. “But what does he know of art?” You could feel your face slowing turning a distinct shade of cherry red and you bit down on your tongue.

"He must of known something with how much you tried to get in his pants," you mused to yourself.

You rolled your eyes. You loved Jenny to death but how you couldn't stand her at times. You tried and tried so desperately to get along with her and compromise when she was like this but no matter what you did, she was stubborn and so..cold at times.

Sure, Jenny was a bit of a snob but she was a genius when it came to music and you respected that. She was what inspired you to take up music in the first place.

Your childhood was far from easy. Before you even joined the circus, you were bounced all over the place. You never belonged anywhere. From the deteriorating cottage in a small, seaside village in Sweden to the cramped one bedroom apartment in London that no one would dare walk past at night. Your father was no where to be seen and your mother was an actress, always struggling to meet ends meet. She was never home, but that wasn't always a bad thing. That meant you got to explore.

That was how you got to hearJenny sing for the first time. Hiding out in the musty attic of an old Swedish theatre. Even before she hit extreme levels of fame, her voice was like a siren's call. Drawing you in further and further in. It still was in a way. She was so beautiful and even as much as she pissed you off, you loved watching her sing. Like the time at the palace. She was eye candy in that dress, the way it hugged her hips and how the bust showed the slightest bit of clevage when you looked at her at just the right angle-

"Stop it, Y/n!" You told yourself. "She's not interested in you."

Or was she? The way she looked at you when you spoke to Phineas was always with such contempt or such jealousy. You could never understand why though. It was her who tried to steal Phineas away. Not you. He was a close friend who gave you a chance when you had nothing and you never so much as even thought of eyeing him in such a manner. Phineas clearly wasn't interested in her or any other woman but his wife. He pushed her away numerous times. Jenny had no reason to be jealous of you. Yet, she was.

‘But it is of me or others though?"

One could never be sure with Jenny. Sure, there was a bit of a rivalry between the two of you when it came to music. But she was your friend. 'Very clingy for just a friend,' you noted.

'That's normal though, isn't it?'

Maybe you were just over thinking things. Besides, the relationship between the two of you seemed to be getting better lately. Ever since the scandal went public, it seemed the two of you were spending more and more time together.

You were the only one who listened to her side of the story, held her when she cried, made sure she wasn't drinking her emotions away, and tried to help her through it. Even as much as she pissed you off. You warned her in the first place not to seek out Phineas but despite the nasty arguments, the constant bickering she became your friend. Maybe even your best friend. Which you got alot of shit for.

Nobody liked Jenny and you were starting to get the feeling you weren't so popular anymore either. Everyone thought after the affair went public, the two of you would of left. Her name as well as yours, was slandered all over the paper simply because you associated with her. You had been called it all. The ring leader, the mastermind, the mistress to the two.

But neither of you resigned. Yet. Part of you wondered how long it would be until either would receive letters of negotiations to end your contract. But either way, you knew Jenny wasn't leaving without you. She promised you that.

'So maybe she does like me.'

Then that small voice came in the back of your head. 'Or maybe you just want her to like you back.'

Either way, you couldn't let that haunt your conscience for now. Even as much as you'd like to visualize a future with her, it wouldn't work. You could feel the heat pooling into your cheeks as you came back to reality and bit down on your lip. Jenny's hand was lingering up and down your back, rhythmically making shapes with the tips of her fingers. Damn her and her touch! You shouldn't be feeling this way.

"Are you okay?" You shook your head and covered your face with your hands, trying not focus on all the pain you felt inside. "No. No, I’m not."

You felt tears burning in the sides of your eyes. "This isn’t working!” Jenny furrowed her brow and tried to move your hands away from your face. “What do you mean?” She was trying to be gentle even though you could tell from the look in her eyes she had no clue what to do.

“This..all of this!” You ripped the sheet music out of her hand and flung it on top of the piano. “Something's got to give,"

She rolled her eyes as if she seen it all before and stood up, walking hastily over to the ice bucket. "Do you not have what you want?" She opened up a bottle of red wine. "Fame? Recogniton?"

"It's not enough and I don't know if I even have any of that anymore." Jenny eyed you as she poured the liquor heavily into both glasses. "I'm not liked here, Jenny."

She handed you your glass and sat down next to you. You eagerly took a sip of the wine, just wanting to forget everything for a little while. "That's not true. I like you." She leaned in closer to you.

You cracked a small grin filled with cynicism. Maybe even a little bit of hostility. Never had you felt so much love and hate towards someone at the same time. "We could both leave." Jenny's voice pulled you out of your head.

"And go where?"

"Back to Sweden with me for the time being." You noticed the intensity in Jenny's eyes growing and she reached out and grabbed your hand. You could feel her nimble gently squeezing into the palm of your hand. "You know I care for you, Y/n."

"Do you?" You tried your hardest not to sound sarcastic, you were still a little mad at her. But god! How close she was to you. You could smell her expensive perfume, see the slight hint of a shimmer radiating off of her lips. "You're fiery and you don't take my shit."

This couldn't be real. You had to be dreaming. "Jenny, this...there's a possibility this couldn't work." You tried to scoot away from her, a little intimidated by the proximity between the two of you.

"We can try to make it work."

"How?" You eyed her skeptically. "Let me take you out. Let me show you I can make this work." You furrowed your eyebrows. "Why? Need a new fling after Phineas?" You teased.

Jenny wasn't amused by that all. If anything she was pissed but she smiled anyways. Seeming to stoop down to your level with a smile that was sickly sweet. "More like a date."

"And why should I do this with you?" She let go of your hand and placed it on your thigh. "Because I probably understand you alot more than you think." As you looked into Jenny's eyes, you found some level of sincerity mixed into those deep lustful orbs. You wanted to trust her so badly.

"What do I have to lose?" You thought.

Everything. Everything to lose.

"Fine." You gave in, despise everything in your mind screaming not too. "But you have one shot and one shot only."

Jenny nodded and leaned forward to place a gentle kiss on your cheek. "And it won't take me more than once to impress. After all, I already made your career." You felt the hair on your arms stand straight up as her hands lingered on you, gently squeezing your hips.

"I'll see you tomorrow at 6. Sharp."

"Yeah," you watched as Jenny walked away, her hair flowing behind her like a beautiful sheath.

You felt a pit growing in the depths of your stomach. What the hell had you gotten yourself into?

#jenny lind x reader #Jenny Lind #the greatest showman #imagine #rebecca ferguson

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jaskierswolf · 3 years

Text

The Christmas Elf (Pt.5/5)

The last part! Geralt arrives in the North Pole. :D Also on AO3!

_______________

Geralt was not happy.

This was mostly due to the fact that Jaskier had forced him into the red scaly doublet and trousers that he’d been wearing the day before. To both their astonishment, the clothes fit Geralt almost perfectly. It was a little tight across the shoulders but that was fine. Geralt would just pull a Jaskier and not do the garment up properly. Jaskier was back in his vibrant green and red ensemble from his home land. He’d tried to convince Geralt to wear a matching outfit, as apparently all the Christmas elves did, but Geralt had refused. They compromised on the duller red doublet from the dragon hunt.

Still Geralt really didn’t enjoy wearing the more flamboyant outfits of his husband. He much preferred it when Jaskier decided to wear his shirts instead. They hung slightly looser on the elf’s form and the tease of dark chest hair peeking out from under the collar never failed to send a rush of warm arousal through Geralt’s body.

“And one last touch!” Jaskier’s laugh chimed like the bells he wore. The elf flicked his wrist and a flurry of snow whipped up in his palm, as it settled a small golden bell appeared on Jaskier’s palm.

“No.” Geralt grunted.

“But dearest! It matches your eyes!” Jaskier pouted.

Geralt glared back at him for less than two seconds before sighing. “Fine.”

Jaskier grinned. “Oh ho ho! I knew you wouldn’t say no, now come here.” Geralt stepped forward, dragging his feet slightly just to make a point. “Oh stop all your grumbling. You look incredibly handsome in my clothes, dearest of hearts.”

Geralt rolled his eyes as Jaskier gently ties the bell around one of his wrists and then brought Geralt’s hand up to his lips. Geralt almost smiled as Jaskier placed a kiss on the palm of his hand.

Almost.

He was still pissed off.

He missed his armour.

“There.” Jaskier beamed up at him and he felt his sour expression soften under his lover’s gaze. “Beautiful.”

“Jask.” He groaned as he felt the heat of embarrassment on his cheeks.

Jaskier bopped him on the nose. “Beautiful, lovely and gorgeous.” Jaskier insisted and cupped his cheek, pulling him into a tender kiss. “Are you ready?”

Geralt frowned as he glanced over a Pegasus. “Are you sure he can carry both of us?”

Jaskier scoffed with a wave of his hand. “He’s a magic reindeer, Geralt. Have a little faith.”

Geralt hummed, not convinced. Pegasus was at least fully grown these days. When Jaskier had first arrived on the reindeer back when they’d first met, he’d been barely old enough for Jaskier to ride. Even with Jaskier’s Spirit they would have to break frequently or go slowly as Jaskier walked instead of rode.

These days Pegasus was a fine mount, for a reindeer. He was no Roach and the antlers occasionally got in the way of Jaskier seeing properly but Geralt had grown rather fond of the beast.

“You’re up front?” Geralt asked as they both approached the reindeer.

Jaskier shrugged. “There’s not much steering involved. He knows where he’s going better than I do. Plus I rather like the view from the back.” He winked and pinched Geralt’s arse.

Geralt closed his eyes and sighed. “You’re up front.” He repeated.

“Oi! What? No!” Jaskier pouted. “Geralt!”

Geralt smirked. “I rather like the view from the back.”

Jaskier flushed brighter than his hat, despite the fact they’d been together for over two decades. It was for this exact reason that Geralt didn’t flirt back very often. He enjoyed seeing Jaskier get flustered for a change and he didn’t want the effect to get old.

Jaskier let out a string of noises and fumbled to get up on his reindeer. Geralt chuckled but pulled himself up behind the bard, placing a kiss on the back of his neck as they both settled. Jaskier leaned back against him with a contented sigh.

“Hold on tight, my love.” He sang and then pulled the small snow globe from his pocket. There was a sudden chill in the air as Jaskier pulled the Spirit from the glow and then showered glitter over Pegasus’s antlers. “Come on, Pegasus.” He cooed at the reindeer.

And then they were flying.

Geralt wrapped his arms around Jaskier’s waist and buried his face against the elf’s back. “Fuck. This is worse than portals.” He groaned.

“Pfft.” Jaskier snorted. “You are such a bore sometimes, love.” Geralt jabbed Jaskier between the ribs and then ran his hand gently over the same spot. “Oi!” Jaskier squeaked.

Geralt just grunted, feeling a little too nauseous to answer.

Jaskier sighed and began to sing one of his favourite Christmas carols to fill the silence as the stars began to fly in the sky above them. The temperature dropped dramatically as they flew and Geralt’s medallion was practically yanking off its chain by the time Pegasus’s hooves hit the floor.

Geralt wrapped his arms around his chest as he jumped to the floor. Snow crunched underfoot and there seemed to be a constant gentle flurry of snowflakes falling from the sky.

“Shit. It’s fucking freezing!” He grumbled. “Should have brought my cloak.”

Jaskier tilted his head and glanced around them before dismounting. He scratched Pegasus behind the ears absentmindedly. “It’s not that bad.”

“Yes. It is.” Geralt glowered at him. “Fucking elves.”

Jaskier punched him in the arm and muttered something. “Melitele’s tits, you are grumpy today. This is my home, Geralt!”

Geralt grunted. “Sorry.”

“I know.” Jaskier kissed his cheek and ran a finger through his hair, twirling one of the loose strands. “Now let’s see what I can do about the cold. Bear with me though, making clothes was never my talent.”

Geralt frowned as Jaskier closed his eyes and stuck his tongue between his lips. Jaskier hummed as he wove magic around Geralt. Geralt smiled fondly at the bard. He had a soft spot in his heart for Jaskier’s concentrating face. It was adorable the way his tongue peeked between Jaskier’s soft pink lips, not that Geralt would ever admit to finding it adorable… cute maybe at a push after a few pints of ale. Geralt shivered slightly as glitter rained over his head and he suddenly found a long heavy cloak round his shoulders…in buttercup yellow.

He tied the cloak swiftly and pulled up the hood before turning to fix his husband with an exasperated look. Jaskier smiled sheepishly. “Sorry. I got distracted by your eyes.”

Geralt huffed but pulled the elf into a slow kiss. When they pulled apart Jaskier snuggled up against his chest and wrapped his arms around Geralt’s waist, inside the cloak. “You ok?”

Jaskier nodded. “I just want them to like you.”

Geralt smiled though he knew it didn’t reach his eyes. They wouldn’t like him. Not many people did. Jaskier was one of the few exceptions that actually stuck around. “Hmm.”

“Well.” Jaskier huffed and put one hand on his hip as he pulled away. “It doesn’t matter. I love you. That’s what counts.”

Geralt nodded and kissed Jaskier’s forehead. “Hmm.” He agreed.

“Jask!” A perky voice called and there was a rush of footsteps across the snow.

“Daisy!” Jaskier grinned and ran to hug the other elf. “Daisy, Geralt, my husband, Geralt, meet Daisy!”

Daisy was a handsome elf with mint green eyes that glowed just like Jaskier’s. They had long ginger hair with curls to rival Lambert’s. Like the elves of the Continent they had a lean willowy figure and angular elven bone structure. The points of their ears were decorated in elegant gold spirals.

“Good to meet you.” Geralt nodded at the newcomer with narrow eyes. Jaskier had never mentioned having any friends amongst his own kind before. “You didn’t come to our wedding.”

The elf blushed and stared down at their feet. “Poinsettia wouldn’t let any of us leave.”

Jaskier’s jaw tensed and he looked away. “Elves don’t fall in love, no need to have a wedding.” He muttered.

“I tried to get away but Poinsettia locked up the globe. We can’t travel between realms without it.” For a moment, Daisy looked like they were about to cry but they plastered a happy smile on their face. “But it was our most productive Christmas ever, at the time. We’ve outdone ourselves every year since. We have Jaskier to thank for that. You must be so proud of him!”

The elf bounded over to him and flung their arms around Geralt’s neck. Geralt felt his eyes go wide and he met Jaskier’s gaze with an alarmed expression. Jaskier tilted his head a smiled, but there was still a sadness in his eyes.

Geralt was going to fucking murder this Poinsettia elf.

“I am proud,” He answered, not breaking eye contact with his husband. “immensely proud.”

Jaskier’s face softened. “Geralt.” He breathed, his eyes twinkling like the sunlight hitting the snow around them.

“He deserved to have his family there.” Geralt sighed and extracted himself from Daisy’s arms.

They pouted in a very Jaskier fashion. “I know. Sweet baby Jesus we all knew, but Poinsettia has lost her way. She’s so focused on making every Christmas better than the last, to keep building up Spirit from Earth, instead of the Continent, that I think she’s forgotten what it means to be happy.”

Jaskier put both hands on his hips. “Jealousy is not a good look on a Christmas elf.” He muttered.

“There’s been rumours!” Daisy hissed with a scandalised giggle. “That the boss asked her to resign! She said no of course but it’s only a matter of time.”

Jaskier snorted. “She does need a holiday.” He mused. Geralt looked between the two elves suddenly feeling very much like the outsider that he was. Jaskier glanced up at him and glided over to link his arm with Geralt’s. “So tell me, darling Daisy. What have I missed this time?”

____________________________

Jaskier flitted about around all the igloos and gingerbread houses greeting his oldest friends. He pretended not to notice the way his fellow elves shrunk away from Geralt, and if he was honest, him. It had always been like this at the North Pole. The other elves thought it was a bit odd, and he was really. He had always been more in tune with his own feelings and wasn’t afraid to act on them.

Most elves were told they were happy and so… they were happy, fake smiles hid tired faces. Elves like Poinsettia were the ones where the cracks were beginning to show. He supposed being in charge for a few centuries wore one down rather quickly. He never wanted to be in charge. There was far too much red tape involved. He much preferred travelling the Continent with his husband, the grumpy bastard who he loved so very much. Jaskier had his own special job in collecting Christmas Spirit and that was how he liked it, thank you very much!

Also he did miss the banter of the workshops, back when he used to make instruments for days on end. There was always a lot of laughter in his team. The musical types were the most lighthearted of the bunch. After he’d been promoted to head composer he’d missed out on a lot of what had previously made the North Pole so special.

He chuckled to himself, that was what had led him to steal Santa’s snow globe in the first place, many moons ago.

The decision that had ultimately made him an outcast from his own kind but set him on the path to meeting the love of his life.

“And this!” He threw a sparkly rainbow as he gestured widely to the ginger bread house in front of them. Geralt rolled his eyes at Jaskier’s dramatics but he was smiling beneath it all. “This, my dear heart, is Santa’s Grotto!”

“The famous Santa.” Geralt hummed thoughtfully. “Is everything made out of food?”

Jaskier laughed and took Geralt’s hand to pull him down the path lined with candy canes. “Stop complaining!”

“Just seems like a waste.” Geralt muttered but he was smiling and he allowed himself to be dragged. “Does this mean you’ll finally ask Santa about Rinde?”

Jaskier scowled up at Geralt. “No.”

“Jask…”

“No!” Jaskier poked Geralt in the chest with his free hand as they stopped abruptly on the path. “I don’t want to know.”

“Why not?”

“Because only Santa has that ability.” Jaskier sighed.

“Which means?” Geralt asked with a tilt of his head.

“There’s rumours.” Jaskier muttered. “A prophecy of sorts. That one day Santa will step down. That someone else will take his place.”

“And that’s you?” Geralt furrowed his brow and squeezed Jaskier’s hand.

Jaskier gave his husband a fond smile and squeezed back. He tossed his fringe from his eyes. He shrugged. “No?”

“Hmm.” Geralt frowned.

“I hope not. I don’t want it.”

“Jaskier, I hope you’re not planning on staying out there forever.”

Jaskier jumped with a jingle of bells and spun round to see Santa watching them with his arms crossed in front of his chest.

“Ahh. Santa.” Jaskier gave a little bow with a wide wave of his arms. “Good to see you!”

“And you must be Geralt.” Santa laughed his jolly laugh and rubbed his belly.

Geralt grunted and nodded. “You’re smaller than I expected.”

Jaskier gasped and hid behind his hands. “Geralt!”

But Santa just laughed. “It’s alright, little one.” Jaskier glared at Geralt, his cheeks were on fire. “Come in, Jaskier. We have much to discuss. I know you have been avoiding me.”

“I have done no such…” Jaskier trailed off at the look Santa gave him.

“You’re worried that you can slow time.” Santa chuckled. “The Great Prophecy.”

Jaskier’s eyes went wide and he watched Santa go back inside the Grotto. Geralt’s arms wrapped around his waist. “I won’t let him take you.” His witcher murmured in his ear and placed a kiss to his temple. “Come on.”

“Hmm.” Jaskier hummed and chewed on his bottom lip. “Stay with me.” He mumbled as he leaned into Geralt’s side.

“Always.” Geralt reassured him.

“Jaskier, stop your dawdling.” Santa called and Geralt gave him a quick push.

He stumbled forwards. “Oi!” He grumbled and dusted off his clothes. Glitter fell from the tips of his fingers as his nerves got the better of him and he lost control of his Spirit.

“You are wondering why you are different?” Santa asked with a broad smile, offering him a plateful of chocolate chip cookies.

Jaskier snatched one and began to nibble it.

The Grotto was as warm as he remembered with the spicy scent of citrus and cinnamon wafting through the air. The cookies were probably made by Mrs Claus, only her baking was as delicious as the cookies he currently had the pleasure of eating. The chocolate chips were melted and gooey and the biscuit was buttery and sweet, with just a tinge of salty goodness. Gods it was a piece of heaven!

”Obviously.” He grumbled. “I thought I was just… odd, but…”

“You were designed differently from the others.” Santa admitted as he pulled off his hat.

Jaskier’s heart was racing in his chest and he gripped tightly onto Geralt’s arm. Around him snow began to crystallise in the air and he felt the tips of his hair go cold as they were covered in frost.

“Easy, Jask.” Geralt murmured. “I’ve got you, love.”

Jaskier looked up at his husband, startled by the pet name. “Dear heart.” He breathed in awe. Geralt’s lips twitched in that adorable half smile that never failed to make Jaskier’s heart turn to goo. Santa cleared his throat and they both turned to face him. Jaskier’s face was lit up brighter than a Christmas tree. “Sorry.” He mumbled.

“You are not my replacement, young elf.” Santa reassured him. “I just knew that one day it would take someone special to keep the belief in magic alive. You, Jaskier, were created from my own magic rather than Spirit that created the others.”

Jaskier gaped. “I’m sorry, what now?”

Geralt hummed. “So, you’re his father?”

Jaskier jabbed his husband in the rips. “Geralt!”

Santa chortled. “You could say that. It would be the closest thing any elf has to a father.”

“Santa!” Jaskier whined. “Oh gods, what is happening?” He moaned and pressed his head against Geralt’s chest.

Geralt laughed and ran his hand through Jaskier’s hair, knocking his hat to the floor.

“Do we have to stay here?” Geralt asked, ever the business man whilst Jaskier was in the middle of a fucking identity crisis.

“Of course not.” Santa laughed. “But I would appreciate a visit at least once a decade.”

“But my snow globe.” Jaskier protested.

“Your work is done, Jaskier.” Santa said softly. “Earth’s Spirit is glowing brighter than ever thanks to the magic you were able to harness from the Continent. Go. Be with your witcher.”

Jaskier stared up at Geralt in wonder. “I can stay with Geralt?”

“You don’t think old Santa Claus would stand in the way of love, do you?” Santa raised an eyebrow at him. “It is a shame. You would have been a brilliant head elf.”

Jaskier groaned. “Oh sweet Melitele no.” Then the idea hit him. “What about Daisy? They would be excellent, poor Poinsettia could use a break.”

“Poinsettia is stepping down to go back to her old job and looking after the Reindeer. She loves those daft bastards more than anything. She’s been apart from them for far too long.” Santa agreed. “I’ll keep Daisy in mind, son.” Jaskier squeak at the word and gripped onto Geralt’s arm tighter. “Now off with you.”

Jaskier looked up at Geralt. “Husband, would you mind terribly if there was a change of plans this winter?” He grinned.

“Do I get to change out of this ridiculously outfit?” Geralt smirked.

Jaskier swatted his arm. “Well you most certainly don’t now! Rude!”

Geralt chuckled. “Kaer Morhen?”

Jaskier nodded and leaned in to brush his nose against Geralt’s. “Kaer Morhen.” He agreed and kissed Geralt with all the love in his heart. “For now and forever.”

#the witcher #the christmas elf #Jaskier #Geralt #geraskier #elf jaskier #wolfie's witcher writing

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artsoupsoupart · 3 years

Text

Madney Week 2021: Nice To Meet You Again

Day One: “May I have this dance?” + fluff

Read on Ao3

She doesn’t necessarily want to throw a ball. She doesn’t necessarily want to become ruler of their kingdom because it feels like it’s too soon. She’s not even twenty-one yet, just two years shy of it actually, but Maddie definitely knows she could run the country by herself, with very carefully selected advisors and just as tedious planning. But a future queen definitely deserves a future king (or queen), so it just makes sense to start her search now, when King Philip and Queen Margaret are almost at the end of their reign, though they’ve been at the end of their line as parents for years since Prince Daniel had been killed at war and well, they never really were parents to her and Evan if she’s being honest with herself.

At the thought of her older brother, she sighs. He had been everything a prince should be. Charming. Responsible. Brave. And gone all too soon. If only he hadn’t joined the army, he would probably still be here. He’d be taking over as king and he’d be the one compromising love for power and stability. The thought gives her pause, as she dresses for the morning. He’s been gone for three years. Just as soon as he had joined the military he had been taken away and his death had shaken the lives of their royal family and the country.

Maddie shakes her head, hoping to throw the thoughts of him out of her mind for the time being. She still misses him and probably always will, but she knows he’d want her to focus on being the best queen she could be. She dresses with the help of her maids, their chattering excitement a constant comfort. She had spent weeks picking out the perfect dresses and suits to make a good impression. The burgundy dress sweeps against her ankles and she feels confident in a way that she hadn’t since decided to begin her search. Her clothes will be at least a little comforting for the next week, a shield to show the perfectly prepared façade she hopes she pulls off.

There’s a knock at her door and in saunters her best friend, head-to-toe in his own royal regalia.

“Well, Your Majesty, don’t you look nice.”

She smiles, shaking her head with a roll of her eyes. “I’m not queen yet, Josh.” Maddie checks herself in the tall, ornate mirror one last time before taking off towards the door of her bedroom. “But thanks anyway. I may as well look nice for the teeth-pulling ahead.”

“It won’t be that bad, Maddie.” Josh huffs as they speed-walk side by side.

“Ew, it definitely will.” And she’s rushing through the corridors of the palace, not because she’s late (guests won’t begin arriving for another two hours at the earliest and a queen is never late, everyone is simply early), but because she wants to make sure everything is in order before the first guest arrives, mental lists being checked off with every step as she double and triple checks off item after item. “I am allowing all of the eligible princes and princesses, dukes and duchesses, barons and baronesses, and well-respected socialites into my home in the hopes that one of them will be able to help me run a country without their ego getting in the way.”

It’s not that she’s necessarily needs the help. But it’s hard to be princess and harder to be queen, which, for Maddie, will occur in approximately two years. She’s been planning this moment since she was a young teen, even before Daniel’s untimely death, and she’s ready to take on the responsibility. She’s ready for the bureaucratic meetings and the late nights, but she just doesn’t want to do it alone. Maddie had figured it was about time she opened herself up to more possibilities. Sure, throughout high school and now during university there have been a few dalliances between some of the same royals she’s welcoming into her home for the next week. They were never serious, though. There was never that wonderful spark that she thinks she saw in her parents growing up.

“Don’t think about it like that.” Josh says, his hands coming to her shoulders to stop her in her tracks. “Think of it like all the other balls you’ve thrown. A time to get to know people and maybe, just maybe, you’ll have fun and find the love of your life.”

“You’ve always been the optimistic one.”

His smile grows wide. “And I always will be. Now go. You’ve got royals to meet.”

Josh is gone from her side almost as quickly as he came and he’s right. She should try to not put so much pressure on this even though it’s the most important decision she’s made thus far. She’ll try to have fun and keep an open mind.

Maddie stands outside at the top of the grand staircase up to the palace, waiting for the arrival of her guests who she’ll greet before one of the butlers shows them off to their rooms. It’s something she’s done many, many times, but this time is different. She’s on the search for something that probably won’t be love, but maybe understanding and companionship. That should be enough, shouldn’t it?

“Prince Douglas of House Kendall” the footman announces. Doug steps from the limo, his suit perfectly tailored and his hair coiffed, not a strand out of place. He’s smug, as always, flirting with her though it makes her skin crawl. Well, he makes her skin crawl now. He hadn’t a few years ago when he had been someone she thought could have been the one. He’s too arrogant in private, too strict, expects the world to fall at his feet and for it to be perfect. Still, he’s one of the most eligible bachelors and she’d be lucky to have him as her king. At least, that’s what everyone else thinks.

Evan, or Buck as he’s taken to being called since his own adventures have started to flourish in his life, is by her side in an instant and she knows exactly why when the telltale flags of the stretch limo come into her line of vision.

“Duchess Taylor of House Kelly”, the footman introduces in his booming voice that Maddie is sure will give her a headache by the end of the day. She would be an apt contender, Maddie silently muses, but she’s her brother’s best friend and has been for the past five years and somehow that just feels wrong. Maddie knows that her younger brother spends a lot of time with the duchess, sparring and shooting at flying plates whenever they get the chance (a surprise to Maddie considering how rough and tumble they can be). She also has an inkling that her little brother might have a bit of a crush, and she has a tinier inkling that Taylor feels the same.

She greets her as Taylor bounds up the stairs, a bright smile on her face. They’re practically family at this point so she really would fit perfectly, but no, she’s already crossed her name from her mental list. Besides, Taylor’s excitement isn’t for her but instead for her best friend who is already talking her ear off. Maddie tells them to go ahead, have their fun while she stays and greets the rest of the guests and the dynamic duo is already talking a mile a minute about what their plans are for the rest of the week.

Maddie is there for another hour, doing princess duties and greeting each potential suitor and nosy guest who’s only attending for good gossip. Her feet are tender and her face stiff from the plastered on smile as one final limo pulls into the circular driveway, those familiar flags stopping her heart and slowing down time. Out steps one Howard Han, sleek in his country’s royal colors of bright reds and vibrant golds. She hasn’t seen him since she was sixteen, a few months before Daniel had died. It had been two weeks after his eighteenth birthday and his father had forced him to return to their country or abdicate the throne. He had loved being a prince and his mother had always said he would be a great king, but his father had rushed him into the more serious side of his princely duties earlier than he would have liked.

No time has passed at all before he’s standing in front of her with that same boyish grin that still feels so friendly yet now with an underlying hint of something she can’t quite put her finger on. He’s a bit taller than that last time she’d laid eyes on him, more muscular too.

“Princess, it’s good to see you again.” He must see the shock on her face because he’s scratching at the back of his neck. “I hope I didn’t ruin your guest list. I was a late RSVP.”

For a moment she just stares at him before shaking her head with an almost shy smile. “It’s good to see you too. And it is absolutely no problem, there’s a room waiting for you.”

“Good, I guess I’ll see you later at the welcome ball.”

She nods her head, blush still coloring her cheeks as he follows the last butler to his room.

…

The orchestra plays as she enters the ballroom at the top of yet another grand set of stairs. She notices her parents have deigned to show their faces, knowing they’re only there for the press. All eyes on her and somehow in the crowd she finds Howie’s. As much as she wants to talk to him, Princess Maddie kicks in and her smile is bright and cordial while she greets her guests. She makes a short speech and then the ball begins, and she’s swept away to mingle and dance and scope out her future spouse.

As she dances with yet another forgettable suitor, she catches Howie’s gaze as he leans against a high table, and he pulls a face that makes her snort and hide in the shoulder of her dance partner. She shouldn’t be so focused on him, it’s not what a good hostess would do. But Maddie can’t help it. In the three years since they’ve seen each other, he’s changed. His jaw is sharper, his hair messier. He’s clean shaven and she wonders if that’s new or if he sometimes has stubble that would feel rough against her cheek… She stops herself, shaking her head and abruptly but politely excusing herself.

She stands on the side of the dancefloor, shaded by the cover of a gigantic pilar as she stops to take a deep breath. Maddie doesn’t think she expected to find the love of her life here. Love at first sight doesn’t exist, not to her at least. But if she really thinks about it, that’s not what this is either. She didn’t just see Howie for the first time and fall in love. She definitely didn’t romantically love him when they were children. But he’s so familiar, and his smile warms the pit of her stomach and that must mean something.

“May I have this dance?” Her eyes settle on the glove-covered hand, following up the sculpted arm and curved shoulder. They settle on the brightest eyes of Howard Han of Manicague and yeah, this means something. Maddie nods and her hand slips into his and they’re off to twirl around the dance floor.

He sweeps her across the room, their focus completely on each other as though they’re the only two in existence, everyone else fading to the background.

“What have you been up to, Prince Howard?”

“You know, some people call me Chimney now,” he smiles, standing a bit straighter.

Intrigued by the change of posture, she tilts her head and flashes him a dazzling smile that definitely affects him if the sparkle in his eyes mean anything. “And why is that?”

“That’s a conversation that shouldn’t be had on a ballroom dance floor.” It’s innocent but there’s something in the way the timbre of his voice drops that shoots right to the butterflies that flutter inside of her. Her foot just catches his toe enough for him to feel it. Howie winces, but chuckles through it, “Still stumbling after all this time, my Princess?”

Maddie’s steps falter yet again, her cheeks flushing scarlet as she scoffs. Because she’s been Princess Maddie and Her Royal Highness Madeline her entire life, but since she was five years old, she was his princess. Back then, she was his princess in purely innocent, best friend ways. And maybe they could be best friends again and maybe she could be his princess. His Queen.

“From what I remember I never missed my marks unless you tripped me.”

“Me? Trip a princess? Never”

She laughs again. “Please, I remember at least twice when you purposefully tripped me.”

“I was nine!”

“It was still purposeful!”

He holds her closer, the room and music from the ochestra fading away even more than it already had as warmth fills her entire being. “Well, maybe you’ll fall differently this time and I’ll be right there to catch you like before.”

Maddie’s chest rises and falls deeply as she stares into his warm, kind eyes. She nods, lip between her teeth. “Maybe.”

She has to remind herself to tell Josh that it probably won’t be that bad after all.

#madney #maddie buckley #howie chimney han #madneyweek2021 #fluff #chakayla’s royal decree

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astudyingreer · 5 years

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Some good old-fashioned psychological horror for y’all. It’s been a while.

TW: Check tags :)

---

“Isn’t this nice, all of us together? Feels like a proper reunion.”

Anti sighed, his tongue tracing the inside of his cheek as he looked between his two captives. Chase leaned against the kitchen counter, hands and feet bound in rope, and Stacy sat tied to one of the chairs at the table opposite the room. They were both gagged, but their eyes were locked in a desperation that was palpable in the air.

Their house--well, Stacy’s house--was a perfect replica, but Chase knew it wasn’t real. This dream was different than usual, but he had gotten good at spotting them. Dreams felt right, but wrong--there was always an impending fear, a prickle on the back of his neck, but the demon standing between them was the thing that proved it.

“I like this,” Anti hummed, craning his neck to look back at Chase. “It’s different. Maybe next time I’ll even invite the kids, hm?” His figure was tall and spindly, bending and spasming as he moved, and every movement was fluid and perfect. His eyes, boring into Chase’s, burned with a horrible perverted sort of light.

Chase only scowled up at him, the tears clinging to his eyelashes betrayed his terror and disgust. Anti chuckled at his own words, sweeping his hand upward and summoning his knife out of nowhere. He turned the tip absentmindedly on his pointer finger.

“You know,” the demon continued, approaching Chase with agonizingly-slow steps, “I don’t know why I didn’t think of this earlier. A little variety, a little surprise... and it gives you a break, which I’m sure you’re very happy about.”

Fuck off. Fuck off. Fuck off.

Anti crouched down in front of him, and his breath was warm against Chase’s face. His voice dropped as if he was telling his victim a secret. “Though... I’m not sure if Stacy’s having as much fun. Does she always cry like that?”

Chase’s eyebrows knit over red, irritated eyes, but he didn’t move. His rage radiated off of him.

Anti shrugged, drawing a long breath. “Maybe she just misses you,” he mused, waving his knife. “We were getting up to all sorts of things before you came, you should have seen it. I didn’t even have to use this and the bitch was screaming her head off.”

Suddenly Chase jerked forward in his binds, as if to tackle Anti, and a tear dripped off his eyelash down his chin and over the duct tape on his mouth. Anti watched his futile attempt with a growing smirk, still absent-mindedly waving his knife. He bounced a little where he crouched.

“She’s still all fresh and clean,” Anti purred, and his eyes flashed dark as pitch, “but I can fix that. I guess you’ll be taking the backseat this time around, Bad Dad. Try not to get jealous.”

Chase watched helplessly as Anti stood, walking toward Stacy with a casualness that could only be deliberate. She watched him with wide, unblinking eyes, her breaths becoming more and more ragged the closer she got. Wordlessly he walked around behind her, leaning one hand on the back of her chair and resting the other on her shoulder. She grimaced, and Chase felt like he was going to throw up.

Suddenly Anti reached down, slashing her bonds with one fluid motion. Then he grabbed her arm, Stacy was a sobbing, snotty mess as he hauled her to her feet. Almost immediately her knees buckled and she fell into him, but he caught her. His expression through his eyelashes was almost gentle, towering over her.

“There you go–shh, that’s it, it’s okay,” he cooed, reaching up to wipe her tears and eliciting a groan of anger and disgust from Stacy through her gag as she tilted her head away from him. Her eyes were wild, fixed on him with unfathomable terror.

Anti eased himself down into her chair with a contented sigh before guiding Stacy in front of him. She tried to resist and he clicked his tongue in some mocking form of sympathy. “Come on, it’s all right,” he said gently, and every word turned Chase’s stomach as he finally coaxed her to sit down on his lap. She shrunk away from his touch, looking to Chase as if for help.

It’s not real, Chase, it’s not real.

Anti grinned, grabbing Stacy’s bound wrists and slashing the ropes binding them. Once free she raised her fists to hit him in a weak attempt at escape but he only shushed her, grabbing her hands and holding them in place.

“Come on, baby, it’s okay,” he soothed, locking eyes with her. “Hold this for me, all right?” Slowly he opened her fingers, placing his knife in one hand and making her sobs falter weakly. Then he looked to Chase, raising his eyebrows in a sickeningly triumphant grin.

“Are we all comfy now?” he asked loudly, shifting a little in his seat and wrapping one hand around Stacy to pull her to him. His legs were splayed in casual relaxation. “I sure am. Except now I have to stare at your face, Chase. God damn. You know how that feels for me? It’s irritating. It’s like nails on a chalkboard for me. Actually--you know what, it’s more like this.”

Chase’s eyes darting desperately between Anti and Stacy as that demon turned to face her, flashing her a cold smile.

“Honey, cut your arm for me, mm?” he purred. Chase’s body had a visceral reaction. He thrashed against his bonds, even though he knew it was futile... god, this was all exactly how he wanted it...

Stacy’s sobs increased and she slowly lifted the blade, her unwilling hand shaking uncontrollably as she brought the blade to her arm. Anti watched, raising his eyebrows in anticipation until the moment she began to slide the knife across her skin--

“Stop,” Anti told her, and she let her hand drop as her choking sobs turned to wails. The demon ignored her, turning to Chase who was hyperventilating so hard he could’ve passed out.

“See?” Anti said. “It’s like that. That’s how excruciating it is to be in your presence, Chase. Not like Stacy here, we all know she’s a good sport. Isn’t that right?”

He reached out, snapping his fingers and causing the duct tape over Chase’s mouth to evaporate into nothing. His mouth was dry and sour as he gasped for breath, swallowing hard and feeling a new wave of tears overwhelm him.

“Stacy, I’m s-sorry, I’m so sorry,” he forced out, trying to sit up in his compromised position. He knew she wasn’t real, of course none of this was, but the words tumbled from him nevertheless.

Anti nodded slowly, squinting as he looked up at Stacy. “What do we think about that, baby? He seems upset.”

Muffled weeping was her only response.

“Mmh, I agree,” was Anti’s musing reply. “I don’t know why we’re supposed to give a shit.” God, he was so arrogant, his words were just dripping with triumph.

“What--what do you want, Anti?” Chase demanded, voice thick with sobs. “Come on, what, you want me to watch you t-torture some fake version of my wife, for what? How is this any more painful than any, anything else you do? Why are you doing this?”

“First of all, ‘wife’ seems like a stretch nowadays. Second of all, you’re talking, but that’s just pissing me off even more,” Anti spat, and for the first time real hatred sparked in his eyes. “I’m starting to regret taking your gag off. Hey Stacy? Cut your arm.”

“W-wait, wait--!”

Stacy raised the knife again over her forearm, dragging the blade slowly across her skin. Chase froze in terror, waiting for Anti to stop her or say something, but the silence was deafening. She dragged the blade over her skin, slowly and shakily, and the muffled moan that escaped her constricted Chase’s stomach into a knot. A small, shallow line of red appeared on her arm and she let her hand drop as Anti’s hold was released.

Anti hummed in satisfaction, tapping his outstretched foot on the floor as he smiled at his prey.

“I think she might’ve liked that one,” he noted in that sick, quiet tone of his. Chase let his head fall, unable to look at her face anymore. It didn’t matter if this wasn’t real. It was too much.

“You’re sick,” he whispered.

“Maybe she does like it,” Anti mused coldly. There was a part of his demeanor that exhibited that carefree facade of constant humiliation and shame, but a deeper side was beginning to show. Real detestation and loathing.

“Maybe I’ll make her like it,” he continued, eyes darkening. Somehow even looking down Chase could see them. “If that’s what I want. After all, this reality is mine. Your reality is whatever I want. So buckle in, sweetheart.”

#tw manipulation #tw disturbing #chase brody #stacy brody #antisepticeye #sorry for typos guys #tw self harm

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hamadacare-xoxo · 2 years

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tags await !

#‘⠀I'M NOT GIVING UP ON YOU ( IC )#‘⠀I AM SATISFIED WITH MY CARE ( OOC )#‘⠀WHAT IF WE REWRITE THE STARS? ( HEADCANON )#‘⠀SWEET ATLAS ( SELF )#‘⠀THIS CONSTANT COMPROMISE BETWEEN THINKING AND BREATHING ( MUSINGS )#‘⠀WE WERE FREE TO BE EVERYTHING WE DREAMED ( BEHAVIOR )#‘⠀WEARING MY HEART ON MY SLEEVE ( PROMPTS )#‘⠀I'LL GIVE YOU ALL I HAVE‚ AND ALL I HAVE TO GIVE ( ANSWERS )#‘⠀YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND THIS YET BUT PEOPLE NEED YOU ( ANON )#‘⠀UNFORGETTABLE IN EVERY WAY AND FOREVER MORE ( PROMO )#‘⠀MY NAME IS TADASHI HAMADA ( SELF PROMO )#‘⠀IT’S SO HARD TO NOT BE HARD ON YOURSELF ( DASH GAMES )#‘⠀FEEL YOUR STRESS MELTING AWAY ( AESTHETICS )#‘⠀COME IN MY BED‚ COME BACK TO HEAVEN ( DESIRES )#‘⠀LOVE CAN TOUCH US ONE TIME AND LAST FOR A LIFETIME ( SAVED )#‘⠀CHAMPION ON‚ ARES ( HIRO HAMADA )#‘⠀GUIDE ME‚ ATHENA ( AUNT CASS )#‘⠀TOUCH ME‚ MIDAS ( FRED )#‘⠀BRIGHTEN ME‚ APOLLO ( HONEY LEMON )#‘⠀MOVE ME‚ HERMES ( GO GO )#‘⠀CHARM ME‚ APHRODITE ( WASABI )#‘⠀HEAL US‚ PERSEPHONE ( BAYMAX )

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likethetailofacomet · 5 years

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Errands and Events

A/ N: So. this is a thing that happened. I…I don’t really even know. Well, that’s not true. I do know. It happened like this. A few weeks ago I posted a list of ten words that had to do with my most recent WIP and @ooo-barff-ooo Chaos Queen that she is, decided to take all ten words and come up with scenarios about each one. OBVIOUSLY I have to do at least 5 of them now. This was one.

We can call it a continuation of On Location. with some inspo help from @sleepwalkingelite who had this to say of the aforementioned story:

Pairings: Seth x Emma, Ben x ???

Word Count: 4,661

Warnings: some smutty fluff in the beginning and then just a bunch of fluffy laughter towards the end.

Tunes: Wanted Man, Mat Kearney

Emma sighed as she dropped her keys into the carved wooden bowl and they jingled metallically against Seth’s. The warm, nutty aroma of freshly ground coffee beans welcomed her home and she felt a tired smile creep up her lips. It was only 7:45am but her morning workout had been intense and she desperately needed a pick me up. She hung her gym bag on one of the three hooks by the front door and pulled the earbuds she was wearing out, setting them down on the table next to the key bowl. Her ears were met with the steamy hiss of the coffee maker and the rushing sound of the shower down the hall. She felt her smile grow as she thought of Seth popping up out of bed and flying to the kitchen to start the coffee making process after her text: On my way home *exhausted emoji* need much coffee. He’d responded with Anything for my Marathoner! *gold medal emoji, running lady emoji*

Emma sighed again dreamily, remarking on how full and wholesome her life with Seth was, at how much they loved one another and at how they were both willing to always put the other first, to make the other laugh, to make the other feel loved. They were rarely able to spend large chunks of time together, but somehow they made it work by stringing together mundane trips to the grocery store with red carpet premiers, comedy tours, and promotional engagements; errands and events. She slipped off her sneakers without untying them, trying to drown out Miles’ voice in her head, Nailor! You’re going to ruin the composition of the shoe that way! And once you compromise the shoe’s integrity, that’s when injuries set in so don’t cry to me when you’ve got shin splints or a sore Achilles’! Miles was the running coach that the studio had assigned to her when she got the role of Katherine Switzer- first female to register for and run the Boston Marathon- and while running was not her cup of tea, she needed to make it look like it was for the part. Katherine was then and still is a fierce woman who took her passion for running to the next level by infiltrating the prestigious, previously all male marathon in 1967 much to the displeasure of her male counterparts. She was attacked during the race, the other competitors deeming her an interloper, trying to force her to quit. She didn’t. She made history, and now Emma was being charged with telling her story, which she was immensely proud to do…she just didn’t think she’d ever love running as much as Katherine. Or Miles. She yawned and stretched her socked feet, digging them into the plush carpet, leaving her still-tied-shoes and Miles’ imagined comments in the vestibule. It was Saturday morning, and she had the rest of the weekend off with Seth- a rarity indeed- and she was eager to get it underway.

The coffee was still brewing, the gentle drip coming from the kitchen telling her that she still had about ten minutes before the brewing process was complete. It was one of those ridiculous high end brewers all shiny metal valves and sleek black buttons that Seth insisted on when his old dinged up Mr. Coffee that he’d had since his college days finally went on the fritz. Seth and his fancy dancy coffee machine, she mused to herself, shaking her head with a smile. Her sweaty curls smacked her in the face and she headed away from the drip of the coffee machine and towards the rush of the running shower. She peeled her damp t shirt up and over her head and slung it over her shoulder as she walked down the hall to the bathroom, knocking their secret knock against the wall where the shower was to let him know she was home. “Be right out, Iowa!” he called, following the sound of the soap hitting the porcelain of the tub from where he’d dropped it, caught off guard by her knock.

Emma chuckled to herself as she slipped out of her shorts, one hand on the wall for balance as she kicked the shorts off of her long legs and threw them over her shoulder with her discarded tee shirt. “No rush, Levine,” she called back opening the bathroom door and tossing her clothing to the ground. “There’s room for two in there. That’s why we went with this apartment, or don’t you remember the walk through with the realtor?” She asked the last bit with a cheeky grin, remembering how uncomfortable their realtor had been when Seth insisted that he get in the shower with Emma to prove that two people could fit comfortably- Seth would have done it himself but he was traveling for work while Emma was apartment hunting, and they were doing the whole thing via FaceTime. Emma sent the biggest fruit basket she could find to the realtor’s office afterwards, thanking him for indulging all of Seth’s long distance requests.

He poked his head out from the shower curtain, suds sliding from his curls and down his muscled neck and shoulders, an excitedly boyish look on his face as she made eye contact with him and slid her fingers under the elastic band of her sports bra. “Why don’t I join you and we’ll-“ with one quick tug she pulled it up and off and set her small but firm and very sweaty breasts free with a little bounce. She tried to give him a sexy strip tease but ended up catching one of her frizzy curls on the sports watch she forgot she was wearing, and she ended up snagging her wrist in her hair with the sports bra dangling around her bent elbow. She laughed at herself, at how impossible it was for her to put her clumsy nature aside while the cameras weren’t rolling. “We’ll put it to the test, if I can get out of this thing,” she yanked gently and her watch detached itself from her hair, trailing a few curls that had become casualties of the watch band.

“Yes please,” Seth whipped his head to the side to keep the slowly dripping suds from stinging his eyes, which he was hell bent on keeping glued to the almost naked woman in front of him. “Lose the underwear and hop in- well, don’t hop, you’ll fall.” He winked and she stepped out of her cotton panties, shucking them off to the sweat soaked pile of her running clothes and the sleep soaked pile of Seth’s pajamas. Sliding the curtain aside, she carefully stepped into the shower and as her second foot made contact with the shower floor, his strong, wet hands were gripping her hips and pulling her close. “Hey, stinky,” he said, wrinkling his nose at her before dropping a sweet kiss to her lips.

“Hey, sleepy,” she responded, kissing him back and wiping some suds from his cheek. “Saw you got that coffee brewing,” she placed her hands on his broad chest and slid them up and over his shoulders to the hard muscles of his back, pulling herself close enough so that their chests were touching.

Seth bite the air between them as the shower rained down warm water and steam continued to fill the room. “Sure did. How’s that make you feel?”

“Makes me feel very appreciative,” she said in a low voice, letting her hands slip agonizingly slowly all over his body until they came back around to his front, reaching down to wrap around his thick length.

“Mmm,” Seth’s eyes closed and his head fell back. “Ya know, I did read that some people get really turned on from the combination of coffee and a runners high,” the last word came out like a gasp as she lowered herself down to run her tongue where her hands had been.

“Well I don’t know about that,” she purred, “but I’m pretty high on you right now and I’d like to see where that takes us.” She took him in her mouth, running her tongue along the vein on the underside of his cock before sucking gently and bobbing her head, lips touching the base before sliding all the way back to the tip. He let out a groan that made her smile around him, a satisfied sound escaping the back of her throat.

“Em, oh my g-“ he broke off mid sentence as she twirled her tongue around him while working her way back up to the base. “Get up here, Iowa.” He placed a hand on either shoulder and gripped, pulling her to a standing position. He crashed his lips to hers, one hand going to the side of her face, curving around her cheek, the other to the back of her head, fingers spreading through her drenched locks. He felt her heat as she rolled her hips against his playfully and he groaned again, breaking the kiss. “You wanted to see where it took us, right?” He asked, staring right into her eyes, his own nearly on fire despite the constant sheet of deliciously warm water. Emma’s breath hitched as she smiled and nodded. She loved when Seth took control, loved the way it sent vibrations through her bones and made it hard to breathe when he looked at her the way he was looking at her now. She loved her smiling, warm, affectionate goofball, loved the quirky, charming, laughter fueled ways that he showed his love. But she also loved when that boyish twinkle in his eye turned into the glaring desire that was reflecting in her own eyes right now. “Let’s put that cardio of yours to the test,” his voice was low in his ear as he nibbled his way down her throat. Suddenly, his large hands were scooping under the perfect sphere of her ass, lifting her off her feet.

She intended to wrap her legs around his torso while he positioned them against the cool tile, hoisting her up while he thrust into her. She meant for it to be seductive, for it to turn him on even more, spur him closer and closer, stoke the embers hotter and hotter. She wanted it to be smooth and sexual. What happened instead was something much more Emma. Her foot had hit the spot where Seth had dropped the soap earlier, making it all the more slick. Just as quickly as he'd scooped her up, she was crashing down, hands flying out to grab onto the curtain rod, a scream leaving her lips as Seth fumbled with trying to catch her while not landing on her, his eyes going wide and immediately losing the fire, filling only with concern over not hurting her. One hand wrapped around her waist and the other shot out to catch them, suspending their motion as he slowly set her down. “Em, you okay? Shit, are you hurt?” he frantically checked her over until it registered that she was near snorting with laughter.

“I...can't...believe...that...happened!” she gasped between huge guffaws that shook her whole body and lit her eyes like torches. The water continued to splatter gently on and around them as Seth slumped to the tiled floor next to her, wrapping her in his arms and kissing her head, immensely relieved that he hadn’t crushed her.

“Really?” he pulled back to look at her skeptically. “Because now that I'm thinking about it... I can totally believe it.” He gave her a mock sympathetic look. “You, Iowa, are not exactly most coordinated of beings. You might be playing an athlete, but...” he sucked air through his teeth and squinted at her, trailing off. She smacked him playfully and kissed him full on the mouth.

“Yeah, yeah, I'm a klutz.” she rolled her eyes and stood up, wringing her hair out as she turned the water off.

Seth remained seated, looking up at her, at how little droplets of water were clinging to the ends of her ringlets and sliding down the curve of her hip. He marveled at the shape of her body and how it looked more perfect from each angle he caught a glimpse from. “Yeah, but you're my klutz,” he said, voice dripping with affection.

They dried off and got dressed before reconvening in the kitchen for the uber deluxe grand gourmet coffee that he'd been brewing for seemingly way too long. Emma reached for their matching mugs, lifting up on her toes and stretching her legs. Seth came up behind her, wrapping his hands around her hips, thumbs caressing her prominent hip bones, fingers splayed against the sides of her thighs. After the first week or two of training for this new role, she’d been sore after every run, nearly in tears as she flopped onto the couch begging him to rub her calves or her hamstrings. Now that she’d worked herself up to double digit mileage, her body was used to the torture but he wasn’t yet used to how taught and firm every muscle of her legs and core were. Not that he wasn’t in love with the way her body looked before- he’d loved every inch of her since that night he looked out across the dimly let comedy club and caught her eyes from across the room. He’d been floundering a bit through his set, but seeing her there, knowing that she’d made time to come see him and support him gave him the extra bravado he needed to get his set back on track. Seeing her put her open palmed hand into the face of the man next to her that wouldn’t stop chattering in her ear was what locked the whole thing up for him. Emma came back down to the soles of her feet with the mugs in hand, and she set them down before spinning in his arms to kiss his nose. He grinned, his white teeth flashing in the sun streaming in through the skylight in their kitchen before reaching past her to take the mugs and fill them with the coffee that they both would so desperately need to get them through their list of errands in time for tonight’s Golden Globe Awards.

When they’d finished their coffee, Emma walked over to the chalk board hanging on the wall where they kept a running list of “things we need to do when we have time”. Seth had made this week’s list and it read like this: “it’s peanut butter jelly time!” (which meant “we need groceries”), “don’t air your dirty laundry here, Karen!” (translated to “pick up laundry from the dry cleaners”), “Get in the zone!” (Emma groaned, as this meant they needed to hit Auto Zone for an air filter for Seth’s nearly ancient 1997 Honda Accord), and finally “Party like rock stars” (a clear allusion to the awards event that evening). A full day indeed, but doing it all today meant having tomorrow completely free, and that was well worth the hustle. They scoffed down a quick breakfast before heading out into the California sunshine to accomplish their to-do list, calling a car service as Seth’s was incapacitated until they replaced that filter. They were half way through their food shopping, Seth singing jingles about everything on their list and every item on the shelves, Emma sashaying down the emptier aisles, when her phone buzzed with a text from her friend Rachael. EMMA I AM FREAKING OUT. WHAT DO I WEAR TO THIS THING? CAN YOU BELIEVE HE ACTUALLY ASKED ME TO GO WITH HIM? LIKE A DATE? H.E.L.P.

Emma shook her head and giggled at her phone screen, drawing Seth’s attention. He leaned on the cart handles and scooted closer to read what was making her laugh. “Rach is freaking,” she explained, showing him her text in all caps. “She really doesn’t need to though,” she looked around to make sure there was no one in earshot before dropping her voice and whispering in Seth’s ear. “Ben told me the other day that he was falling for her. He thanked me again for introducing them.”

“Those crazy kids,” Seth put on his old man voice and Emma laughed, tapping out a response to Rachael, telling her to calm down and send pictures of her dress options so she could help her choose, and telling her that yes, she could believe that Ben had asked her, as they’d been hanging out almost weekly for the past three months, and he was in the middle of filming in London. Which meant he’d been flying back across the Atlantic weekly. Just to see her. She seemed to calm down a bit at that and sent Emma photos of two absolutely stunning gowns. Oh my gosh, the red one! The red one! She voted as she and Seth made their way to the checkout line.

A few autographs and a couple of pictures with excited but respectful fans of both of theirs, and they were calling a car to head on to their next location- the dry cleaners. Emma ran inside with the laundry ticket while Seth stayed with their purchases in the car. She came back a few minutes later, arms laden garment bags. She slipped into the car, punching the plastic wrapped clothing down to turn to Seth. “Okay. Two stops down and we are making great time. Let’s drop all this off at home and wrap it up, what do you say?”

“Aye, aye, captain!” He responded and they high fived as the driver pulled away.

An hour later they were waiting for assistance at Auto Zone, having not been able to find the needed parts for Seth’s teetering- on- the –antique vehicle. “I’m telling you, Seth, it’s time for a new car,” she crossed her arms and smiled at him. “You pick the apartment with the fancy kitchen and the big bathroom. You insist on a coffee maker that would put Starbucks to shame. But when it comes to cars you insist on driving something that was built when you were twelve.”

“Give it up, Iowa, you know I love you but that car is special to me.” His eyes twinkled hopefully as the employee that was helping them came back from the stock room, but his hands were empty.

“Sorry, man, we don’t have anything in stock older than ‘01” he shrugged. “Maybe it’s time for an upgrade?”

Emma smiled broadly at the young man and thanked him before turning to Seth and raising an eyebrow. “Okay, Levine, go fish.”

Seth groaned. “I reallllllly don’t want to take a limo service.” He reached up to scratch his temple. “All those years of shuttling people around, you know?” He seemed almost embarrassed, but Emma understood. He wanted to driver her there himself, not hire some version of his old self to do it. He wanted to be chivalrous and it was one of the millions of things that she loved about her goofball.

“Okay,” she grabbed his hand. “Well, we’ve got about two hours to buy a new car then. Think we can do it?” She narrowed her eyes and smirked at him, knowing that he would enjoy the challenge, and knowing that they really had about three hours as neither of them took all that long to get ready.

“I know just the place,” the twinkle was back in Seth’s eye and twenty minutes later they were sitting at the desk in the dealership.

“You sure about this? Really, really sure, Seth?” Emma asked one last time while they waited for the dealer to come back.

“Oh yeah, I’m sure.” He said. “But I’m gonna have a little fun first,” he winked and pulled his phone out. Emma watched as he texted Ben- she’d been right, the two of them had hit it off perfectly, their goofiness bouncing off of one another and multiplying in the best ways. She shook her head as he sent two photos of two very different cars with the caption: I’m torn…

Ben had responded excitedly expressing that Seth should go with the Maserati, implying that he thought the whole text was a joke, and congratulating Seth on his “incredible new car”. Seth laughed and remarked that he couldn’t wait for Ben to see their new ride.

Another few hours and much more coffee later, the two of them were dressed to the nines- Seth in a sharp black suit with a stark white shirt and a shiny gun metal tie that made his eyes look all the more bright, and Emma in a sequined and beaded purple-gray gown that clung to her new and improved running muscles in all the right ways. Seth offered her his arm and away they went in their new car, just a couple of average joes on their way to one of the more prestigious events in Hollywood. When they were nearly there, just starting to hit the back up of traffic, limos and Rolls Royces and stretch hummers and other manner of extravagant vehicles, a FaceTime call came through on Emma’s phone. She swiped to answer, seeing that it was Ben, figuring that he was asking how far they were or if she could believe the traffic or something along those lines. Instead she was greeted with a sheepish, panicked look, Rachael in the background biting her lip and trying not to laugh.

“Emma? I need a huge favor,” he pleaded, glancing back at Rachael.

“Hi to you too, Barnes,” she teased him. “Hey Rach!” she looked past him and took in her friend’s appearance. “See you went with the red one,” she flashed her a thumbs up before returning her focus to Ben. “Okay, Mr. Best Actor in a Drama nominee, what can we do for you?”

“Um…I know this might be asking a lot, but,”

“Cut to the chase, we’re almost there,” she said, motioning with her finger in a circular pattern, trying to get him to make his point.

“Well, our limo broke down and I was hoping you could scoop us up in that fancy new car of yours?” Rachael was sniggering in the background and Emma knew it was because she was aware of the type of car that they had purchased, as Emma had texted her about it earlier.

“You got it Benny Boy!” Seth called over his shoulder, flicking his turn signal on to turn around. “Text us the location and we’re on the way!”

“He thinks you bought the Maserati, doesn’t he?” Emma asked Seth once they’d ended the call.

Seth laughed. “Yup.”

The comedy was clear when they pulled up next to the limo, the hood of it opened and smoke pouring out, Ben and Rachael sitting in the back seat and Ben’s eyes going wide at the sight of Seth’s “incredible” new car. He got out shaking his head, an incredulous smile on his face. “Why did I think that text was a joke? Why didn’t I know better?” he asked, laughing as he and Seth slapped hands and hugged.

“Not sure, man, you should know better. Hey, Rach, you look great,” he added, giving her a peck on the cheek.

“You really do, Rach!” Emma remarked enthusiastically before the two of them snapped a #roadsideselfie , along with a couple photos of the four of them beside the broken down limo.

“Alright Lords and Ladies,” Seth said with a flourish. “All aboard, we’ve got some hardware to bring home.” He motioned for them all to climb inside the shiny green 2019 Honda Accord, Emma and Rachael slipping in with no issue, but Ben needing to fold his long legs up like an origami swan to fit in the cramped back seat. They laughed their way to the show and continued to do so through the evening. They were happy to find that they were seated at the same table for the awards ceremony, with a few other of Emma and Ben’s co-stars from their last film together.

At one point at a commercial break, Emma and Rachael found themselves alone at the table, Ben and Seth off at the bar just a few feet away. They looked over just in time to see them both knocking back a shot. Rachael’s cheeks blushed almost as red as her dress. “Saw that,” Emma smirked at her friend.

“Saw what?” she tried to cover up her blush by taking a sip of her champagne.

“Saw you blush at the way your date over there devours his beverages. And yes, he does always eat his drinks.” Emma laughed and took a sip of her own drink. “You know, Rach, for what it’s worth, you two are really great together. He’s a really good guy, and I happen to know that he’s nuts about you.”

Rachael blushed further, smiling down into her drink before lifting her eyes back to the tall man standing with Seth. The two of them made eye contact and Emma could practically feel the fireworks right there in the room. “Well, that’s good because I’m sorta nuts about him, too,” she confessed.

The night continued in a flurry of photos, funny moments- Emma’s favorite was when Matt Rodriguez convinced Seth and Ben to narrate the table next to them as if they were on a nature show, filming them on his phone as they did- and of course, awards. Their table had picked up quite a collection of golden statues, Seth winning for best comedy screenplay, Emma scoring with best supporting actress in an action film, with Ben taking best Actor in an action film, and their whole cast winning for best ensemble. By the time the night was over and the after party was attended, the four of them were nearly dead asleep on their feet. Seth had had a few too many, so Emma took over as chauffer having only had two glasses of champagne- Miles had a long run planned for her in the morning, which she could do tired, but not tired and hungover. She dropped Ben and Emma off at his place, wishing them a good night, Ben thanking them again for saving them when they were stranded on the highway.

Seth and Emma flopped down into bed still dressed in their evening wear, slap happy smiles on their faces. Seth traced her jawline up to her ear and tucked a curl behind it before her gently removed her earrings and set them on his bedside table. “So,” she yawned, snuggling closer to him. “I never asked. Why is the Accord so special to you?”

Seth kissed her nose as she closed her eyes. “Because, Iowa, I was driving that beat up old Honda when we met. I had nothing and you fell in love with me anyway. We might have a swanky place now with all the amenities that our broke bottoms used to dream about. But you are still the most incredible thing in my life, and you always will be. And this car reminds me of the time when we met, when we were both just trying to make it, both just falling in love.”

Emma felt her chest swell even as she fought off sleep. “That’s a great answer, Levine.” She fell asleep in his arms and didn’t wake up until her 5am run alarm went off and she slipped out of bed to get herself ready. She noticed a photo message from Ben from last night, after they’d dropped him and Rach off, and she swiped to open it. There they were, unmistakably inside a pillow fort, Rach asleep in the background, the happiest look on Ben’s face that she’d seen, and the caption This was her idea. She’s perfect.

“Told you you’d find your pillow fort girl,” she mused with a smile as she leaned down to kiss Seth lightly before heading out for her morning run.

tagging: @ooo-barff-ooo @zaffrenotes @sleepwalkingelite @brightpinkpeppercorn @kellypenac @agent-bossypants

#seth x mc #seth x emma #seth levine #seth levine x emma nailor #honda accord #wanted man #errands and events #rcd #ben barnes #ben and his pillow fort girl

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nekumiko · 6 years

Text

Colors

Fandom: Daiya no Ace

Genre: Romance

Rated: T

Words: 2,051

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4

Summary: She’s fascinated with his hair. Just his hair. But Ryousuke finds it invasive, and of course he won’t let her off that easily.

Chapter Four: Trigger

"Copy?" Aya flops down on her bed, brown hair splayed all over her pillows. "What does he even mean by that?" She holds up her sketchbook, flipped open to her drawing of Haruichi. Then, even if it had been a month since she actually talked to him, she remembers how Haruichi talked about his brother.

Haruichi had enrolled in Seidou – had started playing baseball, even – because of his older brother. And with him playing second baseman today, it's easy to deduce that Haruichi likes to follow in his brother’s footsteps.

And based on experience, the older Kominato doesn't like that.

"Oh no!" She suddenly sits up. "What if, right at this moment, poor little Haruichi is out doing errands for his seniors and he accidentally bumps into his brother who would bully him?"

Or maybe not.

Maybe Kominato only doesn't like being followed by her. Maybe he just doesn't like her.

"Well, it's just one more year. That's nothing compared to the rest of his life without me." Aya falls back on her pillows, then turns to her side to hug the nearest one. "He should even consider himself lucky." She hides her face under the pillow and closes her eyes. "He won't be the one returning to a life of stagnant gray."

The next day, Aya spies the principal and vice-principal heading towards the field to presumably watch morning practice. It's one thing to be caught by the Coach sometimes, and another to let the misunderstanding of her constant presence there extend to the school officials. No way would she let that happen.

But then she doesn't watch the after-school practice, nor drop by for the next two practice days. And despite her excitement, she doesn't even attend the Kanto game anymore.

Firstly, it's a school day. Secondly, Seidou would play against Yokohama, where most of her old classmates back in Kanagawa are now studying. She wouldn't want to hear again the lines, "As expected of Makoto-san! If she's not holed up in a corner with a sketchbook, you'd find her in the bleachers of a baseball game!" and "What's that? You're drawing baseball players now? You've just combined your eccentricities!"

And, okay, maybe she's still a bit bitter.

What is she even trying to prove? That she can survive without a muse? She certainly did before, so it shouldn't be any different now. And didn't she once wish to stop depending on the senior so much for her to be productive? But here she is, in the middle of a creative stump. The world has become a boring gray, hence it started reflecting on her daily works - if it's not black-ink-abused, it would simply be colorless.

Friday rolls around and she's kicked out of the club room, only allowed to return once she picks herself back up. In the one year she's been with the Art Club, she knows it's just out of disguised concern and trust, so she harbors no hurt feelings. But it leaves her no choice but to set out for the field.

Nope. She also has the choice to procrastinate for one day more.

On her way home, she shoots Miyuki a message to ask if there's a game tomorrow, to which he answers hours later with an affirmative.

(Yet it was an unusually clipped reply. Aya is highly suspicious that he's pissed – not at her, though, for there are telltale signs if it is so – but unless she wants to be put into a grayer mood – for an upset Kazuya would, in turn, upset her too – she chalks it up to him just being exhausted.)

And what luck. To narrow the participating players in Summer Nationals down to twenty, double-header games have begun. In one day, two schools would be invited over for practice games against Seidou's first-string and second-string at the same time on different fields.

It hadn’t been a problem last year. With Miyuki and Kuramochi getting into first-string, she got to support them while she watched the pink-haired senior.

This year, though, Haruichi has been confirmed to be promoted to second-string.

Damn Kominato Ryousuke.

If she chooses the first-string game, it'd be like betraying a new friend. And if she chooses the second-string game, he would believe what she said last time about preferring Haruichi over him and—

WHAT.

Why does she even care what the third-year would think? Why does she even think that he would so much as spare a thought of her?

As she mulled things over, Aya's feet leads her to Field A well after two innings. She barely finishes squeezing her way towards the front of the crowd when Furuya steps off the mound, as urged by Miyuki – the evil being who 'forgot' to inform her that today's a double-header.

Not long after, Tanba runs out of the dugout, claims the mound, and immediately throws a curveball that leads to a strike.

"Hey, hey! I'm getting bored out here!" Jun-san complains lightheartedly when his friend throws another strike.

"You seem to be in a real good position," Kuramochi adds.

But all these had happened only in Aya's peripheral, for her eyes had already instinctively searched for him and locked there.

"You're finally acting like the ace," Kominato Ryousuke says with his signature smirk. "A little late, though."

Despite being in the gray moment of indecision, she still ended up choosing the older brother. "This is crazy," she mutters to herself.

What's even crazier is that two weeks later, she's still banned from the Art Club.

What is going on with her? Is it because she only drops by during games now? Does she really need to see him every day? Or has she ultimately jinxed everything and the world of colors had finally failed her, as what everyone back home expects?

On times like these, she reverts back to drawing pictures of the past – of her elegantly boring life back in Kanagawa. Today, she draws a portrait of herself in a kimono, in her personal favorite color – gray. The color that describes her family's status, and the future she is being forced into. But it's also the color of her safe space. It's true that she had fought to get her parents to arrive at a compromise, yet a gray life is what she could always fall back to if this all turns out to be a wrong decision, a mere whim.

"Won't you be ruining your eyesight, drawing in a place like this?"

Aya stops. Slowly, she straightens up and looks to her left.

The twilight shining in through the stair windows is still bright enough for her to actually see what she's doing, even to see the gray dust motes floating in the air. And right now, floating in between her and Kominato Ryousuke.

"Just where did you come from?" The moment she asks that, she realizes she had dropped polite speech. She opens her mouth to apologize.

But he simply answers, "I forgot something in the classroom."

Right, the Art Club is way up in the third floor of the school building, where the third-year classrooms are. It is close to the set of stairs that not a lot of people go through at this time of day, so Aya had been settling there in hopes of the members taking pity on her when they see her.

What a successful plan that is, so far.

"I see." She nods slowly, then hesitantly turns back to the sketchbook in her lap, not quite knowing if she should continue drawing.

Maybe Kominato let her rude question slide, but maybe he won't appreciate being blatantly brushed off when he for once approached her with nothing but curiosity. Especially when he doesn't move at all from his seat on the steps, with only Aya's box of colored pencils finally serving a purpose – a barrier between them. "So this is where you usually are these days," he finally speaks again.

"Actually, I would've been in the club room, but since I'm temporarily not allowed in there for producing very uninspired works..." she trails off with a sigh.

"How so? You were even watching the second-stringers' game today. Haruichi had played."

"But you didn't."

The senior goes silent.

This is the part where Kominato would call her out for being creepy again, and Aya is ready for it.

But today he just... continues to say nothing in response.

Confused, Aya turns to look at him again.

The dimming light from the stair windows doesn't do much, though, especially when his face is turned away from her. But he is obviously biting his lip.

"Kominato-san? Are you okay?"

He breathes deeply. "You're really… something else."

That statement is still grounds for an argument to start, but there's just something about his tone that says otherwise. That suddenly makes her heart flutter. That slowly triggers colors to seep back in. It's so startling, that the only thing she could do was to look back down at her sketchbook.

Kominato finally clears his throat. "May I... see the drawings you usually do?"

"Huh?" Surprised yet again, she snaps her head towards him. What is going on? Why is he suddenly interested, when all this time he had hated the idea of her drawing him? And did he of all people stutter?

The guy is apparently not looking at her, but at her in the current page of her sketchbook.

Of all the things she has to draw today, it’d have to be of her fitting a kimono. Not-so-discreetly covering it with her arms, she decides the best way to take his attention off it is to comply with him. And he is asking nicely. "Sure, why not?" But she pauses at the first drawing she reveals. "Oh. Do you mean you want to see the drawings I have of... of you?"

Kominato nods. "I want to confirm something."

Again, what exactly is happening here? Is she in some kind of dream?

He looks up at her. "Well?"

This has got to be the craziest thing to happen to her this week. "Okay," she says, dragging the last syllable out of reluctance, but then continues to turn the pages.

Now, it's one thing to have a muse who doesn't exactly get flattered for being one. And another to have said muse looking at your unsolicited drawings of them.

But she isn't cringing, for all her brain registers right now is that the boy had scooted closer to practically hover over her shoulder and she could feel his warmth and he smells so nice and –

"Are requests open right now?" He's suddenly putting the distance between them back up.

"What?" Her eyes widen at all her thoughts during the ordeal, the sudden loneliness she felt when it ended, and the weirdest thing that's ever come out of his mouth.

"Requests. You take requests from people and draw, don't you? Commissions, you call them?"

"You... you want me to commission you a drawing."

Kominato suddenly faces forward, at the big windows. "Yes. But please draw my eyes properly."

It takes everything in her not to laugh out loud. She bites her lip. "I'm sorry, Kominato-san, but that's pretty hard to do. I don't exactly know what your eyes look like."

"Is that so?"

"Mmm-hmm, so - what are you doing?"

"How about now?"

She's now backed up against the wall, a clear view of Kominato Ryousuke's black irises right in front of her. Relying on her photographic memory, she closes her eyes after a few seconds. "1200 yen. That's an inked close-up portrait of you, in full color."

"That's fair."

"I think so too." But when she opens her eyes, he's still there. "Senpai," she now whines, sliding the sketchbook in between the small distance between their faces, "is this actually a trap?” And with a sudden burst of courage, she jokes, “I didn’t know you feel that way."

"Oh, I'm sorry." Finally, he draws back from her. Even better, he stands up. "Okay. I'll see you around."

She peeks at him from one corner of the sketchbook. "Please expect your order in a week or so."

Kominato nods noncommittally, already bounding down the stairs.

As Aya tries to process everything that just happened, she first notices that the world of gray is gone.

Previous: New (art) interest, he seems

Next: Truce

#kominato ryousuke x oc #ryousuke x oc #kominato ryousuke #diamond no ace #daiya no ace #ace of diamond #ace of diamond fanfiction #diamond no ace fanfiction #nekumiko

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merigreenleaf · 6 years

Note

Love me ✨✨

Short Story: “Adair’s Domestic Fluff”

(This prompt was “Leave a “Love Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a fluffy drabble about two (or more) characters.” I come bearing fluff! A story with poly fluff and kisses and refrigerators and interior decorating! It’s just… not a drabble since it ended up 3.5k words. I hope the cuteness makes up for the length. You can find the masterpost with links to read all of the short stories in this series here.

—————————————

If there was one thing Adair wanted, it was a home that belonged to him. As a kid he’d lived with his parents, sure, then with his master’s family when he was a little older, but a room wasn’t the same of having a kitchen and a studio that were his. It was even worse on the road. He loved traveling and seeing new things so regularly, not to mention trying new food everywhere he went. Staying at inns and crashing on friends of friends’ couches and fumbling to pitch an occasional tent, though, not so much love there. Then he’d moved in with Blythe. What was supposed to be a temporary thing became a permanent thing, but all he’d had was a space on the floor for his makeshift bed and a place in the corner for his trunk of canvases and art supplies. He’d felt like a visitor and it had never felt like home. Now, though…

He stared up at the new float-wagon that was going to be his home. His. Well, his and Blythe and Etri’s together, which was far better than only being his. It was large, much larger than Blythe’s old one. This one was two floors and it would be a bear to drive. He hoped he wouldn’t have to, considering he could barely drive the old one without making it drift constantly to the left. Once he’d even glitched the weaving that made it hover, causing it to tilt sickeningly at a thirty degree angle until Blythe managed to right it again. He still had no idea how he’d managed that one. This wagon floated perfectly and was so new it still smelled of wood and paint, although most of the painting was going to be done by him once they moved in. He had ideas for how to decorate the walls. Ceilings, too. And maybe the cabinets and shelves and-

A warm hand on one shoulder and a chilly one on the other pulled him out of thoughts of interior decorating. “Do you like it?” Blythe asked.

Despite her voice never losing its confident edge, their empathetic link told Adair she was hesitant. Unsure. He hoped it was over his opinion and not over if he and Etri truly wanted a new home with her. He pushed himself up on his toes to kiss her cheek. “It’s amazing!”

That was the right answer, or maybe the right kiss, because her unease faded. “You haven’t seen anything yet. Let’s go in.”

[More]

As Blythe led him up the stairs by the hand, he caught sight of Etri lifting his arm. Perfect, their plan was still on. If Blythe saw, she would hopefully think Etri was scratching his head, but Adair knew better.

By the time they were inside and the staircase had retracted back under the wagon, Etri had caught up. Adair was aware of the layout, having worked with the other two and a team of carpenters to design something that would work for all three of them, but Blythe hadn’t let him come the times she checked on it being built. She said he’d be bored and she was probably right. He wanted to decorate the home, not see how a table was built or how a stove was fitted so nicely between the sink and the spice rack or how the cold box the exact size of the corner was–

Wait, a cold box? A stove with a full oven and not just a single heated burner? Six feet of counter space? A full kitchen, something he’d dreamed about for years? Dreams that always made him sad when he woke up and realized his cooking space was limited to one measly countertop and a tiny stove that only worked because Sol kept tinkering with it?

Adair spun around, knowing the wide grin on his face probably looked maniacal. “This wasn’t in the blueprints!”

Etri pulled him into a tight hug while Blythe embraced him from behind. Adair nuzzled against Etri’s chest, content to be sandwiched between his two beloved sentinels even if he was currently suffering from a lack of air. Height was the only similarity between them and right now the contrast Adair noticed most was between Blythe’s body heat and Etri’s body cold. He wasn’t icy, not like the cold box would be, but Etri’s weaving made his body temperature run distinctively cooler than Blythe’s mundane warmth at Adair’s back– not that “mundane” was ever a word Adair would use to describe Blythe in any other way.

“Told you it was better inside the wagon.” Adair could tell from Blythe’s voice that she was grinning as much as he was.

"We wished to surprise you,” Etri said into his hair. “I take it you are happy with this, yes?”

Happy? Happy didn’t begin to describe it! He wiggled his way out of their hold only somewhat reluctantly because a kitchen was almost as good as hugs. He wanted to test the temperature of the cold box right now! It must have cost a fortune; those were Artisan-made and the weaving powering it needed to be charged every few months, which meant more money. He was reaching for the handle when Etri caught his hand. A pout was beginning to form on his lips when he noticed Etri glance in Blythe’s direction for a brief second. Right. He couldn’t hang around in the kitchen or the studio located a few feet away. This he wanted to explore, too, but since that was exactly how he planned it, he figured it could wait.

First, he and Etri needed to implement Plan Keep Blythe Distracted. Adair had wanted to call it Operation Adair Distracts Blythe With Kisses Until She’s So Distracted She Doesn’t Hear a Thing Plan, but the others had shot it down for being too wordy with an acronym of nonsense letters. (And in the words of Dray, “Ew.”) All of Adair’s sad puppy eyes were to no avail. Plan:KBD it remained.

Right on schedule came the nearby sound of hammering. Blythe, not nearly distracted enough, asked, “Do you hear that?”

Adair was too far away to kiss her– drat his tendency to poke around in kitchens!– so he scrambled to find something to say. “I… I don’t hear anything.”

He grimaced as the words left his mouth. Of course he’d heard it. Someone three streets away probably heard it. Blythe shot him a disbelieving look as the hammering started again. “That noise.”

Etri swooped in to the rescue. “It is one of the other wagons under construction. Remember, we passed two others as we walked to this.”

“Huh. I didn’t see any of the carpenters.” She grimaced as the hammering grew louder. “I should go out there and ask them to hold off until we leave.”

As she started walking towards the door, Adair fumbled for a way to stop her. Maybe if he lunged across the table, he could kiss her before she got the door open… Once again Etri was faster. He caught her hand much as he’d so recently caught Adair’s and nodded towards the ladder. “I wish to see the rest. If we delay the builders, they may charge us extra for their time.”

“Good point. Come on, then.”

Adair vowed that after this was over, he was going to have Operation Give Etri a Billion Kisses For Distracting Blythe With Bills and Logic.

Adair followed them up the ladder, grimacing as he carefully set his feet on each rung while staring fixedly at his hands. This was the one thing he didn’t liked about the blueprints. While his terror of heights had downgraded into more of a nuisance than an actual fear, it didn’t mean he liked them. Blythe and Etri had suggested getting a staircase built in instead, but Adair had vehemently vetoed this because it would have cut into space in his studio. Now he wondered if maybe it had been a rash decision. He had drawn and painted on crowded public trolleys, cramped tables at restaurants, once even crawling under Sol’s bed to get away from distractions. After getting himself stuck there for an hour until Blythe finally found him, he’d decided not to use that one again. A smaller studio would still be an amphitheater compared to those places. Curse the lack of foresight in past-him! Curse the–

Adair stumbled into Etri as he stepped off the ladder. After a horrifying, teetering moment where he almost fell back down, Blythe grabbed him and all but lifted him safely out of the way. As he slumped down onto the bed and tried to get his heart to stop racing, he realized why Etri hadn’t walked further into the room. He stood staring up at the ceiling with the same dumb smile Adair wore while thinking about kitchen appliances.

Ah. So he’d noticed Adair’s contribution. Past-Adair, still smug about the larger studio compromise, grew yet more smug about his brilliant idea to give Etri a skylight. A window in the ceiling had meant three months of constant painting commissions that left Adair’s hand cramped and his mind questioning if turquoise was more green than blue. Feeling Etri’s pure joy spread across their link made it all worth it, though.

Etri finally lowered his head and turned towards his pair. He said nothing as he held his arms out. Words weren’t needed when his intention was so clear. Within the span of a moment Adair and Blythe were wrapped in his embrace. That was one thing Adair could say about Etri’s extreme height: long limbs made for good hugs.

“It opens, too. That way you can go up on the roof without having to go downstairs,” Blythe said, her voice muffled by Etri’s coat.

As much as Adair loved Etri, he could never understand his obsession with sitting in the highest place available. While Adair knew Etri’s weaving would prevent a fall, that didn’t make the knowledge comfortable. But Adair’s comfort wasn’t important. What mattered was Etri could climb up high whenever he wanted and–

“I can see the stars,” Etri breathed.

Adair nodded as best he could, once again smooshed between his muses. Etri’s observation was exactly why Adair had suggested putting the window over the bed instead of over the bookshelves and sitting area on the other side of the room where the daylight would have been more useful. “Yeah. When you can’t sleep or if you’re feeling stressed, you can look up and see the constellations you love.”

“Even if you still think the constellation-muses are real people,” Blythe chimed in. It was an old joke between the three of them which made Etri chuckle.

After the rumbling of Etri’s chest subsided, Adair realized another sound had faded away, too. He looked up at Etri to see him nod ever so slightly. Time for the next phase of Operation Something To Do With Blythe Being Distracted. Adair couldn’t remember what it was called, so he kissed her instead. He could do that for more reasons than just distraction, after all, such as a reward for helping him plan a star-window for Etri. Or for also secretly working with Etri to give him all the kitchen he could ever want. Adair had the best sentinels!

When she finally pulled away looking somewhat stunned, Adair grinned at her. “How about we go hand over the final payment so we can start moving in?”

That was the next part of the Plan: get her outside without suspecting anything. It was her turn to be surprised.

Etri caught her with a quick kiss before he headed down the ladder. He wasn’t much for kissing, so this left her as flustered as Adair’s deeper one had done. Perfect. Maybe she wouldn’t notice anything out of the ordinary about the wagon right away. Maybe this was closer to Operation Give Blythe Lots of Kisses Until She Doesn’t Notice Anything than Adair previously thought. He certainly didn’t mind Etri getting in on that plan!

They made their way down the ladder and past the studio and kitchen. Adair allowed himself two wistful looks, reminding himself that soon enough he’d be seeing these all the time, then they were back out the door. The people who were the source of all the hammering were out of sight, which meant he and Etri had timed it right despite kitchen distractions. Blythe didn’t suspect a thing as she began to walk towards the carpenter’s office. Adair caught one of her hands the same time Etri did. Gently they spun her around.

“What are you doing? I thought we were going to pay for…” She trailed off as she saw what had been done to the wagon while they were inside.

When she didn’t say anything for several moments, Adair looked up at Etri, afraid they’d made a horrible mistake. Etri only gave a small shrug; he had no more idea of how this would go over than Adair did. Both knew this idea was a risk. Maybe Blythe wanted the wagon to look plain and simple, like her last one, or new and unadorned, like this one had up until a half hour ago.

What was once bare wood planking now appeared to be part tree or possibly flower. Maybe a bush? Adair didn’t know much about plants, so he’d left the design for this up to Sol, who could create anything out of metal, and Dray, who trained for years under a master carpenter before becoming a dancer. In theory Dray could combine what Sol made with the wood of the wagon without damaging any of the construction, and judging from how perfectly it all fit together, it had worked. Off to the right Adair could make out the blond of Sol’s hair and the fiery red of Dray’s skirt as the pair peeked around the side of the neighboring half-finished wagon. They were both likely trying to figure out why Blythe wasn’t responding. Adair wondered if someone had warned the carpenters who were in on this about Blythe’s temper and all of them had wisely gone home for the day.

A full five minutes passed and still she stood staring up at the intricate metal vines that wound around all sides of the wagon. The moss-colored tendrils draped over each box that would soon hold Blythe’s flower and herb gardens and snaked through the trellises made to support her various creeping ivies. Eventually her plants would cover some of the metal, blending the faux garden of the piping with the true living garden.

Just as Adair was beginning to wonder if he and Etri should flee like the carpenters presumably had, Blythe finally acted. She moved forward to touch the wagon, running her hand along the portion of vine that looped around the nearest window box. She continued tracing it until her hand met one of the many valves spaced out along the pipes. The water tanks under the wagon weren’t filled yet, so the knob wouldn’t do anything. Blythe, though, was smart even when facing one of Sol’s unique and baffling inventions. Her hand trailed over the portion of the pipe where tiny holes would allow water to slowly pour into the dirt once dirt was added. She stepped back and her gaze traveled along the pipes while she counted under her breath, then she began to circle the wagon, still counting.

Adair must have shown his confusion or sent it through the link because Etri leaned over to whisper in his ear, “She is counting the valves, likely to see if they all lead to each box.”

Blythe was on the other side of the wagon and probably couldn’t hear them, but whispering seemed like a good idea. “Does that mean she likes it?”

Etri wrapped his arms around Adair from behind and held him tightly. It was frequently hard to tell how Blythe would react and this was the longest she’d ever gone without saying what was on her mind. Adair appreciated the support of his other sentinel, even if he did kind of get the feeling Etri was using him as a shield.

When she came back into sight, it was with a smile as large as the ones Adair and Etri so recently wore.

"Thank the Creators,” Adair murmured under his breath as Etri echoed his words.

Blythe darted over to them and pulled them into a tight hug. Adair was ready to call this one of the best days of his life if just for all the affection! "It’s an irrigation system, isn’t it? I thought it was some stupid decoration, but the valves are there so I can control which plants get water. That’s brilliant.”

“Thanks! Dray helped me make it!” Sol’s voice directly behind them caused all three to jump.

Dray stalked over and grabbed Sol’s sleeve. “Solei, can’t you see they’re having a moment?”

Blythe laughed and let go of her pair to pull the other two into a hug. Hugs initiated by Blythe were about as rare as kisses from Etri, so both Sol and Dray stood a little awkwardly until she let go. She took a step back and faced her sibling. “I’m not going to ask Sol this because we all know how well he understands things like money, so how did you all afford this? There’s no way he could have found all that metal in the trash.”

Trash heaps were where Sol normally got the materials for his creations. Adair spent far too many hours of his life waist-deep in trash, trying to find a specific piece of junk for his best friend. From the way Dray wrinkled their nose at Blythe’s question, Adair got the suspicion Sol dragged them out on garbage adventures, too.

“A little here, a little there,” Dray answered with a shrug. “It added up faster than you’d think with the four of us contributing.”

Blythe turned around with her arms crossed over her chest. “Addy, how many paintings did you sell?”

Adair gave her his best reassuring smile. He wasn’t about to tell her the number, not with those plus the ones he’d used to buy the window. To be honest, he’d lost count a few weeks ago. “Enough.”

“I know Sol probably sold some inventions– Creators help us if any backfire on unsuspecting customers– and Dray probably picked up a few more hours dancing, but how did you get the money, Etch?”

Etri stared down at the ground. Yeah, Blythe posed a good question. Adair was pretty sure it wasn’t through more hours on stage because Etri avoided performing since becoming Adair’s sentinel. Etri had assured him that he hadn’t stolen any of the coins he handed over. Adair didn’t really need the assurance because he trusted his sentinel and knew Etri had never been that kind of thief, but he’d been too worn out from an endless stream of painting to ask. Now, though, he possessed the energy and the curiosity. “Yeah, how did you?”

Dray stepped up and rested their chin against their hand in a too-theatrical gesture of thought. “I believe I may know his secret.”

Etri’s head snapped up. “You do not.”

“I do so. One night I saw you after I got done performing and followed you. Well, I say followed you. I meant to catch up and subtly hint that it would be nice if you carried my bags back for me, but those damn long legs of yours move too quick.”

Before Adair could ask Dray if they meant “actually hint” or “subtly try to manipulate Etri’s mind,” Blythe spoke first. “So where’d he go?”

Adair strained to hear when Dray leaned in to whisper to her. His disappointment in not catching Dray’s soft words didn’t last long because Blythe let out a laugh and said, “Poetry? He sold poetry?”

Etri’s head dropped again. Adair could feel a thick strand of his embarrassment coursing through their link, as could Blythe. She walked over and touched Etri’s chin to get him to meet her eyes. “Oh no, you don’t. You’re not allowed to mope about this. It’s too damn sweet of you.”

Etri looked away again, only this time it was with a small smile on his lips.

Adair was aware of Etri’s hobby of writing in journals, but his tiny, cramped handwriting always made it impossible to see what it said. Adair respected his privacy too much to ask about it or to snoop. Now that it was out, though… “Yeah, Etch! You need to let us see some of it.”

“Haven’t we suffered enough?” Dray moaned.

Before Etri could say something that would inevitably start an argument with Dray, Adair laced his arm through his and tugged him towards the wagon. “Now can I see the cold box?”

Dray’s grumbles about not being allowed to have any fun faded as the trio headed back to the wagon. This really was the best day. He’d prevented one of Etri and Dray’s annoying bickering contests, there was an entire wagon to decorate and cook inside, and he was madly in love with two sentinels who would share his home. His home, with the nice kitchen, star-window, and wall garden. Life was perfect, even if it did unfortunately include a ladder.

#writing #my writing #writeblr #short story #lgbt stories #lgbt fantasy #unexpected inspiration series #ask #writing ask #ask game #perringcentral #my writing ramblings #UI POV: Adair #UI POV: Trio

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ikonislife · 7 years

Text

My Professor 4

-Hanbin x Reader (Professor!Hanbin)

-1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

-It was universally known that friend with benefit between best friends would be a chaotic ride from the start till the heartbreak of either one or both party. No one says anything about being in one with your dear professor…

-Rated M for language, mention of sex (secretly rated B for bullshit 😏)

-a/n: Did anyone catch Monsta X’s Wonho hair color in the last part? If you did, well now you know how long I’ve been holding onto these drafts. Here’s a longish one for ya’ll, seeing how I took so long to post it. Is the drama over yet? I don’t know ... 😉

Before you could reply, the handle rattles as someone is trying to enter the room. Shock forms on both of your faces as you hear a small high pitch voice calling for him.

“Hanbin? are you in here?”

Your heart takes a dive to the deepest darkest pit of your stomach at the event unfolding. Fear spreading its root like thousand years old oak claiming your body as its victim. What, how could this even happen, you question yourself rather than curiosity, it was befuddlement. Your rendevouz had been going on for months now, even with the weak wills of two horny eager adults and giving into the temptation of risky moments time and time again, never once were you careless enough for there to even be evanescent rumor. Yet out of all the dirty sinful moments deserving of getting caught, of course it’d be when you’re both teary eyes and heart full of anger from a “break up”, if this could even be qualify as one.

“How do you open this damn door? what the hell, Hanbin?” She calls out again, somehow his name sounds so poisonous, so sour. How could it sounds like heaven and all things right with the world when you utter his name, even when you’re angry yet even in the best moment, she just sounds so... shrill. Hanbin thought to himself, the thought of just how whipped he is for you crosses his mind yet again, both terrifying and wonderful at the same time leaving him shuddering in its wake.

Hanbin could feel the blood drains from his body and scared stiff yet his first instinct was to pull you closer to his chest protectively even if the act in itself will be the death of you both. He was afraid, yes, so afraid of being discover but not because it will hurt him, rather it might mean you’ll never be in his arms again, of hurting you in ways even he couldn’t even hope to fix, something he cannot fathom even in his worst nightmare. The last few weeks of constant pushing and pulling, of not being able to hold you whenever he wants had pushed his heart to the brink of unbearable pain. How was he to go on without seeing you again, knowing that he ruined your life...

A fleeting curse left his lips as the knocking grew loud, only now did the severity of the situation really hit him. Eyes frantically searching for a solution, he only holds you closer in his arms wanting nothing more than to shield you away from the bad of the world and you let him, you let him because you know as well as he does this could be the moment that make or break this fucked up relationship. But soon his arms go limp, probably a side affect of his overworking mind, figuring out an excuse that would innocently covers as to why he’s meeting a student in such a compromising place and position. You could feel all the blood drains from your body as you lost all feelings, cold sweat breaking from fear. What’s the worst that can happen to you, expulsion? For him, it’d be his life long work shattering in a second of carelessness caused by your own foolishness. If you had just give in to the luring of the warmth and care he has to offer, just let him explain himself, you both could’ve been back to fucking like rabbits and blissfully ignorant of each other feelings by now but as always, you’re stubborn as a mountain. Your usually composed and quick witted man had turned into putty, standing stoic, blankly staring as if you’re a mere spirit haunting his day dream. You hadn’t intended to push so hard but you needed to be out of sight, and perhaps a tumble could shock Hanbin out of his frozen state. You run as fast as you could before realizing there was only one way out, the doors that were now being rattle with forces stronger than any natural disaster. You stare at Hanbin’s wide eyes, panic engulfs your body at the thought that you might had just ruined the life of the man you love.

Without another thought, your body carries itself toward his arms once more as you snuggle into his chest, anger and pain temporarily forgotten as you take in his comforting scent, praying to God it’ll help you clear your mind... At the very least, ease the pain you’re both about to feel. His hands surround your cheek in that familiar loving hold he always had on you whenever a tender kiss about to be exchange except this time, his usual gorgeous galaxy for eyes are plague with hurt and sadness. His lips pressing tight against yours, relishing in that soft rose scent of your lip balm in a kiss that was much too short for his comfort.

“Hide, baby. Behind the chairs, I’ll try to distract her.” Hanbin tried so hard to be strong for you but his voice let on just how scare he was of this whole ordeal. With another gentle kiss to your nose, he pushes you off toward the front and without wasting another second, you dive behind the furthest row of frayed plastic chair, not even caring that you had just landed hard on your knees and probably contracted some flesh eating disease from the grossly discolored, stains filled carpet. You hold your breath but the drumming of your heart a dead giveaway, she probably already knew you were here. Your body curls up in a ball, shrinking yourself into oblivion if you could and pray she wouldn’t venture closer. Hoping, even if it’s torturous, that Hanbin will be enough to distract the devil from lurking your way.

It was when the painful thud of your body landing and your loud grunt ringing out that Hanbin finally snapped out of his trance, realizing he had stared in your direction for far too long. Hurry in his movement, the young professor wipes away whatever lingering tears left on his cold cheeks, choosing to focus on the way your soft lips just moments ago moulded against his, and dare he says, they even tugging, pulling at his own lips in a desperate attempt of copping any feels before parting way.

“Positive thought, Hanbin, positive thought.” He peps talk himself, smiling a bit unknowingly recalling the way you had practically flew into his arms like you used to when he still get to call you his princess. “She ran to you, dummies. She ran to you for a reason. Protect her, don’t let her down. If you fuck this up, we’re screwed, Kim Hanbin. She’s never going to love us again.” Sounding even a bit crazy now, Hanbin paces the floor, grateful for a few seconds of silent to compose himself before heading over to the door.

The instant the best door in the world, in Hanbin’s humble opinion, had managed to creak open, he had straighten himself up and shooed the last bit of lingering tear away. His eyes glazing over, staring off into the distant as if he hadn’t just begged for the love of his life for another chance, that guilt wasn’t now ripping his heart apart thinking of you, thinking of your abused heart having to hide like a criminal. The worst of all was that he fears you might not realize all he wants to do is parade you around like the queen you are, yet all he had done so far is making you hide in the shadow as if you’re something shameful. A faint clicking of heels could be heard before the shrill laughter you hate so much rings out like a bad omen. Whatever bullshit they have to talk about aren’t going to be time in pleasantville for your poor soul so in the last ditch of saving any last piece of your heart that hadn’t cracked, you cover your ears and shut your eyes even if you know it’s pointless, you had to try... as if anything can stop her high pitch voice from leaking into your eardrums.

“Hey! there you are, mister. God, that was some door, why would they make it so hard to open. Anyways, I was wondering where you wander off to. Oh, you’re alone? I could’ve sworn there was someone else in here. Silly me!” She half giggles and you could already imagine the way her fingers dance up his arm, grazing against those strong biceps you love to snuggle up to during movie nights. A jolt of anger mixed in with disgust revolt in your stomach, leaving you near heaving to stop yourself from lunging at her.

“Just checking out the classroom, it’s a bit different than the one in our building. I kinda like it, very modern and simple.” His voice ragged and barely there, even now he couldn’t think about anything else but to check on you, itching to hold you in his arms again.

“Yea, our building was built in the dinosaur age after all. I didn’t know you were interested in architect.” She muses and his attention on the woman in front of him that seems to be searching the room. Did she know? or is it just Hanbin overactive imagination...

Hmp, our, what’s our. You act like he’s your husband or something.

Jealous is an understatement at this point with your eyes flaring red, probably able to scare even satan himself back into the hell hole he called home. Her stupid irritating, glass breaking giggle fills the air leaving you whimpering from the sound, trying your best to shove your fingers further into your ear canals. It’s amazing how a person you’ve never personally met nor interact with could ruffle your feathers so. But then again, if it wasn’t for her, you might never had enough gut to admit you were hopelessly infatuated with the young professor.

You’ve always liked Hanbin of course, there’s no denying the attraction that had you coming back again and again like a fly to honey even if there’s the risk of getting caught in a trap. Your chemistry with him from day one had always been through the roof but it wasn’t until she showed up, throwing you for a wild ride that you realized just how much you really like him... love even. The days away from him were almost like rehab, being away from your drug had given you the clarity you never knew you needed but it’s not like that matter much, you were already too far gone into the black hole named Hanbin. You craved for his touch, bones aching just for even a second of his touch. You’re mind in delirium just thinking about what he might be doing, who he was with, and if he’s even thinking about you at all. Any tiny fleck of attention he thrown your way was like a surge of great storm ripping your pathetically whipped heart apart, making it harder for you to stay away. You love him... You love Kim Hanbin and you’ll be damned if he never gets to hear it.

“So what are we doing about that dinner you promised? You’re still up for it?” He remains quiet as she chats away and honestly, your level of pettiness had risen to another level because you’re elated simply by the lacks of his answer even if the thought of him promising her anything had just brought back the anger you felt watching them so lovingly lunched together the afternoon that started this whole mess.

Fucking liar, and he said he’s not interested in her.

“I’m actually busy today… rain check?” Scratch that, your pettiness had just hit record high as you bask in the way his voice waver slightly, no doubt a bit of sadness still linger in his smile and as he turns her down, you couldn’t help but smile.

“Awe come on Hanbin, you work too hard. Let’s leave together later tonight, we can get to go? Your place or my place, you can decide. We haven’t hang out in so long.” She sings song and Hanbin felt a shudder rushing down his spine. The more time he spent with her the more he realized just how much he loves every little thing you do. Anytime you’d whined, anything you’d cooed into his ears in an attempt to have things your way, to persuade him to give you what you want had always felt so endearing. Such a contrast with the spine tingling chill whenever she attempted at coaxing him to do anything. Hanbin could not wait to hear your voice whispering love words to him once this whole thing is over with. Maybe then you could repair some of the damage done the past few weeks he had to put up with that shrill laughter with your delightful infectious one.

While on your side, that victory smile you had was wiped off your face fast because it seems the limit to their “friendship” had gone further than you thought... Was Hanbin always this callous, fucking her behind your back, on the same bed you both had shared so many nights? Was these “hang out” what he calls his late night rendevouz now?

Well they got a system figure out. This cannot be happening. Togo then extra curriculum at home? please…I know your game.

Your thought roams to the worst route it could possibly take, she in a beautiful dress enticing Hanbin, always dashing in that black suit you love so much. Their romantic dinner illuminates by the chandelier of a fancy restaurant ending in a game of wrestle by the flickers of the fireplace. You mumble bitterly as the image of her well endowed self bouncing atop his toned body, shared blissful expression on their faces. Disgust churns in your stomach, cold sweat breaking on your curled up body. How could he still face you, calls you his “baby” when he so blatantly publicly humiliate you in such an intimate way. Who cares if no one knows about it, you know and he knows.

“I’m meeting an old friend tonight, it’ll be long. I haven’t seen her in awhile, lots to talk about.” His voice nonchalant, tone as cold as ice yet his eyes dance with excitement at the thought of the night to come, of you snuggling up in his arms, gentle fingers scraping across his skin, something you do without realizing in the slow moments spent together.

“Her?” She questions and you were taken back by the crassness in her tone, something Hanbin certainly caught as his eyes perk up inquisitively but he lets it go, not wanting to create further drama than necessary, not with you hiding just mere yards away. “Not my lucky day then, I-I guess. Well, should we head out now? You have class in half an hour. We can get coffee and food.” She pesters and he near huffs a vexing sigh. His organs flipping, rearranging himself in anticipation of meeting you once she’s gone yet she’s doing all she could to keep him near.

Wow, don’t know when to quit now, do you. Take a hint. He’s busy, damn it.

Sure you were less than thrill for the imminent talk to come once the bitch is out of the way yet hell freezes over before you let him walk off to have a stupid coffee date with her. Coffee and sandwich is your thing. You’re the only one that had pay attention enough to ever notice how he loves his coffee with the bare minimum amount of dairy yet so loaded with sugar, you could bake a cake with it.

“I actually have to meet someone important here too so I’ll be a little longer, go first.” His voice sickening sweet, near cooing at her in an effort to coax an escape out of the persistent thorn in his side. He’ll have to apologize to you later for that, certainly you’d rather not hear him “sweet talk” anyone else but it must be done.

“Alright, if you insist… I’ll see you around.” she hesitantly replies, sounds of heels then sound of door clicking rings out. Hanbin stood still, waiting anxiously for the air to clear before hurrying himself to where his heart desired.

Ears still covered, you cuss at yourself for getting stuck in such a mortifying situation. Why do you have to hide so shamefully like a mistress when you’re not even anything to him, yet he got you stuck in this humiliating position. Your imagination runs wild at the thought of the pretty professor laughing, mocking you for being so stupid as to think someone like Hanbin would spare you any of his heart. The more you think about this mortifying situation the more it hurt. More and more tears stream out and you completely abandon being quiet as your sob radiate out . In fact, the sobs are so loud that your ears neglect the approaching footsteps and the imminent danger it could’ve been had the female professor lingers just a second longer.

Quickly jogs down the steps the second he was sure she’s no longer lurking about, Hanbin squat down to see a heartbreaking sight. You with your eyes still tightly shut, tears running freely while hands still covering your ears, cowering against the plastic chair for support. He pulls you up and into his body. Petting your hair delicately as he whispers comforting “it’s okay” and “ everything is gonna be fine”.

“You must think I’m such a joke. Poor Y/n, so delusional she can’t even separate day dream from reality.” You croak out painfully, fingers beginning to pry his tight embrace off of your body. Every inch of contact, every millimeter of your skin that pressed against his burn and ache like the worst paper cut. “You must think I’m so pitiful. Stupid Y/n.”

“Please don’t say that. You’re not a joke, okay? Don’t speak about yourself that way. If anything, I’m the one that’s over my head.” What would Hanbin gives to turn back the hands of time. Hanbin misses so much those day where he’d come home to you dancing in the kitchen while preparing dinner. The sweet giggle that chased his as more fooling around happened than actual cooking. Hanbin thinks about those stormy night where you’d winced in your sleep, face digging so deep into his chest for comfort, nights that was now fleeting from his fingertips even when you’re still here in his arms. By the way your usual gentle fingers are clawing so hard at his arms, there’s no you in his future. “Please, Y/n. Please, baby, don’t speak about yourself that way. Hmm? ”

Your heart relent far too quick because it had already forgotten that you’re still mad at him, that you were just a second ago, sitting on the dirty floor of a lecture hall crying, that Hanbin had ever laugh with another woman, you lean into the warmth you miss so much. Pulling your chin up, he gazes at the face he misses so much for so long, his lips enclose yours in a fervid kiss of every goddamn pent up emotion he got. For once in months, your body and mind consciously stop rejecting his presence. You push in impossibly close while letting him work his magic on your weary self. Breaking away from the kiss, his thumb wipes away the tear before he resumes his spell on you, working away all the doubts and all the hurt with ever tug, every swipe of the tongue. He left you a moaning mess for his love and for his touch. You don’t even care how desperate you sound at this point, all you want is his attention, all you want is him.

“I miss you so much, Hanbin.” Your cry for him crushes his heart. He had been so busy analyzing your cold facade he never considers that you might actually want him.

“Shh, it’s okay. I know. I’m here. I miss you too, baby.” His emotion mirrors yours perfectly but he couldn’t help but be happy with the way your small hands clinging so tightly on him, how you keep pressing your face further onto his chest. You need him.

“I thought I was gonna go crazy not being able to see you…” You mewl softly even if inside jealousy and curiosity were rising like a bad heartburn recalling every moment you had to witness his affection being direct at someone else.

“Are we ready to talk now? Because I don’t think I can go on another day without being able to see you whenever I want.”

Too tired to fight, hell, you don’t even want to fight... you nod timidly before getting pull up by Hanbin. Carefully following him toward his office, in a moment of weakness, of cowardice of not being able to face him after all you had done, you thought about running away while in crowded area but ultimately decided not to. Entering the empty hallway, you realize most of the professors must be out for lunch and sigh a breath of relief... One close call a day is enough for your poor heart, certainly another will give you a heart attack. If you didn’t talk to him in the next second, your heart would explode and the thought of having to wait another half a day till the safe embrace of nighttime for a talk isn’t something you want to think about.

Leading you into his office then closing the door behind him, he let out a strenuous sigh, eyes fluttering shut out of relief and out of exhaustion... finally some peace and quiet. You have to admit, you miss spending time in his office as your senses drown in the familiarities of this place, everything is the same yet so different. Your body drops onto the old worn chair, watch as he click the lock before slumping down in his own, just across the table from yours. Suddenly your brain lets itself travel down memory lane back to the day of delinquency of high school and all those trip to the principle office, suddenly he seems so studious, so professor liked... You shift uncomfortably in your chair feeling the wrath of the past haunting your soul, eyes wandering the place that you had committed to memory every surface and every crack to ease the tension.

In his own chair, Hanbin stares at you and for the first time since your late night fun had started, remembering what it was like when you were simply his student, feeling the forbidden excitement he’d get whenever he looked your way. A soft smile gracing his lips as the reminiscence of the first time your adorable shy self had walked through those door at the end of the first week of the term. Admittedly, he almost turn you away with five minutes left on the clock before his official contract bounded office hour end, wanting nothing more to head home after a long day for a good night out drinking with his buddies, maybe he’ll meet someone or just get belligerently drunk. Yet something about your voice, much like a kitten, a breathy “Thank God, you’re still here” slipped out, probably from running to make the ending of his office hour and the pure smile on your lips from happiness to see him had his interest piqued. You had looked so innocent in those navy and red plaid skirt he came to love so much, with your shirt tucked in so tight it hugged your curve so impossibly well that it left him unduly alerted in ways he shouldn’t feel about a student. Yet those eyes, he had seen them before but couldn’t quite recalled where, there was just a tint of lustfulness playing so prominent behind it all that convinced him you weren’t as wholesome, as chaste as you played yourself off to be.

It was so wrong for him to even caressed you in such way with his eyes but he couldn’t help himself, the second he had seen your devilish, death to the world combination of looking so downright pure and probably will bend over his desk had he just asked, it left him wanting more. You’ve been fucking with his mind all week and it drove him insane trying to decipher what was it that you want from him. Hanbin near tore his hair out the very first time his gaze met yours in class, your lips so sinfully rolling between your teeth as you stared, it seemed straight through his soul. You never pay attention in class, ever, yet there were short moment when he’d catch your eyes lingering, attention focus but he doubted it was on the lesson itself, not with the way your finger twirling through your hair so teasingly, almost daring him to act upon his deepest desires.

His mind back to reality at the soft sound of your cough, eyes snapping back at what was in front of him. So different from the anticipation that once swell in his chest whenever you’d sit across his way, a frown now blossomed on his lips at the thought of you returning to your simple role as his student, the thought of you being anything else but his girl. Quickly pulling his chair up along side yours, Hanbin reaches for your hand, horrifies when you retract yours at the speed of light. Weary from all that had happened, refusing to relent into your coldness, he extends his reach until your hands are safely in his and for what seems like an eternity, he relearns the curves and lines of your features. Your cheeks grew red, heart wavering at the way he’s so intensely scrutinizing your features with that dumb moonstruck smile on his lips. It wasn’t until you sigh a soft call for his name that the lover boy had reeled himself back to the issue at hand.

“Hanbin... stop staring. It’s embarrassing when you stare.” There it was, the kittenish whine that could make him jump through any hoops to please you. Ah, like music to his ears.

“Sorry... I just, I miss you so much.” You couldn’t help but revel in the soft, bashful giggle passing from his lips. “For the record, I’m not dating anyone. I’m completely 100% single... Okay? I just want to put that out there before we go on. The only person I even came close to having any sort of feeling for this past year is you. Understood?” Judging from the way he’s inching in so close, his only resolve now must be that to get the answer to those questions that had been eating him up for so long. Your heart skips a beat from his scent, from the way he’s so lovingly watching your breath of nervousness, and from the way his hands toying with yours.

After a few seconds of silent, Hanbin pet your cheek gently, elated when you lean into his touch. He stares at you, waiting for that confirmation that you had comprehended what he so desperately wanting to convey but haven’t got the chance to. His eyes searching but rather than a simple nod, the response he got was so much better than what he had expected - you simply press a kiss to his lips as if kisses had always means “yes”. A quiet “good girl” falls from his lips before he returns the favor.

You couldn’t formulate a thought, not even a single word to utter to the man you had wrapped in your crazy train for weeks now. How childish could you be to pull him into some crackpot theory, to punish him when he had done nothing wrong.

“I know it’s a lot so take your time. Don’t rush yourself. I just want to know what happened but it’s not that important. I want you to feel comfortable around me.” A delicate kiss upon your lips, Hanbin wants nothing more than just to move pass it all but he has so many unanswered questions, and well, curiosity kills the cat.

“Everyone told me you’re dating her… After that day I caught you having lunch in the courtyard, I just assumed and got angry... I know I’m not suppose to get angry but I did, I’m sorry. I felt so inferior watching her sitting next to you. I-I, how could I compete with that, with someone that matches you so well on every level. I was infuriated that you had lied to me, that I’m not even worth enough for you to dump me the right way before getting with someone else. ”

Staring up in shock, he raises his voice to your timorous statement.

“FUCK, BABY! you can’t just go assuming things like that. Why didn’t you just come ask me like a normal person? That would’ve save us a lot of trouble.”

Startle at his sudden increase in volume, you avert your eyes down toward his hands, the one wrapping so tightly around yours and a few tears pricking at the corners of your eyes.

“i’m sorry…i’m sorry”

You whimper so small that you wonder if he even heard. Regretting his action the moment he sees yours, he pulls you onto his lap with east, one arm wrap around your lower back, the other still holding onto yours tightly.

“Hey…hey, i didn’t mean to scare you. i’m sorry, baby. Are you mad at me?”

Shaking your head softly, your eyes still can’t meet his. Ashamed that this whole time, your petty self had avoided him on the basis of him having a girlfriend, of being a snake, and a lying bastard but that wasn’t even true. You avoided him because you were unreasonable, too much of a coward to face the reality of going back to a world where he’s simply your professor. You listened to outsider instead of asking the man that had done nothing but care for you, reaching out, making sure you were alright even when you pushed him away with all the strength you got.

“ We don’t have to talk about it now… Do you want to wait till later? We can do it over dinner?”

“no…” You insisted, feeling the seams of your heart bursting out from going through every emotion on the face of this Earth, if you have to wait another second to clear the air, you might just faint.

“Okay. So, you avoided me because you thought I have a girlfriend, right? That I was lying to you, two timing with the professor. Now that you know the truth, will you come back to me?”

“no…”

“No? you are mad… Tell me, what do I have to do to win you back? Come on, baby. I’m not leaving here without you.” He sighs softly, resting his soft cheek on the side of your arm as he peers up at the face he misses so much, all the while a gentle passing of his hand on your back working away all the notches in your body.

“Nothing… you don’t need to win me back.”

“And why’s that?”

“I messed so up bad… I had no right…I don’t deserve–” You had began to explain, to let him know just how sorry you were but he cut you short.

“I’m not gonna let you finish that sentence. I want you. I need you. You’re so important to me, don’t ever think otherwise. Shouldn’t I be the one to decide who I want to be with?” No way in hell would Hanbin ever let you think that you’re in anyway not deserving, not worth his time. No, he loves you too much for that. Finally meeting his gaze, you stare at him in confusion and in awe. You had an inkling, calls it gut feeling for what it worth that he likes you back, and not just the adult version of liking you two had been playing with for so long. Even with the profession of love and possessiveness while he loaded off his cum inside of you, you’ve yet to hear him say it otherwise.

“I have feeling for you. Real feeling, not just sex. I’ve always like you but I let my lechery gets in the way and mucked everything up. I’ve always thought you were way out of my league so I settled for a dumb crush on the most beautiful girl, thinking I’m lucky to even have the chance to be your professor. That first time we fucked, I wasn’t even sure if that was really happening or if it was just some crazy lucid dream I thought up. When I saw you the next day, I couldn’t believe I could kiss you if I want to. Somehow you, this hot cheerleader, the cutie that had always hide in the back of the class likes how I touched her... It’s crazy. So I figured, as long as I can keep you by my side, even if you only want me for sex, I have time to sort out my feeling and when I’m ready, maybe you feel the same way too. Stupid, I know... I just didn’t count on you and Jiwon being a thing. I didn’t count on you misunderstanding my intention toward her. On one hand, all I want is to wake up with you by my side everyday, tell you how much I love you every second of every day... But on the other, I know how much you’d have to give up to be with me. I don’t know if I can put you through that…” He sounds pained, no doubt this thought had crossed his mind more than once before and you feel so stupid for ever doubting him.

Waking up by Hanbin’s side every morning, ain’t that a dream.

“Shouldn’t I be the one to decide who I want to be with?”

Echoing his earlier words, your arms finally wrap around his neck pulling him close. He tighten his hold on your body before letting out a small chuckle against the crook of your neck.

“So does that mean I’m getting my baby back? Our late night fun can extend to day time fun too?” He half questions, already know the answer, with a small kiss to your neck.

“Yes!! I’d be the stupidest person in this world to turn you down. I love you too much to turn you down.”

“I love you too, baby. Just.. one more thing. Please tell me you didn’t sleep with Jiwon…” A tinge of loath in his voice and Hanbin hates how insecure that made him feel. He had always thought you could do much better but clearly he’s not as smart as you made him out to be if he still can’t see the way you look at him with so much admiration and love.

“No, I’m not. I was just saying things earlier because I was mad. I’m sorry.”

“Thanks God… What about that kid you made out with?” pain clearly flashes in his eyes as he recalls the sight and that gut twisting feeling he got watching your lips dancing against someone else.

“That’s Hoseok. I’ve known him since 5th grade… we’re practically siblings. He’s dating one of my good friend, actually. We did it to spite you... and to keep you away.” Finally parting way, you stare into his eyes and see the flashes of fury mixes with dejection. You knew there’s a chance kissing Hoseok in front of him would do way more damage than you intended for it to but you couldn’t care. Now, you regret every single thing you did to drive him away from the way his features contorting into something so foul, fist clenching hard around your own. Your hand goes to pet his cheeks before tangling itself in his soft lock hoping to sooth even just a little bit of his anger, hoping to God he won’t resent you. .

“Shit, You’ve got to be kidding me. You might as well stab me in the heart, baby. Do you even know how much that hurt? Rip my heart out, won’t you?”

Hanbin is a calm man, he prides himself in his maturity and levelheadedness but watching the way you so tenderly locking lips with someone else, then near tongue fuck the boy left every milliliter of his blood boiled. Even now recalling the sight is leaving unpleasant bitterness in his mouth but your touches, so heavenly, leaving him like puty in an instant, the small kisses blooming like flowers in spring across his skin left him at peace

“I’m so sorry… I thought that was the only way you’d leave me alone. I- So many night I imagined you and her rolling around in bed. You laughed at her joke, kissed her the way you used to kiss me. The way you touch her...I spent so much time crying because I can see the way you look at her... How loving your eyes were. I just want you to get a taste of what it feels like... watching someone you love happy with someone new... I didn’t even think it would work, i didn’t think you loved me but I had to do something, anything.” Remorse fills your words, you vow to do whatever it will take to make it better.

“ That was just your imagination, sweetheart. A bad dream is all it is... I love you so much. It hurt just seeing you smile with someone else.” He shushes your worries away with a gentle, lingering kiss.

“But earlier she said...about the dinner, and the my place your place. You haven’t even been to my place yet and we’ve been together months.”

“I owe her a meal because she covered for once of my class. Nothing more, okay? I’ve never once bought into her little game of suggesting her place, my place. Don’t worry, Y/n. My place is practically yours already. I would never, ever let anyone in without making sure you’re comfortable with it first.” His thumb caressing your cheek, delighted when your eyes light up at his words. How he manages to read your mind every time, you didn’t know. All you know is that with Hanbin, you’ll always be taken care off.

“Whatever, it’s all in the past now. What’s important is that I still have a chance. Believe me when I say I have no feeling toward her whatsoever. My heart is in your hand”

“And mine yours.”

Pressing a small shy kiss onto his forehead, you know it won’t make up for anything but at least consolidate his aching heart a bit. It certainly flutters the wings of the butterflies inside your heart and stomach.

“One more thing, how come you slapped me earlier , that hurt.” He winces with an adorable pout tugging at his lips.

Pulling away from the hug, your hand pet his cheek tenderly before kisses once again raining down on his face.

“I’m sorry… I thought you were trying to get with me even though you have a girlfriend…My moral compass might not be as straight as the next person but cheating is something I can’t tolerate.”

“That’s my good girl. One more kiss and we’ll call it even for the slap. I don’t know about the Hoseok kid yet…” his voice near possessive, almost animalistic in the way he growls out Hoseok’s name. His eyes piercing your skin, making you wonder had it not been in the middle of campus, would Hanbin had beat Hoseok to a pulp for even breathing the same air as you. Your loving man soaked in anger and eyes green with jealousy, never a day when you thought that would happen.

“I’ll make that up to you, anything you want.”

He smirks while tapping his index finger on his cheek. Using one hand to hold the other side of his head, you plant several kisses on the spot. Chuckling at the sudden shower of affection, he pulls away and smile brightly.

“Anything, huh? You better be careful with that word around me, babe.” Eyebrows raise suggestively, a teasing wink flies your way as his hand so cheekily trails the curve of your spine, slipping just a bit too low for it to be PG-13. “Alright, my break is over… We’ll talk about your punishment for making out with someone else later. I have a class in 15 minutes. I’ll see you tonight in class? or are you planning on skipping again?” His words against your lips, yet it feels almost daring, as if challenging you to skip class and find out what kind of punishment he has in store.

“I’ll be there!”

“Good girl.” His thumbs trail up to your cheeks caressing them affectionately before he presses another kiss onto your chapped lips. “Aw, I don’t wanna go to class. I just wanna sit here with you all day.”

“Your students need you more than me, professor. I promise I’ll stay over tonight. I need my Hanbin time. I missed out too much.”

“Okay. I’ll see you later, baby.”

“Wait, Hanbin... Before you go... I-” Your word hesitant, almost scare to leave your throat and that had him furrowing his brows in worries.

“What’s wrong, love? Tell me” Pulling you back into his chest, Hanbin holds you close just in case there’s still lingering unresolved sadness within your heart.

“I-I, never mind.” You chuckle awkwardly, pushing him off before heading to gather your belongings.

“Nope, we’re not doing that whole song and dance anymore. You can tell me anything.” No sooner than your body move an inch away from his, you already tumble backward into his chest, underneath those strong arms.

“I- C-Can you...” Your word so soft, so coy but your action worlds opposite. Hanbin stares in confusion at first, the way your eyes flickering from his eyes to his lips to at one point, he was sure you were staring at his dick. You’re a stuttering mess, no closer to making sense than your baffling action but then he saw it... The way your finger pulling down the collar of your shirt ever so slightly, revealing the flawless canvas that is your unmarked collar bone and neck, suddenly your dashing gazes make sense. The devilish smirk return upon his lips that was being abused by those perfect teeth, instrument to your pleasure. He chuckle darkly, hand squeezing your waist tightly before he force a rough kiss onto your lips. Metallic taste spread across your tongue, and heat pooling at your core before he finally trails down onto your neck. Stopping at the base, Hanbin sucks hard, teeth scraping against your skin in a painfully pleasuring pace. His hand now wraps around your nape possessively as he paints flower across your skin. With a soft hum of “perfect”, Hanbin pulls back to admire his work, big grin never left his lips while you pants under the uncontrollable chill that was shooting through your every vein.

“Your turn, baby.” His voice gravelly low, bulge taut in his slack as his nimble fingers move to undo the top few buttons of his work shirt before pulling your face closer with the hand he has around the back of your neck, pressing your lips onto the salty, sweat kissed skin.

Your heart is still so excited from all the fun it had earlier today that you hadn’t realize you arrived in a desolated class a good 20 minutes early. Stumbling over the narrow pathway to your usual corner seat, you stare up at the front for a moment before remembering the text he sent you in Jiwon’s class, couldn’t help but chuckling a bit at the way he envied your other young professor. Backing out of the last row, you promptly make your way down the steps to the front, you take a seat in the first row. Throwing your backpack onto the ground before slumping back in the seat for a quick rest, lord know you need all your strength to be smack in the middle of a crowd. You hadn’t pay much attention to the herd of students trickling in as the clock ticks away. At least not until a cloud of murmurs surrounds your personal space gotten so loud you snap out of your daydream. Turning left then right, you notice that every pair of eyes were dead on you, then your abused neck, then back on you. They shift away quickly when your sharp cold eyes reaches their gaze. Finally, the few football players you had made acquaint with in cheer practice take the seats nearby before speaking up.

“Kid, how are you gonna sleep being in the front row?”

“Yea, the prof. is cool but I don’t think he’ll have you sleeping right in front of him like that.”

Smirking at their curiosity, you reply firmly much to their amazement and dare you say, even shock.

“Who said anything about sleeping.”

“You, not sleeping in class? Please. Did you have one on one with the prof? That’s why you suddenly have great interest in being in the front?”

“Judging by them bruises, wouldn’t your man mind you lusting after the professor?” the guy to your left speaks up.

Oh man, only if they know what kind of one on one you had. They laugh and hi-5 one another for the stupid joke. Slapping their arms playfully, you laugh their jokes off before straighten out the situation.

“Nah, apparently someone been tattle tale-ing to my cheer coach that I sleep in class so…”

“You got the hammer?”

“Yup, the hammer of justice had fallen. Going to class alone isn’t enough I guess. He said he won’t tolerate such disrespectful behaviors from his team.”

“Damn, sorry.”

Shrugging off before the lie before it get too complicated for you to keep up, you glance at the clock to see there was only 5 minutes to class, meaning he’ll be here soon. As if he has an internal clock built in, not even a second later, the door swing open and emerges your handsome professor. You giggle in satisfaction at his perplex expression when he glances over at the emptiness of your usual seat. Facing back toward his destination, you can see his brain steaming trying to figure out where you were. Hand vacantly reaching in his pocket, you assume he’d text you the second he got to his desk. Sitting up straight in your chair, it amuses you even more that he didn’t bother looking at the front of the class to find you. Sure enough, the second he got himself situate in his seat, a text heads your way.

[7:58] Nerd 👓❤️: Where are you, baby? I thought you said you’re not skipping my class today.

[7:58] I changed my mind. I got bored so I went to the mall instead :p

[7:59] Nerd 👓❤️: That is so not okay. what the hell?!?

It takes all your energy not to burst out laughing at the shock and utterly speechless look on his face after reading your text. He makes it way too easy to play around with him that you couldn’t help but mess with the poor soul.

[7:59] I’m just kidding. Look up once in awhile, you might find something worth your time.

Still completely missing the seat you’ve taken in the front, he stares around confuse. Deciding to help him a bit further, you shake your head at how clueless he could be.

[8:00] Front row, middle section, 1st seat from the right.

Your lips curl into a cocky half smile, you wait until the lost in bewilderment boy look your way before winking slyly, making sure no one else notice the interaction. His dimple appears then disappears constantly trying to keep up with his effort of suppressing the biggest grin you’ve ever seen.

[8:00] Nerd 👓❤️: Awe, baby! I’m sorry, I didn’t even see you.

[8:00] Don’t get use to it. I’m not gonna be up here often. I’m already annoyed at how close everyone is to me.

Smiling brightly, he clears his throat before starting the lecture, his mood lifted significantly. There’s almost a bounce in his steps as he walk back and forth along the board. His puns are especially bad today and you’re loving every second of it, giving your all laughing at his joke, paying close attention to every small details of his lecture. Time come for classwork, however, everything begins to go down hill for the happy professor.

Having usually sit by yourself, you complete your classwork alone in the peaceful quiet of the back corner. Now that you’re in the middle of the large crowd, everyone flocks your way for help. At first Hanbin was glad you’re finally talking and helping out your classmates. Sitting back in his chair, he watches your smile thinking to himself this is much better than looking at the top of your sleepy head on the table. As time goes on, his expression sours. Sitting up from his previous relaxed posture, he leans forward, scrutinizing your every movement with razor sharp eyes. Oblivious to his discomfort, you continue to innocently joke and laugh away with all your classmates, which not to his liking, consists of mostly male. You hadn’t think twice about interacting with everyone, you’re already made an effort to be up front, might as well go the extra mile and actually be friendly for once.

Aside from 2 other girls, the big group surrounding you are all guys and after one particularly brazen soul dare touches your hand for the 3rd time, the young professor is now fuming. It was bad enough that pretty much all his students look at you hungrily like the newest, hottest pair of sneakers. Now they’re getting bolder, taking advantage of the rare moment you actually interact with everyone for some skin contacts. Some of them grab your hands, other pat your shoulder what he’d consider too intimately. Worst part of all, you just let it happen. Why do you have to torture him so, usually you hate when stranger touches you. His jealousy breaching its capacity like a volcano seconds before eruption, he stands up and makes his way toward your desk. Clearing his throat to get everyone attention, his furrowed brows soften when your smile beams up at him. You might be cute but his jealousy is stronger, sticking to the script, he pretends to check the works, “accidentally” bumping into the brazen soul with a quick sarcastic “sorry” that carries no feeling whatsoever. He pushes the boy who was leaning over your desk way too close away, Hanbin squeezes in between in an effort to shield you away. By the 3rd time he so conveniently block the boy’s hand from reaching toward your paper, daggers glare his way as you roll your eyes at his not so conspicuous effort to intervene.

“How’s everyone doing over here. It sounded like you guys are having a party.” He pretended to take interest in the other students once he caught onto your scowls and the disapproving shakes of the head.

“Y/N being threaten to be put on cheer squad probation had been like the best thing that ever happened.”

One guy enthusiastically missed Hanbin’s scowl as he lands a hand squarely on your shoulder, squeezing tightly.

“Is that right?” he bit his anger, a fuming rhetorical question slips up to the obliviousness of everything, not you, you know exactly what he’s doing.

“She’s a lot of help. We might have to stick around her from now on.”

Peering up at Hanbin, you could tell he was less than thrill even though he’s still smiling broadly. You know better. The corner of his lips always twitch ever so gently when he’s ticked off but can’t show and you couldn’t help but smile at your lovable dork. Suddenly, he turns over and stare straight into your eyes.

“Well as long as Ms. Y/N isn’t a big distraction to everyone. I’m fine with discussing things in class as long as it pertain to the lesson.”

Not giving you another second of attention, he walks back to the front announcing class is ending. Faking busy with packing, you wave everyone off as they make their way to turn in their classwork. When the last body passes through the threshold of the large room, you saunter over to turn in your paper. Glancing back to make sure no one is around, you smirk teasingly at the grumpy professor whose hands quickly gather up the stack of paper, grumbles sounding a lot like cuss words expelling from his lips. Trailing a hand down his firm chest, you soften your voice enticing his attention.

“Am i sensing jealousy? The great Kim Hanbin knows what jealous is?”

“I’m not, stop it.”

His tone cold and dead serious. You’re a bit taken aback by his mood, deciding this might not be a good time to tease him. You had forgot for a second someone could still walk in any second, especially your arch nemesis who seems to know his schedule down to the T.

“Sorry, I forgot.”

You whisper softly before walking back down toward your desk to retrieve the abused backpack laying on the floor. Looping the straps around your arms, you turns around to wave bye to the man that’s barely even paying attention to you before heading off. Needless to say, you were disappointed at the sudden turn of event. You had hope there would be some alone time tonight for more talk after such a good afternoon. Seeing how things are, it’d be a miracle if he talks to you let alone let you sleep over, who knew he could get so jealous. Maybe a night alone will help sooth his anger. The sullen atmosphere is indicating it’s time for you to leave and perhaps by tomorrow morn, he’ll be back to being your sunshine.

“I’ll talk to you later. Don’t stay too late, text me when you get home… I’ll head out first. Uhm, bye.”

You kick your feet in one place, staying still for a few seconds waiting for a reply, any indication he wants you to stay. When none come your way, your heart nearly stop at the rising pain and your body awkwardly sway toward the door before heading off. You purposely snail your way up the steps hoping he’ll change his mind. When you made your way up half the steps, to your heart’s delight, his sweet voice stops your feet.

“Is this how it feels like, being your boyfriend?”

His question catches you completely off guard. One foot still on the step above the other one, you turn your upper body back to look at him.

“I’m sorry?” Perplexity fills your tone, not quite understanding what he meant.

“Because if it is, I don’t think I like it.”

Your heart sank even lower. You’re not even in a relationship yet but it’s already ending? What happened to the love confession earlier in the day. Did he had a change of heart in the mere hour during class?

“Oh. i guess that solved our big riddle of the day.”

You scare yourself a bit at how aloof your reply was. stepping down so your feet meet each other, your hands precariously hook around your backpack’s straps by the thumbs. You’re not too sure what this is. Is he ending things even before it started? You don’t mean to be cocky but all your exes had always said you were very pleasant as far as being girlfriend goes. How is it that he already don’t like it when it hasn’t even started yet. Another few seconds of silent and you can feel the onslaught of tears. Last thing you want is to be seen crying in public so you excuse yourself without saying much.

“I didn’t mean it like that. Baby, come here.”

His voice so warm and inviting the second you heard that hurtful “bye” from your lips. Without any hesitation, your feet pick up its pace running toward the opening arms that’s waiting for you in the front. Crashing your body into his, he closes his arm and you cling onto his torso.

“What I mean was, am I gonna be feeling jealous all the time? You’re too kind, and happy, and caring, and smart, and that just means guys will always surround you like hungry hyenas. I haven’t even gotten to your physical attributes yet.” A gentle hand carding through your hair, Hanbin feels his heartstring tighten by the pout on your lips.

“No, because I only have eyes for you. I got so scare. I thought you finally realize you hate me for being so childish this whole time.”

Resting your chin on his chest, you stares up at the sulking face that’s slowly changing to a small smile. His index reaches up to boop your nose playfully teasing out a scrunch on your nose, to which he mirrors perfectly when you poke at his dimple. Breathing out a content sigh, he kisses the top of your head before backing off the hug.

“Still want me to do study group? or sit in the front more?”

“Damn, I didn’t think my own plan would blow up in my face like that.”

“Don’t worry. They think you’re banging that certain someone anyways...”

“Okay, let’s not bring that up. I think we have enough of that for the day, don’t you think? I see my warding symbols aren’t doing their job, should I make it bigger? maybe darker?”

“If you give me anymore love bites, the school officials might call the cop on me under suspicion of abuse. I asked you for one, one mark and you damn went colored in my whole chest.”

“Alright, I’m sorry... I couldn’t help it, you’re so delectable. Anyways, go home and wait for me, yea?”

“I wanna stay here with you… I can do homework while you work. I don’t wanna be away from you...” You whine like a kid wanting a new toys, tugging at his shirt with the best puppy eyes you could conjure up.

“Please put your pout away, you know I can’t deal with your pout. Fine. Meet me there in 10 minutes.”

Happily hopping on the spot, you wait for him to finish gathering his materials and bag, you skip off toward the exit with him following close behind. Laughing at your 180 flip in attitude, he couldn’t help but feels like everything is finally going the way it should.

“Do you want pastrami tonight or should I get you something else?”

“Actually, don’t buy food. I’ll take you out tonight. Just get me some coffee.”

“Hm… In that case, should I go home and make myself pretty?”

“You’re always pretty though.”

Cringing a bit from his cheesiness, you let him exit the room first before following behind, spewing math nonsense as if you had talked about the lesson this whole time. After a few minutes, you decided it was better to walk a safe distant away as to not seems too intimate even if the half glances he’s stealing that might as well had been a LED sign that flashes “We’re totally in love and dating”. Half way to the building’s exit, you spot a familiar tall figure heading your way and feel the drumming of your heart. Slowing down even more, you put another few feet in between your body and his, fear once more breaking on your shivering figure. Your eyes train on your dear boyfriend for help but his attention somewhere else and for whatever reason, Hanbin seems almost... relieved?

Part 5

#ikon #ikon scenarios #ikon imagines #ikon hanbin #kim hanbin #hanbin #hanbin scenarios #hanbin imagines #B.I #B.I scenarios #B.I imagines #ikonic #hanbin scenario #hanbin imagine #writing

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lazywriter7 · 6 years

Text

For @ishipallthings, some ace Nat and aroace Bruce because she’s a fantastically wonderful person who flails about the same things I do and knows the potential of the ship and where it could’ve gone. Warnings for crass language, internalised aphobia, brief thoughts of suicide, and Bruce Banner’s generally messed up brain. Bruce Banner’s first girlfriend cheated on him.

“I’m sorry,” she said in a monotone. Snot dripped out her nostrils, caked the foundation on her upper lip. Red-rimmed lids peeked behind mascara-thick lashes. “I’m really sorry.”

This probably wasn’t heartbreak. Fifteen though he may be, Bruce was peculiarly well acquainted with this conflagration of emotion – humiliation that scalded his skin red, made his bones shake – rage deep and banked, eating away at his gut, springing bile from his throat. The impulse to hurl was sudden and overpowering, though he couldn’t tell if it’d be last night’s chicken parma or the invective he’d borne and swallowed during it: Brian Banner’s ugly words cast new shape in his own voice box.

This wasn’t heartbreak

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“I wasn’t thinking.”

How lucky for you. Teenagers weren’t built for this kind of viciousness, Bruce thought, finger nails gouging bloodless lines on the insides of his wrists. His frame, short and weedy, shook with it like a rattling plastic bag, too brittle to hold the hatred hostage for long. It would rampage through his body, eventually tearing itself out – and what would he do then?

“He was…offering. And I didn’t know how to say no.”

The injustice of it rankled the most. Which was strange in its own right, because Bruce had never grown with the ideals of good and bad, the world as a perfectly fair, balanced scale and destined to stay that way, pre-established in his head. But it still, frustratingly, rankled; not six months had gone by since she’d pressed and he’d reluctantly agreed, not six months till he’d gone about losing his virginity as a stuttering coward would. And still, instead of asking: why would you do that to me, he found himself with why wouldn’t you just do this earlier.

“I.” Holly gnawed on her lip, hazel eyes running over him in a terrified flitter. “I feel terrible. And this is going to be a dick thing to say, but.” He’d liked her for that, when they’d first gotten together. For saying the dick things. His dad called him a pussy every morning, it seemed a match made in heaven. “I didn’t think this would…matter to you. That much.”

Bruce had never put much stock in heaven, himself. “Sorry to exceed expectations.”

Holly laughed, a little burble of distraught, amused sound. Such a dick. “You were always so nice. It never seemed to translate to caring, though.”

Bruce didn’t contradict her. “I trusted you,” he said.

“Yeah.” Holly breathed, blocked nose clearly audible. She knuckled at the base of it, and Bruce wondered if it was supposed to make him feel nostalgic, or bitter. It accomplished neither. “I suppose you did.”

She’s pretty. It was as one might feel, distractedly coming to a stop at the sidewalk and admiring the house up by the turn of the road. Absent musings, worth much of nothing.

It was the most, and the least important thing about her. Bruce could only muster an abstract, almost contemptuous regard. She’s pretty.

Natasha Romanoff blinked prettily at him, the barrel of her gun only slightly off the midline of his throat. She probably didn’t need point-blank range to get a shot in. Still, at this distance the arterial blood would catch her in the face, bright red to match the sweat-sodden hair tucked behind her ear. Frothy too, if she also managed to nick his respiratory tract. Sure, all that mess could be avoided if she adjusted her angle a bit, came in from the front…though that wasn’t guaranteed, especially if the bullet got deflected by his thyroid cartilage – maybe crushing in the trachea, maybe shredding the carotid sheath–

She raised a hand to her ear, nail scraping down the lobe, bumping the ear piece on the way. “Stand down. We’re good here.”

Kolkata shuffled around them, the rustle and clicks of a squad of men disarming drowned in the din. The gun lowered.

Ah, life. The constant balancing act between murder and suicide. Bruce smiled. “Just you and me, huh?”

“Banner!” Barton bellowed, even though he was barely twenty metres away and sprawled on the common room’s shag carpet like an overly spoilt pet. “Come, educate the ignorants on spin the bottle.”

“I claim privileges of token straight Avenger.” Bruce tried not to let his lips quirk, but it was inevitable with the camera-worthy splutter Cap had just executed over the lip of his beer bottle. With Tony and Barton on the team, he rarely ever elicited this kind of reaction – it was hard not to feel a touch of self-satisfaction. “Considering present company and the four in five chances of kissing a guy, I’d prefer not to join in, thank you.”

“Codswallop.” Came the dramatic declaration from the couch – Tony rolling over onto his belly to suit the motion. “You’re in a house with Barton’s arms,” An empty beer bottle used efficiently as laser pointer to emphasise the words, Barton flexing his biceps helpfully to assist, “my butt, and Capsicle’s abs. There’s no way you don’t have a queer boner in your body.”

“Pretty sure that’s not how the idiom goes.” Cap pointed out lightly, upper lip still shiny with spilled beer; but gave himself away a second later when his chin dipped, eyes glancing down at his own abdomen with a flush rising to his cheeks.

“Do I not have any desirable physical attributes, Stark?” Thor was squatting on the carpet too, but with a kind of leonine grace that made even the crosslegged pose look regal. His eyes glinted, like he wasn’t really expecting any kind of slight on his looks, but wouldn’t be affected if it came all the same.

“Well, hair.” Tony shrugged loosely, bottle rolling out of his grip to fall to the floor with a muted thunk. “But that isn’t gendered, so.”

“And abs are?” Bruce stiffened as a shadow fell over the counter he’d propped his back against; Natasha leaning in from the other side, newly poured scotch gleaming in a tumbler set by her elbow. Her chin rested casually on folded knuckles, her lashes gold-tipped in the lighting.

“Just saying that some confused youngin’ could delude himself into straightness over lush rivers of gold-spun locks.” Tony’s fingers reached out to tug at said locks as if to illustrate, immediately retracted at the sight of Thor’s toothy don’t-you-even-think-about-it grin. “Rogers’ rock-hard plateaus are a bit more in-your-face in that respect, y’know?”

Natasha wrapped two fingers around her glass, her silken sleeve whispering against the granite counter as she raised the drink to her lips. No reply seemed forthcoming; the comment had too obviously been made for Cap’s benefit anyway, who looked keen to migrate straight out through the doorway he’d been leaning against all night. Poor man, probably hadn’t anticipated the level of sexual harassment involved when assuming leadership of a superhero team.

Poor man, blessed with preternatural good looks and a serum-perfect body. Bruce didn’t censor the faintly bitter thought. Sometimes you had to make compromises, to ensure ugliness of this kind wouldn’t spill over his lips into the real world.

Internally caught up as he was, he couldn’t stop the errant flinch when soft tones spoke not far from his ear. “Straight, you said?”

Bruce looked back. Natasha had the scotch glass comfortably cradled in her palm, not a hint of a smudge visible on the rim, the russet mouth hovering inches above it flawless. It was uncanny.

“It isn’t nice to whisper.” He said it before he’d fully thought the words out, but there was nothing for it. That was Natasha for you: always faintly jarring, setting off prickles along the skin no matter how much she tried to put you at ease. Or maybe it was just him. “While talking in a group, I mean.”

“Sorry, were you going to participate?” For the words being what they were, Natasha’s tone was spectacularly even-keeled. Like she was asking a genuine question.

“I was participating.” The conversation had already picked up again behind them; Bruce’s jaw tightened by a fraction.

“How long have you had that line you just said to Clint stored up in your head?” If Bruce were the bristling kind of person, that sentence would have definitely set him off. She wasn’t even looking at him as she said it; eyelids fluttering as she took a casual sip of her drink before pale green eyes drifted up again to regard him calmly.

Because that was her chosen form of approach, with him. With Tony it was all coy smiles, sharp barbs and riddles galore, with Cap it was open eye contact and as much sincerity as was permissible. This…this quiet regard where she didn’t taunt, didn’t sound mocking, just watched as if waiting to see how long he’d keep playing the part – was reserved especially for Bruce.

He was coddled by the world that would still interact with him, with the exception of Natasha Romanov. And Tony freaking Stark, but at least Tony freaking Stark’s motives were transparent. Misguided, but transparent.

Tony wanted a science partner, and a friend. Natasha…most of the time, Bruce didn’t know what the heck Natasha was playing at.

But if he’d been that easy to rile, the world would’ve gone to hell in a handbasket a long time ago. “Fine, you got me.” Gentle, mild self-derision – he pulled it off well. “It would’ve taken me at least another five minutes to screw up the courage to say something else.”

“I don’t know if it’s to do with courage.” And that was startling in of itself, Natasha Romanov beginning a sentence with I don’t know. Another ploy of some sort, inevitably. She wasn’t looking away, irises steady. “I think you just don’t like talking to people that much.”

And you’re seeking me out for conversation – why? Bruce dipped his head to his collarbone, a gradual motion, not quite a nod, and said nothing.

Natasha wouldn’t relent. A sip of scotch, an ingenuous blink. “So, straight?”

Bruce held back a sigh. From the rabble, Thor and Barton appeared to be comparing bicep sizes, Tony gleefully presiding over the proceedings, with frequent asides to a distinctly amused looking Captain America. Yeah, no help from that quarter. “Functionally, sure.”

Bruce half-expected an arched eyebrow. It seemed like the sort of urbane, inscrutable expression ex-Russian spies would sport. Natasha greeted him with another blink. “Now that’s a qualifier I haven’t heard before.”

“I’m not too…interested in that side of things.” Nice and non-committal. Nothing to do with how even the idea of having someone that close, breath hitting skin, was enough to send Bruce’s heartbeat skittering. “But if I…uh, hypothetically were, then it would…”

“Be in someone of the feminine persuasion.” Natasha completed, eyes straying back to the drink as if in concluded thought. Probably adding the fact to the file. Bruce would hesitate over giving her yet another tool to technically play him with, but she’d never needed tools to do damage.

“You’re bisexual.” It came out as a blurt, too late to pull back and hanging awkwardly; probably because Bruce wasn’t halfway as good at the ‘make incisive assumptions about people and quote it to them like life-truths’ thing that Natasha did so well. Not that Bruce wasn't fairly certain about this little bit of trivia, he had –

Natasha laughed. It lasted for a second, a rise and fall of low-pitched sound. And the murmur that followed in its wake was interminably amused. “No.”

(So that flushed ‘fairly certain’ right down the drain. Unless she was lying to him, because it was easier to discern why she would lie to him, than why she wouldn’t.)

It took a few seconds of perplexed staring for Bruce to realise the drink set down by his elbow now was unattended, and that she was walking around the counter, inexorably approaching his side. “I said it wrong before.”

That particular combination of words from her mouth did not help in the least, not with how spectacularly unmoored Bruce was feeling. This conversation was evolving too fast for him to keep up with. Natasha came to a standstill, a few scant inches away, lips still upturned. “As nice a line as ‘functionally straight’ makes at parties, Dr Banner – have you considered that maybe you just don’t like people in general?”

“…right.” Bruce pushed his spectacles up the bridge of his nose, fingers suddenly itching. It did nothing to obscure the sight of unswerving green eyes.

Natasha’s lips pressed in on themselves, gaze growing bright. And before Bruce knew it – there was a hand darting up to weave through the curls at his hairline, mussing it slightly before patting it down, there and away in an instant.

Did. Did she just…ruffle my hair?

Unmoored wasn’t quite the word to describe it, anymore. Flabbergasted, maybe. And he wasn’t the only one – before she wiped it completely, Bruce caught a distinctly discomfited expression on Natasha’s face, almost wide-eyed; like stage seven of some elaborately hatched plan had gone Very Wrong, and regrouping was required, stat.

“Um.” Natasha stared at the slightly depressed portion of Bruce’s hair for a couple more seconds, before her eyes jumped to the far end of the room, face perfectly composed. “Have a pleasant evening, Bruce.”

And off she went, crossing the room in a deceptively small number of steps and politely excusing herself through the same doorway Bruce was sure Captain America was going to use as an escape hatch not so long ago. Also – the ‘Doctor Banner’ thing had apparently been deliberate.

Not important right now, Bruce told himself firmly – though it was yet another blip in a conversation that had been a raging spike from baseline. They were on first name terms, the way people who were adults and co-workers and weren’t the rest of the Avengers were on first name terms; unfailingly cordial and non-passive-aggressive. There was an undercurrent though, to their talks. Some form of…if not hostility, then at least unease. Had been from the very beginning.

And yet now there were repressed smiles and amused eyes and hair ruffles – a softly enunciated ‘Dr Banner’ that was nothing like the way Bruce addressed Barton by his last name, that was almost…playful? He wasn’t used to this; the Natasha he knew had every move planned ages in advance, paid attention but always from behind shielded eyes. And that was how Bruce approached their talks, always guarded and wary, but this…

This. Bruce stared bemusedly at the half-empty tumbler of scotch on the counter, lone and deserted. This was altogether inexplicable.

It was probably more traditional to let the water keep beating down on his neck.

Instead, Bruce turned the shower off, knob squealing under slippery fingers. The cold prickled on his skin, droplets trickling uncomfortably down the line of his back. He stood till his frame trembled with shivers, air drafts chilling on wet skin.

Had they figured it out yet? Probably; he’d given them the clues himself, felt the words ricochet emptily in the dry expanse of his mouth. Staring at a corpse, made of shattered gold light.

“Ultron could've assimilated Jarvis. This isn't strategy, this is...rage.”

The back of his head thudded against tile; he felt nothing. The team only saw Ultron’s swift talking, the casual assumption of knowing what was best for the entire world. And Tony made it so easy too…with his derisive laughter, distracting aggression. All attention focused solely on him. Maybe it was deliberate, maybe an unconscious reflex – Tony could be a self-sacrificing fool like that sometimes.

But a propensity for banter and warped futurism weren’t the dangerous things that Ultron inherited. They didn’t drive him towards wiping out the planet of humanity. Rage did.

And Bruce knew where he got that from.

By the time he stepped out of the cubicle, his teeth were chattering. The towel was too soft against his skin; he dried himself with rough, cursory strokes. The only clothes he had were tossed carelessly on the floor of the room he’d been assigned, and they’d have to do; borrowing from Barton while they were already intruding on his privacy like this felt out of question. He secured the towel about his waist mindlessly, and stepped out bare foot on the room’s linoleum floor.

“I would’ve joined you, but it didn’t seem like the right time.”

A prolonged exhale. He pulled his eyes up reluctantly from the floor’s checkered patterns, up to the figure leaning by the door. The outline was a little blurred sans glasses, but unmistakable.

Natasha slipped in. Drew close, step by increasing step. Paused just at the outside edge of personal bubbles, then stepped right through.

The tilt of that uplifted chin was…enchanting, Bruce could admit. Their very breaths seemed aligned, push and pull, ebbing and flowing in eddies. But it came accompanied by a butterfly touch: a light-fingered hand skating up the line of his collarbone, and Bruce’s mind whited out.

No.

The angle of her chin grew more prominent, her entire face tilting to the side. As gently as it had come, that light touch whispered away. Natasha watched him, soft-eyed. “Not even for comfort?”

“It.” The word struggled in his throat, rough and ungainly – and for all that Bruce made a practice of loathing himself, it rarely overcame him so completely. “It wouldn’t be…comfortable. For me.”

A few seconds more of silent watching. “Good.” Natasha said, and withdrew; nimble feet padding over to the bed, the frame creaking as her weight settled on the mattress. She crossed an ankle over the other, green irises clear. “I’m asexual.”

Bruce blinked rapidly. Conversations lapsed ages ago shot across his brain in a blur: that quiet laugh, the firm denial when he’d literally accused her of bisexuality. His mouth worked uselessly for moments, before words started spilling out, ill-hewn and incoherent. “But you just…why would you…”

Even her shrug was elegant, a little loop that her shoulders described in the air. “It doesn’t bother me. I’m not sex-repulsed; just indifferent to it.” Her lips curved, ever so slightly. “And with how tied up physical intimacy is with…other kinds of attraction, I guess it just seemed easier.”

Other kinds of attraction. And quick on the heels of it, the old memory still playing: “have you considered that maybe you just don’t like people in general?”

His expression was a little too brittle. “Lucky for you I’m a bit too much of a coward for sex, then.”

He was anticipating any number of answers. Maybe a delicately drawled, lucky? does that mean this is a yes? To which he’d have replied, a thousand times.

But Natasha’s lips only flattened, gaze implacable. “Have you thought not wanting to do something might not be the same as being a coward?”

I wasn’t talking about you. Just me. Bruce smiled, resigned and dark. “Never been able to tell the difference before.”

“What’s your favourite book?”

Bruce supposed the expression on his face was more than a little sceptical, because Natasha kept watching him, patient and unblinking. There was never any sulking, or pouting, or plaintive ‘come ooooon’s with Natasha. Just out-waiting the silence.

He cracked. “I’ve never decided on just one.”

The swing frame creaked, clods of dirt disturbed as heels skimmed against the earth. Quite impressive really, that she managed to maintain eye contact despite all that. Bruce sighed.

Four weeks after Tony had driven off into the distance ‘forever’, he came roaring back into the Facility: new car, new glares and loudly demanding new upgrade requests. After a few seconds of silence, during which the New Avengers all looked at each other awkwardly – Natasha asked for a swingset.

(“Didn’t know you guys were already there, but anywho – I’m a bit of a virgin with sex toy design.”

“Outside.”

“Kinky.”

“…ohh.”)

Tony continued to assume it was all still a joke, Natasha remaining unruffled as only one who’d made a career out of profiting from people’s assumptions of her motives could. (Bruce didn’t try to much, anymore. She spoke, and he listened: an honest exchange. A bit of a revelatory experience for the both of them.)

But anyway – schematics for a swingset arrived at the Facility within a week, extravagant enough for a Disneyland ride. Natasha scratched the entire thing out and sent back a poorly rendered doodle of something more suited to a children’s park. Now fully committed to the ‘joke’, Tony sent handymen to the facility with the crayon drawing in hand. Natasha directed them to the meadow behind the east wing.

And now they were here: Bruce motionless, tailbone pressed against the wood of the swingseat, even as the chains for the adjacent seat rattled next to him. Natasha’s back curved into the motion as she propelled herself further, the swing describing an arc that stretched farther and higher with every gentle whoosh.

The sun was glinting in his eyes; Bruce plucked off his glasses and reflexively began wiping them on his sleeve, finally slipping the frames into his shirt pocket. The world and his vision was still overcome with gold spots; Natasha must be positively blinded at that height. He wondered how she bore it. If he helped.

“What’s yours?”

The swing continued to creak – Bruce kept watching. The lobes of her ears peeked behind a mass of riotous, poppy-red waves; she probably hadn’t combed her hair since morning. There was a spring leaf caught just above her hairline.

“The Kite Runner.” Her voice was borne on the breeze, quiet and fleeting. “Afghani writer, Khaled Hosseini.”

There was a beech tree twenty metres to the left of them, thick trunk and towering foliage; the sunlight strained through its leaves, casting dappled shadows on Natasha’s face. Light and dark and clear and bright. Bruce breathed. “I thought it might be something you might’ve read when you were…growing up. Can’t imagine Russian fairytales to be the cheeriest, admittedly.”

“Fairytales aren’t supposed to be cheery. They’re supposed to introduce you to life-truths, in a format you can handle as a child.” Any other person might have called her tone detached. To Bruce, Natasha sounded contemplative. Like her emotions worked best when they were separated from her. “Parents die, you have to leave your home, there is always someone in the world that means you harm.”

Here there be dragons. Her feet made perfect ballet points as she swung back, the leaf escaping her curls and drifting down to settle on the grass-covered ground. “Of course, they also sell you ideas that make it easier…possible, to live in the same world as those truths.”

“True love.” Bruce’s lips were moving, he didn’t make an effort to still them. “Soulmates.”

“Yes.” Whoosh. Those eyes strayed skywards, where cloud-wisps were being buffeted about by the wind, ephemeral white on blue. Natasha’s lips curved. “And freedom.”

Quiet. Bruce waited her out, unspeaking.

“The Kite Runner sold me on the idea of redemption. No matter how far man falls, how despicably he stains his hands. There’s always the hope of washing it all away.” The arc was shortening, the swing beginning to creak to a stop. Natasha’s heels skimmed the ground. “I suppose it was my fairytale.”

The swing trundled, slowly, before coming to stillness. Bruce turned his head to face her, palely green eyes meeting his own, calm and peaceful.

“I didn’t like those stories much. The notion of true love.” When Bruce breathed deep, he could smell the grass under his feet. His heart lumbered under his rib cage, slow and steady. “Maybe because I …don’t like people in general.”

It was barely visible, which was how he knew it was genuine – the curve of Natasha’s smile.

“I thought it made me selfish. Coldblooded.” His mouth felt strange, trying to shape itself into an expression that didn’t contain derision. “The antipathy towards sex didn’t help either.”

“I.” And it caught in his throat again, but Bruce breathed. Again and again, and Natasha waited for him through all of it. The words were ineloquent, but they were finally there. “I don’t know why you’re still here.” With me. “Maybe you’ve been a spy too long. Maybe the other person has always been more invested in the relationship than you have.”

“Maybe I don’t feel sexual or…. romantic, attraction.” Maybe I’m not a selfish coward. Bruce’s throat was dry, but his words were clear. “Maybe you think that means you can’t hurt me.”

There’s a holly tree he could glimpse, beyond Natasha’s head of hair, far off into the grounds. “You’d be wrong.”

I care. I always have.

Natasha met his eyes, like she could hear the words. Like she had instilled them inside his head, with incisive comments that were never taunts, with calmly knowing gazes, with a patience that spoke volumes to the…adoration, she felt. Her own eyes looked content. “I know.”

#ace characters #bruce banner #natasha romanoff #bruce/nat #ace representation #otp: i adore you

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