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soulmate-game · 3 years

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Harley’s Plea for Help: Chapter 2

Chapter 1

“How long do you think it’s gonna take before she decides to sneak out?” Nightwing asked over his comms, lazily leaning against the balcony railing in front of him with his head resting on one hand.

“Dude, I started sneaking out almost twenty minutes ago,” a girl’s voice made Nightwing squeak and turn around, to reveal a teenage girl leaning against the door that led to the balcony he was on. “I didn’t want to draw attention to myself by doing unnecessarily showy gymnastics down from my hotel room’s balcony, no matter how much fun that would be, so I just snuck out one of the hotel’s back exits. Then I looked up to admire the moon and saw you here, staking out what is clearly my suite, and decided to come pay you a visit.”

“How long have you been there? And how did you even get behind me? I hope you didn’t break and enter, that’s an actual lived-in apartment behind us right now,” Nightwing asked, turning around to analyze the daughter of Harley Quinn for the first time in person.

She looked just like in her pictures, of course. Jet black hair like her father’s, except it seemed to have a bluish shine in the light. And her eyes were definitely Harley’s— thank goodness for that —vibrant blue and clearly analyzing him with the same amount of intensity as his did her. He had to bite back a chuckle. In a turn of complete irony, she really did look like a Wayne kid. Fit all of Bruce’s usual criteria to be adopted. But she was tiny, even smaller than Harley’s lithe form. He, Bruce, and Tim were of the hypothesis that the exposure both her parents had to Ace Chemical’s vats of acid likely had an effect on her DNA that stunted her growth. Perhaps there were other effects that they wouldn’t be able to figure out until they got to know her better, too, though it was clear that her skin was a likely one. It wasn’t unnaturally pale like her parent’s after their acid dips but it was paler than normal for sure, just a shade or two shy of being paper white.

And he could see, now, what Harley meant when she referred to Marinette as a powerhouse. It wasn’t very noticeable in pictures, but up close Dick could see the carefully honed muscle of an acrobat curling over her otherwise slim build. Combined with the knowledge that Marinette had been taught at least some serious self defense from a young age, he could see how such a tiny package could be a remarkable threat when necessary.

Marinette grimaced as the other Batfam, who were all nearby staking out her room from different angles, dropped onto the large balcony with them.

“Uh, well. I didn’t break and enter, I rather not get off to a criminal-ly start on my first night in Gotham, you know? But I realized that even though I was able to figure out the exact room you were staking me out from, I realized as soon as I got into the first floor of the building that I had no idea how to actually get to you. So I just climbed the stairs all the way to the roof and scaled my way down to this balcony, and pretended I’ve been here for a while when really I was barely able to hear you ask when I was gonna sneak out. I’m still out of breath, actually,” she put a hand on her chest and sure enough her breathing was still slightly fast. But not enough to be worrying or even all that noticeable. Yet another piece of evidence to show that she was a very active individual and had resistance built up to physical activity.

“Yup,” Robin groused grumpily, crossing his arms. “With all that rambling, you couldn’t be anyone else’s child but Quinzel’s.”

Marinette’s face immediately flushed pink all the way to her ears. “I’m sorry! I’ve been trying so hard to quit that habit, too!” She grumbled a bit to herself, putting her face in her hands. They all chuckled at the display. Red Hood ambled over, draping his arm over her shoulders (he nearly had to bend in half to do it, the height difference was that bad).

“As adorable as your freak out is, why’d you even come up here anyway? There’s no way you’d scale down a ten-story building just to say hello.”

She let out a heavy sigh at that, slowly peeling her face out of her hands. “Yeah, I recognized you guys right away. And honestly, as much as Momma Harley would be super proud of me for managing to give an entire group of vigilantes the slip, she’d also ground me for life if she found out that I saw you guys and still snuck away even though she probably swallowed her pride and asked you guys to babysit me, right? Self preservation. Contrary to popular belief, I do actually have some.”

“Wait,” Red Robin held up a hand, brows clearly furrowed under his cowl. “You expected her to ask for our help?”

“Well,” she made a so-so motion with her hand. “I didn’t think of it beforehand, but it all clicked once I saw Nightwing. I know how much my mom is worried about me, especially since you-know-who broke out a few days ago. She is more than worried enough to ask you guys for help. Even if she does complain about you guys, a lot actually, she also has made it clear that she trusts you guys with the stuff that actually matters.

“‘You know who’?” Batman repeated, arms crossed. If Marinette squinted, she thought there might have been a grin on his lips. “Is that how you always refer to him?”

“What else am I gonna call him?” she asked, face going deadpan. “Sperm donor? Source of a large amount of my self doubt and depreciation? The prime reason I haven’t been able to see my mom in person more often over the years? Oh, I know! How about I just always refer to him as ‘that bastard I wanna punch,’? That sounds good!” she rolled her eyes sarcastically. “Only one person in this world has the right to be considered my father in any capacity, and it sure as hell isn’t him. Genetics notwithstanding.”

Red Hood straight up guffawed at that, landing several rough pats on her back that made the girl stumble a bit. “Yep, I like this one! But as fun as it would be to see you give that jackass a mean left hook, it’s better if he never finds out who you are or knows that you’re here,” the vigilante’s voice got dark and serious very quickly. “He doesn’t forget people he finds interesting easily, and if he ever finds out about the connection you have to him, he’ll be a constant threat in your life.”

“I know,” Marinette agreed with a nod. “And if this conversation was happening two years ago, I’d say that my mom’s concerns aren’t unfounded. That I am too easily emotionally compromised and despite my deep seated issues and hatred for that man, I couldn’t guarantee he would be unable to get to me.”

Batman straightened up, as did all of his sons around him. None of them had missed the ‘if’ there. Batman’s voice went from charmingly deep to it’s usual gruff grumble. “What changed in two years?”

They all watched as Marinette gulped, taking a deep breath as she stalled for time, looking out at the view on the balcony before seeming to steel herself and return her gaze to Batman’s. When she did, it was suddenly full of iron will.

“I didn’t lie when I told Mom that I came to visit her— but that isn’t the whole truth, either. If I just wanted to visit her in Gotham, I would have waited until I was eighteen like we agreed. But I can’t wait, Paris can’t keep going on like this. I entered that contest because it was the fastest way to see you. I didn’t know if I would win, but… I had to take the chance. There was no way I’d be able to get to Gotham behind my mom’s back otherwise.”

“What are you talking about?” Robin hissed, stepping up to his father’s side. “Paris has been silent. If anything were happening, we would have heard about it by now.”

“No, you wouldn’t,” Marinette corrected, never losing that ironclad look in her eyes. “Because a combination of magic and politics is keeping it quiet. No news about Paris’ situation is able to leave the city limits. Magic makes any non-native who leaves Paris think that everything they experienced was just a crazy dream. Natives won’t forget, but politics has all of us under very strict NDAs if we leave city boundaries, and all of our local news and social media is blocked from being accessed by anyone outside the city. But, I figured a little breaking of the rules wouldn’t exactly put a stain on my family’s reputation or anything, so,” she dug in her pocket and pulled out a thumb drive, holding it up for all of them to see. She swallowed again, but never stopped her eye contact with Batman. She held out the thumb drive.

“I came to Gotham to ask for your help. This sped things up, I didn’t expect to see you on my first night here, but two years in Hawkmoth’s Paris has really taught me how to roll with the punches. This,” she shook the thumb drive. “Holds videos of every fight since HawkMoth first showed up. It has all the information I’ve gathered over two years, tracks his movements and lists all his targets and— everything. But I’m not a detective, I’m a designer. I make clothes, I spar on the weekends, I am not good at getting evidence to prove that someone is a magic-abusing villain holding an entire city hostage.”

“We’re gonna need some details, Little Q,” Red Hood finally removes his arm from around her shoulders, instead crossing his arms and looking down at her sternly. “If your city has a villain holding it hostage, is anyone fighting him? And if you do have someone fighting him, why don’t you need our help, or why didn’t they call the Justice League? The JLE should be in Paris, right?”

Marinette snorted, face scrunching up in obvious distaste. “I’ll have to answer those a little out of order. First; the JLE was kicked out of Paris. They moved their headquarters to Italy about five years ago, I’m just surprised they apparently kept that secret from you,” she gestured to all of them, who indeed seemed very caught off guard by that tidbit. But Marinette just sighed and continued. “Though that’s a good thing, actually. We do have heroes, it started out as just a pair but it’s grown into a small team out of necessity. They didn’t call the Justice League because the last thing we need is any powered heroes coming in and making it worse— your league doesn’t have the best reputation for letting newer heroes take the lead even on their home turf, you know,” she pointed out, which made Batman shift a bit guiltily. He knew the JL was often a bit… heavy handed in their methods.

“What makes the situation so bad that you don’t want to bring experienced heroes into it?” Red Robin cut in, sounding as if the whole situation was a puzzle he was determined to sort out. Which, really, was exactly what Marinette had been counting on. She shot him a finger gun, grinning.

“That’s exactly the point! Hawkmoth uses a magical artifact, like I said— but this artifact can brainwash anybody who experiences even the slightest negative emotion. Sadness, anger, fear— anything negative. And it gives them powers, but puts them largely under his influence,” her expression twisted again, this time into a wry little grimace. “I guess you can say that my momma’s psychiatry background has secretly come in handy a lot over these past two years. And Hawkmoth is exactly why I try to tell Momma Harley to stop visiting me— I have worked my butt off to keep her from finding out about his attacks or getting Akumatized. Every time she shows up it gives me a heart attack!”

“Akumatized?”

Marinette waved a hand dismissively. “It’s the term used for when someone is turned into a super powered villain because of HawkMoth. The brainwashing— really it’s more similar to a straight up corruption. The person usually lacks their usual moral compass, and just seeks to soothe whatever set off their negative emotion in the first place. Usually, that means they seek a bloody revenge. And if someone who already has extensive training or extremely strong powers gets Akumatized, guess what?” She made jazz hands even though her face was deadpan. “Extra powers, or amplified ones, for the metas or superheroes who are Akumatized. And imagine what someone with, say, Batman’s level of experience could do if he had powers and no moral compass,” the silence that followed her words was deafening. She just nodded, knowing she had gotten her point across. “I’ve been working my butt off to stay positive, because if I’m Akumatized…” her shoulders fell, and she had to swallow a lump in her throat. “... I have no idea what I’d turn into, but if you take into consideration both my training and my family history… it’s really best if we never find out what kind of magic-powered supervillain I’d make.”

“So, let me get this straight,” Nightwing said after another long moment of silence for that to all sink in. He gestured at her with an open palm. “You’ve been dealing with a terrorist for two years who targets emotional vulnerability, you apparently have never been corrupted by this magic at least to present day, but your mother still worries about you being very emotionally fragile. And your heroes are not detectives, which is clearly what you need or you wouldn’t have asked us for our help.”

Marinette nodded. “I used to be very impressionable. At the start of all this, I was a huge people-pleaser. I got attached to new people in a matter of minutes. My mom always said I reminded her too much of herself— but two years of fighting off a guy trying to get into my head—“

“Wait,” Batman nearly barked, taking a step forward. “He’s been targeting you? You specifically?”

Marinette nodded grimly, mouth a straight line. “Not from the beginning, but this past year it’s been painfully obvious. He might be able to sense the strength of people’s emotions, and unfortunately I don’t exactly experience my emotions very… gently. All of my emotions tend to the much more intense side of the spectrum. If that’s true, then he might know that any negative emotion I feel will make an extremely strong Akuma. Either that, or he’s going by process of elimination. All of my friends, except for one, have been Akumatized already. So has my Papan and my grandmother. But it’s obvious when he’s targeting someone, I’ve felt him try to override my will on several occasions. But I can’t just repress all of my negative emotions forever, so consider us working against the clock right now. That thumb drive has all the details you need about our heroes, how exactly Hawkmoth’s powers work, and so on.”

“Do your heroes know you’re asking for our help?” Red Robin asked, gaze burning a figurative hole through Marinette’s face. “Better yet, if this drive has as much information as you say it does, how did you get it?”

Marinette handed the drive over to Batman, who finally took it and tucked it in his belt as she answered.

“Momma Harley might have a lot to say about your detective skills, but you are all still strangers to me. So consider this a test of your abilities— I expect that you will all go to extreme lengths to verify all of the information I gave you anyway. After all, I’m still the daughter of your most hated enemy. Right?” She met each of their gazes, one by one, with a challenging one of her own. “You’ll just have to figure out my connection to the heroes on your own. And how I got the information, too. It shouldn’t be too hard for the so-called world’s greatest detectives. And maybe this can double as a trust exercise. I fully expect you guys to scour through every inch of my past, and dig up everything you can on me. I encourage you to try to find everything you can, so that hopefully you can decide to trust me on your own once you have all the details laid out in front of you. By the way, for your own sanity? I’d start with reading about all of our heroes’ powers and abilities before you watch any footage of past attacks.”

Red hood rocked back on his heels, trading glances with the other vigilantes before they all shared a nod. Apparently having decided their course of action, Red Hood leaned down and hoisted Marinette up into a princess carry. All traces of her previous iron will melted away in favor of the high pitched squeal of surprise she gave, and once more she became an overly flustered teenager.

“Alright, little cutie. Let’s get you to your mom’s place before she and her crazy plant lady fiancé come hunting us down.”

“I can walk! I can freerun on my own! Mon dieu please let me down! Eeeeek!” She squealed again as Robin slapped a domino mask over her eyes and Red Hood wasted no time jumping over the balcony railing with her still in his arms. The fact that they were lowered down by a wire wrapped around Hood’s waist didn’t seem to take away any of the fright that came with a sudden drop over an eighth-story balcony.

Part 1

@emotionalsupportginger @alysrose-starchild @emistar0 @kibastray @justanotherfanficlovinbitch @alyssadeliv @blackroserelina @blackstarlight-co @readingalldaysleepingallnight @maanae @aespades @jaybird-and-co @fleursroses @probably-a-hologram @misterpianoman (didn’t work sorry)

#dc x mlb #dc x miraculous #maribat #bio!dad au #Bio!mom Harley Quinn #Bio!Dad joker #mlb x dc #ml x dc #Harley’s Plea for Help #platonic brucinette #platonic jasonette #platonic Harley Quinn x Marinette

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chudleycanonficfest · 3 years

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the hippogriffs and the flobberworms

Day 23, Post #2 by @accio-broom

Title: the hippogriffs and the flobberworms Author/Artist: accio-broom Pairing: Arthur & Ron Weasley (platonic) Prompt: slice of life Rating: T Trigger Warning(s) (if any): Mentions of sex lives and STDs, very cringe-worthy.

Arthur whistles as he roams the ground floor of the Burrow, searching for his youngest son. Ron’s best friend Hermione is due to arrive any day, ready to spend the latter part of the summer holiday with the Weasleys, but there are some things Arthur needs to speak to Ronald about before Miss Granger joins them.

He’s probably left this conversation a little late—Ron turned fourteen a few months ago—but this is the first time the youngest has shown any interest in the opposite sex. With the rather exciting activities coming up for their fourth school year, including a ball, it’s only inevitable that different feelings will start to stir.

Chuckling, Arthur reminisces about the conversations with his other sons. Bill, always cool as a frost salamander, kept his focus on his old Dad without any outward discomfort, even though Arthur made a complete mess as he told Bill about the facts of life. All of Arthur’s words came out in a massive jumble—he couldn’t even use the correct terms for various body parts and used all the wrong euphemisms. Arthur had been trying so hard to be a cool dad that he got himself far too worked up to make any sense.

His second son, Charlie, was dismissive and didn’t seem interested in the mechanics of making love, which was disappointing given the amount of time Arthur had spent rehearsing, determined to get it right that time. Percy approached the conversation with logic and appropriate questions, discussing it as he would an important Ministry policy before thanking his dad then leaving the room without a backwards glance. In stark contrast, the twins cracked inappropriate jokes and turned the tables on Arthur, making him feel awkward as innuendo after innuendo spewed from their mouths.

Ron will be Arthur’s last chance to do “the talk”. Molly is responsible for dealing with Ginny, and they’ve probably already started. He doesn’t baulk at the female aspect of puberty, having lived with a woman for almost twenty-five years, he’s well versed in the potions and muggle contraptions they need to use, but he thought it only fair that Molly gets a go of this, too. It’s one of the essential parts of being a parent, after all.

Although Arthur is well-seasoned in explaining the facts of life without going overboard with the detail or using cringe-worthy phrases now (although the twins did teach him a few new idioms), he has decided to step away from the ‘cool’ dad persona and go full-on over the top this time.

He could make this easy for Ron, but why would Arthur want to spoil his own fun?

A flash of red hair leaving the broom shed catches his attention out of the kitchen window, and Arthur’s grin widens. It’s a beautiful day, the sun is shining, but there is a light breeze, keeping the air fresh and cool. It’s the sort of day that would lead to him fishing in the lake at the bottom of the garden, but he has a task at hand that he needs to deal with first.

Maybe there’ll be time for him to get his rod out later.

Pouring two glasses of lemonade from the jug Molly has left on the side, Arthur uses a cooling charm on them then steps out from the backdoor and onto the patio.

“Ron,” he calls, smiling as his son turns his head around faster than a niffler chasing gold, looking like Arthur has caught Ron doing something that he shouldn’t. Probably skiving from the long list of chores Molly gave him this morning. “Come up and have a chat with your old Dad.”

Arthur eases himself into the bench under the wisteria with a groan. Although he isn’t all that old, having seven children and living through a war takes its toll on a guy’s body. Now, every joint clicks and complains every time he moves. Forget getting somewhere in a hurry; slow and steady is now the way to go.

Ron settles in the seat next to him.

“What’s up, Dad?” he asks, smiling at Arthur. He takes the offered drink, gulping almost half of it in one go before letting out a loud, satisfied sigh.

“Hermione is coming to stay with us before we go to the World Cup, I hear? But not Harry?”

Ears turning pink, Ron turns his head to look out at the garden. “Y-yeah. We’re going to collect Harry in a few days, remember?”

“Oh, yes. I’m very excited to be visiting the Muggles. Will they tell me about eckeltricity? Should I take my battery collection?”

Ron laughs. “I don’t think the Dursleys will be too impressed with batteries, Dad. They use them every day.”

“Shame.” Arthur sighs, then turns his eyes to gaze the same way as Ron’s. “So, Hermione is a girl.”

“Er, yes, I guess so.”

“A girl you’re attracted to?” Arthur glances at Ron, whose face has turned as white as a ghost.

Ron reacts with a knee-jerk response, but the look on his face indicates that he’s not telling the whole truth. “No!”

“Are you sure? You and her have gotten close lately. Mum and I like her.” Arthur waits a moment for Ron to take back his first response, then tuts when he stays quiet. “Well, I’m sure you’ll find someone you do like soon. Anyway, as you already know, she’ll be staying in Ginny’s room with your sister, and I’m sure you’re clear on the rules of the house. Your Mum does not want any sneaking around or late-night visits.”

Arthur doesn’t hold the same views as his wife. Sure, he doesn’t want the kids to be sleeping in each other’s beds, but he remembers the conversations he and his friends had during the early hours of the morning when he was their age. If the children wanted to get up to something, Arthur would rather it happen under their roof where they’re safe than have them take unnecessary risks. He and Molly were young once, too, although it feels like a lifetime ago now.

“I know, Dad.”

“Good. And so you know, if you ever find yourself feeling conflicted or wanting some advice on how to ask a lady out, you can always come to me. Because being a teenage lad is a very confusing time, and the magic will heighten this, as well as the fact that you live in proximity to some charming young women. You might not feel it right now, but you’re on the precipice of being a man. Your voice has started breaking. Sure, it’s a little later than the others, but I’m sure that’s nothing to worry about. Everyone develops at their own pace, after all. Pretty soon, you’ll have hairs sprouting all over the place, even in places you wouldn’t expect it. I can’t remember when all of this started happening for me, but it was around your age. And don’t get me started on the wet dreams…”

“Merlin,” Ron sighs, now squirming in his seat, trying to make himself as small as possible. When Arthur checks again, his youngest is looking into the depths of his glass as if considering whether he could drown himself in there.

“Sex is healthy, son, especially if it’s with someone that you admire and love, whether that be a girl or a boy, Your mum and I don’t mind as long as you’re happy. And if you find the right person, then it can be amazing.”

A low groan emits from Ron’s mouth as he pushes himself further down the bench, attempting to put some distance between him and Arthur.

“Please stop talking,” he pleads with bright red cheeks.

“Having a good sex life is nothing to be ashamed of, let me tell you. The seven of you weren’t delivered by the hippogriffs, after all. Not that we only have sex to procreate. Having you kids out of the house has done wonders for our love life.

“While we’re on the subject, if you can’t get a partner, then there’s nothing wrong with taking matters into your own hand. Masturbation is very beneficial, and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. It’s important to explore your own body and learn the kind of things you like so that you can recreate those moments with a partner. I can tell you some useful charms if you need them—ones for when you’re with someone, and others for when you’re alone. Of course, there are some spells that are vital for you to learn. Safety is sexy, and you don’t want any little accidents happening.”

Ron runs his hand over his face as if trying to erase his dismay. “Dad. Please stop. I know all of this already. Not that I wa-I mean, do that sort of stuff.”

He crosses his legs with a gulp, and Arthur feels a rush of joy. He’s succeeded in making his youngest son feel as awkward as possible. You have to take delight in the smallest of moments, especially the older you get.

“Who told you?”

“I have five brothers and live in a dorm with four other boys. Also, Flitwick taught us the contraceptive charm last year.” Ron is still focused on his glass, looking like he wants to be a million miles away.

“Oh, right. ”

An irrational surge of disappointment crashes over Arthur. He should have realised that kids are far more advanced and talk much more than they did in his day. He should have bit the bludger earlier and nabbed him last summer.

“Well,” Arthur continues anyway, determined to see this through, “contraceptive charms aren’t the only things you need to learn. You need to ensure you protect yourself from Sexually Transmitted Diseases, or STDs, as well. Some of these can make you a little itchy, but others can be dangerous. You should go and see Madam Pomfrey if you think you might have one. Of course, you could always get some muggle con-domes. Fantastic little invention they are. Rather than trying to remember a load of different spells while you’re in the heat of passion, you can whack on a rubber and get to it.”

He doesn’t allow Ron’s small squeak to put him off his speech, now he’s in full flow again. “Talking about getting to it. Consent is important. When you decide to take that step, or even before when you snog someone, you need to make sure they want to do it too. Every step of the way. If they say no, you stop right away, even if they said yes only a minute previously. You must understand that. Never force yourself on someone, especially if they are drunk or otherwise intoxicated. If they can’t say yes, it’s a no-go. Got it?”

“I-I d-do,” Ron stutters, his voice strained under the embarrassment of the situation. “C-Can I go now?”

“Yes, yes, of course. But don’t forget that I’m here if you need anything, son. Even if you think it might get you into trouble. And look after Hermione, even if your feelings for her are only platonic. I admire the way you, her and Harry have formed a little group. The three of you are good for each other.”

Arthur reclines on the bench and closes his eyes, letting out a sigh as the sun warms his face. There’s no point getting one’s wand in a knot over spilt potion. He still managed to get Ron squirming like a flobberworm, so it was mostly a successful mission.

The bench shifts as Ron rises to his feet. He finishes his drink with a gulp and sets the glass down on the floor before shuffling away.

“Dad?” a small voice asks.

When Arthur opens his eyes, he spots Ron towering over him. When did he get so lanky? Ron is going to be the tallest of the family, for sure. There’s a smile on his face, though he still can’t meet his Dad’s gaze.

“Yeah, Son?” Arthur asks, shielding his eyes from the sun.

“Thanks for trying.”

Ron shrugs, then wanders back down the garden, his gangly frame hunched over. Arthur marvels at Ron’s response. You think you fully understand your children, and then they do something that knocks you off your broom. But Ron is a decent lad, and Arthur knows he will go far, like the rest of them.

With a happy sigh, he leans back and closes his eyes again. He’s done an okay job at this parenting thing. As long as none of them gets arrested or tries to break into Gringotts, he can die a happy man.

#chudleycanonficfest2021 #HP fest #hp canon pairings #canon fest platonic #submission #arthur weasley #ron weasley

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thatmultifandomhoe · 3 years

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It’s You

Pairing: Changkyun and Reader

Group: Monsta X

Word Count: 7,433

Genre/Rating: Valentine’s Day AU - Quarantine AU - Friends to Lovers AU - Fluff - Angst - PG-13

Overview: The last thing you planned to do was celebrate Valentine’s Day. Being single on a holiday that glorified love, especially during a pandemic, was the perfect sign to stay at home to guarantee avoiding having a broken heart. Especially when Changkyun, the one who held it, seemed to have plans of his own.

Warning: Mention of past unrequited love and having a broken heart - swearing -

A/N: Happy - early - Valentine’s Day sweet peas! And yes, Changkyun from Monsta X was the winner of the “Who Do You Want to Spend Valentine’s day With,” and I had so much fun working on this piece. I’m personally not a fan of the holiday - for reasons you’ll read below - but I hope that those of y’all who do celebrate have a happy Valentine’s day, and I hope that y’all enjoy this piece and get all the chocolate that you want this year!

Tagging: @srvdyv @skyys-universe @kpophoneybunny @wheein-whanders @ezralia-writes

Music Playlist:

Main Master List:

Pinterest Mood Board:

The First Installment of the Hoe Catalog.

©thatmultifandomhoe 2021. Do not repost, translate, or use my stories without permission.

“Are you okay?”

Glancing over at the cell phone that was propped up on the dresser, you raised an eyebrow at the black screen. “Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You do know what day it is, right?”

Fingers pausing, you pressed your lips together, staring down at the button of the black jeans you had been in the middle of putting on. You had known what day it was when you went to turn off the alarm that had set for that morning. It had been painfully obvious, and as the pre-recorded song of birds chirping increased in volume, you had stared at the date for longer than you normally do.

February fourteenth.

Valentine’s Day.

“I’ve only been awake for an hour,” you said, stepping towards the closet for a shirt. It had been a miracle that Changkyun had called instead of his preferred method of randomly video calling. While it was true, you had been up for an hour, you had only started moving about to get on with the day about five minutes ago. And currently you were only wearing pants and a black lacy bra. Although, knowing him, he wouldn’t have complained.

There was rustling on his end and the clinking of a spoon hitting a glass. “I know, but I just wanted to make sure. You seemed pretty upset the other day.”

“It’s not that I’m upset…” You slipped your head through the hole of a black smocked square blouse with red flowers printed on it, adjusting the top so it sat properly. “I just...don’t like the holiday.”

Which was putting it mildly. It was more than a dislike, but as you went to look in the mirror to make sure there weren’t any tags sticking out, you silently thanked him for calling. You never hated Valentine’s Day. At its core, it was rather a sweet concept, one that year after year, a part of you hoped that maybe you’d be able to have someone to enjoy the holiday with. But after years of being single on the most romantic day, and having it ruined by dates turned sour, more often than not a dark cloud hovered overhead while you tried to simply get through the day.

You tried to find some spin on it to turn it around. Starting tomorrow and for the next week, chocolate was going to be anywhere from fifty to seventy-percent off. Sales were always fantastic no matter what the reason was. There were only so many chocolate hearts that you were capable of eating though.

“Why are you calling so early?” You said, turning the conversation back to him. It made sense why you were up – even on a Sunday there was always work to be done – for him to be awake before noon, that caused a bit of worry.

“Ah,” there was a thump that echoed on the call like he had dropped his phone, his voice sounding distant. “I have some things to get done today.”

“Yeah, but it’s nine in the morning. I thought you weren’t even coherent before noon.”

Changkyun forced out a laugh and you lightly smiled, gathering your hair into a bun before carrying him into the kitchen. Even though it was a simple phone call and was a bit distorted, it did nothing to dull the fluttering going on by the butterflies in your stomach. His lazy grin came to mind, and only ten minutes into the hour and you were smiling like a fool while stirring your coffee.

That was another reason why you weren’t entirely fond of the holiday. The entire day was dedicated to love, to telling someone that you love them, and here you were, having fallen for your friend and yet you refused to tell him. It was hard to pinpoint when these feelings began, but it was possible that they had been growing since the day you two met.

There was no doubt that you were a workaholic, always feeling weird if you bummed around for more than a few hours, so it made sense that on the rare day off that you took, something had to crash it. You had been indulging in some binge watching of your precious Inuyasha when your phone lit up with an incoming video call from Messenger. Immediately you had been hesitant. None of your friends ever video messaged you since unlike them, your cell was an android.

You hadn’t planned to answer him. Not only did you not recognize the name, or his picture - despite how attractive he appeared - but you didn’t normally answer requests from strangers. With that in mind and mildly annoyed in having to pause the episode, you were ready to hit decline and be on with the day. Except, you were a dumb ass, and hit accept by accident.

Turns out he had meant to call someone else and had been equally shocked when you answered. In fact, he had been less than classy upon seeing you in instead of his friend, the words, ‘oh, fuck me,’ slipping out before he could stop himself.

In normal circumstances, you might have rolled your eyes, or told him to go fuck himself, but it had been six months into the pandemic and he was the first new person that you had met in a while.

“I don’t usually fuck strangers,” you had said instead, not missing the way his eyebrow rose and how his mouth curled upwards in a smile. “But if you wanna buy me a grinder and have it delivered to my place; I might eventually be persuaded.”

There had been a tense moment, but when he let out a breathless chuckle, somehow you knew that you were in the safe zone. Turns out, the two of you had a friend in common who he had meant to call, but he hadn’t been paying attention to what he was doing and accidentally clicked on your profile. The call only lasted for a few more minutes before Changkyun apologized and with an awkward wave, ended it. You stared at his profile picture and next thing you knew, you were scrolling through his pictures, oohing upon finding an old one of him with silver hair and an eyebrow piercing.

A couple hours later, there was a knock at your door and after slipping on a mask, you were greeted with a delivery man that looked no older than sixteen, announcing that he had a grinder for you. Before you could say that you hadn’t ordered anything, he promised that it had already been paid for, tip included. Not one to turn down free food, you accepted it, and saw the note that was taped to the paper bag.

I’m not a weirdo I promise. Jooheon passed along your address, and I’m not about to let someone go hungry. From, a friendly stranger who hit the wrong button.

There was no second guessing on your part. You pulled his profile back up and hit the video button, only having to wait a few seconds before his face filled the screen, locks of black hair falling across his forehead as he ruffled it up.

“Did you seriously send me a grinder?”

“You sounded hungry.”

There was a brief pause, and suddenly you were giggling, shoulders shaking as you sat down on a chair, his own deep chuckles joining in not long after. It was odd, but after that – and after confirming with Jooheon to make sure he wasn’t a creep, which you were assured he wasn’t – the two of you fell into the habit of video chatting. Some days there was nothing to say. With the pandemic raging on and everything closed, it was nice to have someone simply be there after all this time.

Fast forward five months later, the pandemic had only grown worse, and not only had Changkyun proven to be a good friend, but he managed to worm his way into your heart.

“What about you,” Changkyun suddenly asked. “You’re not actually working today, are you? Forget the holiday, it’s Sunday.”

Rolling your eyes, you went back to the bedroom with the black coffee in one hand, and him in the other. “Not all day. I have a few graphics that I want to finish up or it’ll bug me. Should only take a few hours to do.”

“Only a few hours,” he teased. “I’m willing to bet you’ll still be working tonight.”

“Will not.”

“Will too.”

“Not.”

His end grew silent, and he suddenly cleared his throat. “We’ll see about that.”

There was something about that sentence that stopped you from entering the password to your computer. Glancing away from the screen, you stared at Changkyun’s picture, wondering why his voice had softened when he had said that, as if he knew something that you didn’t.

“What is it that you have to do?” You found yourself asking him again, not looking at the keys as you logged into your laptop, the bleeding hearts screensaver appearing as the icons loaded one by one.

“Just some…stuff. I’ll probably be off my phone most of the day.”

“Oh.”

With the amount of phone calls and video chats the two of you had, it had become normal to hear from him a couple times throughout the day. The text chat was filled with various memes, emojis, and conversations that ranged from how much is too much fabric softener? - all the way to late night conversations involving stories about crazy exes, to insecurities, dreams you’ve always wanted to do, and whether or not the world would ever go back to the normal that you both had known prior to March 2020.

Wetting your lips, you leaned back against the desk chair and cradled the mug in both hands. “Well, have fun with whatever you’re doing,” you said, keeping your voice light so he wouldn’t notice the shift in your mood.

It was suddenly so obvious why he wasn’t saying what he had to do. With the holiday approaching, Changkyun had asked if you had any plans for how to spend the day, and with that came your explanation for why you weren’t overly fond of this particular day. The blind dates that ended terribly and being single had been part of the reason why, but there was one particular instance from the past that was determined to ruin Valentines every year for you.

In all the years, there was one person that you had confessed to on Valentines. Jungkook was someone you considered a friend, but you had only told him the truth to get him to shut up about his girlfriend. Up until that afternoon she had been the ex that, from your understanding, despised being in the same room as him anymore. According to him, she showed up at his place with the usual, ‘I miss you,’ and ‘let’s try again,’ and somehow that all managed to lead to wild and hot passionate sex that was, ‘insanely good.’

If only that had been it.

Whether Jungkook got caught up in reliving the moment and forgot who he was talking to, he gave you a play by play of their reunion. From the way she arrived at his door, to the way she felt around him, he told every detail all while you were on the other end of the phone, fingers twisted and tugging at your hair as you sat on the floor of your childhood bedroom. On all the days, the last thing you wanted to hear was your crush talking about having to move to the living room because his bedroom reeked from all their fucking.

The conversation didn’t last much longer, thank god, but you hadn’t been able to grieve because in the other room mom’s voice could be heard as she talked about her day at work. Instead, you forced back the tears and it took everything to not break down when she smiled and handed you an orange teddy bear holding a red heart that said I love you, along with a bag of Lindt chocolates. She was unaware, and while everyone slept, you buried your face into a couple pillows to muffle the sounds of your crying. You were only eighteen and yet you swore your heart collapsed in on itself before exploding into a million glass shards.

“That fucking dick,” Changkyun had said when you told him.

The screen had been bright as the two of you video chatted, and you rubbed your eyes, tired but not ready to go to sleep. He had been doing the rounds of locking up and shutting off the lights while you spoke, only wearing a thin pair black and blue flannel pants. At least he held the phone pretty leveled so you weren’t forced to stare at his torso, but there had been several times where you found your gaze lingering on his muscular body.

“I mean,” you ran a hand through your hair, shrugging as he looked back at you. “It happens to everyone.”

Changkyun frowned though. “No,” he said, his voice gentle but firm at the same time. “No, it doesn’t. And that shouldn’t have happened to you.”

Blinking, you forced the memory away, shifting in your seat to get comfortable once again. Just because you didn’t enjoy the holiday, or didn’t have anyone to spend it with, didn’t mean that was the case with Changkyun. Why else would he be reluctant to say what his plans were? He was probably just being nice and didn’t want to appear like he was rubbing salt into an old wound that refused to heal.

“Hey,” Changkyun’s voice softened again, and as much as you knew you shouldn’t, you wished that he was here, in the apartment with you for him to hold you. “It’s still early in the morning. For all you know, there’s a Mr. Right, who’s going to stumble into your path today.”

You scoffed, the clicking of your mouse echoing in the bedroom. “I mean, I don’t have plans to go out.”

“Surprises can happen you know.”

“Alright Changkyun,” now that the internet was up, you glanced back at the phone. “I gotta get to work. Stay safe out there.”

“Always am. Talk to you later.”

“Bye.”

There was a pause, and when you looked back over, the call was still going. It wasn’t out of the ordinary for either of you to leave it going while doing work, the silence was never awkward, it was more comforting than anything, but this time there was a sense of something being left un–

“You look pretty today,” Changkyun said suddenly.

Blinking, your fingers tightened around the mouse as your heart raced. “What? You can’t even see me Changkyun.”

“So?”

“I could be wearing my pajamas for all you know,” your voice faltered, and despite the constriction of wearing jeans, you pulled your legs up on to the chair to hug them to your chest.

“I’ve already seen you in your pajamas,” he joked. “You’re still pretty though.”

He was smiling. You knew for certain that he was, and that made your palms turn clammy, forcing you to wipe them against the pant leg.

“Maybe I’m not, wearing clothes?” Internally you slapped yourself, instantly regretting those words, and perhaps your entire existence at this point. It was still early. Instead of work, maybe you could possibly bury yourself under all the blankets and never answer his phone calls again.

Hearing shuffling coming from the phone, you pressed your lips together, not entirely sure if you wanted to hear what he had to say.

“Are you trying to keep me from my plans today?” His voice deepened and if it weren’t for the fact that you were already sitting down, you were certain that you’d be on the floor.

“No, I’m just stupid,” you blurted out, slamming your hand over your mouth.

Changkyun chuckled, and suddenly the phone seemed closer to him because his voice became clearer. “I think you’re trying to seduce me.”

Oh god. No. It was absolutely the other way around. He was the one who had the advantage on his side, between the lip bites and the selfies he sent that captured his jawline that was perfect to cut glass with. Whether it was his godly features, or when the two of you were video chatting and he rolled onto his stomach and face planted himself into the pillow, you fell for him every time.

“Know what?” You rushed to say, ignoring his laughter. “I have work and you have things to do. Stay safe, and I’ll talk to you later. Bye!”

There was no hesitation. This time you slammed your finger on the end call button and for extra measure, tossed it away and on the bed, letting it disappear among the sea of messy blankets.

Shakily sighing, you slid further down in the chair as the edge of the desk pinned your legs to your chest to keep from falling to the ground. He had never said anything like that before. Sure, there were times where he’d see you do something or when you’d ramble on about a show or work, he’d might say cute, but that always felt like an afterthought.

“Damn it Changkyun,” you said, glaring at where you had thrown the phone and hating the fact that his words kept circling around your mind, making you feel incredibly warmer than you had been ten minutes earlier. Hating that while he was probably going to be on a date with some pretty girl who was worth his time, you were at home, working on a Sunday, wishing that the guy you hadn’t even met in person was here and telling you that in-between kisses.

You ran a hand over your face with a groan, fingers of course getting caught in the bun briefly as you sat up. There was work to be done, and with a click of the mouse, the programs you needed quickly opened up. It was fairly easy, and if you focused, would only take an hour, maybe even less to get done. But with Changkyun on the brain, all you wanted to do was curl back up under the messy blankets and daydream about him. About what it would be like to hug him, to hear his voice in person, and perhaps, spend a Valentine’s day with someone who wouldn’t let you down.

That wasn’t going to happen though. It was a daydream and nothing more.

Lacing your fingers together, you quickly turned them inward, groaning in satisfaction at the loud crack that emitted from the joints. Outside the window that the desk was placed in front of, the sun had already begun its descent for the night. The sky was painted in splashes of orange with lazy clouds slipping in, the remaining bits of blue falling steadily behind.

Despite what Changkyun had predicted, he was only partially correct. With him swimming freely in your mind, you had been distracted, lost in a hazy daydream that made it impossible to focus on the graphics that you were trying to finish up. More often than not you stepped away from the desk, feet guiding you to the other room or in small twirls with the faintest lovesick smile. It was impossible to get anything done. So, you said fuck it. It was Sunday after all, and you weren’t expected to have those scheduled to be posted for a few days. Where was the harm in having one day to yourself? One with no work whatsoever to stress you out?

With work out of the way and having no other plans, another cup of coffee had been made and in the spirit of the holiday, your gaze had lingered on the makeup that sat on the dresser. Most of it had gone unused as the weeks melted into months. Tubes of lipstick and eye shadow palettes once loved had been forgotten about, and as you recalled, the brushes that you typically forgot to clean had been washed out of pure boredom. It was with new motivation that you grabbed a majority of the collection and hopped onto the counter in the bathroom, music playing from a playlist filled with songs from your younger years that held nostalgia, and simply played around with the colors.

By the time you were done, an hour had gone by, and you gained two cut creases with glitter, contoured cheeks, painted your lips, and looked like you were ready to go out for a date out in the city to be wined and dined. Instead, you slipped on a pair of fuzzy socks and slid into the kitchen with plans to see what frozen meal the freezer had to offer. If anything, it had the bare bones of a date. The location? Your couch. The hot leading man? Most likely the main character from whatever show you finally decided on after you gave a good scroll through Netflix. All you needed was utter disappointment and it could be considered a success.

You were torn between making the decision for frozen lasagna or chicken Alfredo, but a sudden and loud knock at the door stopped you. Eyebrows pulling in confusion, you carefully set the food on the counter, taking a moment to slip on the mask that you left hanging on the doorknob for situations like this. Not that they occurred often. With the exception of having food delivered, once the world realized that this pandemic wasn’t just a simple flu and doctors encouraged people to stay home, you hadn’t invited anyone over. It was lonely, and you missed your friends and family greatly, but this wasn’t a situation to take lightly.

“I’m sorry,” you said, opening the door once the fabric mask was securely on. “I think you might have the wrong…”

And you stopped. Stopped talking and stared. Stared at the man leaning against your door frame, wearing a black as ink suit jacket, a pristine white button up shirt was tucked into matching black pants, with the top several buttons undone to reveal a tanned and toned chest that you knew he took pride in considering all the gym selfies he sent. The black fabric mask he wore hid most of his face, but the corners of his eyes were crinkled together.

“I think I’m right where I’m supposed to be,” Changkyun said, his deep voice sounding better in real life than you had expected, and dreamed of.

He pushed off of the frame and it was then that you noticed the things in his hands. In the left, was a plastic bag stuffed with packaged containers, and in the right…in his right wrapped in pink tissue paper was a bouquet of red and pink carnations with babies’ breath mixed in. There had to be at least a dozen, perhaps a baker’s dozen, if not a few extra.

There were no words. After all the books you consumed to pass the time, articles you searched for work, and even countless texts sent to friends, everything escaped you at that very moment because he was here. He was actually here and standing in front of you.

“I know you said you haven’t had anyone over since this started. But I got tested a couple days ago, came back negative, and we’ve both been working from home this entire time so if you want…” Changkyun lifted the bag he held into view and this time, you could see that even though it was triple bagged, you were able to make a red dragon printed on the cartons. “I have Chinese food, and I’m willing to bet that Netflix has something for us to watch. If you’re not comfortable though that’s fine. I have plenty of food that we can—”

Except he didn’t get to finish what he was saying before you tugged him into the apartment by his arm. Immediately, your arms wound their way around his waist and you pressed your face into his chest, tightly hugging him.

“It’s you,” you said, feeling his right arm carefully rest on your back to hold you close, all while being mindful of the flowers that he was carrying.

There was a soft chuckle from above as he laid his head on top of yours. “It’s good to finally see you too.”

Smiling, your arms tightened around him once more before you stepped backwards, letting him enter the apartment completely. “You didn’t have to bring flowers you know.”

“And show up empty handed?”

You gestured towards the table for him to set the food down, taking the flowers and going to the sink. “You bought Chinese food. That more than would have made up for no flowers.” But while the vase filled with water and you trimmed the stems, gently adding them in one by one, there was a warmth spreading within your chest that came right from the heart, even more so when he chuckled. The only people to ever buy you flowers on Valentine’s day were your parents.

Like always, the silence that followed felt natural. The only difference was that you were aware that Changkyun was moving around in the kitchen with you, getting plates and silverware out without having to ask where things were because he had seen you do the same thing countless times before while video chatting. You just never thought he was actually paying attention.

When they were all in the vase, you tossed the ends in the trash and turned around, only to see that once again, he was watching you.

“Why are you staring?”

Changkyun shrugged, running a hand through his hair as the black locks fell right back into his eyes. “I was right.”

Tilting your head, you walked over to the table and set the vase in the center. You were already so close to him, but he leaned his head down, the black fabric of his mask brushing against the top of your ear.

“That you look pretty,” he said softly. “And it’s not because of the makeup. I had a feeling you might dress up today; you look beautiful.”

The air that you had been breathing was instantly stolen, and when you made the mistake of looking up at him, you realized just how close the two of you were. If it weren’t for the masks you both wore…

“You don’t look half bad yourself,” you teased, trying to not glance at where his lips would be. “You’re a lot taller than messenger video makes you out to be.”

He rolled his eyes and scoffed. Straightening up, Changkyun slipped his suit jacket off and set it on the back of a chair to undo the buttons on his cuffs, taking the time to roll each sleeve up to his elbows. “You’re meaner in person.”

Good god. You knew that he worked out, but damn. Maybe not for the first couple weeks, eventually Changkyun fell into the habit of sending selfies while he was working out at the gym. It shouldn’t have been a surprise, but seeing his tanned arms and the white sleeve making its way up to his elbow, it sparked the butterflies and gave them a newfound fluttering energy.

“Do you wanna eat or not?” Not thinking of it, you reached up to unhook the elastic from around your ears, removing the mask and setting it back on the counter. With a glance up at him, you saw him raise an eyebrow before he mimicked your movements to take off his own mask, revealing the jaw that tempted your daydreams in more ways than you wished.

He smiled, and you handed him his plate and together, the two of you fixed up heaping plates of Chinese food, using the concept of needing to eat to distract yourself. Everything was still hot and as you settled on the couch, steam curled its way up into the air.

“Were you able to get your secret plans done today?” You asked, glancing over at him while Netflix loaded up on the TV screen.

“Why are you so interested in what I had to do?” He was focused on the dumpling that he held with the chopsticks, not meeting your gaze at all.

It wasn’t that you meant to be focused on that. But he had acted so suspicious on the phone earlier, and now he was here, having dinner in your apartment with enough Chinese food to cost a small fortune, along with sixteen carnations – yes, you counted while cutting them – on Valentine’s Day. There had been no warning, and as much as you wanted to believe that he was here for more than a friendly drop in, the idea of him having been on a date earlier in the day and was here to talk about it, about the possible other girl, killed the butterflies. You had already been through this once, you didn’t want to go through it again. Not with him.

Scrolling through the list of suggestions, you didn’t notice Changkyun looking over at you, or the way his face softened. His fingers tightened around the chopsticks and he leaned back against the cushion.

“What’s that one about?” He nodded towards one of the movies that was in the watch again section.

You raised an eyebrow, scrolling over to it. “Please don’t tell me that you’ve never seen Love Actually?”

“If I did, would I have asked what it’s about?”

Unable to stop yourself, an undignified sound escaped you as you wildly gestured with the remote. “How? It’s like the sweetest romance, Christmas movie ever. They play it every year. It even has Liam Neeson, the man promising to find and kill everyone, as a sweet dad who doesn’t kill anyone! That alone is a true Christmas miracle by itself.”

The thought of him being with someone else dissipated at the sound of his laughter. Even caught up in the excitement of this particular movie, you couldn’t stop the smile that grew. No matter what, even in real life or over video, you always found yourself grinning the second he laughed or smiled. He was without a doubt contagious, in the best way possible.

“What are you waiting for?” He said, gesturing towards the screen with the chopsticks, shoulders relaxing at the sight of your smile and apparent joy for the film. One that he had in fact, seen a few times over the years. “Press play.”

There was no hesitation. You were determined to culture him in what you deemed to be a classic in romance films. So, as you comfortably settled in, belly growing full of warm and delicious food, you once again missed Changkyun’s wide smile. It was the kind of grin that no matter what he did, or how serious he tried to be, simply wouldn’t go away.

The empty dinner plates sat long forgotten about on the coffee table as another movie played, this one involving an action pack fight scene with aliens in New York City. Hours had passed since Changkyun arrived at your door, and despite it growing late and Valentine’s Day was nearing its end, his polished shoes were unlaced and tossed on the floor. A wine bottle had been opened up, and you sat much closer to him to share a blanket with him. You were blaming it on the wine for being so bold because when he stretched an arm on the back of the couch, you didn’t think twice about gently leaning your head against it.

You couldn’t even really blame it on the wine. It was the first glass for both of you, and you were a slow drinker, so you were as sober as a newborn lamb at the moment.

It was just like when the two of you would video chat with the same movie on, but so much better. Having him here, you were noticing the smallest things that you’d miss when on the phone. At the base of his neck was a small mole that you never realized he had, or that he was wearing two thin silver chains – a pair that, now that you thought about it, he never went without. Behind you, he’d occasionally rub his fingers together and the metal of his bracelet would lightly clink against itself. With the few glances that you stole, his attention was solely on the movie and his jaw appeared to be pressed together.

Feeling a sudden weight, you turned to see him settling his arm around your shoulders. His wrist was now hanging over your arm, and it took all your willpower to not reach up with a free hand to lace your fingers loosely with his. When you glanced back up at him, he was in mid sip of his wine, throat bobbing with each swallow.

Shit. This was not helping the butterflies that seemed to have multiplied since his arrival.

Changkyun raised an eyebrow when he lowered his glass, softly humming in question, but you only shook your head and focused back on the movie. Except, now you were hyper aware that he was looking at you this time.

“What’s wrong?” He murmured, his thumb and fingers lightly rubbing against your arm.

That was another thing. His voice was deep. In the calls, the phone occasionally cracked and had made it seem lighter, but it appeared to be just the opposite. He was blessed with a voice that was able to drop lower than a bass, sending your insides to mush when he spoke. It was the type of voice that was destined to recite poetry and old sonnets, to hold three in the morning conversations that went wherever and everywhere. When he called your name, it never failed to send tingles running the length of your body. It was his voice, and you knew that you’d never grow tired of hearing him talk.

“Nothing. I was just thinking,” you said, leaning your head back, his arm comfortable and warm as you looked up at the ceiling, trying to avoid his gaze for a few seconds.

His fingers didn’t stop. The gentle caress, a small reassurance that he was in fact here and this wasn’t your imagination, made it harder to stay where you sat instead of curling into his side like you wanted.

“Thinking about what?”

Letting out a breathless scoff, you tilted your head towards him. Changkyun was a sight to see and you knew that if this was the only time you got to spend with him in person, you were never going to forget this moment.

Your smile softened. “That you’re actually here, after all these months of texts and video calls. You actually came here, and you’re real.”

“Did you think I was a robot or something?” Changkyun teased, but his fingers stopped moving, and that lock of hair fell back into his eyes again.

“Well, you did accidentally call me instead of Jooheon and last time I checked, we look nothing alike.” There was no thinking as you reached up and mimicked his movements to push that damn lock back, feeling how soft his hair was. It brought you a little bit closer to him and in that second, the world suddenly felt like it was no longer moving when you glanced down at his lips. Those pink lips that you wondered and dreamt about night after night, too curious for your own good on what it would be like to kiss him. Now was your chance to find out, especially when he didn’t lean back and appeared to be getting closer.

“Cookies?” You suddenly asked, leaning back to see his eyebrows start to pull together in confusion. Heart racing, you set your wine glass on the coffee table and walked around the couch to step into the kitchen. With only your back to him, you quietly let out a shaky breath. “I know I have some for us to munch on…”

Opening up a cabinet, you stretched on to your toes to search for the package of cookies that you knew were in there, mentally slapping yourself at having done that. He hadn’t backed away, hadn’t tried to stop you, in fact, if you allowed yourself to believe it, you would have recalled that he had started to lean in when you randomly brought up cookies. As much as you wanted to, the last thing you wanted was to lose your friendship.

You were pushing aside a box of crackers when his hand captured your wrist, halting your search. It felt like your heart was about to leap out of its cage when his fingers gently wrapped around your hand, and when his palm settled on a hip, it was equally as comforting as it lit a spark inside you. There was nothing you wanted to do more than to melt into his embrace.

“Sweetheart, do you really think I’m here to just hang out?” He asked, his voice low as he spoke into your ear, his body stepping closer to yours.

“You’re…you’re not?” You weakly asked, nervous because you didn’t want this all to be a joke.

The idea of this being a one night only thing thanks to the holiday left an ache in your bones. You wanted more nights like this with him, wanted to hear him call out your name with that gentle smile of his over and over again. Dammit, you wanted to wake up and have the blankets be stifling hot but not care as you crawled over to his side of the bed, searching for morning cuddles because fuck the person who decided that the workday would start at eight in the morning. The only person you wanted to spend this quarantine with, to be able to touch, to be worried and even scared about all this with, was Changkyun.

Changkyun’s breath hit the back of your neck as he softly chuckled, sending a shiver down your spine. “God, I thought I was being obvious. Let me try this differently.”

Still holding on to your wrist, he turned you around and once you were facing him, let go of your hand to step closer until your back was against the counter. With each breath your chest brushed against his, and when he pushed the hair that had fallen in your face behind your ear, fingers brushing against your cheek, you almost forgot to breathe.

“I know you’ve always had a pretty crappy Valentine’s day,” Changkyun softly spoke. His gaze was steady with yours, and even though he was being serious, there was a softness to his features that had the corner of his mouth curling upwards. “And I thought that the best way to keep that from repeating this year, would be if you spent it with someone, who loves you.”

Who loves…oh.

It suddenly all made sense. Why he didn’t want to say what he was doing to celebrate, him calling you pretty, the food and flowers, the coaxing touches, he could have rented a billboard and put up a neon flashing sign and you probably still would have been blind.

“Changkyun,” you whispered, reaching up to cup his cheek.

He softly smiled as he closed the remaining space between you to rest his forehead against yours, his palms sliding along your body until he had you wrapped in a hug. “There you go, now you get it.”

Giggling, you rolled your eyes out of habit. It was like him to be a smart ass during a moment like this. With that being said, the butterflies fluttered their way up to your heart, and all the daydreams that you entertained and thought nothing would come of them, now had the possibility of becoming reality.

“I love you too,” you said, running your thumb along his cheek as you watched his smile widen.

There was no hesitation, or smart ass comments this time. Instead, when his lips met yours in a kiss, your heart stopped racing. The butterflies finally calmed down and the world around you went out of focus as your fingers slid through his hair. His lips were soft, and thanks to the red wine, there was a lingering tangy sweetness that reminded you of raspberries. You found yourself becoming addicted to his taste, the kisses melting together until you lost track of how long the two of you stood there, content with doing nothing but being wrapped up in each other’s embrace.

A clock chimed out in the apartment, breaking the kiss which only served to make you pout at the loss of his lips. The gesture didn’t go unnoticed by Changkyun, who smirked before leaning down to give one more kiss, which quickly turned into two, then three.

“Don’t you have work in the morning?” He murmured, resting his forehead once more against yours.

“You trying to kiss and dash?”

His fingers gently pressed into your sides and you squirmed at his touch, giggling at his antics. However, he leaned his head back and sighed. “Like hell I’d do that. But you usually wake up earlier for work, and trust me, I’ll end up keeping you awake if I stay the night.”

There was no doubt about that, and to be truthful, you’d have no issue if that was the case. He was right, but as ideas turned in your mind, you shrugged. “You can’t go out driving though,” you said softly. “You were drinking.”

Changkyun frowned, head tilting as he removed a hand from your back to run through his hair. “Not even a whole glass.”

You raised an eyebrow. It took him having to say he loved you for you to understand how he felt about you despite his dine and wine attempt, and here he was, completely missing what you were suggesting. Either you were absolutely perfect for each other, or equally dense.

“Well, we also broke quarantine,” you said slowly, slipping a finger through his belt loop at the same time to bring him closer. “Isn’t the recommendation to stay at home for what, at least three days?”

He started to tilt his head, mouth opening to question what you were saying until he saw the smile growing on your face. Closing his eyes, he pressed his lips together before looking back at you.

“That was horrible,” Changkyun said. He slipped his arms back around you, pulling you away from the counter. His grin said otherwise. “At least I tried being romantic.”

“Well, I mean, if you really want to go back to your place by yourself…”

He didn’t let you say another word, his lips reclaiming yours again, because there was absolutely nothing that felt better than kissing you after months of dreaming what it would be like.

“Don’t go,” you softly murmured against his lips. “Not when you just got here.”

Maybe it was selfish. But you didn’t want to be alone again. Not when he had gone through so much trouble to make this night special, not when you finally knew that he felt the same way about you. After almost a year of staying inside the apartment whenever you could, of going without hugs or get togethers, being able to touch and kiss Changkyun felt like you were relearning what those were all over again. All you wanted was a few days with him.

Changkyun hummed, his arms tightening around you. “Sweetheart, I wasn’t planning on going anywhere,” he said, gazing down at you as if he had considered the same thing.

The clock that had rang out to announce the hour of a new day and that Valentine’s day was over, continued to quietly tick in the other room. The Earth continued to spin, and outside, the world was exactly how it had been this morning, full of fear, what ifs, and the unknown of a pandemic that didn’t seem to be going anywhere any time soon.

But inside that small apartment, wrapped in Changkyun’s arms, giggles and laughter filled the walls when he pulled you to the middle of the kitchen and spun you around for a late-night dance. It might not be the thing that changes the world, but for the first time, in a long time, hope began to blossom alongside the butterflies in your stomach. The memories of past Valentine’s days melted away at his kiss, until only the memory of him at your door remained.

Even when it hadn’t felt like it, love and hope had always been there. And now it was here promising lovelier days to come.

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ablednt · 3 years

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Actually helpful advice for the kids on this hellsite

Once again tired of "don't make a carrd or tell people your triggers" posts going around literally telling kids it's Dangerous to set boundaries. So here's what I've learned in my teen years on how to stay safe in the hellscape that's the internet.

Identity

You don't have to link all your social media together but you can if you want to. Don't give out something that is more private (like discord account, Skype or zoom account, facebook, Snapchat etc.) publicly or to people who aren't familiar with yet though.

Use a nickname rather than your real name or birth name, an account and name change may unfortunately be necessary so if you want to keep a name safe or use it irl then don't attach it to public social media. This can be fun though! Go apeshit coming up with different aliases and names! Call yourself lizard if you want to!

The only thing you absolutely need to put somewhere on your account (or carrd) is that you're a minor. You don't have to give the exact age but I promise this is important because even if there's plenty of context clues that you're a minor if you don't indicate this somewhere clear and adults start treating you like shit you need to be able to point out that they're knowingly doing this to a minor. That has saved me from gross bullshit a lot. Yes, people should default to treating people who's ages they don't know as a minor to play it safe but the majority of people assume everyone is the same age as them so you need to make it clear you're not an adult.

Pronouns don't make you identifiable and anyone who acts like putting your pronouns in your bio is unsafe is probably transphobic lmao. You don't have to if you don't want to (and don't mind people not using/knowing your pronouns) but it's safe to put them there most of the time. (The only exception I can think of is if you're closeted and your parents may find your account but in that case you should probably stay closeted online to unless you feel safe/know they aren't likely to find your account.)

You don't have to list every privilege you have and you probably shouldn't but if you're white you probably should indicate this somewhere. This is to hold yourself accountable because yes even teenagers can be racist and underaged people of color also deserve to feel safe. If you're nonwhite and don't feel safe doing so you don't have to list your race or ethnicity.

If you're part of a system/plural or questioning you do NOT have to say your systems origins, if you have DID/OSDD, or list your headmates/alters. The system community has a lot of people in it (and singlets adjacent to parts of the community due to bullshit discourse groups welcoming them) who will target underaged systems to fakeclaim them or harass them etc. I suggest having everyone use aliases/nicknames on a system account and you only tell your origin to people you feel comfortable around and safe with. Your safety and privacy is more important than your trendy system carrd goals I promise!

You shouldn't really just list any disorders you have but it really does no harm to put marginalized identities you're proud of on a carrd or in your bio. You might get a shitty anon or two but I promise people aren't going to dox you if you say you're autistic on your carrd or something.

I personally wouldn't list any special interests that are particularly recognizable (popular media should be ok but more niche stuff may not be) or publicly share a kin list just because you never know if you'll want to switch up your identity online to feel safe and the more things are clearly tied to your current nickname and handle the harder it will be to do this. However if you feel safe doing so it's not the end of the world. Just be careful about it and don't feel pressured to give more info than you're comfortable giving.

You do NOT need to tell people your trauma in order to tell them your triggers. If you need something tagged with a tw you really should indicate this somewhere so people know to tag it (unless you intend to send every you're mutuals with an anon with what to tag which is also an option but may be difficult) but you shouldn't tell them your trauma or medical history to justify it. Your boundaries aren't up for debate and you have nothing to prove. You should only talk about your trauma if you feel safe doing so (and even then please don't give identifiable details like.names of people involved or specifics as that can cause serious problems.)

Boundaries & etiquette

DNIs are good! BYFs are good! Anyone who tells you that they're not good or useful is absolutely trying to disrespect your and other people's boundaries. You can and should make a DNI and list the people you don't want to interact with. (Generally it's better to say groups rather than specific people or names because it's easier to again not be recognized if you need to change accounts/aliases but you can do this if you have strong reasoning and absolutely have to to feel safe.)

DNIs (and also.trigger lists) don't have to all be bad things! You can put fandoms that make you uncomfortable, things that trigger you but aren't bad inherently, etc. on these lists. They're about helping you feel safe not having the hottest takes or being the most morally correct.

Some people you should put in your DNIs as a minor are proshippers/anti-antis and MAPs. Both of these groups have been proven time and time again to groom minors online so the earlier you get away from them the better.

Once you have your DNI please do be aggressive in reinforcing it! Block people who break your DNI, tell people who complain about your DNI to fuck off! Do not tolerate people trying to debate the boundaries You have set this is your corner of the internet to feel safe! They can go somewhere else! Being blocked by a kid on the internet is not the emotional blow abusers act like it is. You're not mean for having boundaries please internalize this and stand up for yourself!

If other people have a DNI you need to check that before following them this is for both your own safety and theirs. If you're unsure what something on someone's DNI means ask around to find out before following just in case.

Do NOT get involved in discourse! This doesn't mean you can't ever take part in or boost serious things. Discussing/calling out bigotry (racism, ableism, transphobia, etc.) isn't discourse. Sometimes callout posts for legitimately harmful people is necessary so that's not automatically bad. But I'm taking about the shit that's #discourse. Stay out of ace discourse. Stay away from syscourse. Don't debate with terfs or transmeds or shitty people. I know it seems like it'd be cathartic to win debates with shitty people, I know there's people who will try to bait you into the latest argument over which lgbt+ identities can say what slurs or whatever the fuck the pointless bad faith argument is, and I know you want to prove that your marginalized identity doesn't make you a bad person like bigots say it does. But as someone who's mental health was absolutely destroyed by discourse as a teen it's not worth it. By all means discuss issues as they arise, broaden your perspectives and horizons, etc. but don't engage knowingly in discourse it will save you so much trouble in the long run.

Try to avoid talking to adults 1x1 if you can avoid it! It's okay to dm with an adult you feel safe talking to sometimes and while it's certainly okay not to interact with adults at all if you don't feel.comfortable it's generally okay to do so. But if an adult is going out of their way to consistently talk to you in private needlessly that can be a red flag. If an adult tries to insinuate that they're the only adult around you can trust that's DEFINITELY a red flag. Basically talk to people in places you can easily involve others if needs be. If someone sends you a dm that makes you uncomfortable screenshot it in case you need to show someone etc.

Don't discuss NSFW things with adults, in spaces adults have easy access to (for example a discord server open to all ages), or even with other underaged people who haven't indicated they're comfortable with it. There's nothing inherently wrong with being aware of nsfw stuff or experiencing sexual attraction as a teenager but it's very important that you don't put yourself in situations that may be unsafe for you or others. Most good discord servers have rules against this for this exact reason. Now, to make it abundantly clear, if you did or do ever say something nsfw and an adult takes advantage of this or responds in a way that makes you uncomfortable this is NOT your fault! The responsibility falls on adults to act appropriately but it's still a good idea to keep youeself out of harms way.

That's basically it on a general level. Once again, posts telling you not to make DNIs or carrds or trigger lists (all used to set clear boundaries) are very suspect and either grossly misunderstand how these things work or are intentionally demonizing them in order to have more opportunity it excuse to do harm. Setting clear boundaries is good. Doing things that help you feel safe and respected is good. Just don't go and get involved in discourse or give out personal information or anything.

#online safety #internet safety #DNIs #carrd #actuallyautistic #actuallyplural #long post #grooming tw #ask to tag

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youwerenevermeanttofeelalone · 3 years

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Some People Wrap Their Lies Around a Cocktail Glass | Damian Wayne

And You Sit Wondering Where You’re Going to Turn

✦ pairing — older!Damian Wayne x female!Plus Size Reader

✦ word count — 3.3k

✦ fake dating AU

✦ summary — you need to cover up the fact that your boyfriend broke up with you a week before your step-father’s Christmas party, and Damian needs a date for his father’s New Year’s ball. Both of you are experts at pretending, what could go wrong?

✦ warnings — some angst, mentions of food, Damian and reader are neighbors, a little bit of awkwardness, sprinkles of fluff.

✦ mini series masterlist

════════════════════════

Every time your phone buzzed, you hoped it was him. Such a naive and sick logic, one of a teenager waiting for her crush to text back, was nothing compared with the sobering truth.

Your ex-boyfriend was your ex for a reason. And you would have to face the music on your own.

Your mother was going to be disappointed. Not more than you were. Travis had been a good boyfriend, goofy and nice. He hadn’t been the gentlest person in the world, but you learned to accept that he wasn’t perfect.

You could have fallen for him if he had given you enough time.

Your cellphone rang and the fact that it hadn’t buzzed startled you. A handful of people called you instead of texting you, yet you didn’t have to look at the caller ID to know who it was.

That was your luck. What a horrible week. And it was only Monday noon.

Taking a deep breath, you nodded to yourself and swiped your finger against the screen to take the call. “How is everything going?” you softly greeted your mother.

She sighed. “I will be relieved when the planning is over.” She changed the subject, “Did your boyfriend clear his schedule?”

You breathed out a small laugh. “He did,” you lied. Not even sure if Travis had truly wanted to attend, you lied some more, “He’s excited to meet you.”

“We are excited too. Your uncle said he won’t believe it until he sees it.”

You and him both. As she told you about every guest she was skeptical about showing up, you mentally went through your list of feeble romantic relationships.

Jordan was in town, you had heard about them a few days ago. But asking them to be your date out of nowhere would be embarrassing when the last thing they knew about you was that you were happy in a new relationship.

Liam’s bright blue eyes came to your mind, and you almost had the answer. You hooked up a couple of times after breaking up, and you were friendly enough for you to feel comfortable telling him the truth. The problem was that your mother hated Liam.

The list continued getting shorter and shorter, your anxiety levels higher and higher. You shouldn’t have lied to your mother, but pride was a marvelous and twisted thing and you shared such a stupid little thing with her.

“Have you spoken to your father?” she asked, unbeknownst to her only adding to the pile of regrets and worries.

“Brianna said he’s out of town.”

Your mother grunted. It was clear that both of you knew Brianna had lied. “Well, you’ll see him for New Year’s.”

“I suppose, yes.”

She said your name sternly. “He’s your father.”

He didn’t act like he was. “He hasn’t called in weeks,” you explained. “I am not sure he wants to see me.”

”Your father is a busy man,” she told you. It was like a reflex to her, excusing him even though she had divorced him when you were eight.

Adults and their busy lives, wrapped in their lies and inane promises. You had really tried to be different, but caving in was too easy. What a mess.

“I have to leave you,” she lamented. You could hear that she meant it by the emotion that seeped into her voice. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Have a nice day,” you wished her, voice trembling as anxiety fully kicked in.

The moment the line clicked, you dropped your cellphone onto the sofa. Sniffing, you walked into your bedroom in search of a hair tie.

You needed to keep your hands busy so you could come up with something to say. Or somebody to date.

════════════════════════

Damian’s scrutinizing gaze greeted you as he opened the door. You analyzed his stance and attire, trying to assess whether you had interrupted anything or not.

He stepped back without taking his eyes off you, hand still on the door handle. His hair was damp, and he looked extremely comfortable, wearing a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt.

He would also have looked approachable if his eyes weren’t so sharp.

“Are you coming in or not?”

You reacted, extending your arms to offer a container to him. “I made cookies earlier.”

He looked down at the container in your grasp, then back up at your face. “Get inside.”

You stepped into Damian’s apartment, used to the minimalistic style that you secretly wished you had chosen for your own place.

At the same time, you liked your apartment. Your mother helped you decorate, and she had impeccable taste.

He placed the cookies onto the coffee table, motioning for you to sit.

Sitting down, you watched him do the same just in front of you. His gaze was still sharp, but he waited for you to speak.

When you didn’t, he said, “I know you bake when you’re stressed.”

“It calms me.”

“You baked a pie two days ago. In the middle of the night.”

“And it was good,” you said immediately. “Right?”

He nodded. “Delicious,” he assured you. “Yet I can’t help but worry.”

You gripped your hair, exhaling harshly. “Holiday stuff.”

“Did you finally come to terms with the fact that all those ornaments look awful?”

“They do not,” you said, quite offended. You had spent an entire weekend decorating the living room. Sighing at the memory of choosing Christmas decorations and ornaments with your now ex-boyfriend, you explained your problem, “Travis broke up with me this past Saturday, and I don’t know how to tell my mother.”

Confusion was clear in Damian’s features. You had expected a comment about how you could find someone better, but not this.

“He was going to attend Leonard’s Christmas party with me.”

Leonard was your step-father. Your mother married him when you were a pre-teen and since then you had never skipped one of his parties or events.

He was the only reason why your mother and you were rich, and your biological father hated you for choosing him.

Money hadn’t been the reason why you took a liking to Leonard, although having everything you wanted and needed was nice, but your father wouldn’t have understood even if he tried.

Damian lifted an eyebrow. You could tell he wished you were joking.

“Too soon, I know.”

“I’m just shocked you planned to take him from all people to such event.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You met him on a dating app and your first date was at a bar,” he reminded you as though that explained everything. Your semblance must’ve shown skepticism because he added, “You are not supposed to take somebody like him to your family’s house unless you hate your family.”

“A lot of people do that and their relationships succeed.”

Damian inhaled sharply, shaking his head. “Does Travis even own a suit?”

“I was going to buy him appropriate clothes, a matching tie, get him a haircut... He hates formal attire.”

“I thought you liked your step-father.”

“I do. That’s why I was finally going to take somebody with me so people wouldn’t ask him why I’m always single and make him uncomfortable.”

He hummed, nodding slowly. “So you wanted him to try and explain why his step-daughter was dating a bad boy caricature. Very reasonable.”

“First of all, some bad guys are attractive. Have you seen The Phantom of The Opera?”

“You didn’t just insult Erik’s skills like that,” he said, offended.

“I’m not comparing him to Travis. It was an example.”

“A poor one at that unless Travis smells as bad as Erik.”

You shook your head. Damian was exaggerating when he said Travis was a bad boy caricature — apart from the fact that he loved wearing leather and sometimes took part in street races, he was a normal guy.

“Besides,” he continued, always eager to be right, “a bad boy and a bad guy aren’t the same thing. I thought you were literate in media.”

It seemed like he would never let go of the fact that you had switched careers when film school got unbearable.

“The point is,” you tried to go back to the topic at hand, “that it could have worked.”

“If you say so,” he said sarcastically. “You didn’t tell me what is it that Leonard usually says when people ask about your love life.”

“That I’m focused on my career or that I like to keep my private life separate from big events.”

Leonard had always been nice to you. He never planned to have children of his own, yet he never complained about you. From the day you met, he tried to befriend you, and eventually, he started to treat you as a daughter. He never made you call him dad unlike your father’s third wife who cried when you refused to call her mom — he never forced you to do anything.

Damian offered you a cookie, but you shook your head and he motioned for you to continue speaking as he took a cookie for himself.

“I lied to my mother earlier and I don’t know what I’m going to do or say, but I would rather eat my own foot than tell her my boyfriend chose to break up with me a week before the day he was supposed to meet her.”

Damian bit into the cookie, and you waited for a comment about how good or bad it was. He stared at you, brow twitching, before he once again made a movement with his hand so you would continue talking.

He knew you too well for your own good. And he also seemed to know that leaving you alone with your mind wasn’t such a good idea when you were in distress.

“I considered calling up an escort and have them pretend to be my partner, but I’m nervous,” you admitted, dropping your hands onto your lap for a second before moving them to rest on the couch, one at each of your sides. “What if that ruins it even more? Such a waste of money. And the embarrassment…”

He silently chewed, eyes focused on you. As he swallowed, he pinched his nose with his free hand. “I’ll do it.”

“You want to pay for the escort?”

Unamused, he clarified, “I’ll pretend to be your boyfriend.”

“I can’t ask that from you, Damian. You have your own events to attend! You said you would spend the holidays at your father’s house.”

He stayed silent, not taking his eyes off you. He then licked his bottom lip and said, “I’ll make you a deal. I’ll be your sweet and loving boyfriend in front of your family and Leonard’s acquaintances, and you’ll be my mysterious and charming girlfriend in front of my family and my father’s acquaintances.”

His offer was reasonable. Pretending was easy for you, meaningless. Leonard and your mother were always clear when they asked you to dress in certain ways or attend boring events — they weren’t expecting you to change, just to fool other people into thinking you were different.

They did the same, and that was enough for you.

Leonard’s smile was fake and tight in public when the only thing you could think about the smiles he gave you around the house was how warm they were.

Your mother was the opposite. You had seen her the happiest with Leonard, but she had always been rather cold as a person. In public, she was a lovely woman, always smiling and laughing.

“We can’t be in two places at once.”

“Father doesn’t celebrate Christmas publicly,” he explained blandly. “You just need to buy a new gown and cancel your plans for New Year’s.”

“For your father’s annual ball?”

“Exactly.”

“I can do that,” you assured him. Or yourself.

That night, as you stepped back into your apartment, you couldn’t help but make a face of disgust.

The ornaments were truly awful. You had gone overboard with everything — at the moment it had felt so good, laughing and drinking with Travis as you filled the living room with colors.

But that wasn’t your style. You didn’t even like colored Christmas lights.

════════════════════════

Despite your best efforts, you couldn’t keep yourself from being nervous. The last time you took somebody to one of Leonard’s big parties had been awkward and uncomfortable, a high school boyfriend who was too eager to impress your family.

Everybody understood because teen relationships usually are awkward and over-the-top. Now you wouldn’t have an excuse, you were an adult with a job and so-called social skills.

The first one was spot on. You had a job, you loved your job — and you didn’t need a job so you never felt pressured.

Your social skills, however, worried you. It was the anxiety playing tricks with your confidence, you knew, yet you couldn’t do anything but indulge it.

A part of you wondered if you would be this nervous if Travis was the one accompanying you. Perhaps you would be in a worse estate, or perhaps he wouldn’t have allowed you to worry.

But you didn’t have time to think about the what if’s. The party would take place the next day.

Time had flown by, you had been busy buying gifts and attempting to wrap them while balancing work and your friends’ own Christmas celebrations.

As though he knew you were a ball of nerves, curled up on the couch with a blanket over your shoulders and hands around your fourth —or was it the fifth?— cup of coffee that evening, Damian knocked upon your door.

You weren’t surprised to see him. He had said you would need to go through a few details before Leonard’s party.

You had barely interacted with Damian throughout the week, but he had assured you he was ready. He even sent you a picture of the tie he bought for the party, wanting to make sure the color was the right one.

His eyes scanned the living room as he made himself comfortable. He didn’t make a comment about the new ornamentation, but the fact that he hadn’t scowled was a good sign.

“I assumed you would be baking in preparation.”

“I’m not that stressed.” You folded the blanket and rested it onto the arm of the couch. “Can I offer you something to drink? Water, coffee, tea, alcohol...”

He shook his head. “Thank you. So, you don’t bake for your family?”

“Oh! I do, but on other occasions. Birthdays, anniversaries...” You sighed, shrugging. “Private things.”

A few times your mother had encouraged you to bake your father a birthday cake, but he rarely spent his birthday in town so that was even rarer.

“Have you already made our story up?”

“I suppose we should stick to the truth for the most part. Neighbors, then friends, and then...”

“Are you going to awkwardly tell your mother you’re dating me or are you just messing with me?”

”it’s hard for me to lie to my mother,” you explained, abashed. “It’s even worse if I have her in front of me.”

Damian stood up and opened an arm. “Come here.”

“I don’t need you to comfort me.”

He scoffed. “I’m not trying to comfort you. Come.”

You stood in front of him, looking down at his hand. “You want me to take it?”

“No. Well, perhaps...” He pensively looked at your form. “We have never been close physically.”

It had escaped you that you would need to touch him in order for your relationship to be believable. “So we’re going to practice.”

He hummed. “I’ll have my arm around you for most of the night,” he emphasized.

You stood beside him, expecting him to rest his arm behind your neck. Damian placed his palm on your upper back first, tentative.

His hand slowly slid up, tracing your shoulder blade. As he wrapped his arm around both your shoulders, he grunted.

Turning to look at him, you asked, “What?”

“It’s rather awkward to walk around in this position.”

“Okay,” you breathed out. “So?”

He slanted his head to face you. “Waist or hip?”

You considered the question, thinking about the way your dress would fall down your body. “Which one do you think would look better?”

“I have no clue.”

At least he was honest. Moving his hand off your shoulder, you lightly took it in your grasp. “Let’s stand in front of the mirror.”

Damian didn’t withdraw his hand from yours as you guided him into your bedroom. He curiously stared at the walls, quickly glancing at everything his eyes could fall onto.

He knew so much yet so little about you... you were friends, yes, and he trusted you with things he had never even imagined he would say out loud. At the same time, he was still getting used to his new life.

It wasn’t drastically different, but it was freeing in ways he never expected. With his new life came you, and he was astonished over the fact that you hadn’t met before when you had been forced to frequent the same places. Your presence was refreshing — welcomed from the very beginning.

Damian blinked rapidly. Getting reflective over being at a friend’s bedroom for the first time was new, too.

Standing in front of the mirror, you let go of his hand. Damian surrounded your body with his arm, delicately resting his hand on your waist.

“Is that okay?” he asked, watching you through the mirror as you shifted.

“Yeah. You can lower your hand if you want.”

He did so, pressing his palm against your hip.

“I think,” you mumbled, “your hand on my hip accentuates my stomach a little too much.”

He slowly trailed his hand upward, stopping at your waist once again. “Like that?” he asked in a whisper.

“Like that,” you agreed.

The two of you stood there for a long moment, facing your reflections. You moved first, and regretted it as the temperature changed over your form.

You hadn’t realized Damian’s body was that warm.

Sitting down on your bed, you followed his movements with your eyes as he sat on your vanity’s chair.

“Speak your mind,” he commanded.

“What if Leonard doesn’t believe... us?”

“I believe he has attended a few of my father’s celebrations.” He was stiff as he spoke. “But,” he added, “I have never crossed paths with him.”

“At least he doesn’t hate you.”

“Has he hated people you’ve taken to his parties?”

“Mmmmh...” You tilted your head as you made yourself comfortable by crisscrossing your legs. “Not to one of his parties per se, but he hated the boyfriend I had in college. They had met before.”

Damian’s eyebrows shot up. “You only had one boyfriend in college?”

“No,” you laughed as you confessed, “but my family only met one.”

“I’m more worried about your mother.” He tried to be nonchalant as he said it, but it sounded like a confession too.

But you weren’t. Damian was easy to like. You would have worried if he had to meet your father — he always seemed to think the opposite your mother did. Your father would have told you not to date somebody more attractive than you, or mocked you for supposedly dating a rich guy too.

“Don’t mention her age and everything will go smoothly.”

“I honestly can’t tell if you’re joking or not.”

You shrugged. “Just to be safe, assume I am not.”

He huffed a laugh, mouth twinging before he sighed.

As he stood up, you did too. Damian looked at the time just to be sure that he had to leave already and said, “I should let you get some sleep and get some rest of my own.”

Agreeing, you silently walked him towards the door. You wanted to thank him for doing this, ask if he was sure he was willing to not only do this for you but trust you with returning the favor.

Words didn’t come out of you. They did from him. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

Yeah, you would see him in the morning for what would probably be one of the longest days of your life.

#damian wayne x reader #damian wayne x plus size reader #damian wayne

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aesthmodeus · 3 years

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This post is gonna be a list of my personal dmmd headcanon's that I'm gonna update over the course of probably about a month until it's posted (started writing on 17.02, I WAS ALMOST RIGHT)

This includes how I imagine most characters smell like, I'm not the most visual person, so that's what I got in my head/nose when I was playing dmmd

RAN OUT OF SPACE for everything, so I'll finish in a reblog!

Sei

I imagine Sei having a very bad sight or even being nearly blind? I find it very likely that since his Scrap is used through the eyes and there have been a lot of tests/experiments done on them to understand how the power works, he probably doesn't see that well. (based on that+ I remember there being mentions that his gaze was unfocused?)

He obviously has that that typical dentist/hospital/antiseptic smell, but if he'd somehow leave the tower and live a normal happy life alongside aoba, I imagine he's smell like candy? Kinda that sweet scent you get in a handmade candy shop.

He'd never swear, but would rather use that christian mom™ type of things like 'Holly cow' etc

I wouldn't be surprised if Sei was scared of eating new food if it looked/smelled weird to him (which would probably be so much of stuff) if he'd be to survive the oval tower

Sei is somehow very jumpy, sudden noises scare him, but only if he's focused on the current situation

He has no sense of direction in unfamiliar places. If he's been on a certain route multiple times? Yeah he'll do just fine. If it's not a commonly taken path tho? This boy is about to get lost, watch him

Koujaku

Koujaku doesn't have depth perception and walks into stuff. Been there, done that, you're not that cool with one eye covered all the time

Most likely wear some kind of strong perfume/cologne to hide the smell of cigarettes

His apartment smells like incense, like, always, Aoba probably is mad at him for never opening the windows and accusing him of trying to suffocate them both

Koujaku is bad with technology, like, very bad. Aoba sometimes teases him when he calls for help with something very easy to set up. Overtime they both start to enjoy spending time, with Aoba just explaining hot to install/do something tho

Him and Mizuki tease each other about both of them being old, probably made a bet about who's gonna get a grey hair first

Noiz

Noiz has very poor blood circulation and his hands and feet are always cold

Alternatively he's always warm, and his hair is probably always wet under the hat

For some reason I see him hating dogs and cats, especially cats

Like, he'd be the type of person who when asked if he prefers dogs or cats, would muttered something about wanting to commit mass murder and answering 'rabbits'

He smells like fresh cut grass, cooked carrots and something slightly burned

Loves making stupid bets, the physical form of 'hold my beer'

Holds a whisky bottle in his desk drawer, although he probably casually sips on martini while at work

Somehow he'd get too invested in some niche sports and if you ask him about it during the Olympics? Get ready for a lecture about the whatever sport he's into now

Clear

Clear adjust to the dark very fast and easily (cause android duh) and his eyes have the tiniest glow in complete darkness

You can smell the faintest trace of flowers on him, but you wouldn't notice unless getting very close and personal

He would not let you leave in the morning without eating breakfast

And if you tried to drink/smoke etc in his presence, he'd give you a 10 minute lecture about how bad it is for your health, and would try to talk you out of it

Goes apeshit at any small animal, but absolutely despite's mice

Mink

Mink doesn't actually know how to drive and would fail on a driver's license test Probably in the first 5 minutes of the practical part if he somehow managed to pass the theory

Would complain about 'today's youth' at least twice a day Wouldn't know how to use a washer/dryer but would never admit it and just wash everything by hand. When asked about it, would not answer, but most likely look up how to do that after the fact and pretend he always knew

We already know he smells like cinnamon (which is how you detect poison in drinks for example btw, it's easy to hide with it) but I also imagine him always smelling like smoke with a hint of a forest after the rain

Mizuki

Mizuki smells like wisniowka (it's like vodka, but cherry? Don't ask, please) fruit (most notably apples and strawberries) paper and cigarette smoke

He's the type of person who secretly enjoys gardening and has a whole family of plants in his apartment

He talks to the plants sometimes, especially if he's drunk

He watches true crime documentaries

He gives me strong vibes of someone who had a big stuffed animal and still sleeps with it, so he has something to cuddle

Mizuki got his allmate because both Koujaku and Aoba had one and he finally gave in and bought one, cause he didn't want to be the odd one out

When he's tattooing, the ferret(is that how that animal is called?) fetches tissues, extra needles or bottles of ink if he forgot to prepare them before

He has the worst sense of humor, and loves to tell dad jokes to tease his friends

How old is he? You'll never know, he stays young forever

Is bad with technology, although not as bad as Koujaku, and tries to catch up with the newest stuff from time to time

#i ran out of space #dmmd #dramatical murder #headcanon #dmmd2020 #mizuki dmmd #koujaku #dmmd noiz #dmmd ren #dmmd koujaku #dmmd clear #dmmd mink

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iliveiloveiwrite · 4 years

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Paging Healer Malfoy // Chapter Three - How To Save A Life (D.M.)

A/N: CHAPTER THREE! This is a loaded chapter. We see a lot of Draco’s centre as a Healer through this; we see just how his job affects him. So there’s a lot in this. This, so far, is my favourite chapter and I know I say that about everything I write, but I am so ridiculously happy with how this has turned out. So please, if you read, like/reblog/comment - let me know what you think whether it’s just a keyboard smash or a whole essay, I eat that stuff for breakfast, dinner, tea.

Summary: A promise Draco made to himself when he first became a Healer is broken - smashed to pieces in front of him, and he doesn't think he can fix it.

Warnings: angst, death, grief, a large time skip - looking at months, arguments, feelings, crying.

Word count: 4.3k

Prologue// Chapter One// Chapter Two

January gets off to an interesting start. It always does when Draco works the New Year’s shift; drunk witches and wizards entering the emergency room with alcohol poisoning or injuries they have no recollection of getting. (Y/N) had covered Christmas Day so he could spend it with his family, as per demanded by Narcissa, but he had covered Boxing Day and New Year’s to repay for that favour. He doesn’t mind it either; he would rather be working than sitting in his empty flat with nothing but his insomnia to keep him company.

Draco has always liked January; the idea of new beginnings sits with him, offering him the opportunity to start again from scratch and build himself up.

His New Year’s Resolution for this year is for him to finally be honest with (Y/N) about his feelings.

-------

January always brings with it the coldest weather despite the knowledge that spring is just around the corner. It brings with it red noses, warm scarves, and dragon’s breath.

He stands with Vera at the admit desk; going through their latest stock intake and what they would need to order more of if the flu season should continue well into February.

“Is that my favourite Healer?” A feminine voice sings out from behind them.

Draco spins around; a smile already crossing his face, “Violet! What are you doing here? Is isn’t a dialysis day?”

She shakes her head; holding up the pager she has carried with her since she was nineteen years of age, “I was sitting down to breakfast and this went off.”

Draco’s eyes grow wide, “It went off?”

Violet nods rapidly, “It went off, so I pushed my breakfast away, grabbed my suitcase and rang Jonathan from the tube.”

Draco claps his hands together in delight, “That’s great news. Did they say you were to get prepped down here?”

She nods, “A Dean Thomas rang me as I was on my way here. Told me to get the initial tests done here and then he’ll come fetch me when the kidney has arrived.”

Draco makes his way around the desk; holding out a hand for her to shake, “I’m so happy for you, Violet.”

“Thank you, Draco.”

He leads Violet into an empty exam room; making sure that there would be no-one to bother her as she waits for the green light to be taken upstairs.

“How are you feeling?” Draco asks quietly; calculating Violet’s blood pressure.

Violet releases a long sigh of relief, “Happy. Scared. Relieved. Nervous.”

Draco laughs, “That’s a lot for one person to be feeling.”

She smiles; eyes shining with unshed tears, “We’ve just been waiting for so long.”

And she has. Draco had treated her all those years ago when she was rushed in by her then-boyfriend Jonathan. Violet had been feeling ill for over a month; it had started with shortness of breath, and then she started losing weight but retaining water in her ankles and feet leaving them swollen as well as complaining about blood in her urine.

Having had enough, Jonathan rushed her to St. Mungo’s where Draco saw her and diagnosed her with kidney failure. She hadn’t even known she had kidney disease; feeling well enough to continue her active lifestyle and her work as a teacher.

From there, Draco had placed her on the transplant list – desperate for a match for a nineteen year old who still had her whole life to live. She hadn’t been out of Hogwarts a year; still very much a Ravenclaw through and through. After that, Draco had her assigned to dialysis which was where he saw her so often that a friendship struck up between him, her and Jonathan.

Draco finishes his examination of Violet; sending off samples of her blood to the lab to be checked for anything he hadn’t picked up. He smiles down at her, “I think you’re getting a new kidney today.”

The smile that breaks out across Violet’s face is blinding; pure happiness personified as if the very sun was sitting in this very exam room.

“Have you told Jonathan?”

Violet nods; her curls bouncing with the movement of her head, “He’s on his way. I think he’s more excited than I am.”

Draco laughs, “I can believe it. Alright, I’ll let you get settled whilst I go ring surgery and see how long it’s going to take.”

Violet smiles, and Draco briefly wonders whether her cheeks already hurt from the happiness shown on her face. “I’ll be back to see you soon,” He says as goodbye; heading straight for the nearest phone to pester Dean Thomas.

(Y/N) joins him at the admit desk a short while after Draco has left Violet.

“Will Dean be coming down to get her himself?,” A pause, “Thank you, Shirley,” Draco answers, putting down the phone.

“I see Violet is finally getting her transplant.”

Draco smiles; eyes flashing towards Violet in exam room four, “She’s been on the waiting list for over three years.”

“You’re happy for her?”

“I was the one to diagnose the kidney failure. She has been through numerous false alarms; the false hope of getting a kidney to find out its been donated elsewhere. I have sat with her through her dialysis when her fiancée couldn’t make it because of work. Yes, you could say I am happy for her.”

“You seem to have struck up quite a friendship,” She comments lightly; reading over an old chart.

Draco rolls his eyes, “It’s hard not when I see her so often and I’m her primary physician.”

(Y/N) sighs; not missing the undercurrent of warning in Draco’s tone, “Well I wish her all the best.”

---------

Dean Thomas had trained with Draco, but rather than continuing in the emergency room, Dean had chosen to go into surgery. He had done well for himself; he had quickly risen through the ranks on the surgical floor, having a knack for putting people back together again.

Arriving in the emergency room, Dean greets Draco with a large smile and a handshake, “It’s been too long, Malfoy. When are you next coming out with the lads?”

Draco laughs, “When Weasley can admit he can’t handle his firewhisky.”

“So never then?”

Both men laugh. Thinking back to the same night where Ron had gotten so drunk on the stuff that he performed his and Hermione’s song outside their window at nearing three in the morning. Other than disturbing the nightlife of urban London, Ron had woken up a very sleep-deprived Hermione.

Dean shakes his head; still chuckling, “How’s our patient?”

Draco smiles, “Brilliant. The perfect candidate; all her tests came back with no signs of trouble.”

Dean rubs his hands together, “That’s what I like to hear. Where is she?”

“Exam room four. I’ll take you there now.”

In the time that Draco has made his phone calls and seen other patients, Violet’s fiancée, Jonathan has arrived with a bouquet of pale pink roses, it seems. He stands upon the entrance of Dean and Draco but does not let his hand leave Violet’s. He smiles at both of them, “Draco, Healer Thomas – this is it, huh?”

Dean nods; smiling, “This is it,” He looks towards Violet, “How are we feeling? Are you ready?”

Violet nods once; firm, decided, “I’m ready.”

-----

Dean helps the porters move Violet to the surgical floor; Jonathan following with his bouquet of pale pink roses, whispering words of luck quietly. It’s a touching sight to see; the love they feel for each other written so clearly over their faces.

Draco knows (Y/N) joins him to watch them take Violet up; it’s hard to ignore her presence, the usual scent of lilies and citrus wafting over him, sending his heart racing.

“She’ll be okay, Draco,” (Y/N) murmurs; her eyes on the couple waiting to get into the lift.

Draco nods; turning to face (Y/N), “I know she will.”

(Y/N) reaches out to poke his cheek, “Then look like you believe it.”

Draco catches her finger with his hand; holding onto it for a minute, “I do believe it.”

Something passes over (Y/N)’s face that Draco can’t define; he drops her finger, clearing his throat at the strange atmosphere that has settled over them. “How busy are you today?” He asks, in the hopes of dispelling the awkward fog between them.

(Y/N) shakes her head as if coming out of a trance, “Not overly. Four patients so far and a capable trainee not demanding my attention every minute. Why do you ask?”

Draco shrugs, “Wanted to see if you would be free for lunch in an hour or two.”

(Y/N) smiles, “I’ll make time for you, Draco.”

Draco places a hand on his heart, “Then I should be so grateful as to buy the lunch.”

(Y/N) grins wickedly, “If you’re paying then I’m definitely making time.”

Draco gasps and (Y/N) starts to laugh in earnest; covering her mouth as she snorts. She shakes her head, laughing fit subsiding, “Let me know when you’re free and we’ll grab some food.”

He smiles at her, “Sounds like a plan.”

(Y/N) touches his shoulder, her fingers lingering, before leaving; needing to see patients and catch up on charts as well as keeping an eye on her trainee. A simple touch and it sends Draco’s heart rate through the roof; such a gentle touch but one that felt like it held so much promise. It had lingered slightly, and Draco wondered whether that was how lovers touched each other when saying goodbye. Either way, he so desperately wanted to know. He thinks back to his New Year’s Resolution; beginning to think that just maybe it’s time to tell the truth.

Draco shakes his head at the plan starting to form in his head; of questions and answers, of dimly lit restaurants and kisses against front doors. With a yearning filled sigh, he goes in search of a trainee, needing a distraction from his wandering mind.

Jude Prewett had proved herself highly independent within her first week of working in the emergency room; having hailed from a long line of Healers, she understood the role she played, but also lived with a huge weight on her shoulders in trying to fill shoes that had been worn so many times before.

Draco finds her with a patient; gathering their history before asking any further questions for their visiting St. Mungo’s today.

She startles slightly at his presence in the room, but soon settles quickly. “What do we have, Healer Prewett?”

“Jonah Ashford, 67 years old. He complains of shortness of breath upon initial examination.”

Draco nods; happy so far, “What have you gathered from his history?”

Jude raises an eyebrow, but nevertheless, continues, “Mr. Ashford has a history of asthma along with brief spells of dizziness that come on suddenly. These spells tend to last fifteen minutes each time and come and go when they please.”

Draco leans against the wall; happy to let Jude continue, “What are you thinking first?”

“He isn’t having an asthma attack though he does need a refill of his medication which I will give him a prescription for. I am concerned about the dizziness and how often it comes on.”

Draco looks towards the patient, “When was your last dizzy spell, Mr. Ashford?”

Mr. Ashford frowns; thinking back, “Last night.”

Draco nods, “Are you getting enough to eat and drink?”

Mr. Ashford looks down, “I try, but I find it hard to remember. My wife, Lacey, used to cook and clean. I lost her last year, and it’s been hard to find a routine when everything reminds me of her.”

Both Draco and Jude nod understandingly; both sad at Mr. Ashford’s story though it’s something they see often. Widows who simply desire company; who can no longer sit in their empty houses and watch time tick by.

“Have you got this?” Draco asks Jude. She nods; eyebrows furrowed as if to say she had this before he interrupted.

“Excuse me, Mr. Ashford,” Draco hears Jude say, “I won’t be a moment.”

Draco pauses outside the exam room; letting Jude catch-up to him. “Healer Malfoy?” She asks.

“Yes, Jude?”

“Is it just me you’re checking in on?” Jude asks; concern lacing her voice.

Draco shakes his head with a smile, “I check in on everyone. I’m checking on Healer Shannon after this. Don’t worry, Jude. You’re doing well.”

Jude relaxes and smiles; relief now evident in her tone, “Alright. Thanks, Healer Malfoy.”

Draco laughs, “It’s fine, Jude. Go,” He nods towards Mr. Ashford, “Continue with your patient.”

Making his rounds of the floor, Draco is relieved to see that the trainees are more than content to work with supervision from their assigned attendings. No complaints from either parties which makes Draco’s life a little easier when it comes to the reviews in just a couple of weeks.

He starts to collect patients to keep his mind off ringing the surgical floor immediately. He rings once, and they update him – Violet has just gone in, it looks to be going to fine, and then he makes himself wait to ring again.

“Draco,” Her voice sings; pulling him from his daydreaming as he sits at the admit desk.

He checks his watch, then checks the clock hung on the wall, “Is it that time already?”

(Y/N) nods; a large smile on her face, “And I do believe you said you would pay.”

He pats his pocket, checking for his wallet, “I do believe I said that. Come on then, let’s go eat.”

She hooks her arm through his. Draco has to resist the urge to pull her in further; to kiss her senseless. “I’m fancying chips, what about you?” She asks; ripping him from his yearning.

He shrugs, “I’ll have to have a look when we get there.”

She frowns, “Are you still worried?”

Draco shakes his head, “No. I’m not,” Then he smiles, “But I am hungry, so hurry your butt up, will you?”

(Y/N) snorts but fastens her pace, nonetheless.

--------

After the third time, Draco rang the surgical floor, they refused to accept any calls from him. Instead, ghosting his calls in order to annoy him further. Draco hadn’t worried; not through lunch with (Y/N) and not as he continues to see patients.

Draco can’t help but continue to glance at the clock; it has been well over the allotted time to complete a kidney transplant. Worry now settles deep within Draco’s gut, but he tries to remain positive as he flits about the emergency room; taking on as many cases as possible in order to keep the worry at bay.

It’s when he sees Dean get off the lift that Draco has any idea what’s happened. Dean looks tired and beaten down; as if all the fight has left him through the last few hours. With a nod of his head, Dean gestures to an empty exam room for Draco to join him in.

Taking a deep breath, Draco steels himself for what he’s about to hear. He knew Dean’s tactics from training and from seeing him work on the surgical floor; he would never let anyone else deliver the news of a patient to friends and family.

From the expression on Dean’s face, it doesn’t look to be good news, “Draco, I’m sorry.”

Draco nods; sadness settling like a boulder in his gut, “What happened?”

Dean looks reluctant to say, but he sighs and replies, “Cardiac arrest two hours in. We tried for half an hour to bring her back.”

All his life, Draco had seen signs that witches and wizards were not immortal – he had survived a devastating war; he worked in a profession where death stalked the halls like a hunter finding its prey. And yet, he had hope for Violet. He had hope that the transplant would be a success and she would go on to live a long and healthier life with her fiancée.

In the span of a single surgery; the hope had been crushed by the skeletal hands of the reaper that wanders the halls of the hospital, collecting souls.

Dean claps Draco on the shoulder in what is supposed to be an offer of comfort, but it does little to quash the growing sense of loss Draco feels.

“If you need anything,” Dean starts in kindness before giving up and saying, “I knew you two had a friendship.”

Draco nods silently; watching Dean had for the stairs. Throughout his career, Draco had never let himself get close to a patient. Sure, there were those who he saw regularly. The frequent flyers, the pain potion seekers, Mrs Larkin – a widow who needed company more than she needed medical treatment. However, Violet came in so frequently for dialysis that it felt almost inevitable they would end up on friendly terms.

Draco rubs a hand down his face; feeling almost devastated at this loss of such a young life.

Needing to be alone – if only for a moment – Draco enters the break room, taking calming breaths. He feels ridiculous; letting a patient’s death affect him this much when he had been at the deathbed for so many – young, old, infant.

He’s so caught up in his emotions, he doesn’t hear the door open. Draco startles slightly at the sound of her voice calling his name.

“I heard what happened,” She murmurs comfortingly – her hand outstretched as if to offer support.

Draco clears his throat; dislodging the lump that has taken root there, “Yes. It’s a sad loss.”

“Are you okay though? I know that you two were close.”

Draco looks down to the chart in his hands; a patient still needing to be seen. He smiles humourlessly, “It’s always sad to lose a patient, no matter how long you’ve been doing this.”

(Y/N) frowns, “That isn’t what I meant, and you know it.”

Draco throws his arms wide; emotions bubbling to the surface, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

She throws her hands up in surrender. Her voice is laced with frustration as she answers, “Fine. Keep it bottled up.”

(Y/N) slams the door as she leaves the break room; making her anger known. Draco, for a brief moment, loses his temper, sending his fist into the door of his locker. It does a little to curb the wave of grief submerging him, but the wave doesn’t ebb. Draco rests his head against the cool, gunmetal grey door of his locker, taking in deep breaths.

He gives himself a minute.

One minute. That’s all he gets to feel it all; to let the loss consume him. To feel the guilt and the sadness.

The minute passes and Draco stands straight. He pushes his hair back from his face and straightens his lab coat.

Clearing his throat, Draco leaves the break room, needing to continue working.

-------

It’s hard to miss the pitying look from the nurses as Draco continues to work; as if the entire floor has decided to walk on eggshells around him.

He continues to work because he needs to; he has no grounds to leave work – it wasn’t a family member he had lost; it was a patient. That was how he was rationalising it in his head. It was just that Violet had been his patient for three years; seeing her so frequently.

Draco shakes his head; ridding himself of the dark thoughts that threaten to break through.

He continues to work because that’s who he is. Through Draco’s adolescence, he found himself being defined by what others thought of him and his family. He was bending to a self-fulfilling prophecy that he didn’t want thrust upon him.

Through his first week as a trainee Healer, Draco found himself redefining every aspect of himself. He did not have to present the hard, touch exterior that his family and fellow students expected of him at Hogwarts. Rather, Draco found himself to be someone who could be soft; who could laugh and joke with the best of them. He found himself to be someone who wanted to help people in their time of need; in their most vulnerable state when all they need is someone to trust and someone to listen.

As he takes on more and more patients, it’s because he needs to work. He has to work through this; he doesn’t often show how death affects him so, but on some level, he had known Violet. He just didn’t expect her death so soon.

Focusing intently on the charts in his hand, Draco blinks away the tears threatening to fall. With a deep breath and a fake smile, he enters exam room two, ready to meet another patient.

--------

Violet’s fiancée, Jonathan, approaches him a few hours after her death. His face is tear stained and puffy as he clears his throat to gain Draco’s attention from a conversation with Nurse Janice.

“Jonathan,” Draco greets, “I’m sorry for your loss.”

Jonathan nods wordlessly; blinking fast to get ready of the already building tears. He clears his throat again, “I just,” He takes a deep breath, “I just came down to thank you.”

“For what?” Draco asks; confused.

Jonathan lets his tears fall, saying, “For sitting with her when the dialysis was draining her, and for helping her laugh. For keeping her company when I couldn’t be there because of work.”

A lump forms in Draco’s throat, “That isn’t something you have to thank me for.”

Jonathan shrugs, “Regardless, thank you.” He turns to walk away but he pauses at the last minute, “Would you come to the memorial? I know it’s a lot to ask, but I think it would mean to a lot to her family if they met you.”

Draco nods; not even second-guessing his answer, “Of course. Let me know the details and I’ll get it off work.”

Jonathan nods; his face puffier than before from the freshly fallen tears. He holds his hand up in a wave before leaving St. Mungo’s.

-----

How Draco makes his way home is beyond him. He works the rest of his shift in a stupor; the all too familiar heaviness of grief settling over him for which he feels foolish and ridiculous.

He doesn’t feel the rain that soaks him through to the bone. He doesn’t remember entering his flat; doesn’t remember shedding his coat, letting his bag fall to the floor. Sitting on the couch, Draco submits to the grief. He submits to overwhelming sense of loss battering his walls; demanding to be felt.

On the inside, Draco is a storm; raging, raging, raging.

On the outside, he’s as calm as anything, staring at the mantle piece as he lets himself finally feel.

---------

Draco’s building was one of the many converted mills in London; brown bricked and grand, it stood proudly on its street, wearing its history like a badge of honour. His flat is on the fifth floor; one of the largest in the building – a gift from his parents after completing his training with high honours. He had lived there ever since, and (Y/N) had visited often over the years of their friendship.

(Y/N) knocks three times, calling his name with each one before she tries the door.

Entering his flat, (Y/N) always takes a moment to admire the pictures that line the wall. Admiring the beauty of Draco’s mother, and almost flinching at the imposing figure his father presents.

This time, however, she marches straight past them, calling Draco’s name for him not to reply. She only knew to come over here when he hadn’t met her to catch the tube together like they usually did when their shifts coincided. The words she flung at him earlier, she hadn’t meant. They had settled in her bones with an uncomfortable feeling; leaving a sour taste in her mouth. Truthfully, she had been worried about Draco since the news of Violet’s death had made its way to her ears; the gossip chain of the emergency room never one to falter.

She finds Draco on his couch; still wearing the clothes he left work in. Dropping her bag and shrugging off her coat, (Y/N) takes a seat next to Draco on the couch. He barely registers her presence; barely even blinking at the change of weight. She tries not to let it hurt her, but it does. Seeing him like this… it was something she hadn’t ever seen before.

Draco always presented himself as collected. The most dishevelled he ever got was whenever he worked nights and for most of the week, he would sport stubble. However, that was always gone by the time he came back onto day.

This was something new, though. His grief wasn’t anything she had encountered, and though they spoke often and told each other they cared for one another, they had never truly spoken about the feelings between them.

She coaxes his head onto her shoulder, and it’s there that Draco lets the first of his tears fall and the first of his sobs escape his chest.

He has seen death. He’s courted it for years – through the war, through his job. He has had patients die om him and had mourned each of their deaths, but he had never felt loss this keenly before. He felt scrubbed raw from the inside out.

He doesn’t know how long he cries for; he doesn’t know how long she holds him for but somewhere in between in it all, he manages to choke out his thanks which she hurriedly hushes. Her response being to hold onto him tighter.

Time passes, and his sobs start to slow, but they do not let go of the other, needing their anchors more than anything in this moment. In the pain of it all, Draco finds solace in sleep.

**********

Paging Healer Malfoy taglist: @sycathorn-slush @obsessedwithrandomthings @kpopgirlbtssvt @kalimagik @brycelahelalover @fallinallinmendes @mischi3f-manag3d @remmysrecs @willowbleedsonpaper @nao-cchi @haphazardhufflepuff @soundsquid27 @mytreec @maydillydally @chaoticgirl04 @pregnant-piggy @rhyxn @acciotwinz @birdie-writes @reaganwonders @chanelwonders @izzytheninja @ravenclawbitch426 @ohissandhalasta @missmulti @nebulablakemurphy @pointlesscoconut @cherrylita @harpersmariano @slytherinlovesgryffindor

Draco Malfoy taglist: @the--queen-of-hell @obx-beach @obxmxybxnk @sycathorn-slush @dracomalfoyswifey @kashishwrites @justmesadgirl @detroitobsessed @reaganwonders @sophia-gwendolyn

***if your username is in bold, I was unable to tag you.

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olivia-anderson-fanfic · 3 years

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A Miraculous TikTok Account

Part 3

First

It was a good thing that Master Fu was giving them a month to get used to each other before he was going to make them start posting, because Chloe doubted any of them would give a convincing performance if they were supposed to start acting as friends.

It’s almost like suddenly shoving five people into a confined space and saying ‘play nice’ caused tensions. Who knew?

They were, for the most part, avoiding each other.

After all, even before the whole ordeal, their best relationships with each other were tense. Ladybug had something against Chat, Carapace didn’t see eye to eye with Ladybug, and everyone definitely hated Chloe.

The only person who didn’t seem to be mad at anyone was Rena… but she was also relatively new, and Chloe was pretty sure everyone agreed with her when she said that Rena was annoying.

Chloe walked into the kitchen and fought back a wince when she saw Rena at the table eating cereal. She turned around as slowly as possible. Maybe she wouldn’t notice her, she was on her phone after all --.

“Chloe!”

Dang.

Chloe turned back around and tried for a smile, exhausted as she was. The worst part of all of this was that none of them could properly express their grievances without fear of someone being akumatized.

“I have some questions for you!”

She was still going to be super passive-aggressive, though.

“Again? Didn’t you get enough information the first few times?”

“Nope! Every answer just gives me more questions.”

She supposed she should just be glad that she wasn’t currently in costume. Her wings tended to buzz when she was annoyed and she doubted Rena could take any of them being angry with her.

“Okay. Go ahead, I’ll answer while I make myself food,” said Chloe.

Rena started questioning her about her powers. Luckily they just seemed to be the basics of her powers (Do all bees listen to her or only worker bees? Does she need to eat a lot of honey to create honey in battle? How do her wings carry her if, by all known laws of aviation, there is no way --?). Sure, they were awkward questions to answer because she only had theories, but the words ‘I don’t know’ seemed to satiate Rena just as much as proper answers.

She saw people shuffling in to make food and take it back to their rooms as quietly as they could while Rena was distracted with Chloe. She sent them glares out of the corner of her eyes but she didn’t call out to them or anything. This was a consequence of her own screw up, she would have to be the one to deal with it.

So, she drizzled honey on her cheerios and resigned herself to answering more questions.

Know what? Even if this is the direct result of her own mistake, she was allowed to complain.

And complain she would.

These people are the worst.

You already know why Rena was annoying to live with. Her constant questions gave Chloe no peace outside of her room.

And, inside her room, she had to deal with listening to Ladybug working on… something above her at all hours. Did Ladybug sleep? Signs point to no. Chloe wished that Master Fu hadn’t let her convert the attic into a room, it was very clear at this point that the people who made the house had not expected people to live in the attic. For some reason.

Chat Noir was… a cat. He slept almost the entire day and left things everywhere in the few hours he was awake. (Chloe understood that he likely had a maid back at his house, she wasn’t used to not having her normal butler around herself, but even she was better about picking up after herself.)

The only slightly tolerable one was Carapace. He spent most of his time hiding out in his room, studying.

Chloe had considered getting a job to get away.

(She wouldn’t actually get one, obviously, that was peasant stuff. Still, the fact that she even briefly thought about it is proof enough of the stress she was under.)

Beyond that, chores were just… not getting done. Have you ever seen a cat do something it was told to? Seen a turtle do anything at all? No? Chloe hadn’t seen that, either. The two bathrooms were a mess of different products. The washing machine was constantly in use because people kept forgetting that they were the last person to put anything in. She was beginning to forget whether or not the floors were carpeted she hadn’t seen them in so long…

(The only things that got done were the garbage and dishes, and only because no one wanted the house to smell. Chloe wasn’t sure who did them. Chloe also didn’t care as long as it wasn’t her.)

So, yes, things were not looking good. The only reason no one got akumatized during that first week was that everyone was working to stay calm.

Eventually, they adapted like all humans -- or partial humans, because at this point she was pretty sure everyone was at least a little bit their animals -- do when put in a new situation.

Chat, after getting a single pimple because he couldn’t find one of his skincare treatments in the mess, ended up cleaning the bathrooms. It was here that the girls realized that some of the products in their own bathroom were, in fact, Chat’s products, but they were fine with it because now they didn’t have to bother cleaning.

Rena took up the rest of the cleaning. Apparently even the five of them were less messy than her younger siblings were. Whatever she found that had been there for days that wasn’t hers was thrown into Chat’s room -- which ended with a lot of things going ‘missing’ but it was better than finding stuff everywhere.

Ladybug ended up doing laundry. It seemed that Ladybug had some kind of knowledge about clothes (maybe it had something to do with the job she apparently had?), because they found that their clothes were completely devoid of wrinkles and that the colors were bright even after a few washes. They weren’t going to question it.

After seeing Chloe and Chat’s spending habits, Carapace had decided that he would be the one to go to the grocers. It may be Master Fu’s money, but apparently he couldn’t handle the idea of spending that much more than they needed.

And Chloe? Chloe did nothing.

Just kidding. She tended to all of the plants in and outside the house. She rather liked gardening, she thought, but she figured that it was just a side-effect of the bee miraculous. Either way, it led to the group having fresh herbs and vegetables on hand for cooking.

Hardly anyone cooked, but still. It’s the thought that counts... or something.

Chloe had finished her gardening for the day and now she looked at the sign up sheet for patrols.

She huffed a little when she saw that Chat had signed up for the night. Again.

She walked to Chat’s room to ask him to just let her have patrols tonight or at least take her with him.

She fought the urge to roll her eyes when she opened the door and found him curled up in a tiny patch of sunlight, asleep.

Wait… asleep…

She smiled at her kwami. Pollen never talked -- and she was pretty sure she’d never heard any of the others’ talk either -- but that didn’t mean that Chloe couldn’t tell that Pollen was disapproving of what Chloe was thinking.

“Oh, shut up --.” The kwami frowned and Chloe gave a little huff. “I didn’t mean -- whatever. Sorry. Buzz on.”

Chloe flew over to where Chat was sleeping and considered him for a minute. He looked so peaceful when he was asleep…

Well, who was she to disturb that peace?

She picked up his phone and turned off the alarm to wake him up for patrols. A finger pointed at him, she mumbled the embarrassing call for her powers (“Don’twakeupdon’twakeup ‘Sticky Situation’ stayasleeeeep -- nice.”) and smiled when he was almost instantly coated with honey. She hardened the honey around him to make sure he was properly stuck.

(The honey stopped at his shoulders, a good distance away from his face and hair -- she was pretty sure he’d kill her if she did that and, with his power, that wouldn’t be hard.)

She stepped back and admired her handiwork.

She loved her power.

She snapped a picture and left the room.

Chloe hummed as she flew down the stairs to the main room. She crossed Chat’s name off of the list and replaced it with her own.

She made her way over to the couch and laid across it on her stomach to wait for patrols to start. She scrolled through TikTok absently, looking for ideas on what to do…

“WAIT WHAT’S GOING ON --?!” She heard Chat’s voice yell, confused, but it cut itself off. There was a beat and she heard him yell again: “PLAGG, CLAWS OUT! CATACLYSM!”

Ah. Dang. She’d been hoping that she’d already be gone when he woke up...

“CHLOE! WHAT THE HECK?!”

Did he really need to figure out it was her so quickly? Sure, she was the only one that could use honey, but come on!

She looked back at her phone for the time.

One more hour…

She saw Chat’s red face at the top of the stairs and tensed.

Well, there really is no harm in going early.

~~~

Taglist

@nathleigh @mialuvscats @sassakitty @th1s-1s-my-aesthet1c @blueslushgueen

#a miraculous tiktok account #chloe bourgeois #queen bee #rena rouge #alya cesaire #adrien agreste #chat noir #miraculous team #rewriting miraculous #ladybug #marinette dupain cheng #nino lahiffe #carapace #chloenette #chlonette #adrino

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alyssaallyrion · 3 years

Text

How much of that did you hear? (Iruka x Kakashi)

Rating: T

Summary: In which Kakashi eavesdrops on a conversation and learns something he wasn't supposed to.

A/N:

- Written for KakaIru Month ( hosted by @kakairu-fest ) Day 17 Prompts: Drunk Confessions.

- - Drunk confessions prompt combined with Bewitchedbysparkles's request for "KakaIru, with "How much of that did you hear?""

ao3 link

The soft click of the window latch brings a satisfied smile to Kakashi’s face - finally. Sliding the window open, Kakashi glances around before slipping into the darkness of Iruka’s apartment. Quickly now, before he gets back.

It all started a few weeks ago, when Kakashi, a little too deep into his cups after a particularly difficult mission, decided to ask Guy for romantic advice, which, in hindsight, perhaps, was not his smartest decision.

“Guy,” Kakashi remembered saying, “If you were…interested in someone, how would you let them know?”

Guy looked up from his sake, suddenly serious, “Why, Kakashi? Has someone finally caught your eye?”

Yes, he thought.

“I’m just asking,” Kakashi said nonchalantly, resting his chin on his palm.

“I’d simply tell them of my heart’s most sincere affections,” Guy smiled at Kakashi, “There’s nothing to fear when the power of youth is on your side.”

Kakashi sighed – if he could “simply talk” to Iruka, he’d never be in this position in the first place. But Kakashi had never been good with feelings – or with words when it came to talking about those feelings. As far as Kakashi was concerned, facing multiple S-rank criminals was less terrifying than the way his heart threatened to burst out of his chest any time Iruka smiled at him.

No, this won’t do.

Kakashi’s own list of ideas was running rather thin. It seemed Iruka hadn’t figured out that turning in terrible mission reports and sitting in a tree outside his classroom window reading Icha Icha were Kakashi’s ways of showing interest. Let’s see if Guy has any other thoughts.

“And if you couldn’t tell them, how would you make your feelings known?”

Guy was quiet for a moment, pondering, then a bright smile returned to his face, “I would get them a heartfelt gift – something I know they’d love - which would reveal the depth of my affections.”

A gift? That Kakashi could do.

Kakashi smiled – with Iruka’s birthday coming up next month, this was the perfect time. There was only one problem – he had no idea what kind of gift Iruka would want to receive. That left Kakashi with a few choices, most obvious of which – at least to him – was to sneak into Iruka’s apartment and look around in hopes of finding clues to what Iruka liked.

Now, standing inside Iruka’s dark apartment, Kakashi glances around, studying his surroundings. The first thing Kakashi notices is just how cozy the space is – it’s clear Iruka put in a lot of effort into making his apartment a true home. There’s a scent of cinnamon in the air, warm and rich, matching quilts rest atop couch and armchairs in the living room, and the many potted plants standing upon the windowsills are clearly cared for very well. Unlike any plant that had the misfortune of finding itself in Kakashi’s own apartment.

Kakashi notes the few paintings on the walls – all clearly drawn by a child, likely Naruto, and lovingly framed by Iruka. A tall bookshelf next to the couch catches Kakashi’s attention, and he walks over to it. The middle shelf is empty, save for two photographs - in the first one, a ten-year-old Iruka is standing between his parents, smiling brightly at the camera, and, in the second one, an already adult Iruka is standing with Naruto, whose happy smile rivals his own. Kakashi’s heart clenches as he feels familiar guilt uncoil in his chest.

Naruto was the son of his sensei, and Kakashi knows that he should have been taking care of him all those years, yet he cannot bring himself to get close to the boy – instead, he watches from a distance.

But with Iruka in his life, Naruto should be alright.

Consumed by his thoughts, Kakashi doesn’t hear the voices outside the apartment door until it’s too late. The key turns in the lock, and Kakashi has only a split second to make a decision. Quickly, he returns the picture to the shelf, then glances around and darts to a door, which, as it turns out, leads to a tiny closet.

There isn’t enough space to stand comfortably between cleaning supplies and storage boxes, but Kakashi is hardly in any position to complain. He tries to stay as still as possible, conceals his chakra signature, and listens.

The apartment door finally opens.

“Oh, new plants?” he hears Anko’s voice, “Good addition – I must say, they make the room look quite cozy.”

“Thank you,” Iruka replies, then adds, “Please, make yourself at home – I’ll go to the kitchen and get us something to drink. What would you like?”

“Something strong,” Anko chuckles, and Kakashi hears her plop down on the couch.

By their voices, Kakashi can tell that both Iruka and Anko are very drunk – which is to be expected, since Kakashi picked this particular night to break into Iruka’s apartment specifically because he knew that Iruka, Kotetsu, Izumo, Anko, Genma, and Raido were headed to the “Broken Kunai” to celebrate Kotetsu and Izumo’s engagement.

The sound of steps followed by glass clanking against wood notifies Kakashi that Iruka has returned.

“Oh,” Anko says excitedly, “That’s some good stuff. Though I’m a little surprised – never pegged you for the type to drink something like this.”

“Double shifts at the Mission Desk three days in a row would do that to a person,” Iruka laughs, and Kakashi hears the sound of liquid being poured into cups.

“I can only imagine,” Anko replies.

Silence falls upon them for a moment. Kakashi shifts uncomfortably, trying to make as little noise as possible – his legs already start to feel stiff from leaning over the boxes at his feet – and hopes that Anko and Iruka’s late-night drinking session will be over soon.

“So,” Anko starts slowly, “About that thing I asked you at the bar…”

“Do you have to bring it up again?” Iruka sighs.

“Oh, come on, Iruka,” Anko says, “Don’t be like this. I always tell you everything.”

“You don’t have to always tell me everything,” Iruka chuckles, not unkindly.

“We are friends,” Anko protests, “And that’s what friends do. So, it’s only natural for me to want to know what’s going on in my friend’s romantic life.”

Kakashi leans closer to the door, straining to catch every word.

“You don’t have to ask in front of everyone,” Iruka says after a pause.

“Well, luckily, now it’s just the two of us, and you have no excuse,” Kakashi can almost hear Anko smirk, “So tell me – is there something going on between you and Kakashi? I’ve seen the way he stares at you – and how you smile at him when you think no one’s looking.”

Kakashi’s breath hitches in his throat.

“Nothing’s going on,” Iruka replies, and almost palpable disappointment in his voice sends Kakashi’s heart racing in his chest.

“But you want it to,” Anko nudges him on, “I know you do – the blush on your face doesn’t lie.”

Iruka is silent for a moment. Kakashi holds his breath and feels his heart pound in his head, waiting for Iruka to respond.

“Yes,” he says finally.

It feels as though the room spins around him, and Kakashi has to hold on to the wall to still himself. He can hardly believe his ears - Iruka likes him?

“Aha, I knew it! I knew you liked him!” Anko exclaims victoriously, then adds after a pause, “Although, to be perfectly honest, I don’t know what you see in him.”

Kakashi smirks at Anko’s words – it was a mystery to him too why anyone would want to date her, and, yet, it seemed she never had a shortage of admirers.

“I…I can’t explain it,” Iruka says, “It’s just - he makes me feel things in a way that no one else does. Seeing him smile under his mask and blush makes me so weak – I immediately want to take him out on a nice date and do anything to make him happy…”

Kakashi feels heat rise to his cheeks, and he can barely contain a smile.

“Ah, that’s so sweet,” Anko says teasingly, but Iruka just chuckles.

“But then,” he continues, “Sometimes he just riles me up with that awful attitude – and even worse penmanship when it comes to his reports – and all I want to do is to drag him out of the Mission Room, get on top of him, wrap my hands around his throat and ride him all night long.”

Kakashi’s head spins and, suddenly, it feels unbearably hot in the small closet. Iruka wants to…what? Heat spreads through Kakashi’s body, pooling in his lower stomach, making it hard to think clearly. His mind races, and the world around him suddenly shrinks to just one thought – Iruka, on top of him, doing exactly what he just promised. Kakashi would be lying if he said he’d never imagined himself with Iruka that way – but never before were the images so vivid, and never before did the fantasy feel so real.

“Eww, how filthy,” Anko laughs.

“You’ve told me worse things,” Iruka replies, “Besides, I have a feeling you’ve gotten me drunk precisely to hear something like that.”

“Ah, you wound me,” Anko chuckles, “But you might be on to something. How else could I get the prim and proper Academy sensei to talk about his dirty fantasies involving a certain jonin?”

“You are evil,” Iruka laughs.

“And you love me for it,” Anko replies easily.

Suddenly, Kakashi can hear the window slide open, and someone else enters the apartment. Quiet whispers follow, but he doesn’t try to make out any words – his mind is still preoccupied with conjuring up images of him and Iruka together. His blush deepens, familiar heat courses through his veins, and for a moment, Kakashi’s almost scared that the resounding beat of his heart may betray his hiding spot.

“Well,” Anko says after a moment, “Looks like it’s time for me to head out. Sorry to cut the evening short, but duty calls.”

“We could always continue tomorrow,” Iruka offers lightly, “It’s not like I can drink all this by myself.”

“I’ll hold you to it,” Anko replies, and Kakashi can hear her climbing out the window.

With Anko gone, Kakashi realizes that Iruka will likely go to sleep soon. Then he can get out of here and try to find another way to figure out what to give Iruka for his birthday…

Distracted by his thoughts, Kakashi doesn’t even notice that he’s leaning against one of the shelves – until he sends a box standing there crashing to the floor with a loud thud. Before he can figure out what to do, the door to the closet flings open, and he sees Iruka standing in front of him, holding kunai in one hand.

“Kakashi-san,” he breathes out, stunned, “What are you doing here?”

Kakashi knows he needs to say something, anything, but all he can do is stare. Drunk Iruka looks so delightfully disheveled with his tousled hair, his flushed cheeks, and his swollen lips that all Kakashi can think of for the moment is how much he’d like to ravage him right then and there.

The silence stretches as Kakashi desperately scrambles to retain some semblance of rational thinking.

“I…uh…was just passing by,” he offers weakly.

As soon as the words leave his lips, Kakashi wants nothing more than for the ground beneath his feet to open and swallow him whole. That might be the most ridiculous thing he’s ever said. It seems that even in his drunk state, Iruka knows that because a moment later, he bursts out laughing.

“That is the stupidest excuse I’ve ever received,” he manages to utter through his laughter.

Kakashi doesn’t argue.

Once Iruka’s done laughing, his face grows suddenly serious.

“I have to ask – how much of that did you hear?”

“Everything,” Kakashi says, resigned.

His heart drops in his chest – he knows Iruka has every right to be angry with him for eavesdropping on his private conversation. Did he just ruin everything? Iruka will probably never want to see him again after this… When Kakashi finally manages to meet Iruka’s gaze, he’s surprised – there is no anger in his eyes, only amusement.

“Oh my,” Iruka murmurs softly, and then a smile blooms on his lips, “Well, I suppose this makes it easier. So, what do you think – would you like to…”

Before Iruka could finish his sentence – before he could even think, Kakashi’s fingers reach for the zipper of his flak jacket. Kakashi’s face is aflame, and he’s never been more embarrassed and turned on in his life. He knows he shouldn’t – but after aching for Iruka’s touch for so long, he can hardly deny himself.

The confused expression on Iruka’s face makes Kakashi’s hand still.

“Huh?” Iruka says, lifting an eyebrow, “Kakashi-san, who do you take me for? I’m taking you on a date first.”

This man will be the death of him.

#kakashi hakate #iruka umino #kkir #kakairu #kakairu month 2021

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statticscribbles · 3 years

Text

Puppy

Summary: Reggie/Reader Request: Reggie avoids you because he overhears you talk to Kevin about your perfect guy (comic book character) so as he’s avoiding you, you keep trying to get his attention, and finally you end up kissing him cause he’s just pining after you like lovesick puppy; after the confession and when you start dating the “lovesick puppy act” gets worse

“Kevin I’m being serious!” You smack his arm as he laughs. “No it’s just funny he doesn’t seem like the type you’d go for.” “And what do you know about my type.” You laugh with him and he smirks. “Reggie, what would you say Y/N’s type it?” You can see Reggie frown before shaking it off. “Tall, dark haired, plays football.” He winks and you smile at him. “Wow that’s so off model it’s kind of sad.” Kevin nods solemnly and you smack his arm again. “You do have to admit it though, I mean the muscles, and the hair, plus have you seen him wearing a shirt? He practically never does!” “That’s sort of the point you know that right, not wearing a shirt to attract the ladies, you included apparently.” Kevin smirks and you scowl watching Reggie almost storming out.

“I’m guessing Reggie’s not a fan of the reboot then?” You chew your lip. “You think he knew we were talking about the newest edition? I mean we’ve talked about the second volume for months so-“ “I don’t think he cares about what I talk about, you on the other hand.” “Kev, he doesn’t care about comics half as much as you do, let alone me; how much do you think he thought I was talking about a real person.” “I mean inability to keep a shirt on just screams Sweet Pea, you know that right?” “Dammit; now I have to go find him to explain don’t I.” “It works out perfectly you explain your crush to him.” “My crush on-“ “On Reggie, not that paper cutout you have in your room.” You roll your eyes and run after where you think Reggie is.

You weren’t able to find him before science but you know having to sit next to him will at least give you an excuse to explain the comic book misunderstanding. You frown when he doesn’t look at you, doesn’t talk to you. You’re stuck doing busy work since your actual teacher is out; so the chance to talk goes out the window until lunch at the earliest; since you don’t share any other classes with him. You pass him in the hallway and wave and you can tell he makes a point to turn his head away. You try to brush it off, concocting reasons for his sudden change in attitude. You complain to Kevin during math and he just laughs at your ridiculous theories. “Oh yeah, and what do you think has a stick up his ass so bad?” “He likes you; it’s why he’s so bothered by your crush you realize that right?” “Kevin that’s ridiculous; he’s Reggie freaking Mantle, he can have anyone in the school; why would he want me?” “Do you want the list alphabetically or by popularity?”

“Popularity?” “You’re a River Vixen, you’re into those weird old books that he doesn’t admit he likes; since you’re a River Vixen you have a great figure, you know how to dance, you like Pop’s.” “Kev it’s Riverdale, everyone likes Pop’s. That one doesn’t count.” “You know you two order the same thing, every time right?” “No we don’t; do we?” he laughs nodding as you make your way to lunch. “Hey Reggie” Kevin nods to him and he looks up, turning slightly away from you to focus on Kevin. “Yeah?” “What’s your standing Pop’s order.” “Burger wise or in general?”

“Isn’t the burger in general, or do you order something we don’t know about?” “You thinking about making a run down to Pop’s cause I know pretty much everyone would kill for that.” He grins and Kevin smirks. “Yeah, you wanna help me carry shit? Meet by your car in five?” Reggie nods vanishing to the parking lot and Kevin grins. “So I want a cheeseburger, extra onions and-“ “Kev why are you- No, no he’s been avoiding me all day!! I’m not going to sit with him to get Pop’s!” “You’re getting Pop’s?” You cringe at Archie and Jughead’s hovering. “Yeah, write down what you want.” You scowl holding out a spare piece of paper.

“Reggie, Kevin asked if I could go instead, he has theatre stuff to; okay.” You sigh as he opens the door silently walking around to the drivers seat. You’re silent the entire car ride, trying to start conversation but the lack of even a glance your way keeps you quiet. Reggie doesn’t say anything just holding his hand out so you stop getting out of the car. “Wait.” He says it more to the car than to you and you huff, grumbling under your breath as he pulls the list from where you set it in the cupholder. He appears moments later. “What do you want?” You decide to give him a taste of the silent treatment and point to your order you’d written. “That’s mine.” He clarifies and you point to it again glaring. ‘So you want the same thing as me?”You nod and he laughs dryly. “Won’t even talk to me great.” “Say’s the one.” You hiss and he glares openly at you.

“Well I’m not the one with a crush on someone they can’t have now am I? So who’s the real loser.” “You.” He groans and slams the door retreating back into Pop’s to order and wait for the food. You watch from the car window as he pulls the bags towards himself, you lean towards the door, opening it and walking through. “Let me help.” He doesn’t say anything sliding two of the bags towards you. He silent until you put the food in the backseat. You buckle your seatbelt waiting for him to start the car. “Listen I don’t care about whoever you have a crush on. Just making that clear.” You sigh looking up to the ceiling of the car. “Me you mean, you don’t care about me.” “Who said that?” “You did, or rather didn’t; I’ve been trying to get your attention all day to explain.” “Explain what?” “Comic books.”

“Is that code for something? Or slang for you wanting some Jangle? Cause I don’t sell; what I get is my own-“ “Kevin and I, we were talking about comic books earlier.” “Oh good for you?” “That crush isn’t on a real person.” “Oh well alright then; once again good for you. So there are other crushes?” He questions glaring slightly; you realize he didn’t want to actually talk with you. You don’t respond as he drives back to school. “Grab the food?” You ask as he stays unmoving in the car; he must catch you rolling your eyes with how he scoffs. “What? I’m going to grab the damn food.” He snaps.

“Yikes, there’s no need to be in such a pissy mood, I get you’re hungry but-“ “I’m in a pissy mood cause you’ve been avoiding me for the entire day!” “I’ve been avoiding you? I’ve been trying to get your attention since you stormed off after the crush misunderstanding!” You scowl as he shoves the other bag of food towards you. “I can avoid whoever I want regardless of how I actually feel about you.” You snap at him. “You feel differently than avoidance about me? Hard to believe; but at least you admit you were avoiding me.” You laugh shaking your head.

“The only reason I’m admitting it is so you won’t complain for the next week about how much of a bitch I’m being.” Reggie sets the food on the hood of his car leaning over you. “Don’t put words in my mouth.” He hisses about to pull the food back over when you tug on his arm. “Reggie.” Your voice is soft and you can tell he’s confused but you’re relieved as you pull yourself towards him. You’re quick about pressing your lips to his, intent on kissing him and bringing everyone their food so he doesn’t get the chance to ask you about it.

It works and as you shove Jughead’s burger into his hands you scowl when you realize your order was packed with Reggie’s. You’re about to turn around to look for him surprised to find the burger and extra fries sitting at the spot on the table you’ve claimed. “Oh thank you.” You say more toward the general table but jump slightly when Reggie’s arm lays on your shoulder. “No problem.” He seems relaxed as you sit down, he sits next to you and you cast a look to Kevin who nods, you’re thankful he’ll be able to talk later. “These are yours.” You nod to the fries and he shakes his head. “Don’t want them.” “You don’t want the cheese fries you ordered?” “Not in the mood for them anymore.” You smile pulling them closer. “You’re welcome to them, since they are yours.” He nods relaxing slightly settling closer to you as he sits.

You sigh when the bell rings, standing to grab your bag confused when Reggie hands it to you. Kevin appears, walking with you to English. “So what was that about?” He mumbles as your teacher finishes the lesson for the day. “We kissed.” “So you just skipped confessing your crush then?” He laughs and you join him. “I guess I did; we’re probably going to have to talk later.” “You better, I’m not letting you get away with not confessing to him. I don’t think he’s going to either.” He nods and you smile confused as Reggie stands at the door smirking. “Can I walk you home?” “You have a car.”

“Walk sounds better.” You arch an eyebrow. “How is walking better than you being able to drive your car?” Kevin nods as he leaves and you walk towards the door. “Well like this.” He steps to the side, slightly closer, his hand grasping yours. “You don’t want to drive because you can’t hold my hand?” You watch a blush creep onto his face. “Maybe.”

“You know you can hold my hand while you’re driving.” “I didn’t want to assume anything.” “Well we kissed, and I do have a crush on you.”’ “So you do have a type?” He straightens up beaming; and you laugh. “Yeah, you were right about the tall dark haired footballers. AKA you.” You wink and he laughs. “Do you want to go out sometime.” “Besides this?” You nudge him and he shakes his head. “This isn’t going out, I’m walking you home.” “From being out, together.” “School doesn’t count as a date.” He counters and you rolls your eyes. “Well you’ll just have to plan a date then.” He nods eagerly and you smile as he reaches your door.

You’d been dating Reggie for a week and Kevin is constantly pointing out how much Reggie’s acting like a puppy. “Kev, it’s not a thing, you’re exaggerating.” “Point proven, look.” You’re standing behind him so you know Reggie can’t see you but you can see him. He’s laughing with the rest of the Bulldogs and nods to Kevin; you watch as Kevin moves, and Reggie’s face softens and he smiles excitedly.

“Babe!” He moves from the rest of the bulldogs pulling you into a hug. “Oh my god he’s right.” “Who’s right?” Reggie pulls back slightly and you shake your head. “I’ll tell you later, we’re still on for Pop’s after the game right?” He nods leaning down to kiss you. “Of course, it’s tradition.” “This is the first time we’re doing it.” “And after it’s tradition.”

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buglife · 3 years

Text

Bend and Not Break - Ch 3: A Brand

Read here on AO3 :3

(please there is not nice stuff ahead with implied torture so be careful!)

Well, wasn’t this a predicament.

Monomon looked over her notes with a careful eye. It took three prisoners to get her even close to figuring out what was currently harming her son. It had taken hours and she was starting to get a little frustrated by her lack of progress.

So far, she figured out that what she had was a complex neurotoxin with trace elements of other toxic extracts. She identified hemlock and arsenic at the least, which tickled her since Quirrel used to eat those with no trouble. However, the delivery method was directly into the blood stream so there was no time for the digestive system to break down the toxins and neutralize them. So that just proves that they wanted her son dead and wanted him dead fast.

With that reasoning, she had no problems planning what she was going to do to the next prisoner on her list. There was going to be a fifth but sadly Tiso said she couldn’t have that one. Oh well, it made sense to keep at least one alive. She didn’t ask too many questions, she was too focused on her work to ask why. Ghost had sent a messenger to her every hour to update her on Quirrel’s condition and he had started to take a turn for the worse. The only thing she could do was send up advice on how to keep him comfortable and try to head off any permanent damage.

The last messenger had just departed from her makeshift lab and she slowly turned her head to look at the dragonfly strapped to the chair. He was shivering, his eyes wide as he watched her every movement. He had heard the screams and he most likely knew what was going to happen to him. It made her feel a little better that he was experiencing even an ounce of terror her son must be feeling. But it wasn’t enough, not for her.

Tiso had told her he had a lead on a possible antidote, but she wasn’t going to take any chances. Not when it’s her son on the line. She grimly put down her notes and grabbed a fresh syringe. It was time to get back to work.

She refused to fail her child, not now, not ever.

-----

Tiso and Xena had to nearly fight their way through the crowd gathered outside the palace. News on what had happened had reached most of the Kingdom by now, so a vigil had been set up that seemed to get bigger every-time he looked out the windows. Candles and flowers were all over the place as various bugs prayed or tried to comfort each other as they collectively hoped for the King's safety. He was glad that the people were so worried over the nerd, especially when he saw the effects it was having on the prisoner walking with them.

Her name turned out to be Lara, and she had wisely decided to talk. She kept her head down, antenna pinned back in discomfort as they picked their way around the crowd. Her hands and wings were bound under the cloak, hiding the fact she was a prisoner from view. Hopefully, she was beginning to see how wrong she was, but her redemption wasn’t Tiso’s problem right now.

“You should have let me take Pickles with us.” Xena complained. All three of them were wearing heavy cloaks over their armor and bindings in an effort to blend in. “We could have gotten through the crowd faster.”

“That would be the complete opposite of being stealthy, I think.” Tiso deadpanned, keeping a hand around the arm of the ladybug beside him. “We don’t want them to see us coming, and your beast is hard to miss.”

Xena huffed in response. They all finally were able to clear the crowd, leaving the vigil behind as the headed to the Capital. Lara was silent most of the way, seemingly stewing in guilt. When they finally arrived at a rather opulent mansion, she stopped the both of them.

“Here. Like I said. There’s private guards inside and more people like...like me.” She took a deep breath and let it out. “They are probably all there...celebrating.”

“Well it won’t be a fun time for them all for long.” Tiso looked around the street and Lara tried to follow his gaze.

“But...it’s just you two, right? Even being Knights…”

Xena shook her head and made a gesture with her hand as she looked into the darkness in the alleys. Then, several pairs of eyes glittered in the soft light, and they were everywhere. Lara could see dark shapes stealthily climb their way to just above each window and door. They must have called in all the guard for this raid, as Lara lost count as they took their positions. A few were hanging back, most likely there in case someone tried to escape.

“Welp, time to crash a party,” Tiso said, bringing his shield out from under his cloak. He flashed light off the shield three times, and then suddenly, everything went into motion. Guards smashed their way through windows and doors and the screaming started. Each scream was getting cut off one by one as both knights leisurely strolled right up to the front door.

A guard helpfully opened it up from the other side and both knights and prisoner quickly ran inside. Guards were throwing bugs to the floor, quickly shackling them up so they couldn’t escape. The ones that tried to fight back were quickly shown that that was a mistake to make.

“This is outrageous! I can’t believe you would break into my home with no ri-” A rather obnoxious and nasally voice was trying to argue, and was only succeeding at pissing off the guard trying to arrest them. Apparently, they got so frustrating that the guard simply tossed them through one of the large ornate windows inside, spraying glass everywhere. The bug being thrown was clearly someone of wealth and power, judging by the sheer amount of gold on their person. The round bug couldn’t stop themselves from rolling and they ended up right in front of Tiso, who helpfully stopped them with a boot.

“Well well well…” Tiso grinned as he turned over the bug to see their face. “If it isn’t the little grub that got himself banned from court and stripped of nobility for being a gigantic prick.”

Said bug was not a grub, but they started to sputter in anger, mandibles flinging spit as they tried to put words to their rage. If anything they proved they were just so. They were a Jewel beetle and figured himself to be hot shit among the rest of the upper class, and was known for his tantrums. No wonder why he got put in a perpetual time out. Tiso for the life of him, couldn’t remember his name, but sure remembered his annoying, grating voice.

“Unhand me this instant you peasant!” His limbs wiggled, but he was trapped on his back and unable to get up. “I did nothing wrong to warrant this harassment!”

“I would figure treason is a pretty good justification.” He rolled the angry bug to another guard, who began to shackle them up. “Take him to the dungeon and put him in the worst cell we have.”

“Right away sir.” Two guards managed to get the beetle on his feet and made their way to a caged cart waiting outside, already filling up with prisoners. As soon as they were gone, Tiso turned back to Lara, who was still boggling at what was going on around her.

“Hey.” He snapped his fingers in front of her face, shocking her back into reality. “Where do we get the antidote?”

She glanced around the room, before pointing. “Here,” she said, indicating a locked door to the side. “That’s where the make the poison, at least, I think they do. I wasn’t allowed to go down there, and I don’t have a key.”

“We don’t need a key.” Tiso hefted his shield over his shoulder.

“Be careful,” Lara said, looking to the door. “It’s stairs behind there, I think it goes to the basement.”

“Alright then.” Xena pointed to a pair of guards that seemed to be free for the moment. “Stay with them, and do not move. Cooperate with them and answer any questions they may have.” Her tone left no room for argument, and Lara nodded and did as she was told.

Tiso readied his shield, and then threw himself at the door. The door rattled on it’s hinges, the lock vibrating from the hit as Tiso readied himself again. It four solid bashes for the door to finally crack enough where the lock simply fell apart. Everyone paused, listening, but there was only silence.

He gestured to Xena and a few other guards to follow as they silently and carefully trudged down the stairs. Soon they could hear snippets of voices and the further down the went, the clearer the voices became.

“Please….please don’t! I don’t want this! Stop!” There was a voice, sounding feminine and high. They were sobbing, words forced out between the rare times where they could catch their breath. They sounded absolutely miserable.

“This is for the good of the people,” answered another voice. It was deeper and held a cold edge to it. “It wouldn’t be so hard for you if you just cooperated.”

“I won’t! I won’t!” There was a sharp, zapping noise and the sobbing voice screamed. A flash of light blinked from the crack under the door and the sobbing melted into soft weeping.

Tiso took position around the door, Xena to the other side. He held up his hand, and folded down a claw counting down from three. When he reached zero, they both turned and kicked down the door. It practically flew off its hinges and collided hard with someone on the other side. Judging by the shout, it was the deeper voice they hit. Both knights and their guards swarmed into the room.

What awaited them was a terrible sight.

A scorpion was chained to a chair, crying in pain, her tail and stinger stretched out behind her and strapped to a bench. One of her eyes was swollen shut and there were cracks in her chitin, deep blue bruising blooming under the softer skin-like parts of her belly and sides.

Xena gasped, glancing at her pincers, thin and long instead of the more common large variety. “Holy shit, that’s a deathstalker!”

“A what?” Tiso was standing on the door, pinning down whoever was underneath. Whoever it was, seemed to have been knocked for a loop. It was easy for him to grab the limbs poking out from under the door and putting cuffs on them.

“A deathstalker.” Xena sounded awed. “They have some of the deadliest venom among bug-kind. Incredibly rare and secretive as a people.”

The scorpion continued her crying. “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! I couldn’t stop them!”

“Stop wh-?” Tiso’s eyes landed on a few jars filled with yellow fluid sitting on what appeared to be a work table. There were other bottles and jars that were labeled, but his eyes were drawn to the jars of fluid. Then he looked down at the bug, a beetle it seemed, squished under the door. The jar they were holding had rolled away, also containing a small amount of the same fluid. He glanced to the stinger, strapped down and leaking slightly from the tip, some incredibly angry charged lumaflies in a jar beside it.

It didn’t take a genius to put two and two together.

“That’s...that’s fucking sick. I can’t…” The ant could barely think of a response to all of this. He heard a few guardsmen behind him, also boggling at the situation. He took a deep breath, and addressed them. “You know what to do, gather evidence and look everywhere. Someone send a message to Monomon and fast.”

The rest of the guard went about their duties, carefully checking cabinets and the walls, looking for anymore surprises. One waited around long enough for Xena to tell them exactly what the message should say, before they raced upstairs to deliver it. With that taken care of, Xena went about freeing the scorpion, who was still babbling, moving as carefully as she could to prevent anymore pain.

“I never wanted to hurt anyone! I’m so sorry! I’m sorry!”

“Shh, I know. You’ll be alright. I know this wasn’t your fault.” Xena was rarely the type to be gentle, but this was a situation that definitely required it. “We’ll get to you to a doctor and you’ll be okay. You’re safe now, they won’t be able to hurt you anymore.”

“But...but they said they were going to-” The scorpion wobbled and collapsed back into the chair, her limbs spasming and twitching. It seemed like she wasn’t going to be able to walk under her own power.

“You two! Get a stretcher!” Xena barked at some of the guards. As they went to fetch one, Xena knelt down and took her now freed pincer in her hand. “Everyone is okay, we’ll talk about that later. What’s your name?”

“Poppy.” She seemed to be calming down, but instead of outright sobbing she started to shiver. Xena took off her cloak and set it around Poppy’s shoulders. She knew what shock looked like and she didn’t want this poor arachnid to suffer anymore than she had too. Thankfully, it didn’t take long for a stretcher to appear and Xena helped her on.

Once Poppy was secure, she sent them back to the palace to be seen by Monomon. Until they can verify a doctor, the scientist will have to make due. She at least had extensive experience in patching up the wounded and could at least make the scorpion comfortable. She made sure to include in the message that she was a victim and not one of the collaborators. Making a note to check on Poppy later, and turned to look at Tiso.

She sighed.

Tiso had the beetle pinned to the floor, and was threatening them with a bottle of collected venom. “Where’s the antidote, asshole!”

“I...I-” They sputtered and tried to wiggle free.

“Wrong answer!” He started to unscrew the jar. “Lets give ya a taste of your own medicine!”

Xena sighed. “Tiso…”

“Yeah?” He inclined his head at her, ignoring the beetle freaking the hell out under his boot.

“Give the bastard time to answer.”

“Fine,” he pouted. He screwed the lid back on. “Tell me where the antidote is. And before you stagshit me, I know there’s one. Because nobody ever made any poison without one in case they fuck up and stab themselves with it. So. Where. Is. It.” He punctuated each word by poking the beetle in the face, hard.

The beetle coughed and moved an arm to point at the work table. “B—blue bottle,” he wheezed.

Xena walked over to pick up the bottle, scrutinizing it. “There’s no way we are just gonna use it without testing it first.”

“That’s what Monomon is for.” Tiso grabbed up the beetle and clicked their arms behind their back. “Let’s get this all packed together quickly and bring it over.”

“I told the messenger that that’s what we were going to do.” Xena grabbed a spare box sitting around, and began carefully packing up all the bottles and notes that were on the work table.

“I’m never gonna get to smooch my girlfriends at this rate.” Tiso sighed. “We’ll be in the dungeons forever processing all of this.”

“Cry me a river, I’m not gonna be able to smooch mine either.” Xena handed the now full box to a guard and sent them on their way. “Let’s just focus on our work, we got lives on the line after all.”

“Yeah I know, but I’m still allowed to whine about it.” The beetle found himself wincing as Tiso dragged him up the stairs, letting them hit every stone step on the way. “I’ll see you back there soon, I’m gonna take in the prisoners.”

Said beetle was now sorely starting to regret his current life decisions.

-----

Quirrel was quickly getting frustrated. He found himself in the archive library, nooks and crannies stretching as far as he could see. The various scrolls, books, and stone tablets were scatter haphazardly and he had to put things right. But he couldn’t read the words in order to sort them, or he’d pick up a tablet for it to change into a book. There was so much to do, and he couldn’t even get something as simple as reading correct! Mother would be home soon and she always expected her library to be put back in order. He was going to get a scolding for this, for sure.

Truly, this was a nightmare.

“You cannot read because this is a dream.” Came a voice from behind him, suddenly making the air less foggy and thick. Quirrel whirred around, startled into dropping the stack of books he was carrying. He didn’t notice them falling apart into motes of essence as he lost his focus, looking to the figure sitting in one of the armchairs instead. “Surely, the proclaimed ‘Scholar King’ would know such a thing.”

They were a tall, elegant bug dressed in reds and blacks. Quirrel wasn’t quite sure on the species, they looked like a blend between a moth and a firefly. They were lounging, watching Quirrel with bright red eyes. Then, with all the manners of a showman, they straightened up to smile at him, and gestured with a bow.

“We’ve met before, though I understand if you are having trouble, due to your circumstances.” Their voice was deep and smoky, with an undertone of mystery and confidence. It was very familiar.

“Come and sit,” they gestured to a chair that suddenly appeared next to theirs. “We have much to discuss, and not so much time to do so.” A small table with a teapot appeared before them, still steaming hot and smelling wonderful. Oddly enough, there was a strange glowing red jar next to the honey and tiny sandwiches. He didn’t quite know what to do, but he did know that this bug was not going to harm him, somehow. So he walked over to sit, watching as the archives twisted and melted, changing into a cozy room with a lit fireplace. Quirrel sat, glancing to the jar. It had a very ominous feeling that made his chitin itch and a primal dread well up in his belly.

“Don’t mind that, it’s for me.” The bug continued, they poured out some tea and handed Quirrel a cup. They opened the jar and plucked out a few red marbles and dropped it into theirs. They stirred it with a smile and took a sip.

“What was that?” Quirrel was now intrigued, watching the other bug take another sip before holding the cup elegantly in their claws.

“Nightmares, my friend. Your dear spouse prunes them from their kingdom and saves them for my child and I.”

“Wait...you eat nightmares?” Quirrel glanced to his own cup, antenna twitching in thought. Spouse? He had to think hard for a moment, and took a sip of tea. It tasted like happiness, and it helped to jog his memory as he felt the pain in his head lessen somewhat. Spouse...spouse...a tall bug, no, vessel appeared in his minds eye. They were once so little and they were now big and elegant. They were a...a…Ghost.

He suddenly could remember Ghost. The first time they met in the Temple of the Black Egg so long ago and how the years flew by and suddenly they were married. They were rulers. He took a moment to remember exactly what they did besides ruling, and it came to him.

Ghost did go into the dream realm and told him about clipping away the nightmares from their subjects. Some, they left, if the dreamer needed or deserved them. So this was….

“Grimm?” Quirrel hesitantly voiced, “The Nightmare King?”

“Correct.” Grimm smiled as he took another sip of tea. “There’s the intelligent bug that causes a certain god to swoon.”

“So that means….”

“You are in a nightmare, yes.”

“It doesn't feel so bad?” Quirrel pondered, his tea somehow staying warm. “How is this a nightmare?”

“Because you are very sick, my friend. Do you remember what happened?” Grimm set down their cup, folding their claws together to regard Quirrel with intense focus.

Quirrel closed his eyes and thought, digging deep down into his own mind. “I was...with Ghost. In public. There were flashes then...I don’t remember?”

“Flashes hrm? Do me a favor, and take a look at yourself.” Grimm pointed with a claw, and Quirrel followed his gaze.

There, on his abdomen, was a nice gash. Certainly not deep enough to kill him, that’s for sure. But there was something…strange about it. Looking past the blue of his own blood was...another color? It was...yellow? It mixed together, turning his blood green as it trickled down his side and on to the chair. It seemed to vanish as soon as it touched the fabric. He touched his wound and felt only a numbness in response. Now that he saw it, he remembered.

“Someone tried to kill us.”

“Indeed, they did. And you were poisoned.” Grimm tilted their head, seemingly pleased that Quirrel had remembered so quickly. “Thankfully, your assassins didn’t take your biology into account.”

“Pillbugs are resistant to poisons.” it dawned on Quirrel. He was poisoned, but he wasn’t dead. He was...in between?

“Yes. You, however, are quite sick, and your friends and family are worried for you. Especially, your spouse, and my friend.” Grimm snapped his fingers, and the wound vanished like it was never there.

Quirrel took a moment to think, mulling over the obvious question.

“Am I going to die?”

Grimm shook his head with a soft smile. “Not likely. Everyone is working hard to bring you back to the waking world. Until then, I am here.”

Quirrel leaned back. “So...are you here to just eat my nightmares? Why are you here? Not that I don’t mind the company, I am just curious. Surely you must have something more important to do.”

“I owe Ghost greatly. Because of them, my daughter thrives. They cared for them even before the beginning of new Hallownest. They have provided a way to be sure that they will always have the scarlet flames they need to grow, and a way for us to feed without resorting to parasitism.” Grimm sounded fond. “So, I decided to keep you company until you awaken once more. It’s the very least I can do.”

“That’s very kind of you, thank you.” Quirrel smiled. “Tell me, have you visited any interesting places outside of Hallownest?”

“I have, shall I tell you about them?”

“Please.” Quirrel sipped his tea and decided that perhaps, this wasn’t the worst way to pass the time. He needed to wake up, but that wasn’t in his control, he just hoped everyone would be alright until then.

-----

Ghost has yet to move from their husband’s side. Time seemed to come to a crawl, and they found themselves hanging on to every labored breath, every intake of air that Quirrel managed to take. There was always that split second of fear when they thought he had stopped breathing, only for him to thankfully, take another breath. It was exhausting and everything inside them ached for their beloved, helpless to do anything. Monomon of course, sent up advice. They had used cold water in an effort to bring down their fever. Made sure to keep their gills moist as a way to keep them hydrated. They dared not try to make him drink anything, not with their breathing so bad. They were trying so hard.

They found it ironic. All the power in the world but they couldn’t heal the ones they love the most. They could destroy all they want, but they couldn’t fix things this complicated.

They didn’t want to think about what would happen if things were to go terribly wrong.

They had nightmares before of losing Quirrel, back when they still slept like a normal bug. It had started during their journey through Hallownest before they defeated the radiance. Quirrel was one of the few positive experiences during that horrible time. Every time they saw him at some new place or another, they felt safe, and happy. It was like being offered a warm cup of cocoa when you were freezing to death, desperate to grasp onto any scrap of goodness you could find. Quirrel definitely fit the bill, and he and the others reminded them of what they were fighting to save.

Even when they finally got up on the growth they missed and took the throne, they still feared losing their best friend. Said best friend eventually turned into an awkward romantic interest and it was downhill right into the feelings from there.

They looked down at the bundled up pillbug and they could sense that he was dreaming. It was certainly better than being in agony, and he hoped that his dreams were of good things.

“Quirrel,” They crooned softly and rested their chin on his arm, afraid to place it on the usual spot on his chest in case it hindered his breathing. “I don’t know if you can hear me, but please don’t go. I love you.”

The only reply they got was Quirrel’s hand twitching as one of his nerves misfired.

The door opened softly and Ghost snapped their head up, alert for any type of danger. They had failed to protect Quirrel then...and they weren’t going to slip up again.

Thankfully, it was one of the few people they trusted with their life.

“My child,” Mato quietly shut the door behind him. “I came as quickly as I could.”

Ghost shook, feeling tears once again prickle in the corners of their eyes, threatening to spill over and stain everything again. “Father…”

The large bug crossed the room with scarcely a noise and pulled Ghost into a hug. They nuzzled into the warm fluff around his cloak and let their tears fall. “Father...I’m scared.”

“I know you are. It’s part of loving someone.” He rubbed small circles into their back, a way he learned that they liked to be comforted. “I know this is a very frightening situation for you, so I’m here to help.”

“I’ve been watching, and I h-”

“All day?” Mato let go to look into their eyes.

“Yes, and -”

“Did you eat? Sleep? Drink water?”

Ghost had to take a moment to think of an answer.

“Then you need to do both and you need to do it now. No butts, no excuses.” Mato turned them around and started to march them to the kitchenette in their apartment.

“I am a god, I don’t need to do those things.” Ghost knew better than to fight it, letting themselves be led to the icebox. Mato raided the inside, pulling out a bowl of leftover stew and pouring a glass of water.

“You may be a god, but I am still your father and I know that you need these things for your own sanity.” Mato passed over the stew, which quickly vanished into the void of their mouth. “You need to take a break, and take care of yourself or you will burn out and we’ll have two injured bugs on our hands.”

Ghost nodded mutely, accepting the glass of water and draining it as well. They didn’t know if they were imagining things or not, but it did make them feel a little better. Mato watched, nodding in approval.

“Good, now you rest, and I will keep watch over the both of you.” He had grabbed them again by the shoulders, and was leading them back to the nest.

“But you just got here, you must be tired too.”

“I can manage a few hours enough to let you rest up a bit. What kind of father would I be if I couldn’t give my child time to recover from a terrible ordeal?” Ghost was picked up and placed inside the nest next to Quirrel. They reflexively moved to hold them as Mato pulled the covers up around them. They started to purr, hoping that Quirrel could feel their love for him, even in the world of dreams.

Mato started humming, moving around to tidy up and starting a fire in the fireplace. It was the music of care and support that eventually lulled them into a state of peace. The stress of everything had taken a toll on them, and it didn’t take long for them to fall asleep, curled up next to their husband.

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sopxhiea · 4 years

Text

Wicked

Alfie Solomons X Reader

Enemies to Lovers!

Warnings: Large age gap.

Summary: The familiar face Alfie stumbles upon finds her way into his sheets but there’s more than one risk the two are taking.

Part 1

“Where have you been all my life?” ‘Hiding from you.’

There’s a soft knock on the door followed by someone’s footsteps. They mumble something about a new buyer in this part of town, someone powerful but there’s no response. Your hand reaches for the coffee mug, you don’t remember when it came in or who put it but you grasp it tightly anyway.

It’s cold.

A sigh leaves your lips, frustration evident in your eyes while your eyes scan the room. It’s full of papers, work to go over and things to read so you make sure you don’t ruin the empire bestowed upon you by your deceased parents. You rub your eyes, your assistant comes in.

He tells you something about your brother’s whereabouts. You hate his guts, he wastes all his time and still gets his end of the profits. You hate the days where you’re stuck in the office, signing and reading papers you know are going to be thrown out once you secure the business but it has to be done. You look at the afternoon sky, the sun is beaming but you can tell it’s hotter than it looks.

He didn’t call.

The man who you thought would be your escape now seems like a distant memory. You’d thought he’d call and tell you that no matter just how fucked up it all sounds, he was willing to sleep with the enemy. You hadn’t waited in front of the phone but it had been in the back of your mind since yesterday when you’d made the offer.

It might be the past, you think. The first time Alfie saw you was when you were a mere teenager, grumpy and witty but those things hadn’t changed even though it had been four long years since the last time you’d seen him. He might still view you as that little girl, fragile and helpless but you’re more than sure he’s at least heard about you around and the things he heard would prove that you were the exact opposite of that little girl.

You try not to dwell on it but it’s all you can think of.

But you’re also grown, with more responsibilities than you were bargained for so you get to work. Reading paper after paper until your eyes can no longer stand the yellow material, you put your glasses on the table while your fingers reach to rub your eyes. It’s a dreadful day and the absence of his call makes it all worse.

You hear your assistant come in after a while, first he drops of some papers for you to have a look and then hands you a little envelope. You eye the white material, the stamp looks unfamiliar to you while you open the envelope as fast as you possibly can. You assistant watches the whole time, worried that it’s a threat of some sort to you or the company since it’s happened before.

You pull out the small card inside, having a look over before it hits you. With a motion of your hand, the assistant is gone and you’re left alone with the card. You can see it’s hand-written by someone else but you know they’re Alfie’s words. There’s not a lot of written words but somehow he manages to summarise a paragraph with only a couple sentences. You reach the end, giddy like a small kid.

You shake your head but the words make you feel warm inside like you’re in your younger years again. You read while a childish smile picks up on your lips. “Let’s do this.”

-----------

The room feels cold but in a pleasant way. It’s sunny out, the drapes open and close each time the wind hits them with a gentle breeze. You hear the sounds of his heavy breathing, it fills you with comfort. It’s not everyday that you wake up next to a man let alone Alfie, it feels new yet very welcomed.

It’s casual, you say to yourself.

After yesterday’s letter, you’d found him waiting like a hungry animal at your doorstep. There were no questions asked, not by him nor you because you’d agreed that this was a lethal secret. You were enemies, not a dear couple since the universe seemed to have its cruel ways.

Then it happened.

It was your skin against his while you tried to regain your breath, he was almost too good in bed if you thought about it too much. He’d worshipped you last night, that was the only way to put it. A smile formed on your sleepy lips as you got up to wash your face, waking him up in the process but he chose to watch than to intrude.

You started brushing your teeth when he came in the bathroom, giving you a dense look you chose to ignore since excitement seemed to be somewhere in there in his eyes. You couldn’t afford to fancy him, you’d settle for sleeping with him instead.

He was the enemy.

His soft lips met your shoulder as he planted a soft kiss on the skin before washing his face. You watched him in his natural habitat, away from his scary looking cane and his dear assistant and the piles of papers with guns hidden behind them, it was just him.

He seemed younger somehow. You couldn’t quite put your finger on it but he wasn’t so intimidating when he was like this, hair disheveled while he gave you a soft smile. He seemed more human and less of a gangster these streets made him out to be.

“You’re starin’, luv.” he spoke, voice hoarse since it was early in the morning. He eyes your form, barely covered with the thin nightgown you were wearing but he’d seen all of you last night anyway, there was no reason to be ashamed.

“Are you complaining?” you asked after you were done brushing your teeth, eyeing his tattoos as they moved under the morning light. He looked picturesque.

“Didn’t say that, now, did I?” he spoke, amusement evident in his tone while he refrained from cursing as much as possible. You were a proper lady after all, not the rosy cheeked girl he once knew.

You led him through the corridor of your house, there was no one around despite the place being a mini mansion of sorts. One of the first things you’d done after bagging a lot of money was to invest them and that came in forms of houses in your terms. You’d told everyone of the house staff to go home for a day or two, you could manage and you had to when he was around, you couldn’t afford people seeing him with you.

He followed your lead like a lost puppy while you made your way towards the kitchen. It was way too big for one person but the staff usually ate with you so the space was frequently used. He watched you as you opened a couple drawers and took some stuff out, eggs and a pan and all that.

Turning towards him, you offered the most neutral smile you had at your disposal and spoke with a soft voice, he swore you looked like an angel in the morning light.

“How you do like your eggs, mister?” you asked, sassily as his lips formed his usual smirk. He was the man you adored all those years after all.

He still saw the little girl in you, the cheeky one who’d wear things that you knew would get him riled up that summer you returned as a younger woman. You were eighteen, trying to get the attention of the handsome gangster but he’d been wise to ignore the temptations.

Now that you were grown, he didn’t need to do that anymore.

“Same as yours, miss.” he spoke, his low voice made you chuckle and you turned your back to him while getting breakfast ready.

He could very well cook himself, but he thinks he’d rather watch you do it.

He blames himself for all the years that have gone by without you. Your playful self last saw him as an eighteen year old girl who was too smart for her own good but now you’re a little older. It’s been over four years since the gangster has seen you and he concludes, while still watching you make breakfast, that the rumours are true.

You are as whimsical as they said you’d grown to be.

He helps you set the table by putting the dishes on it and a couple more stuff from the fridge. You watch with protective eyes, trying to put up some sort of defence while the man manages to break every stereotype you thought he fit in. You find yourself sitting across his shirtless self while he slowly eats, not making a sound like he usually does while devouring his meals. He wants to be as proper as possible.

He knows this isn’t conventional.

“So how’s this goin’ to fuckin’ work, luv?” he speaks while watching you with the corner of his eye. His hands gestured in between you to show that he was talking about what had happened last night.

“I..uhm..” you say, a little taken aback but you welcome his bluntness. “I told the staff to steer clear for a couple days in case you were to visit.” you speak, getting ready to list a couple more things as he eats like a fine gentlemen, there’s a soft hum erupting from his lips each time you speak.

“We’ll just be as discreet as possible, not alarm anyone of the possibility of......this.” you finish, hands copying the same move he did just a couple minutes prior as your fingers address him and then you.

He nods while another soft hum erupts from his large body, you watch him in amazement. It’s a wonder just how gentle this giant bear of a man is capable of being. He’s not the Alfie you knew all those years ago, you’re not sure anyway. You never saw him like this, bare and stripped from any danger. His gun is somewhere in his office drawer miles away and he doesn’t have a protective dog to bite anyone’s head off.

“Ya’ think it was a fuckin’ mistake?” he speaks and the words make you put your fork down. Maybe, he’s regretting this.

He watches you as you answer, not an ounce of doubt or fear in your eyes while he watches you speak with the shake of your head.

“No, I don’t. In fact, I quite enjoyed myself last night.” you speak, daring eyes matching his as he smiles, its cockiness mixed with pride.

“Could tell that from how fuckin’ loud ya’ were, doll.” he says with a chuckle but you know his words to be a joke so you kick him lightly under the table, it makes him drop his fork on to the tablecloth and he seems taken aback more than anything while staring at you with wide eyes.

“What the fuck are ya’ on about, woman!” he says but again, it’s lighthearted. You chuckle at his words, your smile is devilish against your lips while he waits for you to speak, a smile similar to yours find its way on his lips.

“It’s so that you be more careful with your words next time, luv.” you speak, mimicking him at the last part of your sentence while he watches you with amazement, then hunger takes over his features but he settles on eating the meal on the table than you at that given moment. Although he much prefers the second option.

He shakes his head. You’re still a kid inside, the little girl he knew and he can tell. You still posses the same attitude and the wittiness but there’s an elegance to you that comes with age, you’re more poised. The teenager who used to interrupt business meetings because the room was too hot is now the one making the deals, his eyes glisten at the thought.

“Do you think it was?” you speak, eyes not meeting his because there’s an evident trace of fear in your tone. He watches you act calm but your eyes tell the truth.

“A fuckin’ mistake?” he asks, deliberately trying to make you wait for the answer mostly because he enjoys the way a pink hue forms on your cheeks. You nod, not a word comes from your mouth but you answer the question regardless.

“Nah..” he speaks, he takes a slow sip of the tea in front of him, purposefully torturing you but you don’t give up that easy. You remain calm. “If anything, yeah, It was a fuckin’ miracle was wha’ it was.” he speaks once again and you release your breath. You hate how much he enjoys teasing you but you hate yourself more for falling for his small traps every time.

Then, he watches you light up.

Your cheeks are pink still but it’s more from happiness than fear of embarrassment. You let go of the spoon next to your tea cup softly while exhaling, your eyes sparkle under the morning sun and he watches the way your hair moves with the breeze coming from the window nearby. It’s just like he’s staring at a painting and he speaks before his mind can stop him, like a fool.

“Where have you been all my life?” His voice is hoarse, too rough even but you make the words out.

You don’t miss the sentence, it’s clear as day of anything. The whole morning up until that point, you spend the minutes reminding yourself that he is in fact the enemy. It’s a casual thing you both agreed on, nonchalant but also highly risky. And his words don’t make it easier on the walls built around your heart.

But you’re not to one to fall in love so easily, you’ve been a project in the making by your father and the walls are made of steel.

He can’t melt them.

‘Hiding from you.’ you speak, a small smile on your lips that’s only half genuine but he doesn’t pick up on it, he possibly can’t.

So instead he laughs, it’s another taken aback chuckle at first that turns into a loud laughter that fills the room. It’s pleasant if anything. You don’t find yourself trying to find excuses to get out like each time your brother laughs. Alfie’s laugh is much more heartwarming.

“We better get going.” you speak, voice soft but the words are demanding as his eyes bore into yours.

He doesn’t say anything but agree with the nod of his head. You ignore the next few moments while he helps you tidy up. His finger brushes against your shoulder, electricity resides there for a couple minutes but you don’t think about it. You also don’t think about the way his hand finds your waist to get you out of the way so he can put the pan back on the higher shelf where you can’t reach.

Fifteen minutes later, you’re out.

-----

“We can’t possibly make business with him!” you brother shouts from the other end of the room, you can see how furious he is but it’s better than you’d expected.

You look at him right in the eye and wait for another word, you know he’s not done. Your eyes don’t leave his figure while he paces around the room, very furious but you’re mad at yourself for suggesting such a thing.

To make a deal with the enemy. The enemy that slept on your bed with his arms around you last night, to be exact.

“He’s a fucking madman! Have you got no sense?” you hear Jack’s voice booming around the place but you’re not fully there. Your mind is off wandering how you’ll try to console him after your stupid words.

“Alright, calm down.” you speak, walking towards him in a calm manner but he doesn’t seem a tad suspicious. You count on the fact that Jack has never been the smartest. “It was just a suggestion, okay? We’ll find some other way to go about it.” you say while stroking his arm, his hair is disheveled and you know he’s heading for the pub when he walks out abruptly.

You stare at the empty walls the moment he slams the door on your face, there’s no use of calling behind him or trying to get him to stop. You’ll have him picked up from the bar at midnight by the driver, you know he’s going to be drinking his weight.

It’s no wonder why he’d reacted the way he did, Alfie had never been a pleasant memory for the whole family. He was the one making the dangerous deals, the ones a dozen men would get killed for. And although you did not mind at all, he had also done some damage to your family’s business at the time, one that got out of hand after a while.

You didn’t blame him for it, he wasn’t the sole reason. It was mostly your father’s fault for thinking he could crack more than a couple deals with his rivals and it had blown up on his face, naturally. Alfie’s name was thrown around for a while, for the things he’d done and the crimes he’d committed but you’d always excuse yourself.

It wasn’t because his hands were bloody, yours were the same now. You had seen his kindness in the business meetings, mostly towards you since the rest of your family happened to be insufferable. Your father was all the same, he’d done just as terrible things as Alfie but he lacked mercy at the side.

You picked up the telephone and started dialling, there were one too many things going on in your mind and you desperately needed some common sense. So you called the only man you knew could be objective.

He was fast to pick up.

“Hey....It’s me. Could I see you today?”

-----

Tagging: @clairecrive @parkbearum @sourirez @bicevans @mollybegger-blog @97freaknik. @fuseburner

252 notes · View notes

snarkwrites · 3 years

Text

01 | upside down, steve harrington ; stranger things

Notes:

Guess who fell head first into binging Stranger Things? Again? Yep. This bitch. And I kind of came up with this at some point during. I’ve been dancing around writing a Stranger Things fic for a while, but here I go I guess?

A few big cautions up front... There will be things that change/differ from the fic and the show. I’m gonna sort of loosely follow the timeline set forth. But I will be changing a few things here and there. I mean, if enough people enjoy this that I feel like writing more to it, idk yet... We shall see.

I swear to God, I’m going to update my CSI fics and my Riverdale one asap. This just kind of caught me by the nose and demanded to be written...

Summary:

She moves back to Hawkins and manages to turn his life completely upside down. In the best of ways.

But how will everything play out between them? Also, can they handle all the weirdness ahead? We shall see.

Warnings:

loose canon compliance at best, total deviation at worst - this is just an up front catch all because sometimes, things happen that I don’t particularly care for (the senseless death of Barb, anybody?) and if you’re one of those canon only people, this is here to warn you that this is not the fic for you. language, occasional gore, monsters / fantasy elements, teenage drama and shenanigans - Obviously, teenagers are going to do stuff. They’re at that point in their life where not every decision they make is the best one. So if you’d rather skip over this kind of thing (teen drinking, fighting, etc) then yeah.. you’ve been warned. Slow burn / angst / mutual pining / eventual filthy good ness - because lets be real.. we’re all wondering when we’re gonna drop the plot and get to the good stuff. When this chapter occurs, I will flair it with an M. In the meantime, if you’re not into slow burn or mutual pining, then you’re probably not going to care about this.

Other Parts

[ soundtrack ]

Other Stuff

[ faq - tag list doc ]

Tagging:

There’s nobody on my list yet but... If you wanna be tagged for this, tell me pls. It will make me overjoyed.

Throwing out a no pressure tag to @rampagewriting and @twistnet as well as @chasingeverybreakingwave just because. No pressure though bbies!

ONE

“Table six wants a burger and fries. Smothered for those fries, Jennie.” my nana’s voice shattered through my wandering thoughts. I closed the issue of Glamour I’d been reading and made my way out from behind the counter out in front, heading towards the dining area in the back.

“Marlena quit again, Nana?” I inquired, shaking my head. Marlena quits at least once a year. Turns up a few weeks later, tanned and broke, begging for her old job back and it’s been that way since my mom and I lived here still, when I was around 6.

“Girl, what have I told you about callin me Nana?” my grandmother asked, laughing softly as she nodded. “Yeah. Said she’s headin out to California this time. Thinks she’s gonna be the next Brooke Shields.”

“Broke Shields is more like it.” I mumbled, taking an apron from the hanger on the wall. My grandmother spoke up again, giving me a nudge and smirking at me while nodding across the diner. “He’s baaack.”

“Nana!” I muttered, raising a hand to my mouth, giggling a little despite my best efforts not to.

“I’m just sayin is all. That boy is not comin in here for my good cookin, Jennie Bird.” my grandma shook her head and I eyed the booth where a lone Steve Harrington sat.

It’s only the thousandth time since I moved back to Hawkins in May.

And my nana is right. He’s probably not coming here for the food.

I’d just grabbed two of the orders and sent Steve’s order back to our short order cook Brett, -or the order I’m assuming was his, he always gets the same thing down to a T when he stops in, when a hand reaches out, grabbing my wrist.

I nearly jumped right outta my skin until I realized that it was Nancy grabbing my wrist and Barb laughing about it. They were sitting at our usual little booth near the window, nursing milkshakes as they waited on my upcoming 30 minute break. Just like we’ve been doing two or three times a week since May.

Come to think of it, it’s around that time that Steve started coming in too. I shoved the thought out of my head right around the time that Nancy and Barb noticed him. And naturally, the question arose...

“What’s Steve Harrington doing in here?” Nancy asked, glancing up at me. I eyed his table and shrugged, suck popping a cotton candy flavored bubble as I told her, “Cher, your guess is as good as mine. He’s been comin in here since I moved back.”

Nancy wiggled her brows and laughed. Barb spoke up. “My mom wanted to know if you wanted to go to the lake with us this weekend? She knows your grandmother is going out of town.”

I smiled and nodded yes, zero hesitation. After Nancy confirmed that she was going too, we made plans to go into the department store in town tomorrow afternoon to pick up some swimsuits.

Nancy’s eyes settled on my boots and she let out a low and appreciative whistle. “Are those the same boots that were in the mall last time we went? I wanted those.”

I smiled, lifting my foot so Nancy could see my boots better. Then I whirled around so she could see the fact that I’d made my favorite pair of Levis into cutoffs and sewn white cherry print fabric over the back of one of the pockets.

“I love those. I wish my mom would let me cut off my jeans.” Nancy pouted. I shrugged. “Ginger said it was cheaper than buying shorts, so I went for it. I did two other pairs too.”

“I’m bringing my old jeans over tonight.” Barb spoke up. I smiled, nodding. “Yeah. I’ll do you right up, hon.”

“I wish I tanned like you. Do you just live outside, Jennie?” Barb asked, pouting a little. I shrugged it off, laughing. Taking a deep breath as I nodded towards Steve’s booth as I gazed at my friends after finally managing to tear my eyes off of Steve. “I best get over to table six. Then I have to go pick up the bohunk’s order, I reckon.”

“What’s a bohunk?” Nancy giggled.

“Same as a himbo, I reckon.” I answered, wrinkling my brows because I didn’t actually know myself. I just knew my nana Ginger often called her long-time live-in boyfriend, Hank, the same thing and I could tell by her tone that it was a loving thing.

I made my way over to Ethel and Earl’s table, setting them up with their food. “Y’all need anything else? Just let me know. Marlena quit on us again, so I’m the server tonight.”

“We’re all set, dear!” they assured me and I made my way over to the second of the tables whose orders I’d picked up.

The next table was Jim Hopper. My mom’s ex boyfriend. He chuckled and shook his head as I approached. “I see Ginger put you right to work.”

“I put me to work, sir. I’m saving money for a Trans Am I found for sale in Rollins.” I smirked as I said it, twisting a strand of hair around my fingertip.

“Oh really now.. Let me know when you get it. So I can warn the rest of the guys and the rest of town to keep a wide berth when you’re behind the wheel.”Hopper teased, chuckling. I pretended to pout, but got him set up with the food he’d ordered before finally making my way towards the back again.

I had to walk right past Steve’s booth in the process, naturally.

I did my best to keep my eyes trained towards the front of the dining area, but Steve cleared his throat just as I walked past.

“Is tonight the night you finally say yes?” Steve flashed a grin as he asked me the question. I wanted to melt, lucky for me, common sense prevailed once again.

“Steve..” I complained, shaking my head. Pretending to pout at him.

“Aw, c’mon.” Steve chided, giving me that charmer smirk as he gazed up at me. I bit my lip, eyes locked on his, lost in the depths of his eyes for a few seconds. My nana’s calling my name had me coming back to the moment and I sighed. “I gotta go get your food, cher.”

I hurried up to the front, ignoring my nana’s pointed stare and nod as she mouthed, “Well? What’d he say, huh?”

I gave a mysterious shrug and picked up the tray containing his food. Started my journey back towards his booth. On my way over, Nancy gave me a thumbs up and Barb mouthed at me in teasing, “ Aww, you’re totally blushing right now.” to which I stuck out my tongue and shook my head no.

I was all business as I sat his food in front of him. Consulting my notepad that had his order scrawled on it in my Nana’s loopy scrawl. “That’s a loaded burger and smothered fries with a chocolate shake.” suck popping another gum bubble as I spoke.

“Yeah.” Steve answered, locking eyes with me. My hand raised, trailing over the loopy cursive of my silver necklace. I toyed with the cursive that formed my name and he chuckled, dragging his fingers through his hair, nodding to it. “You still have it, I see. The necklace, I mean...”

“Why wouldn’t I? My best friend gave it to me, cher.” I gave him a soft smile. I couldn’t resist it because believe me, I tried. I’ve been trying to resist the guy since May, actually.

“Oh. So you did think about me when you left Hawkins...Interesting. I mean… you’re still wearing the necklace I got you for your birthday...” Steve mused quietly. His eyes were absolutely fixed on me. Studying me. And I felt this warmth spreading through my entire being. Like that first sliver of sunlight on a cloudy and cool day.

Then the calm. Be still my beating heart, the calm that took over when I dared to lock eyes with him as my own personal act of defiance. Popping another cotton candy flavored bubble as I did so. I bit my lip as I thought of the best way, read, least revealing way, to answer his question. This was venturing into very,very dangerous territory at present. Because if I said no I’d be lying and if I said yes, it would give him too much power. He’d know that maybe he was my first real crush back then. He’d know that maybe seeing him again after all this time had been like a burst of fresh air and somehow, felt as if maybe he’d taken all the air from me at the same time.

It was a huge risk. Huge.

“Maybe.” - it was the only word that would come presently. Blondie crooning Call Me from the old jukebox sitting at the back of the dining area shattered through the heavy lingering silence that followed immediately behind my answer. In a rush, I told him quietly, “I have other tables.”

“You’ve been on your feet all afternoon, little red. C’mon. Sit?” Steve nodded to the empty bench across from him.

I scoffed at him over my shoulder. Giving him a sweet but firm shake of the head no and smile. “As much as I’d love to sit, romeo. Sitting’s not what’s gonna put that sweet fire engine red Trans Am in my nana’s driveway by August.”

He pouted and called out as I walked away, “ I’m not giving up.”

This earned him giggles from the booth I usually filled with Nancy and Barb when I took my 30 minute break.

As I walked by them, Nancy teased out loud, “ Awww, look Barb! She’s blushing.”

“I am not.” I pretended to be offended by the suggestion. Mouthing to both of them as I fanned myself with some napkins in teasing and nodded in Steve’s direction, “Whew...He has gotten… Intense.”

“That’s Hawkin High’s big man on campus.” Barb informed me. I went to clock out for my break and came back with a Diet Pepsi, flopping across the booth across from then. Someone put 867-5309 on to play on the jukebox and I grumbled through closed lids, “I hate that fuckin song.”

Naturally, Barb and Nancy started to sing along. Loudly.

I pouted at them both as I rose to a sitting position.

Steve wandered over, flopping himself down in the empty spot next to me. “Ladies.”

“You’re not at Hagan’s party?” Barb asked, a brow raised.

“Yeah, why aren’t you at Tommy’s party?” Nancy asked, shooting me a covert teasing smile.

Steve shrugged. Took a long sip of his chocolate milkshake, slurping it through the straw noisily. I eyed it.

“I’d kill for a strawberry one right now.” I mused, gazing at the cup in his hand. He muttered quietly, “It’s not strawberry, but…” as he held it out.I eyed the styrofoam cup and him. Biting my lip.

Nancy and Barb were gazing at me intently. Teasing gleam in their eyes.

I sighed and reached out for it, taking a few sips. Holding it back out to him.

“I was there. Got bored. I like the scenery better here anyway.” Steve answered finally, shrugging.

“So you enjoy spending your Friday night in a diner packed with old people..” I muttered, locking eyes with him. Swallowing hard when I found him staring at me already.

He chuckled, shaking his head no. “I said I liked the scenery here, little red. Not the dining company. If you’d say yes and let me buy you a burger sometime…” he smiled at me as he went quiet.

I felt Nancy and Barb both fix their eyes on me.

“We’ll see.” I answered, shrugging mysteriously and smiling at him as I did so. I wanted to say yes so bad it was killing me, but given that I know the history of my grandmother and my mother, I was… Definitely erring on the side of caution.

Besides.. It makes things interesting when you play hard to get. I guess I figure that if Steve gets bored and moves on, then it’s better than agreeing, falling head over feet, making any number of bad life choices that seem to plague the women in my family and ultimately, winding up heart broken.

Call me a hopeless romantic. Overly cautious. I just want to wait until I know something is a sure thing before I dive in over my head. I want something that’s going to last a while. Not be this intense and scary whirlwind that starts off strong and ends just as fast as it began.

“Hey, were we all going to go for a swim later? Figured it was hot enough. Besides, Ginger and Hank are going to Rollins later. They won’t be back until 2. Or two days from now.” I mused, glancing from Nancy to Barb.

“Sleepover in the treehouse?” Barb suggested. Nancy nodded, giving me begging eyes. “C’mon, it’ll be fun. It’ll be like when we were little.”

“That’s actually not a bad idea!” I smiled, laughing.

After we all made our plans for the night, they left to go back into town and this left me with ten minutes in my break. Alone in a booth with Steve Harrington.

Hot Blooded came on the jukebox in back of the dining area and I grinned. Humming along with the song as I eyed the last of Steve’s fries. He chuckled, shoving them in front of me.

“You won’t let me buy you your own food… Yet you’ll eat mine.”

“Mhm.” I answered, dragging a french fry through gravy. Taking a bite thoughtfully. Groaning at the taste of the food because I realized just how hungry I actually was.

Steve chuckled, gazing at me. “Do I need to leave you two alone?”

I felt his arm go around the back of the booth. Brushing right against my shoulder. Normally, I’d politely move a little. But if I’m being totally honest here, I’m tired. So tired of fighting the way I feel. I managed to stop myself from resisting the urge to lean against his side though.

“That’s not so bad, is it?”

I sighed and gazed over at him. Smiling. “It’s not.”

From the kitchen, my nana called my name. Steve stood and I slipped out of the booth, making my way back. Clocking back in so I could finish waiting tables. By the time I’d done four more tables and was counting my tips for the night, Steve wasn’t sitting in the dining area anymore.

“You be careful getting home tonight, Jennie Bird.”

“Yes Nana.”

I didn’t have to look at her to know she was giving me a playful dirty look at what I’d called her. She sighed, the sound giving way to soft laughter. “Maybe get that handsome little beau of yours to give you a lift.”

“Nope. Absolutely not.”

“You are the most stubborn..” my grandmother teased gently, laughing as she shook her head.

I clocked out for the night, stepping out into the parking lot after counting down the drawer in the gas station area out front. Steve was standing outside, leaned against the cinderblock wall, his thumb hooked through his belt loop. Smoking a cigarette.

I glanced around to make sure my grandmother and her boyfriend weren’t looking or anything and I stopped beside him. Speaking up quietly. “Do you think you have another one of those?”

He chuckled, digging around in his pocket, producing a slightly crushed pack of Marlboro Reds. I took one and as I pressed it between my lips, he dug out a silver lighter and cupped his hands around the end, lighting my cigarette for me.

“You’re not afraid your grandmother’s gonna see?” Steve teased, grinning at me.

I laughed, shrugging as I exhaled, a plume of smoke creeping upwards into the sunset. “It’s more tame than her special brownies. I know for a fact it’s a thousand times tamer than anything my mom did at my age. I just don’t openly do it all the time around her because it’s a respect thing.”

“Ah. I get it, I think.” he nodded.

We stood there quietly. Staring up at the sky as the sun dipped lower. I really didn’t want to walk away, but one of us had to. I smiled, nodding towards the road. “I should probably get going.”

“I can drive you.” Steve offered.

“I’m fine. It’s only like a mile up the road.” I answered, swallowing hard. Dangerously close to caving, yet again. It’s getting so hard not to cave lately where he’s concerned and that kind of makes me panic just a little, truth be told.

“Yeah, but it’s getting late. And your feet have to be killing you by now.” he nodded to my boots. I shrugged, flashing him a smirk. “You’re a charmer, Steve.” I muttered as I rose up on my toes, fluffing his hair before stepping away, then turning to walk across the gravel parking lot and towards the road.

His BMW slowed to a stop beside me and he rolled down the window just as I started to walk towards my grandmother’s house. “C’mon.”

I eyed the car.

Then glanced at the road stretched out ahead. My feet were throbbing in these stupid boots because they weren’t broken in completely. I dragged my fingers through my hair, mulling it over.

“Take me straight home?”

“Anything you want, Jennie.” Steve promised, smiling at me. “Scouts honor.”

“You are a lot of things… Somehow I doubt boy scout was one of them, you charmer. Okay, fine.” I gave in, going around to the passenger side of the car and getting in.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” he teased gently. I stuck out my tongue at him and reached for the dial on his radio until I found something other than his preferred usual pop station. He chuckled to himself, reaching out to lower the volume. “I missed you.”

“Aw, be still my beating heart.” I pretended to swoon. But something about the look in his eyes had me feeling like all the air escaped my lungs. Giddy. Lightheaded. And yet, underneath it all, that sense of calm.

The rest of the drive to my grandmother’s house was quiet. The air between us filled with this heavy and almost electric tension. Like I was waiting on something to happen, I just didn’t know what.

He pulled to a stop behind Hank’s beat down old Chevrolet truck and I went to open the door on the passenger side. I was about to get out, when he stopped me. “Same time Thursday?”

I smiled, nodding at him as I shut the door to his BMW and started towards my front door on very shaky legs. Once I was inside, I pulled off my boots and flopped down on the sofa, letting out several long and shaky breaths.

“Heaven help me. That guy is… Something.” I drawled. Resting until I heard Barb and Nancy knocking at my grandmother’s door. I got up to let them in and we went upstairs to find towels to take down to the river with us.

Then we set off, walking through the woods. Laughter and conversation echoing in the night around us. Diving into the cold water with ear splitting shrieks. Splashing at each other noisily.

We flopped onto our towels on the bank, gazing up at the stars as they started to come out.

“I can’t believe summer’s almost over.” Barb lamented, shaking her head. “It seriously feels like school just ended.”

“I don’t want to go back to school yet. Yuck.” Nancy agreed, shaking her head. “I mean there’s another month and a half but it’s flying by too fast.”

“At least we got a few classes with each other. I’m dreading starting at a new school. I mean it’s not new, but still..” I sat up, facing the two of them.

“It won’t be that bad. You’ve got us.” Barb pointed out and I smiled, nodding. “Yeah, you’re right. It won’t be that bad.” I echoed her statement.

“Hey, Jennie?”

“Yeah, Nan?”

“Why won’t you just give in to Steve. It’s not exactly a secret you like him.” Nancy eyed me expectantly.

I mulled it over, shrugging. “Guess it’s just the fear I have that I’ll give in and then everything will go wrong and I’ll wind up losing my friend too.”

The truth was… so much more complex than that. And I couldn’t even begin to explain it to myself, let alone my two best friends.

“I will say this much though.” I started, going quiet for a second or two and taking a deep breath, speaking up again after, “It’s getting harder to fight it off. I mean when I moved back here and we ran into each other again, that old crush came back and it came back ten-fold. Enough about my weird hangups.. Is there some reason you’re not finally going for it with Jonathan?” I eyed Nancy expectantly.

“Every time I try it’s like my brain freezes? I don’t know, okay?” she laughed, shaking her head about it. Barb smirked. “Both of you are cowards.”

“Excuse… Says the girl who almost threw up because Logan, the guy she likes, winked at her on the bus back from an away game?” Nancy teased and Barb scowled at her, sticking out her tongue. “I’ll have you know, ha freaking ha, Logan is actually taking me to a movie on Friday.”

“Oh?” Nancy eyed her, wiggling her brows.

“Oh my god, details.” I spoke up, tapping my foot as I gave her an expectant look. Barb launched into the whole thing and I smiled softly, content to listen. Catching up on what I’d missed in being gone so long.

“Y’all. We need to get back down to my nana’s. It’s getting dark thirty.” I stood, reaching down to grab hold of Barb’s hand, pulling her off the bank of the river. Barb pulled Nancy up and the three of us went running through the wood and back towards my grandmother’s house.

Once we got there, we ordered pizza and went out to the old treehouse we used to play in out back to set up for the night.

And at one point, we wound up playing Truth or Dare.

And naturally, the first dare I was given was to say yes if Steve Harrington asked me out again…

#steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington imagines #steve harrington fic #my writing ; steve harrington #my fanfiction ; steve harrington #my fics ; steve harrington #// y'all. I have.. huge plans for this #i made a whole ass character sheet for Jennie here.

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