#On a ..neutral note. I still very much have that customer service voice down. Not intentionally however. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

erodasfishtacos · 3 years

Text

Curious Gazes

prompt: [CEO!Harry] four times harry has been spotted by employees being very unlike his demeanor at work.

word count: 4.3 k

warnings: harry is an asshole to everyone but is wife and baby.

**** <-- click for visuals throughout the story. ( because i love showing off how dumb rich harry is - i mean he’s a billionaire ffs)

notes: thanks so much for the love on the first part. I will be writing quite a bit for this trope. the next addition will be all smut. love you, enjoy.

PART ONE

----

RESERVATION RUN-IN

Harry has over a hundred-thousand full-time employees. He has nearly ten-thousand at his London office at all times. The skyscraper was beautiful with clear glass, a reflective grey tone, and the structure screamed modern. It has eighty-three floors.

So with that being said, Harry does not know even one third of the people who work in the building nor does he want to. He couldn’t pick them out of a line-up if he tried.

However, having so many employees in the city means his staff members are bound to catch sight of their boss pretty often outside of the office.

Sarah, Lucielle, Jack, and Anya - all from the customer service department of Styles Media and Marketing Inc. - are all out to dinner. They decided to go all out and dish out a hefty amount to eat at Il Nascondiglio Segreto. It was a reservation they had made nearly a month ago.

As they’re enjoying their appetizer, Lucielle nearly chokes on her oyster, “Holy shit. It’s Harry,” She whispers, nodding her head in the direction she was staring with bulging eyes.

They all can’t help but turn subtly, a perfect vantage point from where they’re sat right across the way from the group of employees. Their boss was dressed in a bit more casual - not by much - attire than he’d worn to the office earlier that Friday afternoon.

He had an open blazer with a white, nearly see-through button up. Their eyes nearly jumping out of their skulls when they spot his butterfly tattoo sitting on right below his sternum. Jack’s hawk eyes catch that he has a name in cursive on his left pec.

Plus his normal tailored suit trousers were replaced with tight skinny jeans that hugged his crotched - making it unmistakable that he was well….endowed. Hair was no longer as styled and curled. Laying more carelessly on his shoulders. ****

But what was the most absurd thing they saw him wearing was a smile. His lips were curled up in a large, white grin that was big enough to cause little wrinkles around his eyes.

His hand intertwined with his wife’s until they arrived at their table, pulling out her chair for her, landing a soft kiss on her cheek before sitting down in his across from her.

He automatically puts an open palm halfway across the table and his date places her’s right on top of it. Her large engagement ring and wedding band sparkling in the low lighting in the restaurant. They were holding hands over the table.

The group had never actually seen the women they deemed Cruella Deville. They had envisioned his wife with bleach blonde hair, fake tits, and fish lips complimented with botox that made it so her forehead didn’t move.

But they were met with a beautiful, natural one instead. She had gorgeous curled locks trailing down her back, light neutral makeup with normal sized lips, small creases where they should be.

Her body was natural as well, breasts pushed up in a bra but obviously not manufactured by the way they sat, a bit of a pouch around her midsection - a telltale sign from her recent pregnancy, and a radiant smile to match her husband’s.

They looked so happy and in love.

She was dressed short, polka-dotted black dress with a pair of simple black shoes. She complimented with with a bright red lip which stood out against the dark fabric. ***

It’s not that they didn’t look like a match - she was absolutely stunning. It just wasn’t who they imagined for the boss they despised ninety percent of the time.

The group can’t keep their eyes off the couple - subtly, of course - for their whole time at the restaurant.

Harry was laughing loudly - different sound than when he laughed without a humor at bumbling, nervous employees.

It was light and higher pitched - but still gravely low; smooth like honey as his wife matches his laughs.

At one point, after their meal arrives - Harry offers her a spoonful of his food, playfully complaining that she took too big of a bite - but then immediately offering her more right after.

When she excused herself to the bathroom, Lucille catches Harry’s sneaky hand reaching out to give her backside a quick grope which earns him a warning glance that has him snickering.

Anya who was in the restroom nearly runs into her, Y/N apologizes instantly, “I’m sorry! Wasn’t watching where I was going! Are you alright?”

Anya nods, a bit at a loss of words, talking to Harry Styles' wife, “I’m okay, thank you.”

“I swear I have two left feet,” Y/N jokes, complimenting her dress before disappearing into a stalls. A completely lovely girl.

It’s pathetic but the group lingers around to watch their boss’s full dinner date. It was creepy but they were just so stunned at the man that was sitting by them.

The couples behavior had turned more flirty by this point, Y/N’s eyelashes fluttering at little bit more at her husband, her giggles flowing more often with licks to her lips.

By the clenched fist on the table, Harry seems to be falling prey to the teasing.

But when his wife whispers something - that must have been filthy - and leans forward so her cleavage is displayed more, Harry’s pulling out his wallet, pulling an absurd amount of bills out and throwing them carelessly on the table.

Y/N’s eyes are twinkling in victory as her husband stands and helps her out of her chair - ever the gentlemen.

It doesn’t seem very gentlemen like though when his hand comes to the very lowest point on the small of her back - pushing her into him. He leans down to murmur something into her ear before landing a damp, way too intimate for public kiss to her jaw and then throat.

In turn, she looks up at him with a mischievous tilt of her lip and a challenging raised brow. You could cut their sexual tension with a knife.

Y/N lifts up on her toes to kiss him before grabbing his hand and guiding him out of the establishment quickly - his eyes glued to her bum the whole time.

Jack breaks the bated silence, with a bewildered chortle, “What the fuck was that?”

Sarah sips her wine, “Maybe he has a twin? Like a good twin? And he’s the evil one.”

They all laugh and finish up their desserts.

---

MOTHER’S DAY SHOPPING

Kasey and Tom - from Human Resources - are out for the day. It was a week before Mother’s Day and they were both scrambling for a gift at the shops.

Harrod’s was nearly empty as they had came in a few minutes after the store opened. Kasey had gotten distracted from her mission and was trying on shoes.

There was a 40% off sale and she wasn’t passing that up.

Tom had wondered off to the electronics department very soon after the first five shoeboxes arrived next to her chair.

“Pink!” Kasey hears a high-pitched baby voice squeal with utter delight. She looks up to see a curly haired toddler pointing at a pair of pink baby shoes.

The little girl had the cutest denim dress on with white stripes ***, white tights on, and white Mary Janes. When Kasey looked closer she realized the Gucci emblem was on the dress - holy shit, she didn’t even know Gucci made baby clothes.

“Daddy, please?” The toddler asks in a sweet, small voice looking to the approaching man who scoops her up in the crook of his elbow.

“Ivy, y’can’t run away from daddy. Do you understand me?”

Kasey’s eyes widen as she recognizes that deep, raspy voice. It was her boss, Harry Styles, and with his little mini who looked like a cherub angel.

“No run, daddy,” Ivy grins up at him, looking for approval.

The slightly stern look dissipates from his face into a softer, relaxed smile at his daughter’s words. He kept her close against his chest.

“Daddy, please?” She piques up again, pointing at the small shoes on the wall.

“Y’want those shoes?” Harry asks, nodding towards the pink sneakers.

Ivy nods before pointing at the other shoes next to it, “All, please?”

Despite her father not having any manners in the slightest, his daughter seemed to have excellent etiquette.

Harry chuckles, smoothing a stray curl down from her forehead, “Y’want a pair of all these shoes?”

Ivy nods with wide doe eyes and one of her dimples popping in her left cheek.

“Y’mother’s going to kill me,” Kasey hears Harry mutter before waving a sales associate over.

“Good to see you, Mr. Styles - I’m Tracey. What can I help you with?”

Of course they knew him by name. He was by the looks of it one of their most appreciated customers, figuring he rarely wears the same thing twice.

“Can I please get a pair of all these shoes in a toddler’s size three? And can you please ring them up for me? Thank you,” Harry asks, his voice taking on the executive and firm tone with the associate who nods and turns on her heel.

“Daddy? Kissy?” The girl asks her father, her little palm patting his cheek and she’s puckering her pink lips.

“Yes baby,” Harry obliges, giving her a peck before blowing a raspberry on her cheek. He tugs down her dress that’s ridden up in true parent fashion.

As they’re waiting, Harry continues to talk to his daughter, “Y’know pet, we came here to shop for mumma for mother’s day. Y’always manage to get something out of it, hmm?”

“Mummy?” Ivy squawks, repeating her father’s word.

“Yes, mummy. I think she’s really going to like the necklace we picked out,” Harry taps at her nose, his eyes just read love and amazement for his little girl.

Kasey was dumbfounded.

This man had literally stormed into their offices yesterday, frustration seeping into his loud tone as he asked the room of employees if it was a lady's brunch club or a place of employment when he hadn’t gotten a report on his desk at a certain time.

They’d all stuttered and apologized but Harry had already slammed the door of his way out - the doorframe shaking. A nasty email being sent to their inboxes mere minutes later.

“Mr. Styles? We are out of two of the pairs,” The saleswoman appears and tells him, tablet now in hand.

Harry’s voice is calm but he looks her dead in the eye, “Do you not know how to ship them to a house? I don’t have time for this nonsense.”

She begins to apologize, pulling up a page of her tablet, “Your total comes to £6,309.45 for the shoes.”

Kasey’s eyes nearly pop from her head at the total but Harry merely blinks and states, “Charge it to my Amex on file.”

“Would you like me to add on the items you picked up downstairs? That would bring your total to £ 213,088.79. The necklace *** will be shipped within the next two weeks and will need to be signed for at your doorstep by an authorized person of your choosing, they’ll need to provide identification to certify their identity.”

“I need the necklace by next Sunday- it’s my daughter’s Mother’s Day gift to her mum - hence the pink diamonds,” Harry states to the woman like she’s stupid.

Did that woman just say that amount? And did Harry not even bat an eyelash at it.

Kasey’s brain couldn’t really comprehend it.

“Expedited shipping on this item would be…” Tracey looks down at her tablet and taps a few buttons, “It will be an extra £3,219 for expedited shipping as it’s coming from Swittzerland.”

Harry is distracted for a moment as Ivy is wriggling until Harry puts her down. Kasey didn’t see that he had a plush doll tucked in between his jeans and belt on his back.

“Baby doll,” Ivy pokes at her father’s thigh, too short to reach her toy.

Harry tugs it out and hands it to her, “Stay right here, Vee.”

Ivy unceremoniously plops on the ground next to her father’s leather boot while he confirms the purchases and signs off on them.

It was cute - the plush baby doll she was playing with was ratty, worn, and very visibly loved. It seems as if it’s been her favorite toy for a while.

After finishing up with Tracey, Kasey sees him slip her a few bills for her trouble and lugs Ivy back up onto his hip.

“Shake, daddy?” Ivy lisps hopefully, green eyes sparkling up at her father’s.

Harry lets out a chuckle, “No, baby. It’s only ten in the morning, y’can’t have a milkshake. Let go home, maybe mumma will make us some blueberry pancakes if we give her lots of kisses?”

“Mummy,” Ivy agrees happily, her plush held tightly against her chest.

“She’s going to love your gift, darlin’, even though y’the best gift we’ve ever got,” Harry murmurs lovingly, pressed a warm kiss to his daughter’s cheek.

Tom has wandered back to the shoe department, eyes unfortunately meeting his boss’ right away - widen with surprise.

Harry’s eyes narrow when he finds Tom staring, “Can I help y’mate?”

“Uh-no! Sorry, just, erm, I work for you?” Tom stutters stupidly at his annoyed employer who currently has his toddler trying to pulls his sunglasses off the top of his head.

“Then I’d recommend, if you’d like it to stay that way, you mind your own damn business,” Harry bites out with a warning tone, unnecessarily rude.

Ivy doesn’t seem bothered, delighted when she tugs the shades off his head and attempts to put them on. She begins huffing as she struggles and Harry gently takes them and slides them on for her.

Tom nods, still baffled, and scurries over to Kasey.

They both glance back when their boss isn’t looking. He hears him murmur softly, “Let’s go see mummy.”

“Pancakes?” Ivy chirps, looking at her dad for confirmation.

“Anythin’ for you, my little love,” Harry agrees, starting to walks to the elevator to the entrance of the store.

Tom and Kasey look at each other with unexplainable expressions as they watch their asshole of a boss clearly wrapped around a toddler’s finger.

—-

THE PARK

“Hi! Is anyone sitting here?” Savannah hears from beside her on the park bench.

She looks up to see a beautiful, young woman looking to be around her age looking at her expectantly. She has a backpack on her shoulders and a curly-haired toddler on her hip.

“Nope! You’re good!” Savannah replies kindly, moving over to make room on the bench for her to sit.

“Awesome, thank you. I’m Y/N and this is Ivy. Say ‘hi’,” Y/N prompts her daughter with a nudge.

Ivy puts on a beaming smile, white little blocky teeth on display, “Hi.”

“I’m Savannah and the little brunette boy in the green shirt is mine - his name’s Flynn.”

“Tell her how old you are, baby,” Y/N smiles, always trying to get her daughter to socialize as much as possible.

“Two!�� Ivy giggles before impatiently squirming, “Mummy, play.”

Y/N laughs, “Just as impatient as your father. Go on, stay where mumma can see you, please.”

Ivy nods before speeding off towards the little jungle-gym to automatically start playing with the little group of kids.

“I wish I had their energy,” Y/N sighs, tugging a water bottle out of her backpack.

Savannah was obsessed with everything gucci - even though she couldn’t afford anything - so when she spots the flashy bag, she can’t help but ask, “Is that a custom Gucci monogram multipack?”***

Y/N takes a sip before answering, “Yeah, my husband gave it to me as a gift on ‘national stay at home mum day’ - which I don’t even think is a real thing. He just knows I’ll chew him out if he buys me things like this without reason.”

They both laugh, Savannah can’t help but glance over the woman a little bit closer. She had a ratty, vintage tee on, plain black leggings, and a pair of black Nikes on - nothing that screamed over the top.

But then she spots the engagement ring *** on her finger. Savannah thought it looked so extravagant it almost looked fake. But the way the faucets reflect so magnificently in the sunshine makes her sure it’s real.

“What was that?” Savannah snaps back, realizing she hadn’t heard what Y/N was saying - too busy deciding how much money she had which wasn’t right when the girl was being so friendly.

“Oh, just - do you know any mum groups around here? I was in a group but all they liked to do was gossip and bitch. And I think Ivy heard the word ‘cunt’ one too many times from them.”

Savannah barks out a laugh, Y/N turns out to be extremely funny and friendly. She has a bit of a foul mouth and a quick wit but is a good listener.

“And so I said to the dude -“ Y/N cuts off when her phone rings, digging it out and answering, “Hi H, yeah. The one with the big purple slide, okay.”

When she hangs up, she tells her new friend, “My husband is stopping by really quick. He has a business dinner later and won’t see Ivy before her bedtime. Or me before my bedtime,” Y/N laughs.

“That’s so nice of him!” Savannah says, knowing her husband enjoyed when everyone was asleep by the time he came home. Would never go out of his way like Y/N’s husband would.

Y/N says with a smile in her eyes, “Yeah, he’s really good to us.”

They continue to chat until they hear a loud engine revving into the car park, Y/N rolls her eyes and mutters, “Of course, he brings the loudest car today.”

A vintage car swings into a spot and Savannah nearly gasps at who exits the car and begins to stride towards them. No one other than her boss.

The man who had her doing her job by the book and when one hair fell out of place he knew right away.

The man who she avoided at all cost possibly - taking the stairs so she doesn’t have to be in the elevator with his intimidating presence.

It took her a minute to connect the dots. Y/N was married to Harry? Harry was Ivy’s dad? It through her through a loop - Y/N was just - so nice.

But it does explain all the gucci and the massive diamond ring. She did happen to work for a fucking billionare. Y/N didn’t come off as a billionaire or a billionaire’s wife.

‘Holy shit, this is wild,’ Savannah thought.

Harry makes his way over to the bench, Y/N standing up to hug him. Harry kisses her softly with a large palm coming to slip under the back of her shirt to rub at her bare back.

Uh - this man was being loving and affectionate? Proving all Savannah's preconceived notions about him wrong. Mostly that he was a robot.

“Hi darlin’, have a good day?” Harry asks his wife, still holding onto her and tugging her into his side - looking to Ivy who was obliviously - playing on the swing.

“Mmm, don’t want you to go tonight,” Yn/Ngroans dramatically, squeaking when Harry playfully pinches her side.

“Tell me and I won’t go,” He murmurs with surprising sincerity against his wife’s cheek, smiling when Ivy lets out a loud, carefree giggle with her new friends.

“Oh! I’m being rude. This is Savannah, Savannah this is my husband Harry,” Y/N introduces the two, unknowing of their connection.

Savannah swallows harshly and gives him a timid wave, “Hello.”

Harry shows no recognition that he knows her but gives her a curt nod and rasps out a “hello.”

Y/N rolls his eyes at her husband, patting his toned stomach, “He’s always a little crabby after work,” She jokes as he smirks at her - he’s rarely ever crabby with his wife and they both know it.

After work? How about from the time he stepped foot through the lobby doors everyday? He only had one mode at work - crabby.

“It’s ok-“

“Daddy!” A squeal interrupts them, a blur of brunette curls crashing into her father’s legs - full force with excitement.

Harry is bending down and tucking her into his arms for a hug, “Hi baby, y’bein’ so good for mumma?”

His tone had shifted into a low, relaxed drawl that Savannah had never heard. His words are kind and caring towards his daughter.

“Good for mumma,” Ivy parrots her father, dimples popping as she pushes at Harry’s face when he attacks her with kisses.

“You taste so good I could eat yah!” Harry growls playfully, Ivy giggling delightedly at her fathers antics until her cheeks are flushed pink with laughter.

“Swings, daddy,” Ivy motions with green doe eyes. Grass and mud stains the outfit her mother had dressed her in - cute striped overalls with a white tee underneath *** and little sneakers ****.

“Oh dove, I wish I could. I have to go back to work,” Harry frowns, his thumb coming to caress her sweaty cheekbone.

Her brows furrowed and her full pink lips turned down - Savannah has to contain a laugh by how much she looks like her father with the displeased grimace on her face.

“No, no, Daddy,” Ivy argues adamantly, her eyes brimming with sad tears.

“Vee, c’mon, my love. I’ll be home later,” Harry soothes, starting to rock her from side to side to calm her.

But Ivy is in her terrible twos and doesn’t like the word ‘no.’

Y/N comes up to her husband’s side, tucking a hand into his back pocket to rest.

“Ivy Elizabeth, we need to let your father go. Come to mummy now, please,” Her mother asks in a soft but firm tone.

“No!” Ivy absolutely shrieks with a awfully high pitch, “No mummy, daddy swings!”

The couple shares a look before Y/N is gathering her backpack on her shoulder, looking back to Savannah, “Hey! Text me, it’s about nap time for this one.”

Savannah agrees and gives them both a wave off as Harry totes his tantruming toddler to a sleek, teal SUV. It takes her a moment to scoff internally - off course it’s a Bentley ***.

And because Savannah can’t help but be nosey she googles the price of the car and quickly locks her screen when she sees the base price is £ 210,000.

Harry is planting little pecks on his daughter’s face and murmuring to her until her tears have dried up and she’s laughing at her dad once again.

After Harry straps her into the car seat and shuts the door, he gently pushes his wife back against it. His body is crowding hers, arm over her shoulder against the car.

The talk for a moment before Harry’s ducking down to pull a few kisses from her lips before she’s giggling and pushing him off.

Savannah couldn’t wait to tell the old women at in her customer relations department tomorrow.

—

THE GAME

Cassie didn’t mind Harry actually. She made his coffee nearly every morning and she secretly knew he was the one who left those hefty tips.

She’d fumbled over his orders a few times when she’d started and apologized profusely but Harry had just looked up from his phone and said, “S’fine.”

Yeah, that’s not much but compared to some of the horror stories she hears, but she was grateful for another reason.

—-

One day he had found her crying in a empty corridor that he used to walk to his car at the end of his day.

“Y’alright?” Her boss asks gruffly, pausing to look down at her - no clear emotion on his face.

Cassie nods sheepishly, “M’sorry, I’m just really stressed out.”

Harry’s eyes flash a tad darker, “Is Carole giving you trouble?”

Carole was her manager.

“N-no. I got declined for my school financial aid. If I don’t come up with the money I’ll have to drop out. I-I have a son and I do-don’t have the money to go without help.”

Harry doesn’t say anything, rustling into the inner pocket of his suit and fishing out something - a checkbook.

He clicks the pen and moves his hand quickly across the pad before ripping it out and handing it to her, “Good luck and use the extra on your family. Don’t go spreading it around that I did this.”

Cassie goes to thank him or refuse it but when she looks back up from the check he’s already striding away down the hallway away from her.

She lets out a loud sob as she sees a check written for £150,000 right in front of her.

—

Cassie still works at the Starbucks part-time while attending college with the help of her secretly kind boss.

The extra money she’s stowed away in an education fund for her son after he graduates.

Anyways, she was at Man U football game that she got invited to with her boyfriend - Jacob. His dad won tickets for box seats from his work in a raffle.

Cassie soon realized that their box was right by the Styles Media and Marketing one. The way they were placed, she could see right into their area.

It was just Harry and a woman in there.

They were obviously a couple and this was the Cruella Deville. Cassie didn’t refer to her as that as she had a bit of a different perspective of the man.

His wife was sipping on a water bottle and cheering loudly with the rest of the fans. Harry watched her with amusement at her excited behavior, at one point pulling his photo out and snapping a picture of her.

When the exciting bit is over, she seats herself on his lap and wriggles until her back is against his chest - comfortable and cozy.

His large palm comes to cup at her stomach, Cassie now seeing that she is clearly pregnant as he cradles the noticeable bump protectively.

For most of the game, his hand never leaves her belly - rubbing circles with his thumb. His head came to rest on her shoulder to watch the game.

They seem so happy together - giggling and talking animatedly throughout. His wife constantly tilting her head back with her lips puckered requesting kisses that Harry happily supplies each time.

At one point, Cassie witnesses Y/N eat two huge corndogs in a row while her husband watches her with humor in his eye. Then goes on to order her a massive spool of candy floss that he feeds her throughout the game.

It was a late game and it was now in overtime. The clock reads nearly eleven at night. Harry’s wife has dozed off against his shoulder and when he notices he gently rouses her.

As she blinks her eyes open, Harry shucks his jacket of his shoulder and helped her slip it on. They must decide to call it a night because he’s helping her up, wrapping an arm around her shoulder, and guiding her out of the box.

Cassie never tells anyone that she saw him that night or what he did to help her family.

The End.

Hope you bubbbies enjoyed. Send me requests for this verse. Smut is up next for this trope.

2K notes · View notes

citrinesparkles · 3 years

Text

cat part two.

jason todd, eventually x gender neutral reader. 1,052 words. notes: part one here! (edit: part three here!) jason's having a really long night, okay. kids and crooks are one thing. cats are another. warnings: food is sort of discussed?

honestly? he felt a little stupid thinking anything was strange at this point, given the whole 'been dead done that' thing, but even he had to admit that running around cradling a jacket full of too-thin cat felt a little odd.

he'd walked the kids home, hearing the whole way about how clever and sweet cat was and how it liked tuna and chicken but do not give it turkey because it will walk away without eating and their mom said that onion was bad for cats, so none of that either.

when they made it to their apartment building, jordan ran upstairs and gathered up the last of their tuna leftovers in a little plastic baggie, bringing it back with another 'thank you' and a joke about finding a different park. then he'd scooped jazz up and disappeared back inside. jason caught something about sesame street reruns- which, if he was being honest, sounded pretty good right about then.

he took off with cat wrapped up neatly, tucked carefully against his chest.

and it meowed the entire way up to the convenience store three streets over.

it didn't seem to want to stop meowing inside the store, either, immediately catching the attention of the worker behind the counter.

"do you guys carry- uh," he adjusted cat carefully, "cat food?"

her eyes were bouncing between him and the bundle of yelling, and he was really starting to feel the absurdity of the whole situation.

"uh-"

she was interrupted by a particularly indignant meow that made him groan and hold the jacket out to look the cat in the eye.

"what do you want, huh?" he asked tiredly. "i'm doing my best here."

it meowed again.

"is... that your cat?" the cashier asked quietly.

"no." another meow. "but it is my problem."

"o-kay," she stood up and made her way around the counter, giving jason plenty of space as she passed him. "what kind of cat food?"

"the kind that will get this thing to stop screaming at me."

"have you tried, y'know, not calling it 'it' and 'thing'?"

"listen- i've had a long night, okay?" he pulled cat back to his chest- met with yet another meow- and tucked it into one arm, dropping the other hand to dig into his pocket. he emptied it, glancing down at the contents briefly before putting it on the counter. "i've got twenty five bucks and a wendy's coupon, a cat that somehow became my responsibility and just will not shut up, and- as i'm sure you'll be able to relate to, considering your customer service job- a desperate need for a nap that is growing by the second. will you, please, get me whatever cat stuff you can sell me and let me worry about what to call it?"

she leaned back around the endcap, raising her hands in mock surrender. "whatever, bat guy."

"bat guy?" he repeated incredulously.

she nodded at his chest, making him rolled his eyes. "the name's red hood."

she stared at him for a moment, squinting at his head. "that's not a-"

"i know! i know it's not a hood! why does everyone feel the need to point that out tonight! it's- it's symbolic!"

she scoffed, disappearing back down the row of merchandise. "symbolic of what, your childhood dreams of becoming a racecar driver?"

"you'll forgive me for not giving you my whole tragic backstory in the middle of a corner store at three in the morning while cat is still screaming?"

he heard rustling, and the sound of tin hitting tin. "did you just call it cat?"

he took a deep, slow breath and squinted up at the ceiling tiles. "are you really back to giving me shit about it?"

"yeah. that's not a name."

"it's not my cat, so i don't care. besides, you're one to talk- shouldn't you have a nametag on or something?"

"i used to. it got buried somewhere." she reappeared, arms full of cans. "you're so good at names, why don't you come up with something? cashier has a nice ring to it."

"very clever."

she nodded smugly with a barely noticeable eyeroll, turning towards the back room. "i do that sometimes. look, wait here, okay?

"i don't really have time-"

"i gotta get my manager, okay. trust me on this. two minutes, tops."

she was gone before he could respond, ducking into a back room with the cat food.

he reluctantly decided to give her sixty seconds before he just left and hoped the tuna from jordan would be good enough.

she came back with an older woman in tow about forty five seconds in, which was more frustrating than relieving.

he just wanted to be home.

"you were serious," the older woman muttered incredulously, staring at him before zeroing in on the bundle in jason's arms- which meowed immediately, as though it felt her gaze. "this isn't your cat?"

"no. it is not my cat. can i just get my-"

"do you have a litter box?"

oh, duh. "no."

she nodded thoughtfully. "how much did you say you have?"

"twenty five. look, not to be rude, but can we hurry this up? i have somewhere to be."

"twenty five," she repeated, leaning over the counter. "alright. run and grab a box and some litter for him, and-" she turned back to him- "are you on foot?"

this was getting ridiculous. "how does that-"

"one of those pool bags, too, the one with the long strap."

it took about five minutes for the two women to pack the bag full of a plastic bin, a box of litter, like twenty cans of food, and three different toys, before passing it- and his money- to him.

"you helped tony up the street last week, didn't you?" the manager grinned at his protests. "call it even."

if the money ended up on the counter anyway, that wasn't any of her business, he figured.

"alright, cat," he muttered as he shuffled through the window awkwardly, "we gotta be quiet."

which, obviously, earned a loud meow.

he sighed and slid the window back down with his elbow, balancing cat and the large bag in the other arm.

"so," your sweet, entirely-too-awake, way-too-amused voice called behind him, "your jacket meows now?"

so much for being quiet.

#citrine writes #jason todd #dc #imagines #jason todd imagine #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd x y/n #dc imagines #dc imagine #if you saw the draft that got posted #no the devil you did not <3 #thanks :)#i feel like im forgetting tags #oh well

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alienaiver · 3 years

Text

Half the Battle, pt. 1

Kuroo Tetsurou x gn!reader

find part two here!

warnings: slight angst about childhood/parents fighting/divorce, one (1) bottle of wine is opened, someone is betrayed in Mario Party, NOT beta-read! apologize for any mistakes! (lmk if there’s any warnings i missed!)

wordcount: 5.5k

content: soulmate AU, mild angst, fluff, post-timeskip but slight canon divergence (i haven’t read the manga yet so this is loosely based off of their canon timeskip lives), gender neutral reader, reader is a video editor, reader is bad at eye contact but the details as to why are vague/up for interpretation!

notes: this was made for @gg9183 ‘s wonderful birthday event, a soulmate collab! (go read the other wonderful works!) happy birthday once again, gray!! this was meant to be a 2k one shot but.... plans and inspiration changes sometimes, right? 🥺 so this ended up as a 5k part ONE lmfao i hope thats alright w u!!! part2 will be up asap, i promise!! i hope you enjoy this!!!!

—————————

Not meeting his soulmate was fine, Kuroo often found himself thinking. The odds of finding your soulmate’s way too low to be realistic anyways, he supported the thought. It’s illogical to spend so much time fretting about it, he finally added for good measure.

Soulmates were a natural part of life, always had been. But with the big wide world filled with over seven billion people, meeting yours wasn’t completely unheard of. But given the powers of soulmates even existing, it wasn’t unrealistic to also believe that some kind of fate would pull you towards each other throughout your lives so that you would meet each other. Kuroo however, prided himself in not caring about soulmates. His life was rich enough. People explaining their feelings about “something being missing until they finally meet them” was incomprehensible to him.

Kuroo had lived for 29 years without being able to see color. And you know what? His life was damn well fulfilling enough. He had a beautiful apartment, an economy that flourished, an adorable cat named Cucumber and good people around him. What would he really need a soulmate for? He could ignore his friends comments on how wonderful the world was in color, if only he would just start looking for his soulmate, how much meaning it gave life. Just because the people in his closest circle had all magically met theirs – not to mention how many of them had already met in Goddamn high school, Kuroo scoffed and was always able to move on.

Even though a lot of people actively made eye contact with everyone they met, even people on the street, to make sure they would meet their soulmate, Kuroo kept his eyes down. He wasn’t insecure, come on, he was perfectly happy! He just didn’t need to be late for a meeting because he got eye contact with some stranger, you know?

His life was in perfect balance as is.. Until yesterday, of course. It had turned out there was mold in his apartment complex so they had to evict it for a month while a crew would go through everything to remove it. He didn’t want to go to his mother’s place, that was too far from his work, but he wasn’t in the mood for a hotel, that was way too expensive, so he turned to his best friend of many years with the biggest set of puppy eyes he could muster and the prospect of making every dinner while he lived there.

“Fine… but don’t get in the way,” was all Kenma had to say.

And so Kuroo spent his last weekend in his own apartment packing things down to make it accessible to the cleaning crew. Cucumber hated other cats with a passion so he couldn’t bring him to Kenma’s, where three cats already happily lived, so his mother would pick him up tomorrow afternoon.

He sat on his couch, scrolling his phone mindlessly with Cucumber on his lap who had been stressed with all the packing down, sensing something was up. He was being extra cuddly towards Kuroo who, honestly? Didn’t mind at all. He loved when Cucumber was in mood for cuddles, though it wasn’t very often. He had been told his cat was orange and while he didn’t have a measure for what that color actually looked like, he was happy with his gray cat.

His mother was supposed to arrive any minute now, so he should have gotten up and put the cat in his carrier but it was easier to get him in it if you had two pair of hands. He scrolled through Instagram, reaching a photo put up by Tsukishima of his soulmate, the light-haired manager of their high school volleyball club, with a tooth-eating grin on her face and proudly showing off a ring on her finger, the caption said, This smile makes me wanna brag. Kuroo could physically hear the provocative tone of his voice, knowing he was one of the first in his circle of friends to actually plan a wedding. Kuroo clicked his tongue with a smile on his face and double-tapped to like the picture.

He didn’t know if it was the combination of that post and the fact that his mother was on her way but memories of his parent’s wedding flooded his mind. For a lot of people, weddings felt obsolete in the face of the whole “you already got your soulmate and you know this” thing, so a lot of couples were happy not getting married but just being together. But there was also the benefits of marriage in the practical sense, so some people did anyways, some hosting parties, some not. His parents weren’t married when he came to, but after he turned five they decided to do it so he would be protected by both of them, in case of any emergency.

It had been a small wedding, only the closest family and friends but Kuroo was vivid, so excited about being part of that whole romantic ordeal, even helping his mom find a dress and everything. He had been a huge and important part of the wedding – if he did say so himself. Everyone had been glowing at the day, the food was delicious, there was laughter, song and cheers and everyone had brought so many presents – even some for little Tetsurou, who had been very excited about his new train tracks.

But when Kuroo was seven years old, it wasn’t as romantic anymore. His parents were fighting a lot, he wasn’t entirely sure why or about what because they would never tell him about it, no matter how much he asked. When he tried to listen in, the words he heard didn’t explain anything to him because even though they were yelling at each other, the important words were always whispered, as if they knew Kuroo was listening in.

When he was eight his mom had come into his room, hugged him and with tears in her eyes and said that they were going to move away.

“Where are we going?” he asked simply, no emotion to be read on his little face. He was exhausted from his parents being this way – they were soulmates, right? Why did they fight like that?

“To Tokyo, just you and me, my love.”

That’s when he met Kenma. He had been very closed-off and shy back when they met, he reminisced. He had been a regular kid when he was younger but the way his parents split up – his soulmate parents – had closed him off pretty bad, so it was a miracle he met Kenma and started opening up again.

Kuroo smiled to himself bitterly before scratching Cucumber’s ear. He supposed this was also why he wasn’t interested in his soulmate. So many people had romanticized the whole soulmate ideal so a lot of people forgot that relationships still took work, took effort and just because they were made for each other, didn’t necessarily guarantee that they would stay together. His mom and dad didn’t officially talk anymore, but when he asked his mom as a child whether or not she still saw color, she said that she did. He also found long letters in her bedroom when he was nine, letters from his dad, so he supposed they still talked together, though Kuroo wasn’t let in on it – nor was he particularly interested. And he definitely we wasn’t interested in ending up in a relationship with someone who would end up not wanting to put in the effort for the relationship to flourish.

After Cucumber had been picked up by his mom it was time to leave for Kenma’s place. He carried the last boxes of valuables down to his basement and locked them in before trekking down to the subway with his suitcase and sports bag.

_____

You were late for work, so you scrambled to pack your things. It was Wednesday afternoon and you were supposed to meet in at 3PM, because that was around the time that Kodzuken had planned to finish his recording, he told you yesterday. You were a video editor and had met Kenma through your old part-time job in his favorite convenience store quite a few years back, back when he had first bought his house when he was 24. You remembered talking to him about video games in the store since you also played some, and after a good while of polite customer service and talk about new games, you had started hanging out outside of work as well. When you had then told him you were actually a freelance video editor but just didn’t get many jobs, he had almost instantly hired you to do his YouTube videos for him and general editing and set-ups of his streams. I know video games, not recording equipment, he had told you so many years ago.

Your original thought had been wary, because working for a friend might get messy but Kenma cared a lot about keeping it professional when you were on the clock, which you appreciated very much. In his house, down by his game room, there was a room next door with screens and all the best editing software just for you to play with. Your pay was higher than average for such a “simple” but regular gig but when prompted about it, he simply shrugged and told you it wasn’t up for negotiation and no one was being treated unfair – and who were you to go against such a good pay for a job that you loved doing and wanted to do full-time? With Kenma being a famous streamer and gamer, he often made lots of different videos for various sites so your job hours resembled a nine to five job, easy, even if the hours were off from the more conventional jobs and you usually came in later in the day and sometimes finished off late in the evening – some of his videos had a time limit for a release date of a game, so there was also days where you were extremely busy and scrambling to get the video done right for a release of a game.

As you closed your bag and ran out the door towards the subway, you checked your phone for any updates. If he’d finished early, he would’ve texted you about it, so you put your phone in your pocket and hurried towards his house.

When you arrived you immediately rang the doorbell before catching your breath, you were used to Kenma spending a few minutes before reaching the door and opening it, so when the door opened almost instantly you took a step back before looking up. The one opening the door was taller than Kenma and in a loose dress shirt that was unbuttoned at the top - that’s all you saw before your eyes darted down to your feet.

“...Hi! I’m uh… Where’s Kenma?” was all you got out while fidgeting with your purse strap, it certainly wasn’t his boyfriend Hinata opening the door today.

“Oh, hey! You must be his video editor, right? He told me about you!” The man said, pointing to himself with his thumb,

“I’m Kuroo Tetsurou! Kenma’s childhood friend! Sorry to intrude, I’ll be living here for the next month, I promise not to get in your way!” As he finished his introduction, he moved aside so that you could enter. As you took off your shoes you heard Kenma’s feet shuffling towards you, “oh hey, welcome, you’re early,” Kenma said with his usual deadpan expression but you could clearly hear the teasing in his voice.

“At least I’m here now, right?” You smiled back, instantly relaxing at the sight of your boss and friend. You turned to Kuroo again, bowed and introduced yourself before taking off your coat and putting it on a hanger, while Kenma and the guy named Kuroo seemed to bicker a bit about whether or not Kuroo should answer the door while he lived there.

“I’ll go set it up, have you transferred the video files to the hard disk?” you asked Kenma as you moved towards ‘your’ office, sending Kuroo a polite smile while keeping your eyes on his neck.

Eye contact was hard for you, it always made you extremely uncomfortable and you didn’t really have any before you felt comfortable with the person. Your mother had often scolded you, saying you’d never find your soulmate at this rate, which you always acknowledged with a hum or a simple yes without starting a discussion.

You honestly weren’t sure whether or not you cared for a soulmate. Your biggest argument to wanting to find one was so that you could see colors, because it’d help your career. Kenma already had his soulmate, so he was the one deciding the color scheme for his videos and helped with the color-related editing, which worked fine as of now, but you would probably appreciate to be able to do it yourself. You had also spent some years coming to terms with your struggles with eye contact and accept that this was just how you functioned. If you missed your soulmate in a random supermarket thanks to it one day, well, you’d be none the wiser, so you felt sure you’d survive without one, but you also couldn’t deny that the sound of a soulmate sounded really nice and comforting. That someone out there existed to fit you, that you were born to love someone who was also meant to love you. You were sure that finding your soulmate wasn’t a dance on roses, it was sure to still be hard, frustrating and maybe even painful sometimes, but you also couldn’t just have all the good, there was a balance that was sure to exist within soulmates as well.

After hours of going through the raw footage from his video game play and slowly editing while watching it, you popped your shoulders and stretched your arms for a moment, yawning as you did so. Your hours were always a bit intense, but that couldn’t be helped when you had six hours of raw footage to work with. Looking at the clock you saw that it was 5.30PM which meant that soon Kenma would wake up from his pseudo-sleep (which was more like a nap in your opinion) to look at your process and ask what you wanted for dinner.

Soon after a soft knock was heard followed by the door opening slowly, Kenma standing in sweats and a hoodie with bags under his eyes, “do you like hotpot?” he asked, and you smiled at him, “sure, are you cooking tonight?” he yawned while he shook his head, “Kuroo is. He insists on a ‘fulfilling meal’, whatever that means.”

You giggled before beckoning Kenma in to see some of what you’ve done so far and making minor adjustments along the way. “Now, something smells delicious and I’m thirsty,” you stated after the two of you had talked a bit about the rest of the video’s plans. As you went towards the kitchen you could hear the sound of of a nameless tune being hummed, pans sizzling from something being cooked and kitchen utensils being used.

Inside, the table was already set with plates and prepared ingredients lying ready for the pot that Kuroo was just about to put on the table. It seemed he had made an endless supply of different side dishes and really put in a lot of work for it, so you looked really forward to eating it and it smelled delicious. You grabbed a glass from the set table and went to the sink to get some water and just as your hand reached it, Kuroo had extended his hand as well to the sink and you accidentally touched.

You both recoiled as if you had been burned and you couldn’t stop the gasp that accidentally left your lips. A feeling was rushing through your body you hadn’t experienced before and you immediately apologized to Kuroo and went back to the table, foregoing the water. You didn’t notice how Kuroo was frozen in place from when he touched you before Kenma called out to him and he immediately started moving again.

You ended up eating shortly after, Kuroo serving the food and talking animatedly about him and Kenma’s childhood, making you laugh quite a bit at their (or more, Kuroo’s) antics and their volleyball days. Kuroo was the type of person to make you relax in his presence and have fun which you didn’t even notice until you got home later that evening and really thought about what a great time you had had. You found yourself surprised by how easily you clicked with Kuroo, a total stranger. It must be his charm, you thought to yourself before going through your night routine. You had to come back tomorrow and finish work, after all. You estimated the video would take you a few more days to finish but that would end up fitting well with the weekend coming, so as you went to bed you felt yourself more relaxed than you had in a while.

_____

“What are they like?”

It was Friday and it seemed you had finished Kenma’s video and therefor you weren’t here for dinner – for the first time in a few days, which did let down Kuroo just a tiny bit. He had talked a lot with you during dinner preparations when you came out from the office and during dinner as well and while you did answer all his questions (which, he admitted, there were quite a few of them) and follow up with your own for him, it still felt… off… talking to you – and Kuroo didn’t like not knowing why. “What do you mean?” Kenma asked, taking another bite into his mouth.

Kenma swallowed a piece of meat before looking up at Kuroo who was stabbing his plate with his fork in what seemed like a useless purpose. He knew he was being a little weird but meeting you was weird, even though he had no reason to explain why.

“I mean, is this how they usually act?” He didn’t even know what that question meant or why he was even asking it, nothing made sense! But he had a desperate feeling that he needed to get to know you – he was afraid of what that implied and what suspicions he needed to hold onto, but he was sure it was his gut telling him you were dangerous for Kenma to be around – that had to be it! Kenma was his best friend, his childhood friend, it had to be a gut feeling meant to protect him!

“Who knows, they’re being more polite than usual, I think. But that makes sense,” Kenma replied calmly before adding, “I mean you are a stranger who’s really intent on being social with them over our dinners, they were a bit shy as well when I met them,”

Kuroo nodded and finally took a bite of his own food. He didn’t notice Kenma’s raised eyebrows or the questioning look that was sent his way, so Kenma decided to let the subject rest.

Not seeing you today felt weird to him too and he couldn’t help the irritation building up inside him – you had just met a few days ago and only in the evenings when he was done with work and ready to make dinner – and yet, the thought of you kept invading his mind. He had gotten through work today thinking you were going to be there for dinner so when he came home and found out you wouldn’t be there, the first seed of irritation had been planted – why was he suddenly looking so much forward to seeing you? Had it been like this yesterday too? Why was it suddenly important that you weren’t there? He ended up sitting in front of the laptop in the guest room for the rest of the evening, the document left open and completely untouched.

Kuroo, however, didn’t let the subject rest in his head for the rest of that evening. Hinata was in town, having time off after a big game yesterday so Kuroo was left to his own devices – which really wasn’t a problem considering he had to make the paperwork for a promotional deal for a meeting Monday morning that he had procrastinated making – which wasn’t like him at all, he usually never pushed assignments to last minute and he then realized the reason he wasn’t done yet was because he had spent so much time over the dinner table with Kenma and you, talking even after dinner had been done for a while. You always offered to help him with the clean-up so you also spent some time talking there, drifting off to various subjects far passing the cleaning duties and sitting down again with a glass of water.

He enjoyed your company, it felt... easy, somehow, the sensation that something was off was there but it didn’t really settle in his stomach until every time after you left, as if it was left to grow a bit from a small sensation to a problem, which worried him – Kuroo prided himself as an impeccable people-reader, he was captain for both the volleyball team in high school and college, he knew how to act around business relations so well because he could read them so flawlessly – so the feelings he got from you was unsettling and unreadable and it took some control away from him – and Kuroo always felt uneasy when he wasn’t in control.

____

Kuroo heard your name and almost got whiplash from how fast his head moved towards Kenma, “what?”

“I asked if we should invite them? To game night? Being three is a little annoying in Mario Party.”

“Oooh, that’s a good idea! I’d love to see them again!” Hinata happily exclaimed before taking another bite of the lasagna Kuroo had prepared tonight. It was Saturday and Kuroo had been in a daze the entire day, first at the office for a quick meeting with his boss about a potential partner he might be able to reel in soon and then doing his laundry at Kenma’s and continuing to try and make the stupid paperwork but ultimately failing before he had to make dinner.

“Isn’t it a bit late to invite someone? I mean, they could have plans already...” Kuroo tried, knowing what a pain it could be to be asked to something an hour before it happened and he didn’t want to let you go through that – that’s what he tried to tell himself, at least. In truth? He was a bit afraid of seeing you again, afraid of his potential reactions, since he had spent his entire Friday in a stupor just thinking about you. His thoughts didn’t mean much for Kenma and Hinata though, who was already texting you to ask. “Oi, no phones at the table, have you parents taught you no manners?” Kuroo chided and Hinata immediately shrank back and apologized – Kuroo smirked, yea the Chibi-chan still had respect for his seniors. But he was quickly pulled back to thoughts about you by Kenma’s phone lighting up again, “they’ll be here in an hour. They’re asking if they should bring anything?” Kenma looked up to gauge Kuroo’s reaction, having noticed something about his friend had been off the past few days. He immediately made a funny grimace before turning it into a smile. “Yea, they can bring a bottle of white wine, if I have to beat you all at Mario Party, I would very much like to be a tiny bit buzzed,” Kuroo said, and Hinata looked at him with wide eyes, “you drink wine!? So grown up!” Hinata exclaimed, to which Kenma just muttered, “or just an old man…” Kuroo didn’t hear that though, too busy to fidget with his hands under the table, suddenly feeling nervous that you were showing up.

Hinata plopped down between Kuroo and you with a controller in hand, “I’m gonna beat you all in this Mario Kart!” to which you laughed loudly, “good luck since we’re playing Mario Party.”

“Huh? Is there a difference?” Hinata asked, making Kuroo belt out a loud laugh as well, holding his stomach, “you just told us you’d beat us but you don’t even know what we’re playing!” Kuroo couldn’t contain his laughter for a bit until he noticed how you were looking at him and instantly retracted his laugh, sitting up straight with a cough, and apologizing for being loud, which confused him to no end. He had never been self-conscious of his own laugh! He knew it could be obnoxious and loud, but he also liked it himself, and-

“That’s a really cute laugh.”

The comment earned you the stares of the century from the three other people in the room, with Kenma in genuine shock – he wouldn’t say he disliked Kuroo’s laugh, just that it was… special.

“Uhm… Uh. Thank you?” Kuroo could feel that his blush went all the way to his ears but he hoped that the light in the living room wasn’t bright enough to catch it. “Yeah uh! Sure! Mhm,” you awkwardly coughed a bit as well before reaching for your glass of wine.

You had brought a bottle of white wine for Kuroo on the promise that you’d get a glass too, saying he was your first friend who also liked wine. The word ‘friend’ had dumb-founded him and he’d just answered “you can have it all,” to which you had laughed and said it’s fine with half, you weirdo.

The game was about to begin but Kuroo was still sitting stuck on the fact that his laugh was cute – cute? Had anyone else found it cute before besides Bokuto and his mom? He wasn’t sure – he sure couldn’t pinpoint them right now anyways. He tried to shake it off and focus on the game, though quite a bit of time was spent explaining the rules to Hinata who apparently had thought they were just playing Mario Kart.

When you were 12 laps into it, it seemed that you were set to win with your four stars and 121 coins. Kenma was right behind you with three stars and Hinata and Kuroo had been left in the dust with zero stars. You had stolen Kuroo’s first (and only) star early in the game, so he was plotting his vengeance in quiet but was getting afraid that the game would end before he could do anything to you – but just as his hopes were at the smallest during the last round of the game, you were put in the same team as him in the last mini game.

Kuroo had a wide smirk when you cheered and said, “this’ll be easy then!” because no, it would not be easy for you. If he had to go down in order to take you down a notch, then so be it. He’d rather Kenma win than you did with stolen goods!

The last mini game was “Tow the Line” where two players were put in a sewing box shaped with nine dots as a grid and two players tied together with a string and the objective was to make the shape with the string as shown in the middle of screen. As soon as the whistle sounded, Kuroo lowered his hands and stopped using his controllers, all with a big grin on his lips.

“Kuroo, what the fuck! Get moving, we’ve started!” you yelled at him as Kenma and Hinata won the first round, signaling the next round began, Kuroo started whistling and looking away from the screen, to which you got up from your seat, “fine, I’ll just take your controller and do it myself!”

Kuroo put his arm with the controller behind him, “nah-ah-ah! You’re not winning this, fiend! That’s what you get for stealing my star!” He grinned up at you with his eyes closed as you stood with your hands on your hips, “come on man! I stole that star in the fourth round! Kenma stole a star from me as well!” you tried, “maybe he stole the one that was yours, who knows! Get over it so we can win!”

But as soon as you’d said that, the third round had just been won and you sighed and flopped down on your seat again, “not cool Kuroo, not cool. I’ll remember this!”

You both laughed as the game made ready to announce the winner, Kenma and Hinata entertained by your antics.

“You can’t avenge something that I avenged in the first place! I only did it because you did me wrong, you know!”

“You can’t use logic on me, it doesn’t apply!”

To no surprise, you won the entire game, even winning one of the two bonus stars given at the end of the game.

After the last sequence and a bow from you there was a quick break before you decided to play some Mario Kart for Hinata’s sake, since his argument was that he lost due it being Party instead. You played quite a few hours and after another toilet break you had switched places with Hinata so Kenma could cuddle up against him. You yawned, drinking the last of the wine in your glass and said, “I should head home, I have a friend coming over for lunch tomorrow.”

Hinata and Kenma both started to get up to say goodnight but you waved at them with a smile, “I can walk out myself, it’s fine!” But Kuroo had already gotten up from the couch as well, so you walked with him towards the hallway where you put on your shoes. There was a comfortable silence between the two of you, which Kuroo noted and scowled a bit - he might have only known you for less than a week but for some reason he felt like it had been a lot longer, like you were old friends – it felt strange, to be so close with a stranger. He didn’t know anything about you, really. He knew your name, your job and how you liked some of your vegetables and which meat was your favorite, he knew you also loved cats but didn’t have one (he couldn’t remember if he knew why) and he felt pretty sure he would recognize you in a crowded area – why it was so intense, he was unsure of, he hadn’t tried meeting someone this way before. It had also seemed like having this game night had made you considerably more relaxed in his presence, even joking around with him instead of being polite, which made Kuroo somewhat giddy, though it didn’t really make sense to him as to why.

“I hope you had fun,” Kuroo said awkwardly, as if he had been the host and scratched the back of his head.

“Yeah, I did! I’m sorry I stole your star, though,” you laughed, buttoning your jacket.

“Nah, no worries, as they say, all’s fair in love and war, right?”

You giggled and picked up your bag from the dresser while Kuroo opened up the door for you. As you exited, you turned around with a bright smile, “well, thanks for toni-”

Everything ended up a blur, too bright, too much, too noisy, too… colorful? Kuroo was still looking into your eyes as all that went through him, completely blindsided. As he took a proper look, he could see that you looked just as surprised as him, your eyes wide but still never leaving his either.

“Is… Is this? Are you? Is…” You asked after what felt like both days and milliseconds, I could stare at them so much longer, he thought to himself, the colors only making your face more clear to him. Had you really not had eye contact at all? Had you seen each other for several hours – more than a few times, without looking each other in the eyes at all? Kuroo was more baffled by this happening so late than the fact that it was happening.

He was about to say something, anything, when you promptly turned around, nervously yelling, “I-I uh, I gotta go! Goodbye!” as you hurried out of the driveway and down towards the subway.

“W-wait!” Kuroo belatedly and unhelpfully yelled out as you turned a corner, too late. You were gone. A hand was dragged down his face as a sigh left him, what the fuck had just happened? He obviously needed to talk to you about this, but he also needed to gather his thoughts about all of this, so he slowly closed the door and went back towards the living room, greeted by Hinata and Kenma who looked up at him curiously, “why did you yell?” Hinata asked with his head tilted.

“I think I just found my soulmate.”

#haikyuu!!#kuroo tetsurou x you #kuroo tetsurou x reader #hq x reader #waaaaah im so nervous about this!!!! i basically cranked it out in less than 24hrs ngl.... i had 1.5k of beautiful words before i came u #P WITH A WHOLE OTHER PLOT!!!! :-)#if any of u get the ref of the title i love u and we need to play mp together lmao <33333 #also kenhina and tsukiyachi is mentioned!#both reader and kuroo r A MESS #stay tuned for part 2!!!!!!#nohr.writing #half the battle series #im gonna dig a hole real quick to hide in hehehe #honestly im not sure this is entirely coherent i had so much.... i wanted to force into it im afraid some of it feels out of place but!!!#here we go!! face the fear lmao!!!!

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abizarreyodelingincident · 3 years

Text

Our Nightly Confidant 9

Lightest before Dusk

Her dresses flutter as she strides into her throne room. The hushed whispers die down at her entrance, her courtiers startled and her guards standing at attention.

When they had mentioned a tear in space, Zelda's heartbeat had picked up. There were only so many explanations, and some of her agents had already confirmed that they felt no hostile power in the spell. Was her Hero back? He'd been gone for weeks now. It seemed only right that he returned to her sooner than later.

(She forbid herself the thought that it might have been-)

But on her way, another servant had come to greet them. Link. Link had returned. And so she had entered with her queenly mask in place and her thoughts light.

A few of the heroes still groan as they try to get back their bearings. By the looks of surprise, it might not have been a very graceful landing. Her people shuffle about, nervous by the presence of armed strangers, and those that recognize Link amongst them... stiffen. She makes a mental note of their faces and allegiances, for later review.

The hero with the blue scarf notices her first, and he goes on one knee with a smooth, practiced motion. A knight, that one, she immediately knows.

The rest imitates the motion or pay her respect in whatever custom their era holds. The youngest is amusingly the stiffest, his eyes not on her but the knight. A touching bond, she imagines.

With pose, she greets them all, until Link's nearest companion – scarred, a little younger, naturally sticking close to Link in the middle of a crowd – seems to realize that she is Queen over Link. His expression turns from respectful to impish, mischievous and far too triumphant.

Link cringes as if he realizes exactly what goes through that one's mind.

… And he put that one's neck in a sidehold, trying to stifle the barks of laughter without much success.

“Oh, hey, your majesty, did you know what Twi sa-?”

Link's hand slaps on top of the exuberant one's mouth. A tad desperate for his silence, and though she knows no words her Hero had spoken would be truly damaging, she cannot resist the urge to tease him. With her best, coldest mask, she arches a single eyebrow. Link's face takes on a cherry red color, one she had yet to see from him.

Muffled and swallowed snickers abound from the group of heroes. Poor Link shushes them, and it is when the knightly one reminds them of her presence that they settle, somewhat. Link looks grateful, and a little torn. What relationship does he share with this hero? One of surface level friction, she muses, that cannot reach the core of their trust in one another.

Link schools his expression into a solemn look.

“My Queen,” he says, a hand over his chest and his head bowed.

“My Hero,” she replies, so perfectly even. “Have you travelled well?”

He has a dark glare for the scarred hero.

“It's been... an adventure.”

Yes, she pictures it nicely now. And part of her warms to the image of her Hero so well looked after.

“Is there need of my assistance for any of your companions, My Hero?”

Link pauses, then quickly glances back. “Right this second? No, we could use a moment to rest,” he says, and rolls his shoulder for show.

She allows herself a small smile.

“I bid you all welcome into the kingdom of Hyrule, brave heroes of time past and to come. Accommodations will be arranged for all of you tonight. Refreshments and food will be brought to you. You need only ask. The Royal Family does not forget the debt owed to its saviors.”

“We would be thankful for such generosity, My Queen,” he says, and the relief in the others is badly hidden.

She gestures for her guards to show them to chambers being prepared by some poor, rushing maids. Circumstances oblige. They'd be compensated in some way later. As the heroes move to obey, however, she raises her voice once more.

“My Hero, I would have you share some tea with me. We have much to discuss.”

A few of them misstep, and shoot Link curious glances.

The one-eyed soldier lifts an eyebrow.

But Link shakes his head at his commander. He lands a strong clap on the man's back and juts his chin at the exit. Silent words are exchanged without even a twitch, and, on cue, eight heroes leave the throne room through the front doors, led by an honor escort. Link, however, breaks the distance between them and offers a second bow.

“I am at your service.”

That you are, she thinks to herself. Her courtiers do not notice. Not the irony of her thoughts, nor the displeasure she must hide from them every other week.

They disappear together through the passage only the royal family may take, and together they climb the staircase to the highest point of the castle. Few members of her forces patrol the area, all of which pay her their respect, and try to hide some contempt for Link. It cements her plan in her mind.

She waits two heartbeats after the doors to her chambers close, then rushes into his arms.

“Zelda,” he whispers, at first, his arms strong around her, “it's not proper.”

She knows. Of course she knows. Many like to remind her. But queen she might be, she is also Hylian, and she missed him. Him and his lack of decorum, care for propriety. She never asked it of him. Not as themselves.

“Farore has blessed many of my court,” she replies, pulling away from him.

Tea and biscuits have been laid out at her orders, and she invites him to sit.

“To think they would still suggest you to be too lowly for any association with me.”

Link hums in his teacup. “They do say Farore loves her fools.”

Zelda shoots him a sharp look. “Do not insult yourself so.”

For all of a second, her knight looks sheepish. Then: “But...?” he asked, his fangs shining in the corner of his mouth.

She lets out a sigh. “But those people specifically are, indeed, fools.”

His chest rumbles with an unspoken hum, a melody from home. Ordon. Zelda has rarely visited, and not once in recent memory. For all Hyrule rules over Ordon, that province is marginal at best. Out of sight and out of mind to most her subjects, she knows. How ironic that the Golden Three would pick their Hero out of this forgotten corner of Hyrule. A reminder, it would seem, that none of her subjects deserve to be neglected. She took it seriously; she wonders more often than not if her nobles have.

Link does not speak right away. He samples the biscuits, always a little wary of food he cannot identify at a glance. A remnant of the life of the traveler, she had long guessed. But after the first bite, he nearly swallows the next two whole. They must have gone without rest for some time before the portal brought them to her. She is glad the kitchen had been forewarned to cater to their whims.

Her first sip of tea coats a floral flavor on her tongue. It is one of Link's favorites, and she can appreciate its subtle qualities beneath the light, almost perfume-like fragrances. She had not cared for it before, but now she is away from public eyes, she is quite famished herself.

Link looks at her like he knows, and it prompts her to, in more delicate words, play with him.

“The scarred, insolent one,” she starts, her tone neutral to hide her teasing, “he is the one the goddesses sent you to help, isn't he?”

Link pales a bit. “My Queen, he meant no-”

“Peace,” she says with a smile. “I care not, My Hero, for protocol beyond its use in social gatherings. Least of all for one I see dear to your heart.”

Reassured, Link relaxes, settling back into his seat with an equally tender smile. His eyes flit to her window, to the rolling clouds and the splatters of rain on the glass. So many tears from the heavens.

(They do not shatter two hearts.)

She banishes the thought. Her Hero is here, and followed by eight others across time and space. The very idea fascinates her. Makes her wish for time to speak with them and show them what records the kingdom has kept. The Chosen Hero, the Hero of Light, the Hero of Time. Hyrule only remembers so few, and there is temptation all on its own, to know that some may come from times yet to come.

But her desires do not weigh enough for the indulgence. Other matters are of greater import.

“Those heroes of legend. You trust them, then?”

“With my life.”

No pause. No consideration. Yes, she had thought as much. If no one else, Heroes of Courage could only be trustworthy. The Goddesses would never tolerate otherwise.

But in truth, that judgment, she had already decided upon witnessing the easy manners Link displayed around them. Link suffers no false-faced turncloaks. There had been nothing begrudging in their interactions. Rather, the brotherly banters they had shushed upon her arrival had amused her as much as it had enlightened her.

“Can you tell me about them?” she asks, gently. Not an order, but a request from a curious mind.

He lights up, and his earnest joy shines above the drab atmosphere of the late afternoon. He speaks exuberantly, familiarly, as if they are old friends. He even manages to snatch a laugh out of her, something she is well aware her court desperately tries ever still. Ice queen, they murmur out of her sight. A few hinges their courtship on their charm, and for the life of her, Zelda knows they cannot equal this simple man speaking of the love he has for these newfound brothers-in-arms.

He speaks of them like Ordon, like home, and perhaps it is what emboldens her to ask, after a delicate bite of her biscuit: “Do they... like their Zelda?”

He raises an eyebrow, his smile smaller and somehow more mysterious. Puzzling. It is not a mannerism he used to have. She wonders which heroes he picked it up from. Perhaps the scarred, one-eyed hero. Link had stood by him with a deference he is loath to show any he doesn't believe deserve it. And that man had been the stoic sort, at least on a surface level. If her suspicions about their respective identities proved correct...

Well. It matters not, she supposes.

Link takes the time to swallow another swing of his tea, the impudent farmboy that he is, and looks at her knowingly.

“The Chosen's smitten.” Link wipes some breadcrumbs from his mouth, which then turns upward into a smirk. “You should hear him when he tries to write her songs. It's adorable.”

“Yes, adorable,” she repeats to herself, willing her cheeks not to burn.

Quick as it came, the amusement drains out of him, and he sounds more apologetic next. “The truth is, I don't know, my Queen. Some of them are fond, some are a bit like strangers, and some are like us.” He points at her and himself a few times. “In-between. What do you think of that?”

“In some ways... reassuring, I would say. Part of me worries that I have not done enough for my kingdom in its time of need.”

He opens his mouth, indignation naked on his face, and she preempts him with a raised hand. He silences his reply, and she does not back down from his glare.

“She was always more important to your quest than I.”

With a grimace, he sits back down.

“True.”

He does not lie to her. She appreciates that, on the heels of a meeting with courtiers who are never honest with her. When they had barged in this very room, during the Twilight Invasion, one cursed, one mortally wounded, she had known that it would be her choice. Her choice, and her chance to save her kingdom. When Link speaks of her, he softens at this part, at the sanded out edge of her wits and quips.

There's a faint hurt in Zelda's chest. A longing, phantom, mere daydreams that do not belong to her. To give part of one's soul is to accept part of someone else's in return. In that way, it is quite like love. She had known it would hurt, and had done it anyway, for her hero needed another princess. But Nayru, at the very least, blessed her too much to let those visions of a brave wolf and braver man cloud her reason. No union could be successful from a pair of fools chasing shadows.

“You were important though, My Queen. Don't underestimate yourself.” He holds out her gaze with the strength that let him challenge the King of Evil. “You were our goal, our salvation – more than once, the last one to give me strength against Ganondorf. You brought the Light Spirits' blessing to that battle, and the Three know I wouldn't have managed without it.”

She finishes her cup. “One's advices are so much more convincing when equally applied to oneself.”

“Fair. We were meant to do it together, My Queen. Believe me, it's like history told me eight times over.”

Her lips curl up faintly. “Only eight times? And to think you could be told a hundred times without moving before. Nayru has finally seen you fit to receive some of her blessing,”

His indignation flashes in his eyes, and settles in his innocent, wolf-like grin. “Aww, shucks. Your Majesty, don't you be using big words to insult lil' ol' me.”

“It was no insult. Your determination often forces admiration, My Hero.”

He chuckles under his breath. He says something that might be 'wolf boy'.

This is what they are to each other: a way to remember one they do not wish to forget and whose hearts long to, so they may at last heal. They are. Healing. She knows this. Just as she knows the process is slow and grueling, but every meeting they hold in her chambers, every teacup shared by the window, their gaze overlooking Castle Town... she feels closer to it.

And by the gentleness in Link's eyes, she thinks he feels the same way. That even away from her, gallivanting through time and space, he has progressed as well.

Naturally, with none of the terrible awkwardness that plagued their early conversations, their words drift away to more casual topics, the health of the servants, the network of the resistance, the state of the kingdom. Easy words for her to speak. They drift from anecdotes about the castle's kitchen to the latest nobility gathering to her bemoaning of the state's newest budget.

At his request, she produces the copy for him to skim, which he does with a ferocity that is rather inappropriate for questions of maintaining bridges and holding the annual solstice celebrations. And therein lies the problem. He begins his commentary.

Link, it must be said, is also a miser of the worst sort. He would never let her exceed budget and does indeed question anything but the strictest necessity. It is as useful an attribute in an advisor as it is prodigiously irritating.

“My Hero, whilst the people can survive perfectly well on a tight purse, they do not want to. I must consider... certain sensibilities.”

“Why?” he finally asks, standing and disturbing his cup on the desk. “Why must you when it seems none of them ever do? How can they bow to you and then demand? You're their queen! Everything you've done has been to help Hyrule recover and thrive. Why can't they put their darned wants aside for one season?!”

If only her nobles could be half as loyal, she might actually enjoy the administration of her council. “It is my queenly duty, Link.”

His stubborn, darkened look recedes. “Aye, aye, I know. Big part of why I believe in you, Zelda, but...”

Her hand catches his, and through her glove and his gauntlet, warmth reaches from and to the divine mark they share.

“You wish it was not so. That others might be willing to sacrifice for the good of their brethrens.”

His ears droop.

To be a hero is to walk a lonely road. To have the world at your feet and its weight on your shoulders. And Link is strong, so strong to have done it.

In her hearth, the fire crackles and spits out dying ember. The dregs of tea in her cup have gone cold. They have been at this long, long enough for the gossip to come back to life, and momentarily, she dares imagine the ribbing Link will be subjected to when he meets back with his companion.

But, Zelda regrets, that would come to a quick stop, once they notice.

She has delayed as much as she could. But, again, duty demands it of her, of him.

“Forgive me, my Hero, for what I must ask of you.”

She sees it in his gaze. The surety, the sturdiness that is a man of the land. Stubborn and decisive. Less delusions than most. He knows, then, that she means it. That it is no idle speculation, and that he will suffer in the course of his duty.

Yet he nods, once, a short thing. “You already are.”

There is no doubt in him.

Not yet.

She names the place she must send him to, and so rises the shadows of his regrets in his sky blue eyes.

He does not hear much of her explanation. She proceeds as if he does, as gentle an offering of time for him to gather his Courage she can afford to give.

“My Hero,” she whispers to him at last, her touch light on his chin, “Link, return to me whole.”

It's as much an order as she dares give, and the ghost of his smile lets her know he understands her feelings.

“As long as you need me, My Queen.”

Need me forever, don't let me go, not you too, is the prayer he will never voice. Nayru help us both.

***

Flecks of sand grates against his skin as harsh winds pick up. He wants to say he doesn't notice, but it would be a lie. He'd rather focus on the irritating grit, on the whistle of scorching dry air. On the glare of the sun even as the shadows of pillars inch closer to them.

Yet, he can't quite manage.

He stares ahead at the place he most hates in his Hyrule.

He loves his country. Loves the beauty he found in every corner, in the smile of strangers and the purr of beasts. From start to finish, Twilight had simply loved the world he was born in. But this place, he can't bring himself to feel anything for it.

(he would be swallowed)

(torn from the inside, darkness spreading, a mask with tendrils forced on his face like those poor people he couldn't save)

“Sky... You probably don't want to get inside that place,” he hears himself say.

The patient wait twists into a knot of tension. The ring of silent question bears on his back, and he turns, comes face to face with a Sky that is stone-faced, all but daring to be left behind. His eyes are more steel than the sword in Twilight's hand.

A nod.

It was a futile hope. Sky was the first to incarnate the Hero's Spirit. He never lacked in Courage. But this will hurt. Hurt so bad to show Sky a glimpse of the darkness that the dream shared with his love will unleash.

(it's not on him, never was on Sky, their sweet knight from above, but Twilight knows too much about heroes not to predict what one feels about responsibilities)

Time stalks forward, diffusion some of the tension.

“Is this one of your world's temples, Pup?”

A temple? He wants to scoff. This place is no temple. Nothing sacred, not anymore. It's a place of misery and pain and grudges never allowed to rest. It's a testament of sin and it's the place he wakes up to in his nightmares, one prisoner amongst many, chained with a spiked collar, Hylian or wolf.

The others wait after his words, and he hates the honest curiosity he sees in their gazes.

He should find a gentler way to say it.

But simply standing in the shadow of this place drains him of his energy. He already feels the weight of memories pulling at his limbs. It takes a mild effort to look back to the old man.

“... No, but I believe it is where one used to be. This is the prison they built when they exterminated the Gerudo.”

Blood rushes out of Time's face. He looks pale, horrified. There's no real need to elaborate, is there? The Hero of Time knows why and how Hyrule and its Gerudo neighbors would go to war.

Something like guilt and disgust twist inside Twilight's stomach. Why did he say that?

“Twi!” Wild shouts, his objection all too obvious.

“Those that stayed died. The warriors. The zealots. Those that didn't believe the kokiri seer had been truthful about Ganondorf's reign of terror.”

Time looks on the verge of being sick. “They weren't meant... ” he trails off, his one good eye staring at the torture complex.

Twilight puts a hand on his shoulder. “I don't know the details. You'd have to ask my Queen for the records of the kingdom's history.” – He sighs, squeezes gently. – “But peace didn't last, and that's why this place was built out of the ruins of a sacred place. A desecration of the worst kind. To let the torments of the regretful last.”

He wants to ease the pain on Time's face so bad, but... he can't. Whatever else happened, Time had been a child at the time. He'd saved the kingdom. The cost...

Twilight fumbles with a match to light his lantern. He can't think of costs right now. It's not the place. The flame from his lantern illuminates the first few steps into the broken doors of the prison complex.

“Be careful inside. This place is haunted by more than just the horrors of Hyrule's dark past. Lost souls and living corpses are trapped inside.”

“Gloom and doom, much?” Legend snarks.

It takes effort not to snarl.

“Just don't get paralyzed by a scream when you're standing on quicksand, Bunnyboy.”

The others straighten at his uncharacteristical snap. That, or the image he suddenly conjured of them, slowly engulfed by torrents of sand, unable to move but all too aware of what was happening. Back then, if it hadn't been for...

Not the time to be losing himself in old memories.

His chest pangs with guilt. The way the others look at him. The surprise. The shock for his poor manners. He mumbles an apology. Turns away quickly to face the dried out shadows of the unlit tunnel.

Farore, he hates how the Arbiter's Grounds empties him from the inside out.

***

There were, to Twilight's knowledge, two likely locations for what his queen asked him to investigate. He had been silently praying when he'd opened the gates to the inner sanctum. Had come close to begging as Hyrule and Legend examined the dusty remains of the paper talismans, and though repulsed confirmed their power long lost, alongside what they had been made to restrain. The Lense of Truth hadn't revealed anything else, and

– he couldn't turn into a wolf, not here, not where she –

it had been a waste of time. Unsurprising.

“Why go for the least likely first then?” Warriors had demanded, his stance a bit more defensive.

Because the Death Sword had been sealed in the middle of the prison complex, and if he was wrong, then Twilight would rather avoid having to backtrack through this accursed place. Upon that reasoning, the rest conceded that he had a point, even if they had some complaints.

“If the source of that dark magic flare wasn't in that creepy cell, why are there some many monsters here?” Hyrule asks, off-hands, as he locks swords with a stall captain.

There's no reason to worry, not quite.

“This place is never empty of monsters!” he shouts over his shoulder, crushing some of the smaller skeletons under a broad swing of his sword. “It's been soaked in blood and torment. No one rests in the Arbiter's Grounds.”

Legend, balancing on a near sunken platform above sinking send, kicks away a moldorm with trained ease. He seems pleased for all of a few seconds, before Wind points behind him at a shambling shadow emerging from an alcove in the walls.

Legend's sword seizes midswing, a piercing shriek tearing through the air with the force of a waking nightmare. The scream bounces in their heads, bites into bones and wraps around flesh. It strikes and tempers, and leaves all nine of them fighting their own bodies for the right to move as it inches ever closer to its target. He hears strangled grunts from his left, clatters of metal on the ground from his right. Struggles to break free.

And all Twilight knows is he'll be damned if this place steals another loved one from him.

He stumbles forward, amongst the first to do so. He doesn't waste precious time thinking, assessing. The shadows swallow him, and he dashes on four legs.

Paws stomp over sand, bugs and spikes as he bounds and leaps.

His fangs tear through the rotten flesh with ease. The revolting taste used to make him retch. The decay, the dry leather, the sandpaper texture of bandages. He's not sure if he's imagining it right now, so numb his whole body feels.

He gnarls on the monster's throat till he hits bone, then leaps off. The thing can't scream anymore. It's barely a threat without that power. It's slow, cumbersome. It drags its claymore through sands, but it doesn't get a chance to swing. He steps out of shadows with his sword in hand.

The mummified head rolls on the quicksand, soon sunken and no more than a troubling memory. The rest collapses, and they can breath again.

He's not sure what his are called. They have elements of both Gibdos and Redeads. The massive sword is only in his Hyrule though. Lucky him.

He spits to the side, the glob black and green, and the taste, worse. “Vet, you good?”

Legend's pale, his fingers twitching, and his feet pull him back closer to the center of the platform. Startled is the word that comes to mind. It comes, and goes. Legend's too – wearied – seasoned to let a mere close call shake him.

“Yeah. Thanks, wolfboy. That beast's out of the bag now,” he says, leaning toward the rest.

Despite the spill of sand, the room feels oppressively silent. Tension knots into his back. He's had nightmares of this exact moment, he suddenly realizes. The moment when the secret is out and it is time to face their judgment, be it words, disgust or drawn swords. But the silence doesn't press onto him, doesn't stifle. Warriors gauges the others, Sky looks about ready to speak up, the same way Wild does. Time looks the most wary, and Four sighs with something like relief. An incredulous chuckle building in the back of his throat, it occurs to Twilight that he never told anyone which of them knew his secrets. He's never been one to parse them out, after all. And now...

Now, Wind's shock simmers into something else as he looks to the other Links and sees little surprise or even wonder.

“Oh,” Hyrule says, the only one dazed, “I had a feeling.”

It's too muted a reaction. It sparks the flurry of feeling boiling just under Wind's skin. “Really?! We're the last two to learn?”

The way he glares at him, at the others. The accusation is clear. He thinks they don't trust him. That Twilight doesn't trust him. That... that he tricked him. Got the feelings out of him, then mocked him behind his back.

Twilight quiets the 'beast!' his mind screams. “It's not like that, Sailor. I never sought to reveal it to anyone. I” – fear – “dislike talking about it. It just happened.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Wind bites out.

“I mean it, Sailor,” he tells the kid, hoarse. “I'm sorry.”

His tone gives Wind pause. The teen frowns, looks up at him with suspicion. “This isn't over. I'm gonna ask for more later.”

“Of course.”

“Twi,” Wild suddenly calls, his eyes flashing with worry, “are you okay?”

They can't do this inside the Arbiter's Grounds. The traps alone would be too much of a risk.

He shakes his head, then wipes the congealed blood off his blade. “I'm fine. I just hate this place.”

Warriors, with deliberate timing, clasps his hands. “Great. Finally a point in common between the two of us, Rancher. How about you lead us out of here?”

“I'd be more at ease somewhere with less chances of an ambush,” Time adds, still scanning their surroundings.

He nods. Wrestles with himself. They need him. Him, he can't fail now.

“It shouldn't be too far. Let's go.”

Sky's face twists, something like guilt, something like determination. Twilight doesn't regret following his queen's order, but he does bury the sorrow he feels at seeing his brother's dreams further crushed. Hyrule was... is... a country with a long history, and some of it unworthy of the glory it received.

There's frankly nothing Sky can do to prevent this outcome.

The thought flares with guilt. Look at him, giving lessons about making peace with the inevitable.

He ducks his head and turns back to the traps they will need to navigate.

“We'll need some creative solutions, heroes. This place is best travelled with a very specific item, and I only have the one...”

But though Warriors is the only one to share the spinner item with him, the others all have access to impressive resources to play around the traps that litter the Arbiter's Grounds. And even for the few that look perplexed, Sky's whip, Wind's hookropes or their hookshots allow them to swing back and forth over dangerous obstacles to link the groups together.

All that being said, he will keep a closer eye on his spinner for the next couple of days, because Wild's starry eyes at the sight of Twilight bouncing around on complex rails had left him chuckling for the first time today. And he wasn't blind to the intrigued glances Legend and Four had had for the item either.

Were he in a generous mood, Twilight would advise Warriors to keep a close eye on his stuff too. Kleptomania was apparently a shared trait of the Hero's Spirit.

The skull's fragments are unmoved, and their path takes them past even the boss chamber.

Light washes over them, wonderful thing that chases half the ghosts that linger in his mind after a trek through the cursed prison. Cooling winds makes him want to shout after the dusty, heavy air that mummifies every corpse down there. He wants to celebrate with the others, but in the corner of his eyes, he sees the monolith.

Tears spring to his eyes unbidden. Why? Why is he like this? He tried so hard to heal, to get over it! He's an adult, not a lovesick teenager. He's done his best to deal with the pain. So why is it that he can go months right as rain and then, one day, he just hears the wrong thing, sees the wrong shades, and his whole chest crumbles on him?

On a shaky breath, he attempts to steel himself, to dry the tears. In vain.

He is, Twilight decides there and then, pathetic.

***

How long does he sit in front of the black stone?

The sun started to set whilst he was here. Red light over sand cast lengthening shadows, and it's too easy for him to get lost in his scrutiny of them. None ever came to life. But he still looked, wondered, ached.

With no real hint to direct their searches, the group had commonly decided that they ought to rest for now, with double watch tonight to make sure they weren't taken by surprise in an ambush. Twilight had agreed, and pretended not to feel Time's insistent stare when he slipped away to...

To do what, exactly?

He's not even sure. He's been sitting there, legs hanging by the edge, scrutinizing the stone as if it would come to life.

Eh. A callback to a bitter period of his life. Damn it! He's over this. He is!

So why aren't you facing the others? Didn't you tell Wind you'd explain everything?

He knows his conscience is right. He still doesn't stand. It seems, on top of everything else, Twilight might also be a hypocrite. Goddesses, why did Farore ever look his way?

They're eating, he tells himself. He can smell the hints of Wild's spice mixes from here. Can hear, vaguely, the conversations, and could even guess the contents if he strained to catch the words. He'll have to apologize. To come clean. And that's enough to root him in place. Just a few hours longer, before they can no longer bear his presence.

The idea sends pricks of ice under his skin. Any of them would be a stab wound, but it's when his mind lingers on Wild, that silly brother of his, that the rage hits.

He doesn't know many tricks, not yet. He's still learning, but on anger alone, he feels as if he could suddenly disintegrate the black stone from his glare alone. He wants it gone. He wants to be freed of it, and it's that thought that flashes last when on the canvas of ink flashes shifting oranges and yellow.

Twilight's already upright. That glimpse of fire... It hadn't been the setting sun!

He wishes he could have said he moved with purpose, his mission still in mind, not a short walk that had his heart beating out of his chest. The closer he gets, the easier it becomes to define the impression. There is someone looking back at him from beyond the stone's reflective surface.

His stomach drops when he reaches the steps.

Only himself.

He knows his queen would have something to say if she knew he felt disappointment at his own reflection. With a surly, self-deprecating smirk, he lets his fingers run over the sharded texture. Presses his palm against the ice cold material.

Imagines that the skin is a paler, greyish shade, splattered black instead of his tanned pink. The fingers would curl into his, intermingles. He holds onto the feeling.

Then yanks.

A hand cut from starless night emerges from the stone, and Twilight throws down a dark copy of himself onto the ground. The doppelganger blinks in shock, momentarily dazed.

The expression hardly improves when the Ordon Sword skewers it to the ground.

“The Prison Gate?” he drawls. “Did you think I wouldn't see a temptation coming?”

That you'd be the first one I faced here? he doesn't say. Twilight has always been good at connecting with accursed things. With forbidden practices and tricks played out in the dark. Even before his quest, before all the things that turned him from goatherd to hero, there had been the book he'd taken a fancy to. The mirror in his basement. Old dreams of a dead wolf and a dead hero.

There's a lot Twilight doesn't say, not in front of some dark apparition.

“Queen's dog,” it spits, ink blood sprayed from the corner of its mouth.

Twilight watches, unmoved, as the shadowed being melts back into the sand by the black stone.

They both know which queen it referred to. Twilight, with a faint smirk, shakes his head. Despite his heart's desires, despite the pangs of the chains in his chest, he is the hero of the Light Realm. And his queen will be pleased to know that her Wolf took care of the problem with the Arbiter's Ground.

He casts his gaze over the desert, the setting sun. It's a shame then, that they will have to spend the night anyway.

***

Time gives up pretense. He has polished his biggoron sword and unclasped some layers of armor and fiddled with his ocarina, and none of this let him clear his mind enough to pretend he wasn't worried out of his skin.

Their evening routine is off. Even in dangerous circumstances, they had always managed to build an atmosphere of safety, of care. The ideal that none of them were at risk so long as they looked after one another.

Tonight's akin to the long nights he spent with Hyrule watching over wounds and illnesses that he knows he could have prevented somehow. Everyone is of a second mind, and it boils over right after Wild finishes scrubbing his pots.

There's one bowl still full, untouched, a little to the side of their campfire.

The last of the pots vanish in a flash of blue lights. Wild knocks over his bedroll standing. “Okay, I'm done. I'm going to check up on him.”

“I'm coming too,” Four jumps to his feet, a split second faster than Sky, Warriors and Hyrule.

“Like hell I'm getting left out again,” Wind says fiercely.

Time wants to sigh and smirks. Goddesses, he never signed up to feel so much pride for these insane boys of his. Even if one of them takes the route of the electrified chu-chu instead, whom Time has to nudge with the tip of his boot.

“Probably doesn't want to see anyone,” Legend explains, arms stubbornly crossed over his chest, but he ends up on his feet too.

“We'll tell him you were worried too, don't worry,” Warriors drawls, and gets flipped off for good measure.

They find Twilight almost immediately. By common consensus, they'd agreed to begin their search with the chained black stone. Twilight had gazed upon it with the melancholy of an old man reminiscing about his lost wife and children. It had to be a direction, if nothing else, they reasoned. More so from the dark vibes Hyrule picked up from the strange object.

But for all their speculations, they find Twilight as soon as they set out to do so, sitting on some small steps in front of the monolith, facing away from them.

“You don't need to be here,” he says, not looking back.

“I think we do,” Wild snipes back, his stubborn expression eerily familiar. (Twilight's.)

“Thank you, but I'm fine.”

“You sure seem fine to us,” Legend can't help snark.

“I. Am. Fine.”

Clipped words against the bars of a cage.

“Don't bullshit us, Rancher.” Warriors calls out, worry too sharp for calm.

The sand near the pedestal swirls against the wind, then dies down.

Behind Time, Hyrule's breath hitches up. Time understands. He knows enough magic to recognize it and its flares when emotions run high.

“Enough. All of you. We're not here to corner him. Pup, we just want to talk with you. You haven't been yourself since we arrived here and we want to know how we can help you.”

Twilight whirls around with a feral snarl. “I SAID I'M FINE!”

For the first time since meeting Twilight, Time feels the urge to take a step back. He doesn't give in, never has, but part of him is shocked that a hero gave him the feeling.

It's wrong. So very wrong, to see softness sanded away by pain. The glare sent back is raw, unfiltered, untempered. A sliver of flame through a cover of shades.

And... quick as it flashed, the fury drains out of him, the edges gone and the scowl lifted into a guilty grimace. Shades cup around the flames like hands on candlelight, to protect others from its rays. Twilight's ears droop slightly. The look alone is an apology, and it's so obviously the word on his tongue.

But Twilight says nothing, huffs a little breaths and turns away from them.

It can't be a coincidence that he dangles his cursed amulet just far enough from himself that they get a glimpse of it. He's still not looking back.

“It's dark magic, Wind. I take the form of a wolf by using dark magic. And that stone...” They can see his fists clench. “That stone was the pathway to their world. Not the gate, not the key, just... the path.”

Time wants to urge Wind to err on the side of caution, but he can't without tipping off Twilight, and even the casual confession seem too important to mess up.

Wind only looks thoughtful for a split second. “So where's the key?”

“It's gone now. Goddesses know I've looked.” The admittance sounds like old shame. “But the sages of old used it often enough that the mirror left its mark on it.”

“You're...” Hyrule starts, getting looks from the rest. “You're connected to it.”

Twilight hunches, just enough that it's visible. “Yeah. Collected the shards in the sand, bled on the stone, prayed to the Goddesses. Anything that wouldn't hurt someone else, I guess.”

The glaring omission in that statement makes Time's heartbeat accelerate. What did his pup do?

“Anyway, it was foolish. The path can only open for the true ruler of the Twilight Realm, and boy, is it not me. But the experiments did have a few side-effects.” – a hand gestures vaguely to his forehead – “Uli did say the tattoo fit, in a rugged, strong man kind of way.”

That forced cheer gets a cringe out of Four. Time has to file the observation for later. He cannot turn his focus away from the pup now. Not when he's bleeding pain right in front of him.

“A mother's love is blind,” Wild croons.

“Brat. She'd love you all.” They can hear the grin on his voice. “Not that she wouldn't pull your ear to teach you good manners, but she would love you anyway. Her, Rusl, Colin, even little Lumi, they'd love you guys. I'm so lucky...”

His sigh floats away, forlorn, like a love letter on desert winds. Time instantly thinks of the ranch, of the horses and the singing they all clammer to. It makes him remember the sunlit smile Sky had worn when they found themselves surrounded by clouds and enormous birds, the whooping cry Wind let out when he recognized black sails on the horizon, the relief Legend had hidden at the sight of his rabbit-hooded friend.

Time wants to meet Twilight's family. Wants to know those people that raised this remarkable young man. Wants to help them make him understand he is cherished back.

Because he sees the slight shaking that wavered wolf fur on his shoulders. Almost misses the sob. The admiration, the awed tenderness had grown twisted, uneven from a darkened fondation. It builds in Twilight's frame, builds in the thicker shadows on him and the shifting sands at their feet.

And Twilight's fist strikes the pedestal beside him, and something Time cannot see passes into the sand by the pedestal. Hackles raised, Four's skin is paler. He is staring so intently, his eyes almost a different color entirely in the dusk. More worryingly, Time notes with a grimace, is the faint chime he thinks he hears rising from the Master Sword.

“Pup, just tell us.”

And Twilight does.

He looks them in the eyes, a scowl on his face. “Why am I so selfish?” he rasps in disgust. “Why am I so fucking greedy? Why do I demand more than what I've been fucking blessed with?!”

Aren't they allowed a little selfishness? Time bites back. The goddesses gave them each a war. Why was it so wrong to want their peace once they'd won?

“I was lucky. Incredibly lucky. I found the children of my village, not one hair on their heads harmed. I rescued my childhood friend and restored her memories. I proved myself worthy of my teacher and let him rest. I... I saved Hyrule, Queen Zelda, the Twilight Realm. I didn't lose anything.”

It's like being stripped off a mask he had forgotten he was wearing. Twilight's cry reaches deep, and it's too easy to see why it's spoken like it was a flaw rather than a magnificent triumph. How can he make his boy understand?

Wild shakes his head. “You lost things too.”

“Nothing that mattered,” Twilight adds, under his breath, a cruel bite at the truth. “Most of a village gone, half the army dead, Zora's succession in shambles. All before the Light Spirits told me my destiny. But I'm fine. I'm great.”

“I can say with complete sincerity, Farmhand, that it doesn't help.” Legend juts his chin, then shrinks back, somber and restrained. “What you're doing. Don't salt your own wound. It mattered to you. It was real enough.”

Something about that strikes Twilight silent.

“She's not dead, Vet. She's not even hurt. She just had to leave to fulfill her duties as her people's rightful ruler. I knew that. I always knew that.”

And, strangely enough, Warriors speaks up, his voice soft. “Midna misses you, Rancher. She...” An hesitation. A chuckle. “Let's say she didn't say so in as many words, but sometimes, she'd get this look, as dusk falls.”

Wind's head snapped up at him. “Aw hell... you mean...”

“You weren't kidding,” Four muses, looking a bit embarrassed by the late realization.

And Wild hovers, looking so ready to rush forward toward his mentor. “Your scars are worse than mine.”

“There it is...” Twilight scoffs, or maybe sniffs. He's not looking at them, he seems determined to avoid all their eyes. He's staring right ahead, at the black stone that seems to weep in the settling cold of night. “There, there's my tragedy. A fucking broken heart. One... one person I wasn't allowed to keep.”

Time's heart ache. One person. So little, most would say, but his pup makes his sound like he had indeed lost his world.

“It's NOTHING compared to you all!”

The shout echoes over the winds of the desert. They don't say anything.

They can't say anything. Not when the core of Twilight's pain bristles at hints of their sympathy. Shame convinced him he isn't allowed to receive it. A witness to their woes no longer feeling adequate by his good fortune. It's all Time wanted for his successors.

Nayru, forgive me for my lack of perspective.

“Why are you all here?” Twilight hisses, rubbing at his eyes. “You don't need to hear my whining. Goddesses, I hate feeling like this. I'm fine.”

Fine, is what he repeats. It's enough to make someone hate the word.

“You're not fine,” Wild says, firm.

The answering chuckle bites. “I should be.”

And Time suddenly loses all his words, because his heart just skipped a beat. Farore be good, of all things to bequeath his eldest, it had to be this reluctance. Malon would have a field day with him.

“No one asks that you be invincible,” she speaks through him.

Twilight gives a full body flinch. Finally, he stands, stumbles as if drunk – on anger, on sadness, on self-pity – and he faces them all, red-rimmed eyes and a smile that makes them wince.

“I'm the furthest thing from that. Her last words to me were 'See you later'. See you later, as she destroyed the only way to connect our worlds together! Wolf boy, dog boy,” – they pretend not to see Legend wince – “she used to call me that, patting my head or my back. Good boy. Wolf boy.” Twilight's scoff is brittle, shattered glass. “That's what I am. That stupid dog tied to a tree that waits with a big grin for a master that's never coming back.”

His head jerks to the side with a clap.

Legend pulls back his hand, stern despite the worry. “Don't insult yourself like that, Twilight. You're a Hero, a real one, you hear me?”

The pendant around Twilight's neck suddenly pulses with pitch black light. The markings on his face darken. He straightens with some erratic, wild motion, fangs gritting as he lifts Legend with one hand.

“Then why does it still hurt so much?!”

Legend slips through shaken fingers. He does not flinch or back away.

“Why, Vet?”

“That's the life of a hero,” Legend says, not unkindly. “Lots of scars that don't really fade.”

“A hero? How can I be a hero when she thought the only way to keep our worlds safe was to break them apart? We'd just won, but she still... How can I be when even the person that led me to my quest knew better?” Emptiness reflects in Twilight's watering eyes. “I thought she trusted me.”

Time's hand goes to his sword. Every instinct in his body demands that he fights off what torments his eldest this much, that he proves that princess wrong, that he makes her explain and sooth the injury she inflicted.

“She was wrong, Twi!” Wild screams, clearly aching the same way.

Time reaches forward, and, without hesitation, brings Twilight's face into his shoulder. Runs gentle fingers through the gentle brown locks. His boy shudders, then melts. Grips him with desperate strength. It's not long for the wetness to soak into Time's clothes, and he has rarely cared so little about it before.

“I'm sorry, Pup,” he whispers. “I'm so sorry.”

It's a long time before Twilight pulls back, sniffling.

“Pops, the heck ya talkin' about? Didya punch me when I wasn't lookin'?”

Wild and Wind immediately pointed accusing fingers at him, booing.

“Shush you,” he orders, stern, before softening for his eldest. “And no, I didn't sneak a hit on you, Pup, but I wronged you all the same. Sometimes, you're so good at helping others that I forget you can need help too. I should have asked earlier.”

A hand goes to the back of Twilight's head, and his lips pull into a boyish smile. “Ah, not sure I'd have sang, Old Man. Not for something this... childish.”

“It's not childish, Twilight,” Wind says with a sad, half-grin. “If it hurts, it hurts, right?”

Hyrule jumps on the line and wrestles Twilight's hands away from him. “Sometimes, you have to care for yourself too. Even if it's silly, even if it's a little thing...” And there's the shine of green magic dancing between them. “Brighten up your day.”

“Guys, please,” Twilight begins, red flushing his cheeks.

Four slips right beside him and pokes, which was unexpected enough to get a yelp. “No, no, you said your part, Twi. It's our turn.” The smirk is impish, but subdued. “We're on your side. And we do need to apologize.”

Twilight throws his arms up in frustration. “What for? This is just my problem! Nothing that you need to be concerned with. Nothing that you did.”

“Wrong.” Time doesn't notice who says it. Mostly, because he's heard more than just one voice. (It could have been eight.)

“Because... because we let you take it all on. More than your share.” Warriors crosses his arms, huffs. “It's a leader's role to care for his men, and the soldiers to take on something for their brothers. It's how units work.”

Time ignores the pinch of guilt. The Captain hadn't meant it for him, but he'll take the advice to heart anyway. It should be fine. He can see the plans being born behind Warriors' eyes. For once, he's rather convinced that none of the younger ones will protest whatever rigid protocol Warriors' cooking.

“It's not like that,” Twilight mumbles. Weaker, less stubborn. “I love helping y'all.”

“Makes you feel useful, doesn't it?” Legend scoffs, but it is soft enough that Time can't even bring himself to chastise him.

“No. You deserve it!” he says with sudden heat, eyes clearing. “All of you. You all deserve someone willing to listen and help you. I... I just wanted to help you walk through your troubles. To help you find reasons to smile again...”

He sees it, and he wants to laugh. How fitting, that it's words like these that bring soft smiles on all their faces.

“Well, mission accomplished?” Four smirks.

“Darn it, Rancher,” Warriors grunts, giving Twilight a warning look that goes ignored.

“Can't wrestle that one away from me.”

“Oh, we shall see about that. But first,” – Warriors plops down on the sand, not a care for the time and place – “we're not leaving this unsaid. Spill already so we can smile you.”

It's absurd, but Twilight's gaze flares for a short moment with competitive spirit. Those two would never cease to amaze him in the strangest ways. Twilight kicks a little sand at the captain before letting himself lean in Time's grip.

“I hate her...” he whispers, and the shame shrouds him smaller. “Why did she do this to me? Why did she tie my heart to a promise that she never intended to fulfill? I hate her...” he whispers again, near inaudible. “And I hate that I love her still...”

“So?” Wild slides in.“You know me. You know how I feel about those people from my past.”

'They were friends with me. The whole world told me I was friends with them. Sometimes, it's like I can't escape it. Even if I don't remember what food they liked, when we met, what secrets they had besides what a few glimpses told me...'

“Remember what you told me?”

Twilight huffs, looking sullen and trapped. It takes a little sigh, and then knocking their foreheads together for him to admit. “S'fine if you don't know.”

Time nods, chasing the feeling he usually avoids. The bittersweet triumph at the cost of so many friendships. The lack of recognition meant for strangers on familiar faces.

“It can be difficult, to share people's joy when the same reason brings us pain. You can be of two minds on the same topic, Pup. People aren't that simple.”

“I feel weak.”

“You're not weak, Twilight,” Sky said with a sad smile. “If I lost my Zelda... I'd shatter.”

“Need I explain what losing Malon would do to me, Pup?” Time adds, rueful.

“But they're... you're couples. Real couples. We were never...”

Legend smacks his shoulder. “'What if's can be more painful than a clean break,” he says, and the two of them look like mirror images, lost to their dreams for the span of a heartbeat. Then, sharper, “Don't apologize.”

Twilight's mouth clicks shut.

“We're in your corner,” Four says with a private smile. “As long as it takes to make you feel better.”

The blush returns. Time will be asking for context later, though he has an inkling. Wind shuffles to one feet, then swears and pats Twilight on the back without looking at him.

“And, you know, there's nothing shameful about crying. Or missing people. Or, you know, strange sadness.”

The pup breaths out a watery giggle, and a whimpered 'brat!' Wind smugly croons to the others, saying that was how it was done. Right until the laughter turns into a shudder, and they gather round again.

“It's okay, Twi,” Sky cooes, bringing him into the folds of his sailcloth. “Let it all out.”

The pup's fight left him. Too drained by the confession. Too raw from unbinding the wraps around his wounds. It's up to them to take care of it, and there's not one of them that hesitates. They're not in the habit of leaving suffering ignored, besides their own. Not anymore.

They promise to be better.

They have to be, for each other's sake. And they will be, Time will do everything in his power to ensure it comes to pass. Their group will come out of it reforged by their own inner fires. Their bonds unbreakable, their trust rewarded.

Thank the Goddesses for the pup.

#Linkeduniverse #Linked Universe #LU Twilight #LU Dusk #LU Time

33 notes · View notes

atiny-ahgase · 4 years

Text

If You Can’t Stand The Heat

Author’s Note: This is an idea that I’ve had for a while but I couldn’t get the chance to write it. Also, I’m basically clueless to any and all culinary terms but I’m trying my best. As usual, I’m open to suggestions, feedback and creative criticism. Sorry that it took me so long to write this, I’m tryna organize some things...Anyway, I hope you’re all doing okay. Sending love- Gabby. (Ps. I had no idea what to name this soo)..

Summary: Y/N and Yunho have been friends since their high school days, they had first met at Y/n’s parents’ restaurant. Bonding over Yunho’s inability to cook even the simplest of dishes; the friendship has managed to withstand the tables of time. Y/n is now the head chief of their parents’ restaurant and finds Yunho in a culinary dilemma. He’s trying to improve his cooking to impress someone that he likes, being the great friend that they are Y/N offers to help him despite the feelings that they’ve harboured for Yunho for years.

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Pairing: Yunho x Gender Neural Reader

Word Count: 5.1k

Genre: Fluff, Angst

Contains: Fluff, Angst, Gender Neutral Reader, Yunho starting a fire,

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“Yunho you do realize that you’re supposed to wash the vegetables before you start cooking them right?” you jokingly ask your best friend while looking at him on a video call. “But they’re easier to wash when they’re already in cute little bite-sized pieces,” he responds while attempting to dice some uncleaned carrots and failing miserably. Rolling your eyes you respond, “If you wash chopped vegetables you're removing all of the water-soluble vitamins dummy,” you chuckle, “also; you do know that you still have the knife cover on right?” Even from your subpar camera quality, you could still see a pink tint spreading from his ears to his face; gently adorning his cheeks. “I was just making sure you were paying attention”, he laughs awkwardly while scratching the back of his neck.

Yunho had never been that skilled in the kitchen and by that you meant that he was absolutely horrible in the kitchen and you didn’t feel comfortable leaving him near a stove unsupervised. Sometimes you’ve wondered how he lasted this long without setting something on fire; he’s been very close to doing so on multiple occasions though. Yunho was a handful but at least your time together was never boring. He was always able to brighten your day even just by doing the simplest of things.

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You’d first met Yunho while working at your parents’ restaurant, you had just returned from school and the Music Festival down the street had attracted a lot of teenagers to the restaurant. Usually, you'd only work on the weekends but the packed dining area and waiting room had proven to be too much for the usual staff to handle. Changing into your uniform which consisted of a white dress shirt and black dress pants with comfortable shoes, you hastily made your way to the dining area.

You’ve always loved the atmosphere of the restaurant, what could be more satisfying than delivering edible works of art to others. Each dish that you served was a well-sculpted masterpiece waiting for consumption. Every aspect from the plates they were served on to the type of ingredients used were all thoroughly thought out with the goal of enchanting the pallet and while enriching the body.

The day sped by in the blink of an eye and before you knew it closing time had arrived. Your parents had left the task of closing up to you as they went to procure produce for the next day. The kitchen was cleaned, dining chairs wiped and tucked away ready to welcome new customers on a new day. Wiping the perspiration off of your brow you grabbed your bag and made your way to the door, only to be greeted by a small group of boys entering the dining area. “Could they not read?” you thought to yourself while welcoming them with your signature ‘Customer Service’ smile. “Good evening, sorry but we’re closed for the night,” you politely stated while looking at the group in question.

Now that they had fully entered the restaurant you could see their faces more clearly, they were all incredibly handsome; easily surpassing anyone you had ever seen in magazines. The one that seemed to be the shortest of the bunch let out a soft sigh while running his hand through his red hair before speaking. “Sorry about that we must not have seen the sign,” he smiled softly “, Yunho isn’t feeling very well so we thought that maybe he should get something to eat,” he continued while gesturing to one of his friends. “We’ve been out all day and I think the noise, the heat and the fact that all he ate today was a sandwich is finally getting to him”, he continues before letting his head gently hang down.

Looking up at the friend in question you are greeted by two warm, brown orbs; the caramel colour sparkled more brightly than the richest caramel sauce you’ve ever served. His complexion was bad, the pale white undertones reminding you of the pastry sugar you use to garnish deserts; smooth and delicate, perfect for baked goods, not so much for people. Was it wrong to be this infatuated with someone who was feeling ill? Even at his worse, this man was still a sight to behold. Towering above you with a smile that shone so bright, like the crystal clear chandeliers that hung over your head his smile could easily light up a room. Truly a dazzling sight to behold...

The sound of someone’s voice had pulled you out of your thoughts. Recomposing yourself quickly you came to realize that it belonged to the red-haired boy. “We should get going guys,” he stated with a dejected tone. “They must be tired”, you thought “, one meal surely couldn’t hurt”. “The kitchen staff have all left,” you spoke, nervousness in your voice, “but I can make you something if you’d like.” You averted your eyes as your face began to heat up, you’ve only ever cooked for your family and the restaurant staff. What if you messed up? What if they don’t like it? Your mind flooded with negative possibilities- “Thank you.” You looked up, searching for the owner of that sweet and gentle voice. If you had to describe it it would be an Angel food cake; soft, light and airy; it filled you with comfort.

You smiled brightly when your eyes meet. Yunho was his name, right? It’s amazing; how could one person shine so brightly? He wasn’t even trying, with washed-out skin, beads of perspiration and soft airy gasps for breathe he still manages to get your attention as the most handsome in the room. If this was his presence when ill how brightly was his light when he wasn’t? You felt a blush creeping up to your cheeks. You shook it off, trying to stay focused on the task at hand; preparing a dinner that won’t upset an already upset stomach. Easy right? Keeping that in mind you opted to make a Simple Italian Gnocchi Soup with extra vegetables to boost his antioxidants. It wasn’t the most extravagant meal you’ve made but you didn’t want to overwhelm his pallet or upset his stomach further.

You went to the kitchen and prepared the meal because it was simple it didn’t take you to long. Plating the meals you arranged them on the waiters’ table and began rolling it to the party of boys.

The loud, environment of the bustling dining room you remembered from earlier paled in comparison to the thunderous sounds made by the group of boys upon the arrival of food. Their excited noises and gestures filled the building and also your heart. Despite their slightly reserved demeanour, they had an almost childlike aura surrounding them. It was a warm comforting feeling which you gladly welcomed. Placing their meal on the stark white table cloth, you smiled shyly before retreating to the kitchen.

You stayed there attempting to busy yourself with your phone, this action, however, proved to be futile. Your mind was filled with the bright-eyed boy seated only a few steps away from you. If you stood up you could peek through the door into the dining room, where you were sure he was eating happily. Radiating that joyous aura that had already captured your heart and refused to let go.

You don’t know how much time had passed but you were pulled out of your thoughts by the kitchen door swinging open and colliding with your leg. “Ouch,” you surprisingly exclaimed. You really weren’t expecting that. Pulling your eyes away from your slightly bruised leg you look up to be greeted by two bright brown orbs dripping with concern. “Oh my god I’m so sorry-” he began to explain rather quickly, words mending together as he desperately attempted to apologize. Your laugh had quickly cut him off though and his once worried expression is replaced with a puzzled look.

Placing your hand over your stomach in an attempt to ease the pain of your laugher you tried your best to compose yourself. Further investigation of the boy in front of you; you finally realized why he had entered the kitchen in the first place. With him, he had all of the used dishes and silverware stacked neatly on the waiters’ table. “Thank you for bringing them in I’ll take it from here,” you stated courteously while stretching for the handle of the cart. Your action was deemed unsuccessful due to one rather handsome and seemingly troublesome male grabbing your hand. Little did you know that this one chance encounter would turn into the strongest friendship that you’ve ever had.

“I can help,” he smiled brightly at you.

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You smile fondly before you are yanked out of your thoughts by what you assumed to be the sound of water being poured on a hot pot. Placing your hands on your temple you massage your growing headache as you look at your hopeless friend who seems to make preparing fried vegetables look like a warzone. “Hey, Yunho, why don’t you just come over and I’ll make anything you wanna eat okay,” you say to your best friend who looks like he’s having a fistfight with a clove of garlic and the garlic is unfortunately winning.

“You know that I love your cooking but I really can’t,” he states, “I need to learn how to do this kinda stuff on my own.” You lightly chuckle at his determination; of all of the years that you’ve both known each other, he’s never once expressed any interest in learning how to cook on his own. “Where did this sudden revelation come from?” you inquire; eyebrows raising in interest. “I just wanna be able to make a fancy steak dinner for two,” he mumbles while stretching the back of his head. You couldn’t stop the shocked gasp from escaping your mouth. Did he just say what you thought he just said? From the red hue that had made its way up to Yunho’s face accompanied by wide eyes and an agape mouth, you knew that your assumption had been right.

Yunho had a crush.

You couldn’t believe it. You had just assumed that Yunho could never be interested in anyone. You’ve both been friends for so long and he’d never even shown the slightest of interests in anyone. “Pretend that you didn’t hear that,” he shouts while pointing an accusatory finger at his phone screen trying his best not to appear like a deer in the headlights. “Pretend that I didn’t hear what? That my little YuYu is tryna impress someone with a lovely dinner,” you tease him; smiling from ear to ear. He released an exasperated sigh before placing his head on the cold marble counter in a futile attempt to cool his heating face. “How about you take them to my restaurant? You guys can sit at the best table we have and everything,” you offer a suggestion to your best friend; your nosey side getting the better of you.

“No, I wanna do this on my own” he states while stepping closer to his phone screen, a look of determination clearly on his face. “Wow, you must really like them then,” you mummer softly; more to yourself than to Yunho but that doesn’t stop him from hearing every word. “I do like them, I have since the very first day I met them,” he says, his eyes never once leaving yours. A clear glint shone from them as they stared directly at you.

You both were unsure of how long you’ve been in this staring contest but you broke apart upon hearing the blaring sound of Yunho’s fire alarm. He’s finally done it. It took a couple of years but he’s finally succeeded. He has successfully started a fire. It was honestly only a matter of time. You see Yunho rush to the sink to get water to extinguish the fire “, No, you can’t use water on a grease fire!” you exclaim. “Find a lid to cover the pan. The fire will suffocate once there is no more oxygen,” you instructed. Yunho followed your instructions perfectly and managed to get the fire under control.

Releasing a sigh of relief you slouched into your chair as Yunho attempted to shut off his fire alarm. “That’s an interesting technique. I’ve never seen someone beat their alarm with a broomstick before,” you commented, chuckling at your friend. “This isn’t funny Y/N. Why am I so hopeless?” he asked sighing heavily as he rested his head into his palms. “You’re not hopeless; you can reach to the top shelf at the grocery store for me,” you jokingly respond trying to lighten the mood. You’ve never seen him this distraught before, this must be important to him, they must be really important to him.

Yunho chooses to ignore your comment leaving his face to rest in his sweaty palms. There had to be something that you could do, you were his best friend after all. “Okay how about this? I’ll teach you everything that you need to know,” look at him biting your lips (that had always been a nervous habit of yours). He peeled his hands away from his face and you readied yourself for rejection. “You always were a nosey one weren’t you?” he said smirking at you. “You could say that it’s my middle name,” you smile at him.

Thus began your weekly cooking sessions well more like weekend-ly cause you’d meet up every weekend with the kidlike giant you called Yunho. The first few sessions were just basic knowledge or at least that’s what you thought but apparently it wasn’t because Yunho could literally burn water if you gave him a chance. You all went through everything from how to light the stove to how to chop vegetables and even how to properly season meats. I was really fun which wasn’t very surprising since you were teaching Yunho after all, he was basically a walking party. You were usually really serious in the kitchen but there was just something about Yunho that just always brought out your childish side, his playfulness was highly contagious.

Yunho was surprisingly a fast learner, you knew that he’d always excel in physical activities but growing up you were never in the same classes so it kinda surprised you how good his memory was. After 2 weeks and four sessions, he was already making the perfect sauce and chopping vegetables like a pro. Well, he wasn’t as good as you but he really was amazing, once he’s really put his mind to something he always does well at it.

You’re pulled out of your thoughts by Yunho calling your name. “Y/n, earth to Y/n. Is anybody in there?”. You jump back slightly surprised by his presence. Not like he was here all day cooking with you or anything. Raising your head slightly you look up at the male who easily towering over you. He smiles slightly, a soft shape of pink dusting his cheeks. Holding a silver fork he raises his hand towards your mouth, what appeared to be a medium-rare steak sitting on its edge. Oh yeah, you both were making steak today. This was the second to last day that you both would be working on individual components of the meal, next week you were supposed to work on preparing fresh salad. You were convinced that Yunho could at least do that on his own but he desperately expressed that he couldn’t, almost begging you to teach him. Was fresh salad really that difficult to make?

You opened your mouth allowing him to place feed you the steak. Retrieving the meat from the fork you chew the tender substance letting the taste fill your tastebuds. You couldn’t help the smile that lit up your face; it was good, like really good. You’d season it with a bit more garlic but you’ve been to restaurants whos meals didn’t taste that good. “This is amazing YuYu!” you exclaim pulling him into a hug, you were so incredibly proud of him; granted he could only cook one meal but isn’t it better to be great at making one meal then be able to make multiple subpar dishes or at least that’s what you thought. Yunho looks down in a futile attempt to hide his evergrowing blush spreading from his face to his neck. “You really think so Y/N”, he asks while scratching the back of his neck.

“Of course I do. It’s really good,” you state while reaching for a knife and fork to procure another bite for yourself. “So there is nothing you would change?” he inquires while looking at you; smiling at the little dance you did after taking another bite. “Well,” you begin while finishing your second bite before speaking “, personally I’d like it to be seasoned with a little more garlic but that’s just my personal preference,” you continue while wiping a speck of sauce off of the corner of your face. You see Yunho scurry to the kitchen counter where he had a notebook which he called his “Taste-book” cause it’s a play on the word Textbook. You had once made the mistake of pointing out that he was technically wrong for naming it that because his book was a notebook and not a textbook to which he responded with a simple “, It’s actually better than a notebook because it contains your words.” How were you supposed to respond to that? How? You just left it as it was cause there was no way that you’d be able to win a fight against him..unless he let you.

You saw him scribble some notes in his hardly legible penmanship, you had no idea how he was able to comprehend what he wrote but he’d always say the same about you. Glancing across the dining table you look at the clock before releasing a long sigh. Yunho had always left at around 6 every day, he could stay longer if he wanted to but you could never muster up the courage to ask him to stay even a minute longer. It wasn’t like he was interested in you anyway; he already had someone that he liked. You feel your lower lip begin to quiver as you attempt to hold in the tears which were attempting to fall. You’ve known that this day would come but you thought that you had at least a few more years, just enough for you to find someone else to love, that there would be someone who would make you feel at least an ounce of the happiness that you felt when you were with Yunho.

You liked him, like you really liked him. You thought that maybe you would be okay standing at the sidelines as long as he was happy but a part of you always believed the pretty words that he would speak to you when he had just a little too much to drink on the days when he’s spent a little too long with his friends. He’d always drunkenly end up at your doorstep slurring something about him being hungry and wanting to eat your cooking. After making some simple Hangover Soup for him he’d lay on the couch resting his head on your lap while you aimlessly played with his hair until he fell asleep. He’d always nuzzle himself into your lap murmuring to you about how happy he was to have met you and that he was always the happiest when he was with you. And a part of you would always just blindly believed him, you needed to believe him. You helplessly gripped at that little glimmer of hope that his words gave you, you would’ve held unto them forever if you could. Although it hurt to hold on for so long you knew that it would pain you so much more to let go.

You couldn’t stop the tears that welled up in your eyes from gently trickling down your cheeks. Hastily wiping the tears which escaped your eyes trying your best to seem as inconspicuous as possible. But Yunho being the Golden Retriever that he was almost immediately picked up on the drastic change in your mood. “What’s wrong Y/n?” you hear his ask as he rushes to your side holding your shoulders in his hands while bending slightly to look you in your eyes.

“Nothing dummy,” you force yourself to say while putting on your best fake laugh “, it’s the onions that you left on the counter.” Slightly pushing at his chest you step back slightly before grabbing at the open bowl of onions that Yunho had neglected to cover. “I didn’t think that I had to teach you how to clean up after yourself YuYu,” you chuckle while raising your eyebrow slightly. Yunho looks at you with a puzzled expression probably attempting to read your mood. Afraid that he’d see through your lie you remind him that it was almost time for him to go. You see Yunho’s eyebrows furrow before he pulls you into a hug. This hug was so much different than any of the countless hugs that you’ve shared before, you relaxed in his arms as you held unto his shirt holding on for as long as you could before he inevitably pulled away. But he never did, neither of you did. You stayed there enjoying each other’s embrace, drowning out everything around you as listened to the steady beat of each others’ hearts.

Hearing the blearing sound of what you could only identify as Mingi’s car horn breaking through the silence that you both had grown comfortable in you jump slightly. You attempt to end the hug that you and Yunho had been engaging in but this action was soon proven to be futile as you feel Yunho’s grip tighten around your back pulling you in even closer. You feel a warmth in your cheeks as you attempt to calm your heart; your mind already going into overdrive due to your close proximity. “Same time next week teacher,” he softly whispers into your ear before finally pulling apart. You could see the smirk on his face before he turns around to grab his things.

Why was he doing this to you? Holding on to you so tightly when all you were trying to do is let go. Showing you the world in colour knowing that one day you’d have to wake up to a world of black and white, a world without Yunho.

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

Today was supposed to be your last class teaching Yunho and honestly, you were both happy and sad. Happy because you no longer have to fake a smile as he happily cooked, practising for the person that he loved; a person who wasn’t you. Being in his presence hurt when his smile wasn’t because of you, it hurt knowing that pretty soon he’d leave and you’d hardly ever get to see him. He won’t show up at your apartment at ungodly hours asking for soup and snuggles, you’d really miss that. You’d always stock up on all of the ingredients that you needed every time he spoke about going out drinking with Hongjoong and the boys; rushing through the grocery store frantically searching for everything that you needed because he was coming over and he got pouty every time he couldn’t get soup. You could never say “No” to those puppy dog eyes filled with sadness upon hearing that you couldn’t make him his hangover remedy.

Pushing those thoughts to the back of your mind you take a few deep breathes before walking down the hallway of Yunho’s apartment building. Yunho had texted you earlier saying that he couldn’t make it to your place because he was really busy with work. You told him that you could just reschedule for another day but it seemed like he was having absolutely none of it. So there you were walking down the halls of Yunho’s apartment at 6 p.m. because he couldn’t get off work before that. He usually didn’t work on weekends but he did say that work was getting more demanding, you really hoped that he wasn’t burning himself out in order to impress someone. Reaching his apartment door you gently knock on the oak surface.

Waiting for a response you bounce on your heels until you hear him shout from somewhere in his probably dishevelled apartment. Grasping the doorknob you step into his apartment, you’ve been there at least a hundred times but it looked so different. All of the lights were off; the entire living area dimly lit due to the candles burning. Looking down you see a trail of bright red rose petals contrasting with the dark wood of the apartment floor. Dropping your bags in confusion you follow the trail which leads to Yunho’s dining area. Turning the corner you were greeted by a candlelight dinner. Placed at the centre of the table was a bouquet of your favourite flowers with rose petals bordering the vase. Tall slender candles framed the room burning their bright lights throughout the area, you can smell a hint of lavender; your favourite scent.

Glancing beyond the beautifully decorated table you spot Yunho dressed in a dark brown blazer and a bouquet of roses in his hand. Even the dimly lit lights of the room couldn’t prevent you from seeing the blush that consumed his face. “T-table for two?” he asked fumbling over his words. “Oh umm these are for you,” he says averting his eyes and extending his hand with the roses. Taking the bouquet from his hand you smile before mumbling a soft “Thank you”. If someone had asked you what you expected to see when you walked into Yunho’s apartment that sight was going to be the last response on your list; if it was there at all. Hearing shuffling you look away from the roses in your hands you see the man in question pulling a seat at the table before looking at you hopefully. You’ve never seen that look in his eyes before, a bright glint of happiness mixed together with despair. Was this the cause? Were you the cause?

Taking a seat at the table you wait for Yunho to speak but only silence filled the room. Turning around in search of Yunho you’re greeted with emptiness. What is going on? Your mind was racing the longer you remained in that room alone. Soon enough Yunho’s voice breaks through the deafening silence “, Your appetizer,” he states before placing a small plate containing a few pieces of what appeared to be Cheesy Pesto Bread. You smiled to yourself while looking at the dish, it didn’t look perfect but it screamed Yunho, it was funny how he could take such a simple dish and make it so..him. You loved it; you loved him.

Looking up from the plate you notice Yunho’s eyes staring at you, the warm brown hue drip like honey off a spoon. Taking a bite of the bread you’re pleasantly surprised, for something that you didn’t teach him it tasted amazing. Looking up from your meal you hear a soft chuckle from Yunho. “You have crumbs on your face,” he says while extending his hand to wipe the remnants of your meal off of your face. You smile softly at the action. Was this all for you?

Dinner was mostly silent besides the gentle clattering of each other’s silverware against the plates. Once you had both completed your meal Yunho cleared his throat before sitting up straight looking you in your eyes.

“I like you Y/n,” he states voice faltering slightly as he attempts to swallow his nervousness. “Since the day that I met you, I always wanted you by my side. I don’t think that I can live another day without being able to call you mine,” he continues. “I know that its a lot to take in and I’ll wait for your answer for as long as it takes just promise me that you’ll at least consider it.” You look into his eyes shining so brightly even under dim lights

“Can I answer right now?” you inquire. “I’d rather you not; I need to emotionally prepare myself for rejection,” he responds half-jokingly while scratching the back of his neck eyes suddenly finding interest in the candles which glow by the door. “I like you to Yunho,” you state while reaching for his hand from across the table. “I like you so much that I sometimes don’t even know what to do-” you begin. “Date me,” he interjects; his voice more steady than before eyes once again finding solace in your own. “Okay,” you respond squeezing his hand slightly while smiling at him.

“You know that you didn’t need to do all of this for me right?” you inquire giggling slightly at Yunho’s extravagant nature. He waited three weeks, honestly maybe even more; just to be able to prepare you a candlelight dinner so he could confess He really didn’t have to, you would have easily said yes if you were both sitting eating pizza while watching movies in your pyjamas on a Friday night. “I didn’t take confessing to you lightly cause I don’t take my love for you lightly,” he responded without an ounce of doubt in his voice. His determination was a personality trait which seemed to have extended to his love life as well.

“So what dish are you making for me next?”

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Tagging @yunhoshoe cause he said so...hope it lives up to your expectations

#ateez fluff #ateez angst #yunho x reader #yunho fluff #Yunho fic #Ateez fic #i worked way too hard on this #But I love it tho

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pointy-hat-witch · 3 years

Text

I needed to write some fluff and I got a bit rusty but I really like this story so pls give it a read if you want to!!

Title: Discount Fandom: Haikyuu Word count: 4484 words Summary: Suga is a coffee shop owner/disaster gay and Daichi is a police officer. that’s it.

You can also read it on AO3! :)

When Suga unlocked the front door to his coffee shop, the first customers were already waiting eagerly and he thought this day wouldn’t be any different than always. The first ten or so customer were all in a hurry to get to work and just wanted some coffee to go, an easy fix Suga and Asahi could easily handle themselves. The next half an hour the customers had a little more time on their hands and wanted some sandwiches to their beverages. Again, nothing out of the ordinary.

When it was around nine, the first wave was out of the shop and just here and there some customers came trickling in. The second wave would start around ten, eleven when both lunch break started for office workers and students started with their classes. For that Suga scheduled a few more coworkers, because it was literally hell.

Not that he minded, but it was still stressful as fuck.

For now, though, he waited the counter alone while Asahi took care of some cleaning jobs in the back. Suga was still convinced Asahi only started to work for him to help him out and not because he actually wanted to. The gentle giant wasn’t made for customer service, especially where customers would tear you apart on a regular basis.

Suga shook his head with a sigh. Asahi would deny it whenever Suga started on that topic, mentioning that he could find someone else to help out, for example, to the point that Asahi accused him of wanting to fire him.

Lost in thought, Suga only absentmindedly greeted the new customer as the bell over the door chimed.

“Good morning.”

Now that was already such a rarity that Suga froze for a second, before his customer service smile was back on his lips. There were a few people who greeted him with a simple “hello” but actually sounding genuine? Nah, those were some real gems. And hell needed to freeze over before Suga would let one of them go. His eyes finally focused on the person in front of him who was polite enough to greet him.

“Good mor-” Suga choked on some air that left his lungs as he stared at the very handsome police officer. “I’m sorry,” he swallowed, trying to smooth over his embarrassment and fighting down his blush, “good morning!” He started again, a wide smile that hurt his burning cheeks. “What can I get for you?”

The officer smiled at him patiently as he stumbled on, taking off his hat in the process. “A coffee, black. Please. And”, he stuck his hat under his arm, his eyes scanning the assortment of sandwiches, bagels, and various other baked goods on display, while he run a hand through his short black hair.

“I would recommend the blueberry muffin,” Suga blurted out to his surprise. Giving recommendations was kind of his job, so he didn’t know why he felt embarrassed, again.

“And a blueberry muffin. Thank you,” his new favorite customer grinned at him. “How much will that be?”

Suga had turned around to turn on the coffee machine and to calm his somersaulting heart down.

“That will be 650 Yen, please.” He turned back around, not needing to type anything in at the register since he knew all the prices by heart.

While the customer searched through his pockets for his wallet, Suga got one of the blueberries and finished up the coffee. “To go?” he asked over his should and got an affirmative “Yes, please.”

He was handed a 1000 Yen bill as he put down the cup and the small bag. “Be careful, it’s still hot. And”, Suga opened the register with one hand to take out the change and pointing with his other hand to his right, “there are sugar and cream. If you want any.”

“Thank you. But I think I have enough sweetness to go with it.” He held up the small bag to indicate what he meant, and after putting on his hat again, grabbed his coffee cup. “Goodbye, Suga-san.”

After he left the store, Suga professionally smiled until he walked out of the door, needed to crouch down behind the counter. Burying his burning hot face into his hands to cool them down, as well.

Asahi’s small voice came from the backdoor, “Suga, did you-“

“Don’t say it!” Suga whined, muffled through his hands. Yes. Yes, he did. Suga thought the officer meant sweetness as for him as in a dorky way to flirt. So, what of it?!

“So what?! Huh?!” Suga glared over his shoulder at Asahi who smiled nervously, scratching his cheek.

“N-nothing. Just, uh, I was wondering why you did him a discount? Is there a special today I didn’t know of?”

Oh. “Oh”, Suga cleared his throat as he stood up again, “No, it’s not. I, uh, just felt like it. He said ‘good morning’ and ‘please’. Yeah.” Suga nodded to himself. He didn’t even convince himself.

“Ah, got it.” Asahi smiled, but Suga could see the spark in his eyes.

“Shut up!” Suga wasn’t convincing Asahi, either.

Most of the time Suga liked his name tag. Customer calling him by name felt personal and made a connection which he enjoyed very much. But sometimes, he dreaded giving his name so easily.

“Oh, Suga-kuuun!” Oikawa singsong through the whole store as he entered. His steps were feather light as he danced over to the counter, where Suga waited with a plastered smile on his face. It was still his store and other customers were around.

“Hello, what can I get for you?”

“Ehhhh, you wound me! You know my order by heart!” Oikawa dramatically slammed his hands down on the counter. “Aren’t I your favorite customer?” He tacked on a wink which took Suga every ounce of self-control not to gag at.

“Excuse me, but I can’t play favorites. I’m a professional.”

Behind him fixing a drink for another customer, Asahi snorted. Suga kicked him against his ankle.

“Augh-“, Asahi yelped, holding on to his cup.

“Ah, Asahi, please be careful when you’re handling hot drinks.” Suga turned around, shooting Asahi one of his ice-chilling smiles.

“S-sure! S-sorry!” He stammered, hurrying over to the other end of the counter.

“I’m sorry,” Suga turned back to a pouting Oikawa, smile customer pleasant as before, “you were saying what you want?”

“I was sayi-“

“Oi, Shittykawa, what’s taking you so long? We don’t have all day.” Iwaizumi leaned in through the door, glaring at Oikawa. For a second his face went neutral as he nodded at Suga, well-knowing what he is going through.

“You are both so mean!” Oikawa stomped on of his feet on the ground like a child. “Two coffees, one black, one with sugar and cream. And two milk breads.” Crossing his arms, Oikawa pressed out his order and when Iwaizumi cleared his throat very loudly behind him, he added, “Please.”

“Of course!” Suga nodded and fixed both coffees and the milk breads up in no time. That he added some extra sugar and cream for Oikawa, nobody had to know. He was no monster.

“Here you go!” Suga smiled and before Oikawa could say something else, he already turned toward the next customer.

“Meeeaaan!” Oikawa whined, both at Suga and at Iwaizumi, who pulled him out of the store to Suga’s relief.

Secretly, Suga had hoped for a certain someone to come by again this morning, but he didn’t and Suga tried really hard not to be disappointed. Asahi hadn’t said anything whenever Suga’s whipped around as the bell chimed, for his own good.

So, when the bell chimed at around 6 p.m. and Suga turned around to greet the new customer, his heart almost stopped mid-beat when he came through the door.

“Good evening!” Suga greeted him, hoping desperately that the tremble in his voice wasn’t audible.

“Good evening,” he nodded with a small smile. Suga noted that he looked a little worn out, probably a stressful day.

“What can I get you?”

“I shouldn’t get a coffee this late,” he mumbled more to himself as he put down his hat again, scanning the board at wall behind the counter.

“I can make it decaf”, Suga responded without thinking and blushed as the officer blinked at him. “Uh, I mean. The coffee, you can still drink coffee in the evening. Just, without caffeine.”

“That would be great, thank you.” They both smiled at each other.

Suga turned around to change the filter in the machine. “Anything else?” He asked as he turned on the machine. Late in the evening people changed to tea more often, so it wasn’t used that much.

“Let me see”, he took a couple steps to the side to look at the pastry display again. He hummed with one hand at his chin, which Suga found utterly adorable, slowly narrowing his eyes. “Any recommendations?” His eyes looked at him through his thick eyelashes, making Suga’s face all hot again.

“If you want something sweet again, I- uh, we tried out a new crumbled apple pie which is absolutely to die for”, Suga said proudly, pursing his lips, “and if you want something savory, I would take the tuna salad sandwich. I really like our homemade mayonnaise.”

“I’ll take both.”

“Huh?” Suga blinked. “I mean, sure. Yeah.” Suga put them both in a bag while the officer smiled, nodding to himself, obviously pleased with his decision.

“How much is that?” He asked as Suga took the coffee to go cup out from the machine.

“900 Yen, please.” Suga smiled, putting everything on the counter in front of him in hope, his fast-beating heart wasn’t obvious.

“Mhmm”, the officer hummed as he pulled the bill out of his wallet. “I was thinking that already yesterday, but your shop is pretty affordable, isn’t it? No wonder it’s always so packed with people.”

Suga chuckled, a little mortified. “Haha, yeah, we try.”

“Thank you again. And I hope you have a good evening, Suga-san.” He put his hat back on and grabbed his bag and coffee.

“Thank you. And you, t- wait!” Suga stumbled over his own words. “What’s your name?”

The officer blinked at him, a questioning look on the face.

“I, uh”, Suga scratched his cheek, a nervous tick a copied from Asahi, “I just feel awkward if you call me by name but I’m not.”

“Oh, yeah, makes sense”, he chuckled. “Daichi. Sawamura Daichi. But Daichi is totally fine. Everybody calls me that.”

“Ah, okay. Well, then”, Suga’s lips stretched into a wild smile, crinkling the skin around his eyes, “have a nice evening, Officer Daichi.”

“Thank you.” Daichi said, his voice soft around the edges. “See you.”

The bell chimed again as the door closed, leaving Suga and a few other customers who sat at their tables behind.

“So”, Asahi’s head peeked out of the back door, “when do I get a raise to put up with you two?”

“THAT’S what you ask a raise for?!”

After about a week, Suga figured out (because asking would be too direct) that though Daichi has different shifts, he preferred to come in the morning but if it was too crowded, he will come in the evening when there are less people. Probably because he wanted to be polite but Suga liked to pretend Daichi did it to have some more time with him. You know, as a small daydreaming fantasy.

So, when Suga thought he finally figured it out, Daichi didn’t come. Neither in the morning nor in the evening. And it had such an impact on him he didn’t expect. His mood soured by the hour and talking to costumer’s became such a chore that Asahi himself suggested to switch, so he could work the front and Suga could make the new batches for the next day ready.

Once Suga was in the back, his smile dropped completely and he had to ball his fists, shaking violently. What the fuck?! What is going on?! Okay, so someone who he thought was cute and knew nothing more than his name and very-possible occupation doesn’t come in to get a hugely discounted recommendation? For the store that was actually pretty good. For Suga’s mental well-being? Not so much.

He took a deep breath, willing the sting in his eyes down. There is no need to cry about such a thing.

Still, his heart betrayed him that whenever he heard the bell chime and Asahi greeting the newcomer, he hoped to hear Daichi asking for him. No matter how much he tried to concentrate on making the dough extra fluffy.

Asahi helped him close the shop but he send him home when only some smaller things were to to be done. Nothing he didn’t do alone a hundred times. Asahi made sure he was absolutely certain that he didn’t need anymore help and to be honest, Suga just wanted to be alone.

It took him a little longer than expected because he kept getting distracted and only locked the doors at around 9.30 p.m., way later than usual. But it was what it was.

He huffed in the now chilly evening air. It was late summer, the sun was still warm in the days but as soon as it went down it cooled down significantly. Suga pulled his light jacket a little tighter around himself.

The streets were already deserted, with it being a Sunday especially. There were some cars to hear in the distance but overall it was pleasantly quiet.

But because of that, Suga almost immediately heard the second pair of footsteps behind him. Nothing unusual, so he walked a little more to the side, making enough room for the other person to overtake him since he didn’t walk that fast anyway.

But the footsteps didn’t accelerate, instead they kept pace. Huh, strange. Suga pulled up his collar and buried his face down to the nose in it. He hated it when his nose got cold.

When the footsteps turned in the same direction at the next intersection, Suga wasn’t especially worried but it was kind of nerve-wracking. He wasn’t paranoid or anything, but feeling like he was being followed wasn’t exactly pleasant.

So, at the next intersection, instead of turning left, he turned right again. It meant a detour to his apartment, but something inside of him told him it was the right choice. And just when he thought the person behind him would turn in another direction, their footsteps were back behind him.

Suga pursed his lips and as inconspicuous as possible peeked over his shoulder. It was dark and the few lampposts didn’t really help to make out more than a silhouette of, well, a person.

Suga then decided to walk a littler faster only to hear the footsteps keeping up the pace. That’s when Suga got the feeling, that he actually was being followed. He forced his breath out of his mouth in a huff to keep his heart from beating too fast. Everything’s alright.

On the next turn, he took another right, almost walking a full circle around his store and when the person took the same turn, he was certain he was being followed. Nobody would take this route to get somewhere. And even for an evening stroll, their behavior was too strange.

Suga’s thoughts started to speed up. He didn’t saw himself as especially weak, but confronting an unknown person in the dark with a potential weapon wasn’t something he needed to try out. He considered calling someone, maybe that would make his pursuer doubtful to keep up.

When Suga pulled out his phone, he got another idea. Opening up his phone's map app, he zoomed in to where he was, moving the map around just a little and found what he was looking for almost immediately. Well, they do come in handy.

He made a sharp turn to his left, still walking at a fast pace, his pursuer not slowing down as well. But when he finally saw the small police box at the end of the street, he couldn’t stop himself from starting to sprint. The footsteps behind him sped up as well, making Suga’s heart beat unbelievable fast. Will he make it? Should he shout for them?

And then he reached the small house, without being caught up. Right in the entrance a police officer was standing, looking at him with a bewildered look, almost mean, Suga would say.

But he didn’t care. Out of breath, Suga leaned down on his knees, looking over his shoulder, but nobody was there.

“Haaa…” He sighed in relief.

“Can I, uh, help you, sir?” The police officer said awkwardly, trying to stand a little straighter.

“Ah, no. Sorry, I just thought…”, Suga trailed off, shaking his head. “No, thank you. Everything’s fine.” He smiled, catching his breath.

“Suga?” Out from the police box, a second officer walked around his colleague. Even without seeing him, Suga recognized Daichi’s voice. And he wasn’t sure if Daichi was the one or the least person he wanted to see right now.

“What’s going on?” Daichi narrowed his eyes as he saw Suga a little disheveled from the sprint.

“Daichi! What a surprise.” Suga held up his hands, waving up. “Nothing, nothing. I was just on my way home an-“ his voice trembled and to the surprise to all three of them, tears spilled out of his eyes.

Daichi was right in front of him in one big step, taking one of his hands and squeezed it. “Take a deep breath for me, will you?” His voice was calm as ever, betraying the furious look in his eyes.

Suga nodded and took a deep breath.

“Tanaka, take out the blanket from the back!”

“Yes, Si- Daich- right away!” Tanaka finally sprung into action after just staring dumbfounded.

“Come inside, Suga. Just to warm up a little.”

“O-okay.” Suga nodded, thankful for the still tightly grip of Daichi’s hand. It was reassuring that he was safe.

Daichi pulled up a chair with his other hand and guided Suga to sit down on it. Tanaka had a blanket in his hands, seemingly unsure what to with it, so Daichi took it from him and put it around Suga’s shoulders.

“Can you tell me what happened?” Daichi asked Suga again, crouching before him. Suga blinked a few times to get rid of the last few tears.

“Sorry, wow, that is so embarrassing.” He chuckled weakly, mostly to calm himself down.

“Nothing embarrassing about that.” Daichi shook his head.

“I, uh”, Suga cleared his throat and thankfully took one of the handkerchiefs Tanaka handed him. He blew his noise, before starting to talk again.

“I had just closed up my shop and was on my way home. And I, uh, thought I was being followed? You know,” he shook his head, not really believing what he was saying, “they kept pace, took the same strange turns I took and then ran after me when I ran, you know? And I thought maybe I should just call someone and talk on the phone? Like, I don’t know, I think I heard someone say that or I read that somewhere. But then I remembered that there should be a police box around here somewhere and I just took off. And I wasn’t sure if I’ll make it in time or if they are faster-“

Suga knew he was rambling but his hands just wouldn’t stop shaking and he didn’t know what to do about it. But then Daichi took one of his hands again and out of reflex, Suga squeezed it instantly.

“I believe you, alright?” Daichi said firmly, looking Suga right in the eyes.

“O-okay.”

Tanaka had already stepped outside, looking around even though they all knew he wouldn’t find anybody. But he had to make sure, if not only for protocol.

“Are you hurt in some way?” Daichi’s voice grew a little softer and when Tanaka came back in and shook his head, Daichi relaxed visibly.

“No. I’m just a little shaken up. Nothing to worry about.” Suga exhaled. His breath and heartbeat were back to normal and his hands weren’t shaking as much as before.

“I think I can go home now. Thanks for letting me stay for a few minutes.”

“Where do you live?” Daichi raised his eyebrows as he stood up and took his hat from the table.

“Uh, just a couple more streets from here.”

“I’ll walk you.” Daichi nodded toward Tanaka. “You stay alert, I’ll be back in about half an hour or so.”

“Yes, sir!” Tanaka made an half-assed salute, earning him a glare from Daichi. “I- I’ll keep my eyes extra wide open! Don’t worry!”

“Bu-“, Suga raised his hands again, “You really don’t need to! I don’t want you to stop doing your work!”

“Suga”, Daichi chuckled slightly, “this is my work. Getting civilians home safely and making sure that my perimeter is free from anyone who tries to harm someone.”

“I- I guess?” Suga surrendered. To be honest, he could use someone to stay close until he was home. But he didn’t need to admit to it, did he now?

Suga took the lead when they stepped out of the police box, walking back the way he came. It wasn’t that far from there to his home but he felt a lot better having someone walk him home. Though, he still was pretty embarrassed by what happened. And he even cried!

“Do you always work this late?” Daichi asked, looking around as he spoke.

“No, not usually. It just took me some time to finish up everything. Lost track of time.”

Daichi hummed. “Anyone come to mind that would follow you? Had something like that before?”

“Never”, Suga pulled up his shoulders to shield himself form the cold.

“If you’re ‘lucky’”, Daichi made some air quotation marks, “it was just some rando, just wanting to scare you. And it won’t happen again. But if,” Daichi now looked straight at Suga, “anything like that happens again, tell me. Or better, call me.”

Daichi fished out his phone, pushing some buttons and handed him his phone. “Give me your number and I’ll call you to give you mine.”

Suga blinked at Daichi who had stopped to hand him the phone. He looked up and down from the phone to Daichi’s face.

“Huh, didn’t expect you to be so forward with it.”

“Wha-“ Daichi’s mouth hang open, a blush slowly blooming on his cheeks. “Suga! That’s not … how … why would you?!”

“And calling me by my name so casually.” Suga shook his head as he took Daichi’s phone. He didn’t miss the blush growing deeper.

Oh. Oh.

“Oh.” Suga blinked.

“What?” Daichi grumbled. “I just want your number for emergen-“

“I think I’m falling for you.”

Suga threw his hand over his mouth as he stared up to Daichi who in return stared back. They both were a blushing mess.

“Fuck, I didn’t mean … I just … oh, god damn it.” Suga crouched down, face buried in his hands. Could tonight get any more embarrassing?

Daichi cleared his throat. “How about I’ll walk you home first, okay?”

“Yeah.” Suga answered meekly before typing in his number and handing Daichi back his phone. He didn’t have it in him to look Daichi in the face.

The rest of the walk home was silent. Suga was now thankful for the cold evening air which helped his face to cool off, but his heart was still beating so unbearable fast. He just hoped Daichi would just say something to make it less awkward.

But then their walk home was already over as Suga stopped in front of an apartment complex.

“Well, this is me. Uh, thanks.” Suga bowed down to Daichi, keeping his eyes on the ground even as he came up again. “See you.”

“Wait!” Daichi reached for one of his hands as he turned around. They both froze when their hands touched and Daichi let got just as fast. “Uh, sorry. Just wait. Please.”

Suga pursed his lips but stayed put.

“I just … agh!” Daichi rubbed his face, leaning back. “You always take me by surprise. You need to slow down.” Daichi took his hands off his face, staring at Suga with an angry look, though his eyes were still soft. It confused the hell out of Suga.

“Wha- I’m... okay, listen. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to just blur that out. I didn’t mean to-“

“But did you mean it?” Daichi interrupted Suga. His eyes looked for Suga’s and stared at him intently.

“I-“, Suga swallowed. Well, he embarrassed himself already a few times today, a rejection wasn’t too bad to top it all off, right?

“Yeah. I thought it was only a crush on the handsome police officer but I really, really like you.” Suga said firmly, trying to not let his voice tremble. He was prepared.

“Thank god.”

Okay, not for that.

“What?”

“I”, Daichi put his hands on his hips, exhaling, “I was really worried I was just imagining things. Because come on, I can read prices. You giving me some kind of discount every day were really obvious, you know?”

Suga blinked. Well, Daichi wasn’t wrong. But what the fuck?!

“What the fuck, Daichi?!” Suga cried out, frustrated and happy. He didn’t know what to feel or think. But when did he ever? He is someone who acts on impulse. And that’s what he’s best at.

He rushed forward, grabbing Daichi by his collar and pulling him down to him. Their lips crashed together harder than he anticipated but he refused to back up. And apparently Daichi didn’t plan to, either. Instead he put his hands on Suga’s cheeks, angling his head to the side.

Their lips slotted together, warm and soft. Suga hummed contently, leaning against Daichi’s warm body. Daichi slowly caressed Suga’s cheeks with his thumbs, pushing some of his loose strands of hair behind his ear.

The kiss wasn’t long, not long enough by a long shot but Suga didn’t stop Daichi from pulling back.

“Didn’t I tell you to slow down?” Daichi chuckled lowly.

“Never said I would.” Suga smiled mischievously. “Wanna come up for a coffee?”

“Wow.” Daichi deadpanned, but his mouth twitched into a small smile. “That was really bad, you know that?”

“Mhm”, Suga hummed, “I think it was pretty good since you didn’t stop by for a coffee today. Have to make up for that.”

“You’re a riot, has anybody told you that before?”

“Everyone.”

“And they were all right.” Daichi chuckled. “I’m still on the clock, you know?”

“And you’re just making sure a civilian is safe.”

“Suga…”, Daichi leaned his forehead against Suga’s, “let me take you out for dinner first, will you?”

“Haaa”, Suga sighed, “okay. Because it’s you.”

“Aren’t I lucky?”

“You sure are.”

#Haikyuu #DaiSuga #fanfiction #Sawamura Daichi #Sugawara Koushi #Coffee Shop AU #police officer Daichi #chicken soup

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writingbakery · 4 years

Text

“tapewebs”; a series 🕸

hanta sero is just your regular everyday japanese-american immigrant college student, living in the heart of brooklyn. when miles morales collapses on the windowsill of his shitty one bedroom apartment, life gets.... a hell of a lot more interesting 🕷

[a spiderman! sero au one shot series, featuring class 1-A, hanta sero, miles morales, an assortment of marvel villains, & you, dear reader - the object of one tapespider’s affections ✨]

[pairing; sero x gender neutral reader 🕸]

[warnings; fluff, violence, action, angst, romance, & a lot of tape/spider puns 🕸]

“Sticky Note Origins”

───── ⋆🕸⋆ ─────

the city is prettier up high, sero realizes. granted, he wishes he’d come to that conclusion on solid ground, without his feet nervously planted on a skyscraper ledge, but still.

every whip of wind threatens to topple him over, send him careening down into a frenzied spiral of buildings and colors until he meets concrete at the bottom - and he’s supposed to willingly jump.

he wonders if he’ll pass out before his bones meet solid mass, cracking in so many different ways the coroner’ll have to play connect the fragments until he’s a person again.

behind him, an impatient cough sounds, bringing him back to the task at hand. fuck.

you’re probably wondering how he got here. let’s rewind a week.

one week earlier

at ten pm on a friday, the city is in its prime, bustling crowds of people laughing and stumbling through the brightly colorful streets. hanta’s just trying to protect his pad thai & dumplings, hugging the greasy paper bag to his chest as he weaves in and out of the chaos.

a day full of long classes & a quiet shift at the cafe-slash-bookstore halfway between campus and his crap one bedroom apartment leaves him exhausted, shoulders hunched as he makes his way home. nobody ever sees him regardless - the city’s too big for one lanky, always tired beanpole to be much notice.

despite living in brooklyn since he was four, he’s never felt a hundred percent comfortable here - he had an accent right up until he was thirteen, still trips over certain words and customs that don’t exist back home in japan. he’s awkwardly tall, not enough to be a phenomenon but towering over all his family. he just doesn’t quite fit anywhere - too smart and plain to be popular, too boring to be with the jokesters, too awkward for the nerds. he’s been a loner all his life, and while he doesn’t mind too much, he just wishes it was a little easier to belong.

a text rolls across his phone screen as he’s shuffling songs, skipping some j-pop rock song to settle on kendrick lamar as he smiles. you. he couldn’t lie and say he was completely alone, not when he had you in his life.

you were a year younger than him but twice as smart, skipping a year ahead and landing yourself in hanta’s high school freshman english class. the pair of you had just... clicked, from the very first moment he pointed to shakespeare’s likeness on the cover and mocked “what, you egg?!”

your laughter had left him on cloud nine the entire day, and he made it his personal mission to hear that beautiful little giggle at least once a day for the rest of his life.

a lovely friendship had bloomed from there, the two of you joined at the hip - if you were somewhere, hanta was bound to follow & vice versa.

you’d even gotten into the same college, albeit for drastically different majors - he was a biochem/engineering double major, while you were an english/history double major. you were opposite but similar in so many ways, and the way you both completed each other didnt go unnoticed by sero.

you were his puzzle piece, the bits of him he’d never been able to fill easily made whole by your presence.

he could never tell you, however; your friendship was too precious to risk, especially over his dumb, emotional heart.

sending a string of laughing emojis towards the meme you sent, he jogs up the seven flights of dimly lit stairs to his tiny, one bedroom apartment - living in the city wasn’t cheap, & while the elevator was always busted at least he had a doorman, and heat that worked on occasion.

stepping into his apartment, however, he can immediately sense something is wrong; the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, a heavy silence coating the darkness. the air feels wrong, tipsy turvy like the whole place is holding its breath - like something’s on the verge of exploding, catapulting him into chaos and danger.

quietly stepping through the living room, he peeks into the kitchen and bathroom, holding his backpack out like a makeshift weapon - his $200 biology textbook finally going to good use. finding nothing in either dark room, he slowly advances towards his bedroom, carefully measuring every step. at first, the room seems perfectly normal - nothing’s been moved, and it’s just as empty as the rest of his apartment.

and then he sees the blood.

dotting his windowsill in bright, red streaks, the window itself pushed halfway open - but that’s not what stops him in his tracks, eyes so wide it hurts.

spiderman is leaning against his windowsill, covered in blood and panting heavily, one hand held up in an effort to stop hanta in his tracks.

“i need...... help,” he whispers, voice rough and low; hanta’s amazed he can still speak.

he opens his mouth to react, somehow, even steps forward to catch him before screaming like a ten year old girl at a morgue, panic setting in like cold water.

never a dull night in brooklyn.

───── ⋆🕸⋆ ─────

once he’s made sure that spiderman - miles, as the young man bleeding all over his $12 walmart carpet supplies - isn’t going to die anytime soon, hanta’s quick to recover from his shock. bustling around his tiny kitchen to make cheap ramen and digging around in his closet to find his mini first aid kit, he’s in full fanboy mode - he’s got posters plastered wall to wall of miles morales on his bedroom walls, for gods sakes. not that he knew it was miles morales, but still.

miles morales is curled up in the fleece blanket hanta’s mom had sent him his second week at college, and he’s totally not freaking out.

he’d had to cancel his nightly facetime call with you, lying about a stomach bug - he hates keeping things from you, but this is just too big and messy and dangerous. he’ll tell you in due time, he promises himself, trying to ease the coil of guilt in his stomach.

“how did you end up on my windowsill, again?” hanta asks, gently pushing the bowl of noodles towards the injured man. he’s got his own pad thai long forgotten in the microwave, more focused on the superhero who’d gotten his ass whooped on his doorstep, so to speak.

“i told you. i’d been watching you for a while - you’re the most promising candidate i have.” miles’ voice is slick with humor, a sort of teasing confidence that’s clear even through the pain.

“which i’m still not understanding - candidate for what? blood services? biology questions? how to make $20 last two weeks??” he knows he’s being childish, too joking for the severity of the situation, but he can’t help it. the neighborhood’s - and his own - hero is sitting in front of him, eating shitty 33¢ ramen from the bodega around the corner, telling him he’s a prime candidate.

“to take the mantle.” all traces of laughter are gone now, miles leaning forward on the table to emphasize his words. “i’ve been doing this long enough to know when to quit. my body’s giving out on me - i got slammed into a wall last week and couldn’t shake the pain till yesterday. before, i’d be fine within an hour. the city needs someone new, young, willing to take the risks.”

hanta’s ears stopped listening the moment he heard quit. “me? are you fuckin’ joking?” he wheezes, coughing his way past the shock. “i get winded walking up to my apartment! an old lady beat me to the c train yesterday! a strong wind could kick my ass!”

miles is either willfully ignoring him or just can’t hear, plowing ahead with his explanation. “you’ve got the perfect build for webswinging, and you’ve got a good heart - you know when to do the right thing and when to step away. leave the rest up to me, and trust me - i know what i’m doing.”

hanta can’t believe his ears, pushing away from the table to pace around his kitchen in panic. “i don’t till you understand, you’ve got the wrong guy - there’s no way i could be spiderman!” his words are falling on deaf ears - miles is standing too, and he doesn’t seem to care about hanta’s impending panic.

“you’ve got to trust me on this, alright? meet me tomorrow, at this address - 12 pm sharp. the city needs you, hanta - hell, i need you. just have a little faith.”

hanta scoffs at that, throwing his hands in the air. “faith?! i met you an hour ago, bleeding all over my windowsill! that’s not exactly the most- hey! where the hell...” there’s nothing but a blanket, a hastily scrawled address, and an empty bowl where miles had sat, leaving hanta alone with his thoughts.

damnit.

───── ⋆🕸⋆ ─────

hanta pushes through the crowds of people at eleven am the next morning, half asleep but wired enough to power the whole city - hell, the whole goddamned country. he’s running on no sleep, adrenaline, two redbulls & the guilt of lying to you again, his “stomach bug” keeping him from class. he’d told you he was going to visit his parents for the weekend to recover; your sweet messages in response only made him feel worse.

he’s tossed and turned over this decision a million times & yet, he’s still not sure where he stands - it’s so little information, so much responsibility in so little time. he’s still half convinced he’s being punked, if he’s honest.

and yet, somethings drawing him to the address miles had left him, something deep in his gut that tells him he needs to be there. clearly, miles had seen something he himself is woefully oblivious to, and it couldn’t hurt to find out more.

apple maps leads him to a tiny shed somewhere behind a deli & a nail salon, not too far from his apartment, and he’s completely confused. “stupid gps, probably got me lost,” he whines, leaning against the door of the shed to zoom in on his location.

the pigeons in the alley are the only ones to hear his panicked yelling as he phases right through it, tumbling all the way down a metal chute into the dark unknown.

at least, for ten seconds. he lands on a remarkably soft pad of foam, a glass panel separating him from a brightly lit, fancy looking room lined wall to wall with computers, parts and half made suits, spiderman suits. he doesn’t know where to look first.

a robotic, feminine voice brings him out of his shock, the glass panel lighting up with code and writing.

“please enter your name.” hanta is floored.

“uh.. hanta sero?” the voice trills lightly, before a red grid-like laser scans him head to toe. he’s proud to admit he only squealed in terror once.

“identity confirmed. welcome, hanta.” the panel slides away to allow him access, his careful steps alerting the rest of the room’s computers to light up at his arrival.

“you came. i knew i chose wisely.” miles comes into view slowly, limping heavily as he smiles. it’s almost familiar, like he & hanta have been friends for years; he finds it comforting.

“well, not everyday you get to be spiderman,” hanta jokes, fidgeting a little where he stands. “you gonna fit me for a suit or something?” miles just laughs, shaking his head.

“that comes later. first, we’ve got to get you bitten.”

bitten?

───── ⋆🕸⋆ ─────

for the third time in 24 hours, hanta’s screaming like a man who’s just been told he has two days to live.

“you want me to let that thing bite me?! have you lost your mind?!”

miles sighs patiently, holding up the little glass vial to the light; inside, the spider races up and down the glass, an odd orange color to its patterning.

“it’s the only way. no offense, but i saw that lady beat you to the c train. she was like, 85.” hanta’s pouting now, crossing his arms.

“she had a cane and she was agile- hey hey! you keep that thing away from me, so help me god-“

“you’re being dramatic, it’s the size of a pea-“

“that’s a fat ass fuckin’ pea-“

“stay still-“

“i will not- ow! jesus fuck, that thing has tarantula jaws!”

miles carefully shepherds the spider back into the glass, chuckling a little. “it’ll take a moment to cause effect. the original spider was cross-bred with a more agile, lanky species - perfect for your body type. i’m hoping it’ll be most effective in your transition.”

“hoping?” hanta squeaks, staring at the red welt forming on his hand - his visions already starting to blur out, a throbbing pain traveling up his arm.

“well, it’s the first time i’m experimenting with this-“

“you used me as a guinea pig?!”

“it’s perfectly safe! my mentor-“ but hanta’s not listening anymore, the world swimming in front of his eyes before the ground rushes up rapidly to kiss his face.

god. damnit.

when he comes to, he’s wrapped in about half the blankets in brooklyn, a cold compress against his sweaty forehead. he’s burning up, and his elbows hurt for some reason - his skins gone all itchy, and he’d probably kick a pigeon for a glass of water.

sitting up alerts miles to his newly conscious state, the man quickly scanning his vitals with a smaller version of the glass panel hanta’d been fascinated with earlier. “thought you were gonna croak on me. how do you feel?”

“itchy. and my arms hurt.” hanta’s pushing off the blankets as he speaks, attempting to get comfortable - his body feels weird, like he’ll burst out of his skin at any second.

“alright, don’t panic. i need to see how it’s mutated your body. stay still.” miles’ fingers delicately press against his neck, shoulders, before jabbing at his ribs without warning. hanta’s arms shoot up on impulse, a trail of sticky, precise webbing escaping him from his...... elbows?!

“what the fuck, dude what the fuck look at my elbows, they’re all puffy and red i’m gonna die, and the coroner is gonna leak my story to the press and my moms gonna see me in the paper with fucked up elbows-“ hanta may or may not be panicking, poking at the tender, slightly swollen skin around the bends of his arms. miles just rolls his eyes, clearly amused by his antics.

“you’re not going to die. japanese tape spiders shoot webbing from the bends of their eight arms; its a thicker & stronger strain of web. clearly, your elbows are how your body has adjusted.”

“that doesn’t make it better.” hanta’s too busy staring at himself to notice the other changes at first, but slowly, they’re trickling in. heightened eyesight and hearing, an odd balance to his feet he hadn’t had a day ago, even itchier fingertips - making it easier for him to grip flat surfaces, or at least as miles says.

“come on. let’s get you a suit.”

───── ⋆🕸⋆ ─────

a week’s worth of planning & adjusting has led him right here to this rooftop, suited feet firmly balanced on the ledge. he likes his suit, thinks it’s unique - he’d modeled it after the spider who’d blessed him with these powers, orange and black and white [miles sort of thinks it’s ugly, but who cares.] he’d been in & out of the fondly nicknamed “spider-lounge”, getting fitted for his suit & honing his new abilities; he’d also been avoiding you whenever possible.

he couldn’t suck you into this world, not when he was barely comfortable in it himself; he kept promising himself he’d come clean, but the guilt’s eating him alive with every sad look & evening alone you spend.

another impatient cough brings him back to the present, miles sitting in the middle of the roof & watching hanta’s nervous stalling. “you’re going to have to jump eventually, you know,” he calls, and it takes everything in him not to turn tail and run.

he has a duty, a responsibility now, and he doesn’t take that lightly. he thinks of you, sitting in your ratty little apartment off campus and remembers that your safety is all but in his hands now; he’s got to protect the city, for your sake at least.

“i absolutely will not hesitate to kick you off this rooftop,” miles threatens, but its empty - they both know hanta needs to do this himself.

one step back, then two, the nerves racing up his spine as he prepares himself to meet cold concrete [a dramatic thought, miles would catch him far before he reaches ground. a bad knee wouldn’t stop him from that.] he says a silent prayer to every god he’s ever heard of and closes his eyes, taking a step forward into the air-

and trips over the ledge, falling ass over heels into the air. nice.

the rushing wind only heightens his panic for a moment, before one arm snaps up to blindly shoot into the air; his spider sense kicks in from there, aiming without even realizing and latching onto a nearby ledge. he swings aimlessly for a moment before finding a new ledge, then a railing; slowly, he finds a rhythm.

he’s soaring through the city before he realizes, laughing at the sharp roar of the wind in his ears - he feels like he’s flying, weightless as a bird. the only thing he can think of is you, how much you’d love this.

one day, he’ll take you webswinging. one day.

for now, he relishes in the fact that he’s one step closer to being brooklyn’s - & new york’s - new spiderman, fresh faced & determined to bring peace to the city.

he’s going to do it for you, even if it kills him.

#bnha sero #sero hanta x reader #sero hanta #spiderman au #sero x y/n #sero x you #sero x reader #bnha x y/n #bnha x you #bnha x reader #boku no hero fanfic #evywrites #tapewebs #one shot series #tapewebs series

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ymiwritesstuff · 4 years

Note

How about Dio x Clairvoyant Reader? DIO’s getting increasingly concerned about the stardust crusaders and the threat they pose to him, so he tracks down a woman said to have the power to see the future so he can enlist her help in eliminating his enemies. However, she’s VERY picky about what she says and who she speaks to due to the fact that what she says can very easily change the future. (She’s basically Sapphire/Garnet from Steven Universe)

I had SO much fun with this one holy shit. I really really hope you liked it (I haven’t seen Steven Universe so apologies if the reader wasn’t anything like you had hoped), thank you so much for the request! And I must admit, I'm really proud of this one.

Changing Destiny

Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure Part 3: Stardust Crusaders

Dio Brando x Fem!Reader

Summary: Dio had been growing increasingly concerned about the threat of the Joestars and turns to a mysterious woman, said to have the power to alter one’s fate.

Notes: Spoilers for part 3

Worry was something Dio rarely felt. He couldn’t allow himself to appear weak in front of his followers by showing signs of concern and he pushed those thoughts away in order to focus on his goals. However no matter how much the Lord tried to distract himself, there was no denying the constant threat those who wished to kill him posed. With most of the stand users he had sent out in hopes of defeating the Joestars and their petty little group defeated, Dio felt the increasing sensation of worry eating away at him. It felt as though every time a stand user was defeated, a barrier of confidence and safety guarding him crumbled away, weakening him. The uncertainty of what would happen next disturbed Dio. With the power of his stand, surely he would be able to defeat them, right?

He needed to be certain of his victory. He knew his destiny and yet the uneasy feeling of not knowing it for certain poked him like a dull dagger. What would await him once the Joestars broke through the door leading to his mansion? He was confident in himself, he was sure that with the overwhelming might of his stand, he would be able to reach his goals. And yet, even he didn’t know that for certain. It was just a feeling, a guess, just mere speculation and the fact that he couldn’t see the image of his victory with his own amber eyes bothered him far more than he should’ve allowed it to.

When Dio learned about the mysterious woman capable of seeing the events of the future and changing them, a sparkle of hope ignited within him. This woman was his only chance of confirming his destiny and giving him the peace of mind he was desiring. The rumors were however very vague and no one knew for a fact if this clairvoyant even existed. Furthermore, Dio couldn’t help but to think back at his previous encounter with a fortune teller and just how poorly that had ended. However the Lord was hopeful, he just had to find the woman first.

The pleasant taste of the high quality red wine tingles the receptors on your tongue as you take a sip from the glass, carefully examining the man sitting in front of you. His burning gaze is locked within you, his expression neutral but holds a certain sense of superiority in it as he sips the red liquid from a glass of his own.

When he initially approached you, asking for your aid just like any other person who had found out about your abnormal abilities, you were intrigued by his demeanor. His voice was soft and gentle when he expressed his proposal, but buried deep in it, you sensed something.. Sinister, in a way. This was something you had never experienced with any of your previous customers so you found it fascinating, hence you agreed to meet him in the depths of his isolated mansion under the moon.

“I am so very glad that you were able to arrive, Ms. (Surname),” His deep voice breaks the admittedly ominous silence around you, his lips curling into a satisfied grin through which you swear you could see something that looked like a pair of fangs.

“And I am delighted to hear that my services may be of use to you, Lord Dio” You say, addressing the male as he had requested upon your first meeting and take yet another sip of the wine, savoring the quite delicious taste. “However, there are certain.. Regulations I must mention before I journey to the depths of your future.. If I may?” You raise your eyebrows, giving him a questioning look which he responds with a nod. Placing the glass on the small table in front of you, you lean back on the chair and take a deep breath.

“My visions of the future are absolute. Whatever events my eyes witness will become reality no matter what.” Your (E/C) eyes look up at him, only to notice him looking back at you with that intense gaze that sends faint but cold shivers down your spine. “There is however a way for me to alter these events.. If I deem them alterable. Or in other words,” You pick up the glass again and drink the remaining wine, feeling a warm sensation in your throat as the liquid travels down. “If you can convince me.”

Changing someone’s future was a terrifyingly effective ability and so you had decided to save that ability for those who managed to leave a significant impression on you. Well, no one had so far, but you were interested if Dio would be able to do that. He had managed to catch your attention the very moment your (E/C) eyes landed on him so you were extremely curious about the possibility of him convincing you to change his destiny, if needed.

“There’s also one more thing I must ask you, if you don’t mind.” With a single motion of his clawed hand, Dio gave you the permission to voice your question which would decide if you would even look into his future in the first place: “Why do you wish to witness your destiny?” Though you were sure that the reason for his desire to know what would await him was reasonable enough, but it was always thrilling for you to hear why one wished to know what would happen in their lives. Dio chuckles at your question before bringing the rim of the delicate wine glass to his lips again.

“You are quite sharp, (Name),” He says, enjoying the way your first name rolls on his tongue. “In truth, I do know what my future holds.” You raise a curious brow at his remark, encouraging him to elaborate. “I simply wish to.. Confirm it to be true.” His gaze locks with yours again. So that’s what this was. He was unsure of his destiny and wants to know it for certain. “Very well, then.” You move to sit on the edge of the chair, holding your hand out to him.

“Give me your hand.” Dio follows your request without a word and places his clawed hand on top of yours, its cool temperature surprising you somewhat. Your other hand finds its way on top of it and you close your eyes, ready to see the images of Dio’s destiny.

Dio’s eyes catch something materializing beside you, immediately recognizing the figure as the manifestation of your fighting spirit. So you were a stand user and judging by the fact that you hadn’t asked if he was one as well, he figured you were most likely oblivious to their nature and definition. Interesting.

He suddenly feels a strange sensation on his hand that quickly travels and spreads across his entire body. The aura around you seems to have grown stronger, your stand beside you glowing and radiating strange, unfamiliar energy. To you however, this energy is very familiar as you’re experiencing visions of the future. You can see Dio, but there’s something different about him. He’s ruthless, bloodthirsty and even downright frightening but.. He’s dying. Slowly crumbling and disintegrating in a cruel, brutal manner, the left side of his body cracking like pottery while he screams in increasing agony.

Did he say he was aware of his future? Aware of him meeting such a gruesome end? While your visions weren’t picture perfect as some of the surroundings and even the person causing him such pain were unclear, you were sure that this utterly horrible vision was indeed his destiny. And what a horrible destiny it was.

You open your eyes, surprised to find yourself panting, which had never happened before and retreat your hand from Dio, him noticing your distressed state. “Well? What does destiny have in store for me?” He asked, his voice calm as usual but you can hear small bits of something that to you sounded like.. anxiety? You look at him, brows frowned and your stand disappearing.

“It was.. Dark.. So very dark.. You.. Who are you?” The man before you wasn’t the same man you saw in your vision. What had he done to deserve such a terrifying fate? The aura around him, the sinister aura you had immediately noticed was stronger than ever in the illusion you witnessed. You couldn’t possibly tell him that he was about to lose his life. He was still a mere stranger and that unsettling presence made you think that he wouldn’t take the truth well.

“I do not believe that’s what we are here for, (Name),” He says, hints of irritation clear in his deep voice. Your face was far too disturbed for someone who should have witnessed his success. Something wasn’t right and it made Dio’s insides twist in a rare feeling of nervousness. You regain your composure by clearing your throat and sitting up properly.

“What I just witnessed was..” You pause for a brief moment, trying to find the right words to hopefully ease his clearly growing discomfort. “Surely not the destiny you were hoping for.” You notice Dio’s eye twitching, seemingly agitated by your words. His reaction is understandable, however a part of you can’t help but to feel pity for him. “Now, like I said.. There is a way for me to change your destiny into something better. If you can convince me. Tell me Lord Dio, why should I alter your future?” Dio’s eyes suddenly regain their previous calmness and his lips curl into a smirk, followed by a chuckle.

“(Name), do you believe in gravity?” You frown your brows in confusion at his sudden question and that confusion only increases when you notice something forming beside him. With widened (E/C) eyes you stare at the form beside him shuddering at the sheer power emitting from the spirit. “Y-You.. Can you witness the future as well?” Yet another chuckle escapes his lips as he slowly shakes his head. “Not quite, my dear. This-” He turns his head to the muscular figure next to him, “-is called a Stand. It is a manifestation of one’s fighting spirit and just like people, they come in various forms and possess various powers.” His amber eyes move back to you, his gaze burning through your form, reaching the very core of your entire being.

“Yours is unique, just like mine and with the power of this Stand, The World, I’ll be able to fulfill my destiny. That is, if you change it.” You stay quiet, unsure what to say. You knew there was something strange about Dio the second you saw him, but you never could’ve thought that he shared the power of a stand with you. Dio suddenly stood up from his seat and slowly approached you. “I believe that a certain gravity.. Brought you to me. I believe our meeting was fate. And that unsure expression on your face only leads me to believe that you haven’t looked at your own future. Am I mistaken?”

“No,” You say, feeling Dio’s hand slowly being placed on your chin and tilting your head up to meet his eyes. To you, destiny was meant to be unknown. Even if you wanted to witness your future, your stand didn’t allow that, forcing you endure the uncertainty of destiny. This was how it was supposed to be and you often viewed those who wished to see their future as pathetic and cowardly, but Dio was different. Perhaps this was your destiny. To help him by changing his cruel fate. Perhaps it was something else entirely, you didn’t know, but something was pulling you towards him, making you want to change his fate for the better.

“So what do you say, my dear? Shall you allow this undeniable gravity between us to convince you, and ensure my victory?”

You didn’t understand why, but his words stuck to you like tar, his soothing voice ringing in your ears like a spell, bending you to his will. And it was working.

“Yes, my Lord.”

And so, Dio’s destiny was going to be exactly how he envisioned. He would win the difficult battle and it was all thanks to you and that bizarre gravity that pulled you towards each other. Dio could hardly wait for his victory that you had so kindly promised.

#jjba #JoJo's Bizarre Adventure #Jojo no Kimyou na Bouken #jojo #jojo's bizarre adventure x reader #jojo's bizarre adventure stardust crusaders #jjba x reader #jojo x reader #jojo part 3 #dio brando #dio brando x reader #dio x reader #jojo dio #jojo dio x reader #reader insert

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what-big-teeth · 4 years

Text

Reveal (Cambion Boyfriend, pt. 1)

Gender Neutral Reader x Male Monster [Part 2] [Part 3] tw: mentions of alcohol ; kidnapping White rum, mint leaves, soda water, lime juice, and sugar… “Your mojito on the rocks. Enjoy!”

The middle-aged diner gives you a hearty thanks and slaps a fresh 20 dollar bill on the counter with a brown hand. He yells for you to keep the change over the noisy weekend crowd, and you’re more than happy to take the offer.

It’s another step closer to paying your way through graduate school.

At first, the idea of becoming a bartender after college didn’t sit well with your parents. Not because of the job choice, however. Your aunt’s popular mixology book collection is something they’re rather proud of. No, according to your folks, taking a long break from school could lead to you never going back.

They suggested taking out a few student loans to make ends meet. Live on campus to deal with a much lower residency fee. You agreed to staying in a dorm, but you couldn’t stomach being in near-perpetual debt for years to come. Very few people have gone through a higher educational career without incurring any debt. The odds of such a thing happening to you are astronomical. But damnit if you were at least going to try and curb whatever debt you could with your paychecks.

It helped that your place of employment was one of the more popular restaurants in town. Owned by a local, African-American family, Papa Ruben’s gained acclaim with time and great customer service. Hell, you were one of the diner’s loyal customers before Ben helped you land your job. Since starting, you’ve seen many familiar faces at the bar, but also just as many newcomers. Mostly family members joined by an undergrad or graduate student. And with the quick, accurate service you provide, many customers tip handsomely.

As you make a mental note to thank your aunt (who also served as your teacher), another rush of customers approach the barstools. All of them look at you expectantly, with the first customer who arrived dipping a pale hand into her purse.

You grin and flex your fingers.

Two gin and tonics; a round of tequila shots, four daiquiris, six red eyes, a sex on the beach. Change, bills, and even a few slips with scrawled phone numbers pile into your tip jar. The former is more important than the latter. More so as your heart is set on someone already. Too bad he wasn’t able to come tonight…

“I’ll take a Black Velvet in a Pilsner if you’ve got one.”

You pause from wiping down a cleaned, glass tumbler, perking up. There’s only one person you know who heavily favors such a drink.

A Black woman with deep brown skin leans onto the counter with her jacketed forearms. She shoves her thick natural hair—pulled back into a long braid— over her shoulder. Then grins.

“How’s my favorite barkeep?”

Her smile is infectious. “Holy shit, Jacqui? Is that you?!”

“The one and only,” she says. “Well, the one Jacqui that really matters.”

You chuckle, setting aside the tumbler. “I can’t believe you’re here in the flesh. I haven’t seen you in, what, four months?”

Her painted, red lips tremble and her smile falters.

“Five, actually.”

She goes quiet soon after and glances your way. For a moment, you think the odd light in her dark brown eyes is something akin to guilt. But it’s gone the next second, replaced by her usual confidence.

“But I’m back in town for a few days. You haven’t gone on break, have you?”

You shake your head, already knowing what she plans to ask.

“Got a minute to catch up?”

“For you? More than. Cass will be here soon to start her shift. When she comes, I’ll go on break.”

Jacqui plasters another grin on her face while you get to work on her drink. Once it’s ready, you set it in front of her on a coaster. Her hand quickly replaces yours as she takes a long sip.

“Thanks, babe. When it’s time, you know where to go.”

And with that, she slips off her barstool and past the bustling crowd gathering for more rounds.

This isn’t the first time Jacqui’s made herself at home at the restaurant. Mainly because she and Ben go back to their teenage years and he’s always had a soft spot for her. He treats her like the older sister he never had, mainly as all his elder siblings are boys. In turn, she treats him like a little brother.

It’s understandable; not having anyone around to claim you while growing up can get lonely. Ben will be just as pleased to see her, if he hasn’t already.

Cass arrives on time at a quarter ‘til nine, punctual as always. As she finishes tying her apron, she nods at you and effortlessly takes over once you finish making an appletini.

You squeeze past the busy wait staff and their large trays, waving at a few regulars who greet you by name. By the time you reach the break room, your stiff legs are crying out for relief. And you swiftly provide it by plopping down onto the old couch opposite the door.

The cushions are sunken and the fabric’s fading, but it’s part of Papa Ruben’s earlier days. The Moore family is wonderfully sentimental and this room is chock-full of older times. Photos of Papa Ruben himself, a younger snaggletoothed Ben and his two older brothers, their parents. There’s even a photo of a teenaged Jacqui surrounded by the Moore family.

Speaking of, the door opens, revealing Jacqui carrying a large sleeve of fries. She hops onto the couch next to you, offering some of her food. You snag four piping hot fries, juggling them between your hands.

“Courtesy of Ben?” you ask.

“Of course! My little bro always looks out for me.”

You lick your fingertips free of salt and ‘secret seasoning’ to cool the surface burns.

“Yeah,” you say. “Just like how the Moores would welcome you with open arms.”

She goes quiet, her expression turning neutral. She stares down at her food instead of replying.

“Whenever you visit, you always say you haven’t found a place to put down your roots,” you say. “What if that place is here with the Moores? With me and Cam?”

“It can’t be.” She places the still warm sleeve between the two of you. “I’ve done some stupid shit in the past, and it always find me when I let my guard down. I don’t want Ben, the Moores, Cam or you to get dragged into my mess. It’s something I have to deal with myself.”

You’ve had inklings about Jacqui’s rough past, but never any of the details. This is the closest she’s ever come to emphasizing just how bad things are. You try to think of a way to reason with her, but the break room’s door opens again.

Ben pokes his head inside, prompting Jacqui to slide a convincing smile onto her face.

“Here to offer me more free food?” she says with humor. “How sweet!”

“And have you eat my family out of house and home? No thanks,” he says.

You stifle a laugh, already used to their bickering. Ben rolls his eyes as Jacqui calls him a brat, opening the door fully while rubbing a golden brown hand over his bald head.

“To answer your question, someone’s here to see you. He rushed right over after I told him you were back in town.”

“You’re making it sound like I committed vehicular terror on the way over.”

A pleasant tingle runs down your spine at the familiar voice, in spite of the slight snark.

“With the way you drive,” Ben says, stepping out of the doorway, “Can it be anything else?”

“What’s that? You don’t want to bum another ride in the future?”

At that, Ben’s mouth snaps shut. You all know he’d rather enjoy some peace and space in a car not shared with his brothers. Cam steps through the doorway, chuckling.

“That’s what I thought.”

It doesn’t matter how many times you see him. Every time is new and comparable to that quiet moment during a movie night in college when you realized your feelings for him. A charming smile stretches the rich, golden brown skin of Can’s face and his thick lips as he steps past Ben.

Before you’re able to calm your pulse, Jacqui hops off the couch. You’re able to save her lukewarm fries before they fall over as she pulls Cam into a tight hug.

“Good luck dealing with her,” Ben says.

After reminding you of the end of your break, he heads out. Leaving you to watch Jacqui smack Cam on the back a few times while laughing.

“Look at you!” Jacqui pulls away from him, giving him a quick look over. “I see you decided to upgrade your fashion sense to show off your good looks. Finally. The red bomber jacket and Timbs look good, but the bottle coke glasses? Not so much.”

“Tell that to my eye doctor,” he says.

You watch as they fall into a seamless conversation, filled with snark and laughter. Jacqui even reaches up to playfully tug at one of the short dreadlocks on top of his head. As she comments on how well they pair with his fade haircut, a heavy weight forms in your stomach at the sight. They’re just friends and you know this without a doubt. But that doesn’t stop the bitter jealousy from welling up inside.

As if hearing your thoughts, Cam’s gaze finds yours and he smiles. His dark brown eyes make your stomach flutter in the best of ways.

“I-I thought you had a test to study for,” you manage to say.

“Still do,” Cam says. “But it’s kinda hard to think on an empty stomach. My brain needs some fuel and a break. Plus, I wanted to check on you since you mentioned tonight would be busy.”

Heat fills your cheeks as a small smile stretches your lips.

“Thanks,” you say. The light in Cam’s eyes grows soft.

Of course. We’re friends, after all.

”The moment between the two of you swiftly ends. Because that’s all you are. Just friends. You nod in reply, helping yourself to a few of Jacqui’s fries as she teases him about gunning for an anthropology degree. Cam just rolls his eyes at her before fishing his smartphone from his jacket.

“Order’s ready. I should get back to studying.” He glances up at you with a caring smile. “Let me know if you want to cancel tomorrow’s trip to the bakery. I’ll understand if you’re too tired—”

“I’ll be fine,” you quickly say, “promise.”

“Cool. Have a good night, and be safe on your way home.”

As Cam heads out with one last wave, a gentle tug pulls the now crumpled sleeve of cold fries from your hands. Jacqui lifts a brow at the food then you, giving you a knowing look.

“Oh honey.”

You stiffen. Your brain attempts to think of any excuse or denial, but falls short. You lean back against the couch, sighing in defeat.

“Am I really that obvious?”

“Sure, to Ben and me. But to Cam? Not so much, which is ridiculous. You haven’t tried kissing the living daylights out of him yet?”

“Jacqui.”

“What? It’s a legitimate question. You guys grew up together, lost contact, then reconnected in college. What’s the hold up?”

You purse your lips, crossing your arms over your chest.

“I don’t want to mess up things between us. Yeah, I may like him more as a friend, but I don’t want to ruin our friendship.”

A gentle touch grips your shoulder.

“Sweetheart, you wouldn’t ruin anything by letting him know. Seriously.”

You just shake your head, attempting to give Jacqui a reassuring smile. The concerned light in her eyes tells you it falls horribly short.

“You should join us tomorrow morning after visiting the Moores,” you say, getting up. “Let me know if you want another Black Velvet, alright?”

You leave before Jacqui is able to get another word in.

The rest of your shift is busy, but uneventful. You accrue a huge amount of tips from pleased customers and more slips bearing phone numbers. You and Cass split the money based on the number of hours you both work. When she offers to take some of the number off your hands, you let her. The rest, you crumple and toss into the trash.

The doors to Papa Ruben’s closes at 11 PM sharp, with you, Cass, Ben, and the other staff members congratulating each other on a job immensely well done. After grabbing your belongings, you bid your co-workers a good night.

With the way your stiff legs are throbbing, you’re wishing you hadn’t parked down the way to avoid the early rush. You sigh with relief as your vehicle comes into view. Just a little bit more, and you’ll be on your way home.

You aren’t able to take another step.

The grip on your upper arm surprises you. It tightens to a painful vice and brings you to your knees.

Quick as lightning, another hand swiftly grabs the back of your neck, forcing your nose to the concrete.

“If you try and scream,” a feminine voice says, “that breath will be your last.”

There’s no hesitation in your assailant’s voice. Just a menacing promise laced with danger. You fight against your mounting fear and swallow audibly. Then go lax.

“Good.”

You barely hear the sound of shoes scraping against the sidewalk over your frantic pulse.

“Well?” an unfamiliar, male voice asks.

“You were right. This one’s got the pheromonal stink of a cambion on them. Strong, too.”

“Bear with it a bit longer.” You can hear a smile in the male’s voice. “It’ll be a scent relegated to your memories soon enough.”

One moment you hear shuffling. The next, your wrists are tightly bound together. A piece of cloth is forced past your teeth and tied tightly behind your neck.

Then, a sharp prick to your wrist. Your body seizes.

“Pleasant dreams,” the female voice mocks.

Black spots begin to overtake your vision as you’re lifted from the ground.

“Let’s go. We’ve got a trap to set.”

It’s the last thing you hear before everything goes dark.

#cambion boyfriend #monster boyfriend #monster romance #exophilia #terato #half demon #half-demon #this is the first time writing a gender neutral reader #so I hope it's okay #expect part 2 soon!

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heoneyology · 4 years

Text

hurt | l.mh

A/N: this was written based off this gif appearing on my dash and giving me very many feelings... my writing is rusty I’ve been too busy with work to write please forgive the messiness of this

Word Count: 2189

Genre: angst, fluff

Pairing: reader x lee know (stray kids)

Warnings: implied gang!au, implied mature themes, gender neutral reader

Summary: You despise your brother’s hotheaded friend, Lee Minho, who comes around to the family restaurant whenever he pleases—typically in a fit of rage he’ll take out on the shop, until his rage leads to him taking out his frustrated desires—usually on you. Despite all expectations, however, tonight is different...

He always comes around here… usually, raining hellfire. He bursts in, rage emanating off his skin in waves that make it so palpable, almost suffocating—a savage, animalistic anger burning in his eyes, a fire that can’t be quenched. The pain, mixed seamlessly with frustration, is visible in his eyes and clearly written all over his face with the cuts and bruises that adorn his sharp features.

Each time, you yell at him to get out. Just because he’s friends with Chan doesn’t mean he’s welcome here.

In fact, it’s the furthest thing. This is a sacred area; untouched by the sullied hands of those Chan associates himself with. You try to keep the business clean—Chan can deal with things behind the scenes as he pleases. But you want nothing to do with any of it, or any of his friends. Sure, there are the younger kids that help out, that haven’t been exposed to anything quite yet. But it’s people like him who come in with a burning rage and and intent to take their frustrations out physically because something didn’t go their way.

He always takes his frustrations out on you, despite your protests. But there’s always something in his voice that causes you to give in. A hitch that only you can hear, that little crack in his facade that no one else can hear or see; the one he doesn’t visibly present to others. Because of that single moment of weakness that he allows to slip, you’ll find yourself under him another night as his breath leaves hot trails and his lips burn against your skin in passion.

And you hate him, you tell yourself. But you don’t, not really. You want to hate him, though—with every fiber of your being. It’d make things so much easier.

When he comes around tonight, the shop is closed. He doesn’t barge in, as per usual. In fact, as you clean away the sticky residue of soju clinging where it had been splashed and splattered across the wooden floor of the restaurant, focusing on working the mop into the floor and scrubbing it clean, you don’t even hear the ring of the bell signifying a customer has entered. It’s the thump of him collapsing that signals to you someone else is here with you, and you spin on your heel muttering out a, “What the hell—” under your breath.

Setting the mop aside, you take a few steps towards the door, passing a few tables that clear your visibility and reveal a slumped Lee Minho collapsed on the floor, breathing heavy as he rests his head back against the pillar of the door frame. He’d barely made it one step in the door before giving up.

“Minho.” You scowl, setting your jaw just as he shifts to look at you. “You aren’t allowed here. How many times do I have to tell you?”

At the familiar sound of your unfriendly voice, Minho tilts his head down, glancing up at you from his spot on the floor. He meets the intensity of your scowl, unflinching. If you hadn’t seen him beaten and bruised before, you’d have flinched yourself at the sight of his face. Though, you note, it’s much worse this time.

Immediately, you take note of the black eye forming—the skin next to the edge of his left eye splotched and angry looking. Just above that, there’s a small gash on his eyebrow. On his right cheekbone rests a bad scrape, still freshly bleeding from the broken skin, and angry looking with the hue of red and slight twinge of purple from the bruise forming beneath. The corner of his mouth is also split open, also an angry red that becomes more accentuated when he smiles at you.

A part of you wonders where else he may be injured. Another part of you wonders how he can simply smile through the pain.

“At least a hundred more times,” he mumbles, voice lacking energy. He sounds exhausted—defeated—and you're surprised at the lack of cocky snarkiness his tone usually holds.

“Get out of here, Minho,” you grumble, stepping forward to grab hold of his elbow, giving him a tug to urge him to his feet. “If I tell Chan you were here again and the state you’re in he’s going to lose his shit on you.”

A sound of surprise slips past your lips when momentum takes over, Minho suddenly slipping his arm out of your grasp and around yours, grabbing hold of your forearm and tugging you down to him. You barely register the ache that shoots through your legs as you land on your knees, between his propped up legs, nose-to-nose with him.

“Where should I go, then?”

You stare at him, breath caught in your throat, studying his brown eyes. More so than any time before, his gaze is full of pain and a soft sadness that causes your stomach to twist with guilt. Your own gaze flickers away from his for a brief moment, glossing over the injuries scattered about his features—injuries you’d seen many times before.

“A hospital, maybe,” you mutter, glancing back at him. “Like a normal person.”

Minho scoffs. “They ask too many questions. You’re studying medicine—”

“Not for you,” you snap, without thinking, pulling yourself away from him. Unlike so many times before, there’s no strength in his grip. You can almost feel the ghost of his fingers digging into your skin from previous nights, yet those same fingers slip loosely off your arm as you pull yourself away and back to your feet. “I’m not a free service you can just come to whenever you please, Lee Minho. You need to leave. Stop coming here, seriously.”

You turn away from him without sparing another glance, the scowl on your face deepening as you pick up where you left off with mopping. Your brow feels like it may indent on your face as you scrub the floors while you mop, working your arms against the wood until you can feel your biceps aching; your head spins in annoyance at Minho’s appearance—him always showing up only when he needs something, whether it be a quick fuck to relieve some stress and tension or because you’re free medical care with the lack of questions to what kind of trouble he was getting himself in to.

By the time you reach the front of the store again, you’re surprised to find Minho is still there, slumped by the door. His head hangs low, arms resting on his propped up legs. His entire frame looks defeated. You feel your grip tighten around the wooden handle of the mop as you stare at him, studying him quietly. He’s unaware of your presence, and that’s when you realize—his shoulders aren’t moving with his breathing.

“Minho?” You set the mop aside again, stepping towards him hesitantly. He doesn’t stir at the sound of your voice. Despite yourself, you rush forward, landing on your knees in front of him again. Your hand snakes out in a flash, two fingers pressing against his neck to find his pulse—and just as quickly, Minho’s own frame stirs, his arm snaking out to snatch yours away from his neck. His grip is harsh and firm, fingers digging into a pressure point on your forearm.

You flinch, and almost immediately, Minho drops his grip on your hand. “Sorry—”

Sorry…? He’d… never said sorry before.

You grimace at the ache in your arm, pulling your gaze away from where his hand had just been holding to stare at him, meeting his wide brown eyes. They’re filled with the same soft sadness as before, no burning fire or rage like usual, and all the pain you can see now that he’s visibly holding back.

“Are you okay?”

Minho’s features twist into something between a grimace and a look of amusement, and the scoff that falls past his lips is something akin to a humorless laugh. “When have I ever been?”

You frown, your heart twisted at his words, as you let out a sigh and push yourself to your feet. He doesn’t say anything as you walk away—probably expecting you to fully give up on him. You move swiftly to the kitchen, grabbing the first aid kit, and when you return, you’re surprised to see Minho has shifted, attempting to brace himself to gather a foothold.

He must have something in his leg injured, too, you think to yourself.

“Sit still,” you order, and Minho glances up—surprise written all over his features at your reappearance. As you stop in front of him, crouching back down and settling yourself into a sitting position, Minho leans back again against the door frame pillar. You set the first aid kit aside and open it. Minho watches quietly as you shuffle through the contents.

“I’m studying medicine, but this isn’t a hospital. You’re still going to need to get better treatment later on,” you explain, pulling out some of the contents. As you do so, you glance back and forth between the visible injuries on his face and the contents of the kit.

“I know,” Minho answers.

“Go see Woojin later. Or go to an actual doctor.”

“I’ll try.”

As you scoot a little closer towards Minho, positioning yourself between his spread legs, ripping open the packet of an antiseptic wipe as you do so, you ask, “Will you really try?”

“Maybe—” Minho starts, flinching as you press the wipe against his eyebrow. “Damn, not even a warning of ‘this is going to hurt’?”

You snort, carefully cleaning the small gash at his brow. “You already know it’s going to hurt. This is your punishment for not going to a real doctor who can give you painkillers while they do this.”

“Fine. I’ll actually try to go to a real doctor tomorrow.”

“Good,” you mutter, ripping open another packet and pressing the new, clean wipe to the corner of his lip. You work carefully with the corner of the pad, trying not to get too much of the chemical itself on his lower lip. Minho tilts his chin up just enough to grant you more access. “I’m tired of you coming around here injured all the time asking for help, pissed off you’re beat up or lost some shit or screwed something up.”

For a few moments, Minho doesn’t reply. The only sound in the closed restaurant is both your breathing, mingling together in the small space. When you lean away, discarding that wipe and opening another packet to move to the scrape at his cheek, you grimace. Setting your jaw, you mutter, “Okay, this one is going to hurt…”

He gives a curt nod, tensing as you press the wipe gently to his cheek, dabbing carefully so not to break open the skin that’s already decided to scab. After a few more moments of silence, he speaks up.

“Are you tired of me coming around in general, or just when I’m beat up and in a bad mood?”

Your hand pauses in your work, hovering against his cheek. The question catches you off guard, and surprises you—he seems to be full of surprises that night, apologizing and now asking such a heartfelt question, in a soft and uncertain voice. To top it off, unlike previous nights, he hadn’t even come barging into the restaurant in a fit of rage, as he always did. You glance at him, surprised to see him studying you cautiously, gaze guarded.

Usually, even on the nights his temper was raging the worst—his eyes always gave him away. Gave away all the pain and hurt, and hatred, he harbored deep inside. All the scars on his heart he kept guarded and hidden away with harsh words and a temper that was used as a shield to protect himself.

You startle in surprise when Minho, suddenly, falls forward and drops his head onto your shoulder. For a moment, you tense. Proximity like this, between the two of you, usually led to things—and he didn’t seem to be in the state for that right now, despite having never taken precautions against that before.

“I’m sorry,” Minho mumbles, his head resting against your shoulder. At his apology, you find yourself relaxing. “It’s the only way I knew to come around here in the first place. I didn’t mean to take advantage of you… if you want me to stop coming around for good, I will…”

You let out a sigh, free hand lifting up to rest against the top of his head. This time, it’s Minho’s turn to stiffen against you, relaxing only when he feels your fingers gently thread through his hair, repeating the motion.

“It’s too late for that now, isn’t it?” You murmur. “Next time you come around here, I don’t want any cuts or bruises on your face and I don’t want that temper of yours.”

Against your shoulder, you feel Minho nod. When he speaks up, his voice has a small crack in it, and you continue to gently run your fingers through his hair. “I’ll treat you properly, from now on. I’ll do it right this time.”

#lee know fanfic #lee minho fanfic #stray kids fanfic #skz fanfic #lee know imagine #lee know scenario #lee minho imagine #lee minho scenario #stray kids imagine #stray kids scenario #skz imagine #skz scenario #m.writes

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edspageds · 4 years

Text

Reddie 18+ Drabble - The Challenge

For a request by @candy-gothic Technically this ran a slight bit longer then a drabble, but I liked the idea, and I hope you enjoy!!!

Summary: Eddie is pretty tolerant of Richie’s pranks, turns out, this is a very good thing.

Pairing: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier

Warnings: notSFW, exhibitionism, naked man challenge

Word Count: 1.5k

Eddie likes to think he’s not easily fazed. Faced with the kind of idiots he works for day-in and day-out that like to make demands with little idea of how possible the job actually is, it’s amazing he hasn’t blown up in his superior's face more than twice.

When faced with the kind of idiot he has at home, well, let’s leave it at living with Richie has prepared Eddie for even the most surprising of events.

His endless patience combined with his unsurprised demeanor make it so he’s given Richie free reign to attempt whatever comedy thing he likes involving Eddie- within reason. He doesn’t understand the draw to any of those online internet comedy videos, but Eddie’s not really a comedy guy in general despite living with a literal comedian. He has final say on what is and isn’t posted, and when a joke is taken too far. Only issue there is, it takes a lot for Eddie to deem something ‘too far’.

Clearly, Richie took that as a challenge.

Eddie’s on a zoom conference, just taking a sip of his hot tea while the meeting droned on, and out of the corner of his eye he sees Richie. He doesn’t think anything of it, Richie likes to do his own thing, but be in Eddie’s company when he’s doing work stuff like this. It’s romantic, that he just likes being in Eddie’s presence even if they are doing separate things. That being together brings him a comforting blanket of warmth.

But, then he sees Richie, and chokes on his tea.

“Kaspbrak, shit, are you okay?” He doesn’t know which one of them asks, and really has to strain himself to suppress the reaction his body wants to make at the sight of Richie, buck ass naked, standing proudly in front of him recording.

He clears his throat, coughing, and schools his face into a bored expression. "Yes. Thank you for your concern. Please continue."

His customer service voice takes over, and the meeting progresses. But Eddie’s lost any bit of the little attention he's paying it as Richie glides a hand down his chest wiggling his brows suggestively.

As if there was a way to take this that wasn't fucking suggestive. Eddie keeps his face neutral, but flips Richie off just out of sight.

His grin grows, the little shit, and he points at his face and then his phone mouthing something along the lines of 'smile for the camera'. With startling clarity, Eddie realizes this is a prank.

He wants to kill him.

Instead of murder, he keeps his expression dull. “-and for the quarterly assessments, Kaspbrak?”

“Yes, sir. If you’ll see the flow chart on page 23 of the packet I emailed you…” While he speaks, he palms his cock through his jeans, completely out of sight of his work call, but completely in-sight of Richie.

Richie's breath goes ragged, laser focused on Eddie's hand, grip faltering on his phone as he quickly realizes his joke backfired spectacularly. And now he's standing naked, in their living room, with his incredibly irresistible boyfriend watching him out of the corner of his eye on the couch rubbing his crotch under the tv tray he's perched his laptop on, teasing Richie with what he can't have because he's on a goddamn work call.

Or at least, that's what Eddie thinks is going through Richie's mind. That Eddie’s proved his point, and they'll settle this later. Clearly, he underestimated the depth of Richie's horniness and lack of shame when instead of escaping back up the stairs to jack off leaving Eddie in peace, Richie wraps a hand around his shaft pumping in a smooth stroke, hairy thighs flexing.

Eddie covers his involuntary moan in a cough, quickly downing a sip of his tea in between talking. He could put a stop to this, shoo Richie off and focus on the current meeting. Get his half-hard cock to calm down, and pretend that he cares about what’s going on in the slightest.

But, that would imply Eddie wanted to stop. That his blood wasn't racing in his veins as Richie watched him through the lens of his camera, stroking his thick cock till it was red and weeping at the head.

Eddie forces his expression to remain neutral as a dark flush works its way up his torso, beads of sweat budding on the surface of his skin like the growing wet patch on his boxers where his cock pleads for attention straining against his pants. "...It's hard to give an estimate here without more on-site data, but initial estimates by picture evaluation is included."

He says the words on auto-pilot, having reviewed his notes more than twenty times. He tries to keep his eyes straight forward, but he can't help letting his gaze track to Richie.

Richie licks his lips, thumbing the head of his dick, the hot length of him twitching in want. Eddie's nerves are a live wire as he pops the button on his jeans, slipping the zipper down slowly. Richie shivers, squeezing his cock as a heavy bead of pre-cum leaks out. Fuck, Eddie wants to push all this to the side and lick it up. His mouth practically watering, he has to audibly swallow the excess saliva.

He hopes the group just thinks he's nervous, or any number of normal explanations for his red complexion, even while he palms his tented boxers, Richie practically shaking in want but holding himself back till at least Eddie finishes talking.

"...any questions?" Richie steps forward, panting harshly as he pumps his cock not even two feet away pupils blown wide with lust.

"Only a few Mister Kaspbrak, what about the…" Richie actually whines low, but no one seems to hear it, and it just makes Eddie smile, shifting to nudge down his pants and boxers so his cock springs free, hard and aching for attention. While he keeps his expression cool and collected, he teases his length with feather light touches that have him arching forward.

Richie is practically overwhelmed with desire, eyes locked on Eddie's cock, still angling the phone to capture all of Eddie's blatant debauchery.

Eddie wonders if Richie will watch this later. Maybe while he's away on tour, and craving everything about Eddie. Think about touching Eddie everywhere but his cock, let him squirm trying to keep a good look for the camera while practically rutting up into the underside of the table desperately wanting touch in all his most sensitive places. Wanting Richie's touch in all his most sensitive places.

He stutters briefly, squeezing the base of his dick, blinking a few times to keep his focus.

Now, Richie's just behind his laptop. Large form making Eddie's balls tighten in want, the manly frame of him enough to have Eddie stumble over his words. He can't help being distracted, not when Richie's eyes are on him devouring him with reverent desire and affection. Eddie keeps talking mindlessly, and hopes his shitty speakers continue to be shit so no one hears the slide of Richie's hand over his cock.

He wants him to cum all over his thighs, paint him white while Eddie fools his colleagues into thinking he's perfectly proper, even as he fucks into his own fist slicked by Richie's cum.

"...and I believe that concludes our business. Thank you all, see you in the office on Monday. Enjoy your weekends."

Eddie doesn't even get in more than a half cut off 'Goodb-' before Richie shuts the laptop shoving it and the stand to the side crowding into Eddie's space to slot their lips together in a messy slide of tongues. The harsh burn of Richie's scruff dragging against his lips. Desperate to touch, Richie’s hands rove over his body, and Eddie's skin lights a trail of fire in his blood everywhere they touch.

He shucks off his pants, Richie pressing close in between his legs, man handling him to get their cocks rubbing together. Eddie surges forward licking a strip up Richie's throat, savoring the taste of his musk. They can't stop, not now, not so close.

Richie gets his hand around both of them, and Eddie's toes curl, fucking up into his fist and the slide of skin on skin, so delicious. It drives him wild. Richie drives him wild with thrashing, feverous wanting dipping and soaring through his blood. Like a stampeding herd vibrating throughout his entire body. Until he's on the edge, lips shiny with spit, slightly swollen from their aggressive mouths.

Richie pulls back, camera still trained on him, as he cums, undone.

It doesn't take much for Richie to tumble after, and into him, panting heavily on his shoulder. Bubbling great waves of warm affection making his limbs weak and his eyes heavy. Eddie smatters the side of his head in light pecks, warm content stewing.

Cuddled close on the couch, catching their breath, it probably goes without saying, but Richie doesn't get to post his video.

#reddie smut #reddie fanfic #eddie kaspbrak #richie tozier #reddie fanfiction #reddie drabble #my works #minors do not interact

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dadzawa-adopt-dabi · 4 years

Text

secret baby ch12

When the day comes for Dabi to meet ‘the broker’ and start his new job doing whatever Giran asks of him Dabi spends the morning a nervous wreck. He scents his entire apartment. Trying to give himself something to do and trying to calm his nerves at the same time. He refuses to let go of Kiyoko as he paces around his apartment rescenting it and after almost 3 hours of this behaviour Kiyoko becomes fussy. Unhappy with being held and being so close to Dabi when he reeks of omega distress. She continues to whimper and cry as Dabi gets ready and starts full on wailing when he sprays on a scent neutralizer. Covering up his natural scent and making him smell like nothing in particular unless someone gets very close to him. Tucking his head against Kiyoko’s skull one he takes a deep breath, breathing in her unique baby scent.

Knocking on the door to her babysitters apartment feels weird, like he’s moving too fast or too slow, the knocks sound extra loud. Dabi is more grateful for the neutralizing scent patch covering his distress. Kiyoko keeps scrunching her nose at him and making small unhappy wails. She’s not truly started fussing again yet but she might once Dabi leaves.The door opens and the young alpha female that babysits the buildings kids coo’s at Kiyoko. Thankfully she’s never tried to take Kiyoko out of Dabi’s arms, always waiting until Dabi has said goodbye one last time and hands her over.

“Ill see you tonight okay Kiyoko? Daddy will be back tonight and then you can stop making those grouchy faces.” He kisses the top of her head and vows to himself that no matter what he has to do tonight he will come home to Kiyoko in one piece. If that means dropping more bodies then he’s just going to have to be okay with that. “I love and be good.”

Kiyoko wails and reaches for him when he passes her to her babysitter but that's normal at this stage.

At just 5 months Kiyoko has started recognizing people and doesn't like being left with her sitter or being held by anyone she doesn't know.

Dabi waits until the babysitter has her inside and he’s heard the lock turn in place before he turns around leaving her behind.

The meeting place end’s up being a cafe that looks very nice for the neighborhood it's in. its welcoming and decorated in neutral tones with porcelain cups to drink out of instead of disposable ones. It feels very upscale, like somewhere Dabi would have gone when he was Touya, it leaves him feeling even more anxious.

“I'm here to meet someone,” He explains to the barista and asks for a water cup. Something to throw as a distraction if he has to make an escape. It won't buy him anything more than a few seconds but something is better than nothing.

“Ill let him know you're here! Feel free to order anything that catches your eye! Giran’s people get snacks catered to them on the house during meetings!” the barista chirps at him in her polite customer service voice. She didn't smell nervous or stressed from what he could tell. Unusual for people in customer service.

“Um, just water please. I'm not sure I'm one of his people yet” Dabi mutters and turns the cups he is given in his hands. Finding it hard to stop fidgeting,

He sits at a table close to the door and slowly sips at his water. The barista messes around on their phone before going back to what he assumes is an employee area. His legs won’t quit bouncing out of nerves. Then an older man in an ill fitting suit comes out smoking a cigar despite no smoking signs posted all over posted in clear view. There’s 3 from what Dabi can see focusing on them as the man takes his own sweet time coming over after talking to the barista. One small one near the registrar and one against the back wall, the last one being on the wall the table he chose is shoved up next to.

“Alright sugar relax.” the man puffs at his cigarette and sits down. The barista brings him a coffee moments later. “You don’t have to do anything you're not comfortable with.”

“What if i want to leave right now and not come back?” Dabi glares across the table. He may sound kind but Giran oozes sleezeball vibes. Maybe it's the poorly fitting suit and the cigar. Probably the nicknames too.

“If you want to change your mind and leave you can. But I promise you won't be able to remember how to get a hold of me or how to find this lovely establishment again.” Giran takes a drink of coffee and pulls out a nice tablet from his suit’s jacket.

“What do i call you?” shoulders sloping a fraction Dabi finally relaxes into his chair.Giran smelled of cigar smoke and coffee blended with the scent all alpha’s carried. It was oddly comforting to Dabi.

“You can call me anything you’d like but most people call me either ‘the broker’ or my name Giran.” he messes around on the tablet for a few minutes before he turns it around showing Dabi the screen.

“I, there’s legal things here? Including actual delivery?” relieved, if a little confused Dabi looks at the ‘listings’. “I don’t understand. I, look. I was given your number for a job I cremated someone about to hit his girlfriend. Also a lot of these would take me months to pay you back. “ it would still be more than he was making now. Still a tight budget to raise Kiyoko on though. He would be getting a large porton siphoned off to Giran. He didn’t want to get himself wrapped up in a loan shark. None of the jobs were exactly descriptive either.

“Oh! Mira told me about you! She’s not usually the type to recruit these sort of people so I assumed you would want to join her in being an escort or something on that level.” Giran swiped the tablet back and swiped over a few tabs. “This more like what you were expecting honey?”

The list was much much longer with bigger wages listed in parentheses next to each title. Maybe enough to pay Giran back in a couple weeks and live off of. Underneath were job descriptions detailing what would be expected of him for each and instructions to contact Giran about anything they were unsure about.

“Any of these i want?” there was a listing for anything from drug running to lookouts to something called ‘observer’. Apparently that one you just sat around in whatever locations you got texted and reported as many things as you noticed. Guards, people, Heros and where they stopped. Giran obviously wasn't a small time small information broker new to doing this.

There was a listing towards the bottom that grabbed Dabi’s attention right away. It offered a generous sum of money and was called “shovel”. Looking at the description it looked like debt collection and body disposal. It was something that paid very well and Dabi could easily due considering the nature of his quirk, with a little pain he could pay Giran back very quickly. However It required a two man team so he would be working closely with someone, who most likely would be nosy and wanting to hang out after ‘work’. It would require getting close to his partner as well, knowing enough about them to make sure he didn’t run to the police with a description of Dabi.

Dabi could probably just as well survive off any of the other jobs though. If he chose something he wouldn't have to work with anyone else and have them snooping around in his business.

“I would like to try messenger for now Giran.” he tapped at his decision on screen,highlighting it. Messengers did a variety of things, delivering things for Giran he didn't want to send through the mail as well as verbal messages. He had explicit rights to defend himself if he needed to and it seemed to be lower risk than just dropping bodies.

“Alright then, can we get a name for you to go buy?” Giran took his tablet back and put it away after making a few notes on it.”I have to admit I was hoping for ‘shovel’ with that quirk of yours I heard about.”

“You can call me Dabi, and I'm not sure how alright I would be with ‘shovel’ as something to start with.” Dabi shrugged, still tense. This felt slightly too easy to do.

“Well let's cut a deal here ‘Dabi’ how about if you end up dropping a body or two out on the job

then i’ll give you the ‘shovel’ rate of pay for saving me the work of calling in the other guys? Sound good?” standing up Giran held out his hand for Dabi to shake.

“ I'm not going to say no to more money.” Dabi shook Giran’s calloused hand and made to leave. Feeling disgusting and wanting to get out of there as soon as possible.

“Ill text you times and places a week in advance, If your not feeling well let me know. We can probably work something out and i don't want to be losing people because they didn't feel like they could stay home”

“I look forward to hearing from you then I guess.” That had gone a lot better than expected, except for signing a bunch of legal papers it was what Dabi suspected a real job interview would have been like.

Kiyoko reaches for Dabi when he comes he goes to pick her up. Freshly showered and smelling like himself again. She’s only recently been able to control her little limbs enough to be able to reach for him and it melts his heart every single time.

“Dad got a job princess! We’re going to be living like royalty.” Dabi purrs at her as he carries her home.

Kiyoko gurgles at him and waps him with her arm.

“Yeah I know, you're always so upset when dad has to leave you with the babysitter. Well i don’t like it either.” opening up his apartment door he switched the radio on for some white noise and put Kiyoko in her high chair. Starting to cook something for himself and heating up Kiyoko’s formula. Which she gurgled and reached for the moment she saw it. Wrinkling his nose Dabi walked around his apartment opening the windows, it still smelled like his distress several hours later.

“Looks like i was worried for nothing Kiyoko, let's hope it stays that way.” Later when Dabi had tucked Kiyoko into her crib for the night he paced around the apartment. Doing the dishes in silence and putting away any toys Kiyoko had out until the last minute when she couldn't keep her eyes open. The apartment still felt slightly empty and when it was this quite it only amplified the feeling.

@ruelukas22 @mostladylikeladythateverladied @xxsnowchildxx @i-like-to-shruggy

#dabihawks #dabi #keigo takami #hotwings #bnha #omegaverse #omegadabi #alphakeigo #secretbabyfic #thedarkonewrites #sorry for the wait

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maggyme13 · 4 years

Text

Sugar (3/?)

AN: Here is my third chapter of my SugardaddyLoki AU:) I hope you like the Chapter for this week :)

Warnings: not really

Wordcount: around 1600

Masterlist

Sugar- Masterlist

Part 2

You had decided to bake some chocolate-apple-pie after your grandmothers recipe together with some Pasta and self made tomato-sauce, hoping the male would like the food.

The apartment had started to smell delicious, yourself nibbling on some bread Pietro had brought with him from his grocery shopping.

He had mentioned that Mr Laufeyson usually did not eat breakfast at the flat, but got something on his way. So you had needed to get your breakfast supplies, or your mornings would be hungry.

At least he had tea. A lot of tea and a lot of different kinds.

Now, the kitchen was stocked with every essential thing someone would need.

Food was finished around dinner time and you were just cleaning the kitchen of any evidence of your session, when the front-door opened.

You froze in anticipation and worry.

“Food is already here. Good. Please serve while I change into something different.”, the male called and not a second later you heard another door close.

Doing as asked, you plated your home-cooked meal and placed a dish where he had sat the day prior, you sitting down with your own serving in the same manor.

It did not take long for him to emerge again and join you at the large table.

“This looks quite good. Now it only has to taste as such.”, he mumbled, eyeing the food in front of him before taking a small bite.

You waited, anxious, for his reaction and could not suppress a smile when you saw him relax into the food.

He liked it.

“This – this is good. Where did you get it? I have to put it on Pietro´s list of shops to buy from.”, he asked you, already preparing the next bite.

“I made it.”, you whispered, awaiting his reaction.

You were not disappointed: His shewing stopped, his eyes wandering to look at you. He gulped the food he had in his mouth.

“You are telling me, that you cooked this meal yourself? How and Why?”

“I spoke with Pietro and he offered to get the ingredients, what he did. I found the utensils in the cupboards.”

“Well, that explains how, but not why.”

“I, I didn´t know what to get, and I like to cook. It is also cheaper-”, the last part was only a whisper, but he still heard it.

“I don´t think I need to have an eye on how much money I spend for food and take-outs.”

“I apologize Mr Laufeyson.”, you quickly added, averting your eyes.

“It is quite delicious.”, he continued, “Well done.”

Warmth spread through your veins upon hearing the males praise and you couldn´t suppress a shy smile.

“You may cook more often. Now, if you would excuse me, I have an early meeting tomorrow and therefore will go to bed now.”, he declared, already standing up.

“I- there is dessert.”, you quickly stated, “I mean- if you want. I can but it in the fridge. The pie might not taste as good as now, but still good.”

“You made pie?”, he mused, sitting down again, “What kind of pie.”

“Apple chocolate after my grandma´s recipe.”, you whispered.

He stayed silent and you took it as a sign to serve the desert. Gathering the used dishes, you placed them aside and got the pie out of the oven to plate it with some powdered sugar.

Mr Laufeyson looked at for a few second, before taking a very small piece onto his fork and eating it.

His face kept neutral, though he ate it all.

“As I said. I will be retreating for the night. Tomorrow morning the cleaning service will come to clean the apartment. Just as a heads-up. Have a good night.”

And with that, the man retreated to his quarters.

Well, better get the kitchen cleaned and then to bed.

Thanks to the fact that you had already cleaned most of the things after using them, the kitchen was spotless within ten minutes with the leftovers secured within the fridge. Labeled with the date you had cooked them.

It was nearly enough to feed one more person.

Shutting off the light, within the main area, you stepped into your bedroom, only to stop short; on your bed were four black boxes with silver ribbons.

Presents.

When did he get them in here? What is in there?

Slowly you approached your bed, letting your fingers brush over the soft fabric of the ribbons, once you were able to.

The boxes had the Ásgard´-logo imprinted into the top.

More clothes? But-

With gentle hands, you opened the first bow and then box.

Is that Lingerie? What does this mean?

Shocked, you lifted the first pair of clothes out of the box. It wasn´t lingerie as you first thought, it was a nightdress.

Does he expect me to wear this?

Quickly you opened the other boxes as well, and the next two contained a similar kind of clothing.

That was, until you opened the last box and a relieved sigh escaped your lungs. Your eyes fell onto some new shirts and boxer-shorts. First were made of extremely soft cotton, last were made of silk.

You just had to wear them, the leggings and shirt you had worn previously had been to warm for your liking and felt wrong to your skin beneath the covers.

Ready for bed, you placed the boxes into the walk-in. You would sort them away in the morning.

With your mobile phone charging and the alarm set for 6:30am, you closed your eyes to sleep.

You woke up with the alarm and decided it was a good day to start with a shower.

Dressed as casually as possible, you made your way to the kitchen area with still wet hair.

You were surprised to see Mr Laufeyson already sitting there. “Good morning.”, you mumbled.

“Good Morning. I did not thought I would see you this early.”, he greeted you in return, sipping on his tea.

“I am used to get up early to do work.”, you admitted, preparing your own breakfast with the stuff Pietro got you the day prior.

“I see. Pietro will drive me to work this morning. I have a conference call with some important people. After that he can drive you wherever you want. There is a credit card on the little table next to your door. It has an allowance of 10.000$ a week. I may allow you to use more, should I see it necessary and you ask me beforehand. You need to have your ID with you though. Otherwise the card will not be accepted.”

He spoke almost bored, like that sum of money were just peanuts.

“Ten-thousand a week?”,you stated with huge eyes.

“Not enough?”

“Too much. Tha- thats more than I made in four months working. Wha- what should I do with that much?”, you quickly explained.

“Buy what you want, as long as you don´t buy at the opponents shops. The cleaning crew will be working from 10 to 12am. See you sometime today.”, and with that, the sharp dressed man left.

Leaving you with no idea what you should do with your day.

Sighting, you grabbed the offered card and stared at it for a long time.

I could visit Bob and Monty, maybe get them some food or things they need. And then buy stuff for the shelter. At least I would do good with all this money.

You still did not want pity money and felt dirty accepting it.

Using your new phone (because you couldn´t find a pen and some paper to make notes), you wrote stuff you though you should get to not accidentally forget something.

It got rather long, and you hoped you would be able to get all this without renting a truck.

“And I need some reeeeeaally simple stuff to wear.”, you mumbled.

The ringing of your phone caught your attention. Pietro was calling you.

“Good Morning. How can I help you?”, you greeted him politely, just like you had done with your customers just a few days ago.

“(y/n), It´s Pietro. Boss said to call you once I am free. Soooo, I am free. Any idea what you want to do? I can drive you wherever you want.”, the young man´s voice came out of the speaker.

“Thank you, that would be nice. I have a few stops I would like to make- if that is not too much trouble.”, you smiled into the phone.

“Not at all, I would just be earning my money. I will be at the tower in the next ten minutes. If you want, you can wait in the lobby. I will come and get you.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

“No worries. See you in Ten.”, and with that the line went dead.

“Well .. then let´s get down there I guess.”, you mumbled, grabbing your phone and wallet, you got on your way down to the lobby.

It was rustling with live and you searched for a calmer area to wait for the blond young men.

You felt out of place and feared they would kick you out any second now, but instead, your phone rang again and you accepted Pietro´s call.

“I am up front. Are you ready to go?”

“I am coming out, give me a second.”

“Sure, it´s the black Dodge SUV.”

“Got it.”

Part 4

AN2.0 Well, Loki seemed to like her food. What do you think she will do with all the money?

REBLOGS and comments are appreciated, though any request of a SUGARDADDY looking for a Baby will be deleted… just like the last 30 in the first two parts…..

Thank you very much.

~MaggY

Taglists:

Permanent:

@jadepc@pacifyhxlsey @thankyoukarenclifford

@thankyouforanonymity @punkrockhufflefluff

@scarletraine @buckycaptspideypool @markusstraya @graveyard-groupie @markusstrayya @randomgirlkensy @the-soulofdevil

MCU:

@yknott81 @banner-and-bucky-are-life @forext20 @dyanlzbb @so-finster-die-nacht @emmii4 @bitchwhytho @ladyofmyst @jilldsumner @momc95 @appreciating-fanfics

Sugar:

@bits-and-bobs-and-kawaii-stuffs @mimmie666 @fullranchwolfoperator

@cluelessnitwhit @youknowitsclouds @his-paradox @purplerainharry

@spootgaai2000 @iamsuperjenna @nikkipea @alexakeyloveloki

I couldnt tag a few of you… sorry.

Want to get tagged as well? Comment, Reblog or send an ask to let me know.

#sugardaddy!loki #sugardaddy Loki x Reader #reader #sugardaddy au #Loki #Loki Laufeyson #MCU #Marvel #Reader insert

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readerxxfics · 4 years

Text

Intervention

Series: Boku no Hero Academia (My Hero Academia)

Disclaimer: The plot and pairing are mine and everything else is borrowed in this work of fan-made fiction off of which no money is made.

Pairing: Hizashi Yamada (Present Mic) + trans!masc Reader

Rating: PG

Dysphoria creeps in on some nights and one particularly bad one brings to you help the form of a familiar blond pro-hero that you idolized and just might have something of a crush on.

Author’s Note: As I’m trans-masc and pre-transition, I have cases of dysphoria that can be disheartening so I figured that some stories reflecting that might help someone else.

*~*~*~*~*

Intervention “Thanks, miss.”

“No, ma'am.”

“Hey, miss, can you help me?”

One more time. Just one more and you were going to smash your head into the counter by your cash register. It was stupid, it was so stupid. Your name tag clearly read a masculine name. Clearly. And maybe just maybe you didn't yet have the body you wanted but...

Did no one actually pay attention to things?!

A lull in activity has you trying to pull yourself together because you could not afford to have the reaction you wanted which at this point was to scream and throw the damn computer or punch someone. You needed the job too badly. Part of you hates that knowledge the most.

But the bills weren't going to pay themselves.

You take a few steadying breaths and tell yourself that you'd been doing this for too long and could handle this readying yourself for the next customers who would come. The only good thing was that it was late and your shift was almost over so there hopefully would only be a small amount of people to deal with.

Sometimes you think that the retail gods hate you because in a few minutes you have a crowd come in. Last-minute shoppers could be the worst especially if they knew it was almost closing time and couldn't be bothered to be considerate of that.

Well, nothing to be done but to show amazing customer service and get them out as quickly as possible, you decide as you slide around the counter to go and greet and ask if you can help them with anything. It's met with varying, “Thanks, we'll let you know” and “No, we're just browsing”. It wasn't a good sign but your manager would be the one to tell them to get out when the time came. That was, after all, their job.

Making your way through the closing duties to be performed between customers, you feel that taxing pull of just being too worn out to handle much more and the last few you know are going to be more of a chore than you really want to deal with.

A customer looking roughly your age or a little older comes up and you can sense the trouble a mile away; he has the look of someone out to start something and you try to just get through ringing him up hoping that your intuition is just being prickly because you're mentally exhausted. And then, you hear him read off your name tag before adding, “That's not really your name is it? That's a guy's name.”

“It is,” you say trying to keep it simple and hope that he'll just take the hint and leave.

“You're not a guy though.”

The words sting only because it rings a hollow truth that you were trying to ignore as dysphoria creeps on you more and more. You knew you weren't biologically. Not yet. But you were in all the ways that counted and it was getting very tiresome that this was the constant struggle.

“Is there anything else I can do for you tonight?” You ask simply in as neutral a tone as you can muster because you're not in the mood for an argument.

“You could stop pretending to be something you're not.”

Your jaw tightens because at this point you're almost itching for a fight with how much you've had to take and not just tonight but for a very, very long time. It's struggling under your skin wanting an outlet but before you can reach across the counter to strangle the life out of the absolute waste of air, a voice calls, “I think you've harassed the clerk long enough. Leave him alone and move along.” The emphasis on the masculine pronoun is a clear warning to your current issue who bristles and turns as you do to face the speaker.

And he stiffens as you do but probably for different reasons at the sight of Present Mic. The hero had clearly come off of a job still clad in his attire, fingers tipping his tinted glasses down so hard red eyes could look with the man. He quickly finishes his purchase and high-tails for the exit.

It almost makes you laugh how fast he leaves.

A moment later, the hero steps up with his items before giving you a wide grin. “Sorry 'bout that, Listener! Clearly he doesn't pay the right amount of attention, my dude.”

You feel yourself unable to help the laugh that escapes before murmuring, “Thanks, though. I appreciate it.”

“Heh, no worries! He was bein' rude for no reason. Clearly uneducated. Probably lives in a cave.”

“With a club,” you agree as you start to ring up his order.

“Wouldn't surprise me,” the blond agrees with a hum.

You're a little sad that the encounter only lasts a few minutes before you hand him his bags and change, but the gift of that sunny smile before he murmurs your name with a, “I'll be seein' ya again soon, listener!” has you looking forward to that more than anything.

#Hizashi Yamada x transmasc Reader #Transmasc Reader #MHA Reader Insert #BNHA Reader Insert #Hizashi Yamada #Present Mic

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softjeon · 5 years

Text

The perfect Illusion | Pt. 5

• Pairing: Geisha!Jimin x Namjoon | Side-Pairing: Geisha!Jungkook x Yoongi • Genre: Fluff / Angst | Geisha!AU ( → Gifset Trailer) • Words: 10k | ↳ AO3 • Disclaimer: mentioning of abusive behavior

*** please note that this story doesn’t mean to represent accurate geisha tradition, it was solely inspired by the beautiful art form, giving it a modern twist in a fictional universe and therefore has been dramatized for entertainment purposes.

written with @cassiavioletblue

↳ He was the perfect illusion. The getaway for anyone who didn’t want to face reality. And yet, there was something in his eyes, something vulnerable and hopeful as if he was dying for someone to see through him, to care for him enough to look behind the mask and draw out the real Jimin. And Namjoon couldn’t wait to do exactly that.

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Leaning against the banister of the staircase, his eyes looked over the still empty theater room. Pursing his lips, he narrowed his eyes to observe closely as a few young men prepared the tables, setting everything up perfectly - just like he ordered. Hoseok was proud of his establishment. More than that. It was his everything.

His father had started this business with the intention of bring back the tradition and mixing it with beautiful new art forms. The perfect fantasy brought to life.

A smirk was securely placed on his lips as he walked down the last steps and further into the main room, making sure everything was perfect before the show would start. They didn’t have those exclusive shows every week, but only one per month. He wanted it to stay exclusive, just for those men and women who could afford it to be a member of this club. His eyes scanned the stage quickly, his gaze getting stuck on Jimin who was going over a couple of last steps with Jungkook.

One of his geisha had been getting sick to his despair and now Jungkook had to fill in his space as he was the closest of being one. Even though Jungkook should have been the one he watched to make sure that he would do it right, Hoseok couldn’t tear his gaze off Jimin. The younger’s movements were so fluid, so beautiful and he prided himself in the knowledge that most of it he learned from him. Jimin was his golden hummingbird, the one who brought the people in and Hoseok wouldn’t let him go. Not for a million bucks. He chuckled to himself. Not that anyone wanted to pay a million bucks to get Jimin out of here anyways.

With a smile, Hoseok turned on his heel and made his way along, the anticipation and excitement rushing through him as he thought of the many tips that would come flowing in for Jimin only to go right into his own pocket.

The geisha’s eyes followed Hoseok’s back for a little while, until Jungkook’s voice shook him out of it. He quickly smiled and began showing Jungkook the steps again. A month had passed so quickly and now it was only a week left for Jungkook’s mizuage. Everything was prepared and yet, everything was still a mess inside his heart.

Namjoon visited him as much as he could and both of their schedules allowed and Jimin couldn’t help but miss him dearly everyday. He wondered if Namjoon did the same. Smiling to himself, Jimin was gone in his daydreams, thinking about Namjoon again. Sometimes when they were alone in the tea rooms, they had intertwined their hands carefully and Jimin had a habit of playing with Namjoon’s fingertips. Their goodbyes at the end of every tea ceremony were getting harder and he wished he could just hug Namjoon, staying in his arms. In a way he was proud of himself that he still could keep his geisha persona up to a point. But the aching to touch Namjoon, to kiss him not only on his cheek (which was forbidden but he did it anyways) and to hold onto him and lean his head on his chest was growing bigger and bigger. He didn’t know what this was, nor was he sure if Namjoon felt the same for him. Inside of him was a garden blooming with all the flowers that Namjoon had planted inside of him. He was hoping, dreaming a lot more than he usually did, his mind gone and he wished to be somewhere else. Sometimes even someone else. Maybe meeting Namjoon would have been easier then. But dreams weren’t meant to come true, not in Jimin’s life.

Still he tried.

Taking on more customers, trying to get as much tip as possible, working even harder to pay off his debt than usual, ignoring the exhaustion that settled deep inside his bones. He sighed deeply, linking his arm with Jungkook as they made their way backstage to get themselves ready for the night. Tonight he would portray the perfect fantasy once more.

...

Namjoon and Yoongi had both taken their seats already. They hadn't watched one of the bigger performances since they had been there with Mr. Ling when Namjoon had seen Jimin dance for the first time. He was looking forward to it even if it meant having to watch from a distance instead of getting the privilege of being up close like he had in their private sessions. It would definitely feel different now that he didn't only see the outer beauty but everything else Jimin had shown him of his personality so far. Yoongi besides him nervously fidgeted with his tea cup. Jungkook had told him that he would dance a full on Geisha dance tonight and the youngers nervousness had somehow transferred over to Yoongi as if they were one heart in two people.

“Is he here? Did you see them?” Jungkook was nervously jumping from one foot to the other, making Jimin go crazy while he tried to fix the belt around his waist. It was a miracle already to make something like this stay on Jungkook’s tiny waist.

“I don’t know...stop Jungkook,” When the younger walked ahead, Jimin still trying to figure the perfect knot to keep it together, Jungkook took the curtain that separates the backstage area to the main room and peeked through. “He is here, Jiminie. He is here,” Jungkook bit his lip in excitement, a small gasp coming from his lips when the belt was tied tight around him. “Jungkook, come back please. If Hoseok…,” Jimin stopped and his eyes widened when he saw Jungkook wave towards Yoongi with the biggest smile. He quickly grabbed the youngers wrist and pulled it down and him behind the curtain, giving himself just a second of a glimpse towards Namjoon. It was enough to see that both men had suited up handsomely well tonight. “Calm down, please. You should focus!” Jimin reprimanded Jungkook and pushed him back into the room, while despite him better knowing, stole another glance himself. The make up he wore hid the blush that appeared, but the smile was evident nonetheless when his eyes fell on Namjoon’s. His heart skipped a beat.

"But how can I calm myself when Yoongi is here to watch my first real Geisha dance? I'm not even considered a grown up yet and still I'll dance a grown up dance for him. It all makes so much more sense now that he's found me. Before dancing was nice and I always enjoyed it but now it has meaning and...you're not listening, are you?" He wasn't mad, quite the opposite really because he hadn't seen such a hopeful and longing look for a long while in Jimin’s eyes.

Jimin could have stared at Namjoon forever, if it wasn’t for the sudden call of his name. It all shattered Hoseok called out for them and Jungkook quickly straightened, schooling his face into a more neutral expression while casting down his eyes. Hoseok cleared his throat, cocking his head aside with a dangerous glint in his eyes. “Jimin…”

“I...I was looking for you,” Jimin quickly explained, bowing his head respectfully and let Hoseok step in behind the curtain with him, “The youngers are very nervous and I would have liked for you to talk to them before they go on stage.” Jimin gulped heavily, but kept his sweet smile as he lied right in Hoseok’s face, watching him pass them.

“I am listening,” Jimin spoke softly, taking Jungkook aside with him, while Hoseok was talking to the young maikos. “It’s good that you feel like this, but you’re still here...still a maiko. You’re not supposed to wave at people. Y-you have main room service tonight and I’ll bet Yoongi will be there to wait for you, then you can talk to him all night, okay?” Jimin held onto his shoulders, his voice barely a whisper to keep Hoseok from eavesdropping. The geisha felt exhausted, tired and definitely wasn’t keen on keeping Jungkook from another punishment if something went wrong. “You’ll be free from this soon. I promise. Then you can do whatever you want with him...if you’re a geisha...you’ll get a lot of money, pay off all your debt. Tonight is important, because Hoseok already send out the invitations. They know your dancing tonight. They will watch.”

Jungkook's expression turned worried. Up close Jimin looked even more exhausted despite the make up. He could see it in his eyes, the downwards shape of his mouth, the tight line of his shoulders. "Minnie, are you okay?" Normally he didn't use the nickname when others were around but it slipped because of how worried he was. Over all bis excitement he had forgotten how much trouble Jimin was going through for him with all the extra training for bis mizuage, the extra shifts to make sure he could see Namjoon and the stuff Hoseok had him till midnight sometimes. "I'm sorry if I'm stressing you out. I didn't mean to. I promise I'll take care. Just look out for yourself tonight, okay? I'll manage, I swear."

Jimin shook his head, “It’s okay. You’re not stressing me out...I’m just...I think I’m overworking myself a little.” The geisha soothed over Jungkook’s arm when the music began to play for the first dance, trying a smile. “I know you’ll be fine. I just…,” He stopped, his eyes flickering over to Hoseok who watched the show from the side and to the other geishas. “I want you to be happy.” Placing a hand on Jungkook’s back like he always did, he motioned for them to walk to the side of the stage, because Jungkook’s number was next.

“But then you need to take a break, Jimin. I don’t want you to get sick.” Jungkook was staring helplessly at Jimin, while simultaneously getting more nervous for his stage. “I don’t have a choice,” Jimin whispered, “I want you to have a different fate than I do. My debt is only getting deeper but yours isn’t.” The geisha smiled at Jungkook with tear filled eyes, “Please show them how good you are tonight. That you’re worth more than any of us...even if you’re not a geisha yet. I don’t want my money to go to waste.” He pushed Jungkook slightly, nodding towards the stage, while the applause of the previous performance was still going on. Jimin had never told Jungkook about this, how he had always shared the money he made to give some of it to Jungkook’s fond. To pay off for him.

Jungkook didn’t belong here and the geisha had realized this a long time ago. The younger was too innocent, wonder still in his eyes that he didn’t want to be ruined. Unfortunately Jimin couldn’t keep him from the mizuage. He had tried. He really did. But it became so much harder, their debts only deeper. Jimin was daring to dream again, for himself, for Jungkook. And it was all because of Namjoon. A weak smile was secured on his lips. That’s why he tried even harder, working even more to gain more tips, keeping Jungkook out of trouble. Jimin couldn’t count the times he said ‘put it onto me’ to Hoseok, for something Jungkook did. Some might have said it’s heroic how he cared for Jungkook’s life more than his own, but Hoseok just called him stupid. But now that Jimin knew, he couldn’t keep Jungkook’s mizuage from happening, he could at least make sure that he wouldn’t have to stay in this establishment for far longer.

“Not long and you’ll be free and then you can be with Yoongi, I promise.”

If Jungkook had known he would have rebelled against Jimin's sacrificial habit immediately. The younger had no idea though and he knew that Jimin had a few more years of "living costs" in his debt account so he knew he had it "better". He had similar ideas than Jimin though, he wanted to work hard and gain lots of tips to get out of the teahouse, then find a job quickly and earn enough money to help pay Jimin's debt. Although it was what he dreamed of he was scared of the thought alone because he had never known anything outside of here and although he knew the rules of the tea house perfectly and all the dances he was supposed to known he had no real qualities that would make it easy for him to get a job. When the lights changed and the music followed Jungkook quickly banished every thought that wasn't about the dance he was about to performance and then stepped out on the stage. He indulged himself with one last look at Yoongi before casting down his eyes and gracefully getting into position.

Jimin watched Jungkook from the side with a smile on his face. The younger was giving it his all, pouring out his emotions in the dance while he was mesmerizing the audience. “Have you thought about teaching a new maiko, Jimin?” Hoseok’s voice send a shiver down the geisha’s spine, his muscles locking up instinctively. “I could let you earn a bit more if you teach more than one, you know...I see you working so hard, babydoll.” His fingertips stroke along his neck and down his shoulder, but Jimin shook his head nonetheless, trying to will away Hoseok’s touch. There was no way Jimin could go through this again and even if Hoseok offered him more money for teaching another maiko or two, it would only leave him with a broken heart again to see someone grow to become someone’s fantasy. He didn’t want that anymore. He just wanted to get out of here. Run away and into Namjoon’s hold.

“I see. At least you always will be mine. You won’t leave me my sweet little hummingbird? Not even for a handsome businessman, right. Always mine.” A kiss was placed right behind his ear and Jimin stood still, his eyes wide, whole body screaming to finally be freed of his touch. To others it only looked like he was whispering something in his ear, a sweet little promise or order to do well, for Jimin it was hell.

When Jungkook came off stage and rushed to his side, it felt like Jimin was in a daze. He smiled towards the younger, wanting to tell him how good he had been, how beautiful he looked while dancing when he stumbled onto the stage himself. For a moment Jimin felt utterly lost on the big wooden stage, trying to find his position. Hoseok’s words repeating itself in his mind over and over again. He began to dance, moving to the music smoothly - only that Jimin felt nothing. Absolutely nothing but exhaustion. The amount of hours he had been working to pay off Jungkook’s debt to make sure the younger would be out of here as soon as possible.

God, he was so close, so so close.

The way he tried to pay off more of his own, doing extra work and extra training, taking on even more customers just to be able to see Namjoon again. The heartache. The longing. The worries about Jungkook, his mizuage, Yoongi and...Namjoon. Jimin spun around, his gaze flickering over to him as he spotted the handsome man in the audience as if his eyes knew exactly were to search for him. The urge to just jump down and into his arms was overwhelming him and in midst of his next turn, Jimin tumbled, tearing a gasp from the audience as he fell down.

There was an awful sound, a thump from when Jimin’s knees hit the floor and then the sound of something tearing as the force of Jimin’s fall ripped the delicate silk at the seams. There was a rupture on his robe all the way down his side now and when Jimin tried to get up it gaped open, showing off his undergarment. There were murmurs in the crowd, hushed whispers, someone chuckled. As Jimin just stood there and didn’t move the music felt suddenly wrong and too loud. Hoseok gave the sound technician a sign and the music faded until Jimin was standing there on stage, without music, trying to cover up his ripped robe, visibly shaken.

Namjoon had wanted to get up almost immediately but a hard, almost painfully tight grip from Yoongi hold him back. The older shook his head, a warning in his eyes and his lips pressed tight. Namjoon understood; if he would go to Jimin in front of everyone he would only embarrass Jimin further and definitely make it worse but he could barely take it to see him so lost and helpless out in the open like this.

The curtain fell soon after, leaving Jimin a shivering mess the moment he couldn’t see the audience anymore. Now there was nothing, but fear left. He had ruined another costume, had fallen and revealed too much in front of all the men that Hoseok had deemed important enough to invite tonight. Not once in his lifetime had he fallen on stage.

Not a single time.

Jimin still stood there, gulping heavily against the lump that he felt and the tears that threatened to spill over. Taking in a sharp breath and a step forward, Jimin felt the pain rush through his thigh, as if someone had beaten him up. It would definitely leave an ugly bruising tomorrow, that much he was sure of.

“Jimin!”

The geisha jerked at the sudden call of his name. One sounded angry, the other disappointed while another one sounded just worried. Jimin didn’t even make it all the way down into the backstage area, when there was someone groping him, examining the costume he had just ruined.

“How dare you embarrass me like that? It’s ruined! It’s fucking ruined!” It wasn’t clear if Hoseok was talking about the silk or the performance or his reputation but he sounded angry enough for it to be all three of them. Jin was pulling the robe off of Jimin without a word, he just roughly made Jimin hold up his arms so that he could look at it without having to grope Jimin any further. The gaze he sent Jimin’s way was pure venom. When he had examined it more closely he spoke up, voice sounding way too tight for it to be normal .

“That’s the second robe you went through this month. The second. Others don’t ruin that many in a whole year. You really care that little about my work? About the effort I put into each and every dress to make it fit you perfectly? The colors and embroidery I chose to highlight your charms and features - and you thank me by ripping it. On stage. As if you’re wearing some cheap handiwork that can’t even take a simple move. I think you should go out naked from now on. That would suit you better.” He threw the robe at Jimin who barely caught it and then left him standing there, while Hoseok was still ranting in the background.

Jungkook was standing at the side caught in between everything, not able to help Jimin in any way but unable to leave because he would never turn his back on Jimin like that. Sol he stood there, motionless while the tears were threatening to spill from seeing Jimin so under pressure, head hung low in shame.

“I…I am sorry,” Jimin was apologizing repeatedly, his voice quiet, feeling awfully small in this moment. He flinched with every time Hoseok was yelling at him, Jin’s voice tumbling over and he could do nothing but simply standing there, listening and nodding. “I know…I don’t know what happened…” Jimin shook his head, “I stumbled over my own feet. I am sorry.” He was still holding onto the robe until Jin stormed back in, a box in his hand that was filled with everything he needed to fix something in an emergency. Though the robe didn’t need that anymore. It was ruined.

“Wash yourself up and get into bed. I don’t think you should be working tonight. Jungkook, make sure he’s in bed, before you do service tonight. We’re talking about this tomorrow.” Hoseok’s order was clear and still it cut through him, making him want to say something, tell him how he was fine that he would be okay doing his usual appointments. But it was no use and the geisha let Jungkook pull him towards his makeup table, taking one of the wipes to caress softly over his face, with each stroke taking off more and more make up. One by one the geishas disappeared, leaving only the three of them.

Jungkook’s hands were warm and gentle on Jimin’s face but he couldn’t speak because he was crying, doing his best to not let it show so there were hot tears dripping over his face while he was still doing his work properly. It only was hard to breathe because it took so much strength and energy to control himself like that and not break into sobs as well. He wanted to help Jimin to make it all okay - but he couldn’t, he could only watch him hurt helplessly.

“You’re useless. In all those years, I never had someone that ripped that many clothes. You’re really adamant on staying here, huh? Well, you probably wouldn’t be able to make it out there anyway.” Jin’s voice was still audible as he examined the robe further. Jimin said nothing while Jungkook was taking care off him, both trying to ignore Jin’s ranting about the geisha’s fate. “You can be happy Hoseok even lets you wear this expensive stuff. If it would have been my choice I’d never given it to you…don’t know what he sees in you anyways.” Jimin bit his lip hard, closing his eyes for a moment to try and blend out what Jin was saying. When the other was finally gone, the robe carelessly thrown in aside, Jimin took a deep breath.

Only when Jin had turned his back on them did Jungkook dare to do something as intimate as hug Jimin, quick and short because he didn’t want to burden him any further but he needed to console the geisha so badly he felt like he would burst if he couldn’t make Jimin feel a little better.

Jimin took a hold on the younger’s wrist, smiling at him as much as he could. “Please, it’s okay. You can go and do your services. I’ll be fine from here…I will find the way to our room.” Nodding reassuringly, he motioned for Jungkook to go. Hesitating, the younger looked at Jimin, before placing a kiss on the top of the geisha’s hair. It was evident in the way Jimin ordered him to go, that he wanted to be alone right now and not talk about what had happened. Maybe he was ready to do so tomorrow, or the day after… Jungkook wasn’t sure but he would respect Jimin’s wish.

“Are.. are you sure you want to..?” When Jimin confirmed again he took his things and gave him a little bow because he didn’t know what else to do. He just hoped that Jimin wouldn’t stay here on his own and let it all play over in his head. He would wear himself down over it if he didn’t have someone to pull him out of his own head from time to time. He felt awful leaving him here like that. But if Hoseok would see that he wasn’t at his service he would punish him. Severely, considering the mood he was in. He wasn’t as strong as Jimin he broke so easily. “I’m.. I’m sorry. Please don’t be mean to yourself, Minnie.” He whispered under his breath before turning to hurry off to do his evening duties. “Call for me if you need anything, okay?” He added hesitantly, but the geisha seemed already far gone in his mind, staring into the reflection of himself in the mirror. So, Jungkook turned on his heel, opening up the curtain in a rush to get back to where he should be already when he almost let out a scream from getting startled, pushing his hand onto his mouth to muffle the sound.

“Namjoon!”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you, Kook.” Namjoon pulled down the curtain behind him to minimize the risk that someone would see him in here. Which would certainly be the worst right now, for Jimin as much as himself.

Jimin snapped around immediately at the sound of Namjoon’s voice, his blood-shot, puffy eyes looking at him fearfully and a little wary as if the other would tell him how disappointed he was himself and that he never wanted to see him again. When he came over, his eyes stared up at him, trying to search for the security Jimin always felt whenever he was with him.

Namjoon didn’t beat around the bush but instead went straight for Jimin, gently squeezing his shoulder (while everything inside of him screamed for a reassuring hug and anything else that would make him feel like he could protect Jimin for a while, if necessary with his body). “Are you alright? Did you hurt yourself when you fell?”

“You’re not allowed to be here,” Was the only answer the geisha could think of, staring at Jungkook then back at Namjoon. “What are you doing here?” There were still tears falling down his cheeks while he talked and Jungkook stood a bit unsure at the door.

“I needed to see you, to make sure you were okay.”

Namjoon’s words ripped right through Jimin’s heart and the geisha just, honest to god, wanted to sob - but instead a sound coming from the other side only made him awfully aware of how easily someone could see them, could know about them. One more mistake and Jimin was done for. But he needed Namjoon now. More than anything else. And his gaze spoke a thousand words when he looked at him.

Jimin was in love.

Rushing over to Jungkook, Jimin leaned in, whispering, “Can you please take my clothes in my room. Please, Kookie, please.” When the younger nodded, Jimin wiped over his cheeks, kissing him there softly, telling him that they needed to hurry before Hoseok would do his usual check ups. Jungkook turned around to grab Jimin’s things, while the geisha wrapped his hand around Namjoon’s wrist to pull him along and to the steps that lead over the stage.

Namjoon send a thankful look at Jungkook who was helping them keep their secret once again and then concentrated back on Jimin. The boy looked even worse than he had feared though considering what a perfectionist Jimin was and how much he depended on an absolutely flawless reputation it was no wonder that the incident had shaken him. Even without pressure and with supportive people around you messing up on stage wasn’t nice. Though he doubted very much that Hoseok had tried to calm Jimin down. And he remembered how stressed Jimin had been about having to pay for a new robe last time. He was probably out of his mind with the added costs for this one.

Jimin didn’t say a word, just hurried over the now dark stage to the other side, opening a door that lead right to their private habitation. His hand let go off Namjoon’s wrist, only to intertwine their fingers as he motioned for Namjoon to keep hidden in the shadows, as they hurried towards the main garden. His gaze was flickering around in the dark, trying to spot anyone that could be out here tonight - but everyone was inside working. No one was allowed out in the garden at night. Especially no geisha in company with a customer.

Namjoon followed Jimin where he was leading him, trying to not make any sounds and alarm someone of their presence. However even shaken and with his view clouded with tears Jimin was the one walking light-footed ahead while Namjoon had some problems to be as quiet.

Jimin was panting, tears dripping down his cheeks as he pulled Namjoon all the way to the back of the japanese garden to a pavillon that one couldn’t see from afar, perfectly hidden in the dark. Opening the door with his key, Jimin wordlessly pushed the other inside and closed the door again, placing his hands against the wood to keep himself steady. Nonetheless, the sobs began to shake him from the core, making him slide down onto his knees as he desperately tried to keep a hold on himself.

Namjoon had waited for Jimin to bring them somewhere where they could talk. Though when he turned Jimin was on his knees, barely holding it together while his shoulders shook from the force of the sobs he tried to suppress and Namjoon felt like talking wasn’t that important right now. What the younger needed was support, maybe a hug, maybe to be held until he felt like he wasn’t at risk of falling apart any longer. So he carefully kneeled down next to him and then reached out to pull Jimin into his arms. The younger was stiff and cold in his arms and Namjoon wondered if the stress kept his muscles pulled tightly or if Jimin wasn’t used enough to being comforted so that he couldn’t relax that easily. Both were thoughts that hurt him because he wished nothing but happiness for Jimin.

Jimin didn’t know what to do anymore. Helplessly he shifted closer to Namjoon, wrapping his arms around his neck to hide in the crook, crying and holding onto him as tight as he could. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Jimin’s muffled cries were painful to feel against his own body, Namjoon’s hand soothing down the youngers back. It took awhile for Jimin to calm down enough to talk properly again.

“I can’t do this anymore. I wanted to be so good and he ruined it. He...he knew it would make me nervous,” The geisha leaned his head on Namjoon’s shoulder, soft little hiccups following his words as he tried not to sob again, feeling too tired. But sudden panic washed over his expression and Jimin pulled back, “He knows, oh god he knows. Of course he does and he won’t let me go.” Jimin gazed up at Namjoon, a faint, sad smile on his lips. Hoseok had known that Jimin was overworking himself to get more money, for Jungkook and for himself. He must have put one and one together, seeing how Jimin was eager to make sure Jungkook could leave and possibly be the next one. And even though his debt was way too high, the risk that he would lose Jimin not very much so, as it would take years for him to work it off with that workload. “Jin has always been on his side,” Jimin mumbled, holding onto Namjoon’s hand tightly as they sat on the floor of the dark pavillon, “I never fell before...and I don’t fall...I just don’t.”

Jimin’s words didn’t make any sense to him; he didn’t know who ‘he’ was and what Jimin was talking about. It was almost impossible to understand what he was saying through his sobs and tears but Namjoon was glad that the younger was talking to him at all so he just let him spill what was burdening him, hoping it would soothe the boy’s heart a little while he held him and stroked his back and that everything that he could to make the younger feel like he wasn’t alone in this. Only when the younger had calmed down a little, his sobs fading and the tears slowly drying out did he dare to ask further. “Will there be consequences because you fell? Are you scared because of that? Or are you ashamed?” He figured that it probably was something of both so he added, “You don’t have to be, okay? No one likes you any less for being human. You are still as graceful and amazing as a dancer as you were before.”

Nodding softly, Jimin wiped over his eyes with the fabric of his robe. “Of course, there will be. I’m a disgrace to them. I…I…’m not supposed to be human. I’m supposed to be perfect, Joon. No mistakes. No falling. Not me…I’m the hummingbird.” He hiccupped, sniffling quietly, “I need to pay it back. The robe. The appointments. The money he is losing because of me.” A painful sob broke from him and Jimin buried his face in the palm of his hands. “I’m back to the start. I tried so hard, Namjoon. I really did. But I’m just pathetic.” He was taking short, anxious breaths, his grip around Namjoon’s arm tightening. “I should have known. But he’s so close…Jungkook doesn’t have much left anymore. After his mizuage, if I work some more…then…maybe a week or two, then he can go. He could go, Namjoon.” He was looking at him, his red puffy eyes, pleading at him but Jimin wasn’t even sure what for.

Namjoon tried his best to soothe him but it felt like he was slipping from him further and further. “Jimin, you’re not a disgrace. Please don’t believe what they are telling you in here. I’m... I’m sorry that you had to grow up like that…,” He bit his lip, caught between his morals and trying to comfort Jimin. He wanted to end this. To keep Jungkook from being sold and Jimin from being treated like this. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t just give anything away for another person. He had a company there were people who relied on their monthly income which he provided. Risking the company would mean not only risking ruining his own but also Yoongi’s and all of his employees. It wasn’t fair. “Maybe... if you tell me how much it is you owe Hoseok I could give you some of it? Maybe it would help if you could start paying it off. You said it yourself you normally don’t fall. You will get there someday, Jimin. And even if Jungkook will chose to leave the tea house you won’t be alone. I’ll still be there. And I could take him with me so you could see each other or... I don’t know how we will do it exactly but we will make it work. I won’t leave you here alone you can trust me on this. No matter what.”

“Y-you will take care of him? If he’s out there…please, Namjoon. I don’t want to ask for more but please don’t let him walk the streets alone. You know, Jungkook. He’s an angel. He can’t…he needs someone to show him the way…at least at first. Please,” Reaching out for Namjoon, he cupped his cheeks sweetly with his small hands. “I don’t deserve you, Namjoon.” Jimin let the tears fall on their own down his cheeks, “But he won’t let me go. He made that clear tonight. Hoseok, he…he came to me right before the performance.” Mindlessly, Jimin wiped over the spot where Hoseok had kissed him, closing his eyes as he shivered trying to forget about the awful feeling, “He knows I’ve been working even harder. To get more money for Jungkook…and for myself. I never dared to hope again. But it was dumb of me to think that I could have this…a dream…you. Maybe it was never meant to be. Because no matter what I will do, he will find a way to make my debt even deeper. All my clothes are perfectly fitted, Namjoon…don’t you see?” Jimin couldn’t help to feel like he was going a little mad himself. “No matter where I start…what I try…it won’t be enough. He doesn’t want me to go, so he won’t let me.”

“Breathe Jimin, please, don’t let this swallow you whole. He can’t keep you in here forever. You will get out sooner or later. I can visit a lawyer if you want. Ask if there are any possibilities to break the contract. Maybe you can get out of the tea house and pay off your debt in monthly payments. This is not how your whole life is going to be. Please don’t do anything stupid. Whatever the consequences will be don’t stress yourself. If it will be five years or ten I will wait for you. And I’ll do everything to help you get out rather sooner than later.”

Jimin just looked at Namjoon with an empathic look, smiling, nodding whenever he was telling him a sweet hopeful new idea, but he had no hope anymore. “My whole life has already been this. I am sold to this house. There’s nothing a lawyer can do, nothing that Hoseok will let happen. He made it clear that I am his.” Shaking his head, Jimin shivered from the cold he felt. His heart was aching so painfully that it made Jimin gasp when Namjoon told him so lovingly that he would wait for him. Jimin averted his gaze, fumbling around with Namjoon’s hand, intertwining their hands just to let go again and repeat the motion. The geisha sighed deeply, trying to take deep breaths. “This is my fate. I had accepted it before, and I will learn to do so again. I’m just a geisha, Namjoon. You’re supposed to like me, what I portray, my dances, my whole being it’s…” There were tears cascading down his cheeks, but Jimin didn’t sob anymore, he just felt horribly lost and hurt, “I was dreaming that a kiss from you would make me more than what I am now, because you make me feel like I have so much more, that I am worth to be listening to…but I’m just that. Just a geisha and you’ve already spent enough money on me. It’s only going to waste. I don’t want you to wait for me.” Despite his words, Jimin held on a little tighter to Namjoon, feeling awfully lost in this moment, “You shouldn’t fall for a geisha.”

“So what you’re saying is that you want me to stop seeing you?” Namjoon could feel everything in him rebelling against the thought alone. But it wasn’t solely his decision to make. It was Jimin’s life they were talking about and he wouldn’t force himself onto the younger. If Jimin thought that returning back to his everyday life without Namjoon’s presence would make him feel better then how could he tell himself that seeing him was for them both? “If you’re saying all this to somehow ‘protect’ me in a way or because you think that there’s no hope then please don’t. Because there is hope, for as long as you are breathing there is the possibility for things to get better. And it is my money so I can choose what I spend it on. But if you think that Hoseok would leave you alone if I let go of you and if this is really what you want - then I’m sorry for pushing you so far. I didn’t mean to make it worse for you or to make you hurting because I’m showing you what you can’t have right now. If you want me to then I will leave you alone. It’s your decision. Your life, your choice.”

Jimin’s heart was racing. He felt dizzy and out of place, paling visibly. There was a storm of thoughts, one that was hurting his head and his heart simultaneously. It took a moment for Jimin to speak up again, the silence not even bothering him because his thoughts were so loud that he couldn’t think really. “Hoseok won’t leave me alone no matter if you here or not.” Wiping over his face, he caused it to grow paler than it already was. Outside, Jimin could hear the rain falling heavily onto the rooftop as if it decided to cry with him, to share his pain. “I don’t want you to go. I never wanted you to go. I wish it was you…I wish it was always you,” Jimin was crying again, shaking his head and pulling his knees in as if he tried to hide from something, or someone. “I want him to stop. I don’t want to be touched from anyone but you. But I’m chained to this, making you stay, is not fair. It’s not fair to you.” He gulped heavily, stilling completely while Jimin just felt completely exhausted, “I don’t know how to feel hope anymore. Namjoon, please…”

It was a horrible feeling to see the person he loved basically breaking down right in front of him and he could do nothing; nothing that would help Jimin right now that would keep him from having to go back to Hoseok and the main area later. “I’m here, Jimin. And I’ll stay for as long as you want me too. You are a beautiful dancer and you will pay off your debt - or I’ll pay it off for you whatever works first. And then you can move in with me if you want and you will never have to see Hoseok again. Ever. And you can forget that he’s ever... ever…,” He still couldn’t speak it out loud as if he would speak it into existence if he reminded Jimin of it and could keep it from being real otherwise. “Just dance, Minnie. Please, you can’t give up now.”

“M-move in with you?” Jimin blinked the tears away, carelessly wiping over his cheeks. His heart was still knocking hard against his chest, every beat hurt. He nodded slowly, reaching for Namjoon’s hand to place his cheek in his palm, to feel his warmth closer, to make sure he wasn’t dreaming this. “I don’t have anything, Namjoon. Nothing to offer…why are you here with me?” His voice was barely a whisper as he looked at the one he loved so dearly, “I don’t deserve you.”

“You don’t need to offer me something to be of value to me.” He had hoped that this was clear from how he treated him but apparently years of only being ‘worth’ something if you could earn money with it had done its damage. “I like you for who you are as a person. And I’m here because I miss you whenever I can’t see you.” He sighed, caressing Jimin’s face, “I don’t think that you can really assess what you ‘deserve’ and neither can I but I think love is something everyone should get so...maybe you can still accept mine?”

“Love? You…mean,” It took a small second to hit Jimin full force, his expression turning overwhelmed for a second. Namjoon loved him. He loved him. Just as much as he loved Namjoon. Jimin couldn’t take this any longer, he needed him closer, to feel what he always wanted to feel. Placing a hand on Namjoon’s chest, he could feel his heartbeat underneath, the words tumbling over, “K-kiss me, please.”

They were breaking so many rules by this and yet Namjoon couldn’t deny Jimin what he was longing for himself so badly. It only took a slight nudge to bring their lips together as they were already so close and then he could feel the plushness of Jimin’s warm mouth against his own. He tasted a little salty from the tears and it made him hold the boy tighter and kiss him more deeply. No one could take this from them, not this moment they shared and not their feelings. Jimin was pulling Namjoon over him, laying down on the wooden floor just to feel him everywhere over him. Jimin wanted to drown in him, because only in his hold did he feel safe, nowhere else but him. He needed to feel this, the protectiveness, the safety of Namjoon over him. “I love you,” The geisha whispered against his lips, kissing Namjoon back so eagerly and losing himself in his touch. “Why can’t you just take me with you,” Soft little pleads whispered into the kiss, questions neither of them really had an answer to, “I love you, only you, please.”

The sudden change in position had Namjoon gasping - and then he was on top of Jimin. He ignored the warning in the back of his head in favor of kissing Jimin again and again, he was drowning in it and he loved it. He wanted time to stop right here so that he could keep kissing Jimin forever, just the two of them with nothing else mattering. And then Jimin told him that he loved him too and Namjoon had to take a break from kissing him because he smiled so much it hurt but he couldn’t stop because Jimin loved him too. “I would, you know? Take you away with me. Kidnap you from Hoseok take you out of the country if necessary.” There would be police involved and he would be charged for kidnapping and stealing someone’s property (Cause that’s how those boys were treated when they were still in debt) - and still he would do it if Jimin asked him to, trying to run off with him into some foreign country that wouldn’t turn them in.

Jimin could have kissed Namjoon forever like this, entangled in his arms, dwelling in the love, the warmth that he was giving him – something he had never felt like this before. He was giggling softly, whenever Namjoon kissed down his neck, just to steal one more from his lips. He kissed the tip of his nose, making Jimin blush, then he kissed his cheeks and lips again. Namjoon’s hands felt so soft, holding him carefully, soothing over his side, whispering sweet promises in his skin. “Don’t stop, please.”

Jimin just kissed Namjoon again, deeper this time, pouring in his love and how thankful he was for him to spark this little bit of hope in him over and over again.

“But this is ours right? Those moments?” Jimin asked carefully, “Even if I’ll be here forever…you’ll come again right? I’ll try harder, do more…I promise. I do every dance show, every performance…” A sudden sharp pain at the side of his thigh let Jimin stiffen up, drawing in a painful gasp. “Of course. This is ours. I’ll be there for you.” He shifted his weight a little and that’s when Jimin gasped. He had his eyes forcefully closed; his neck bared as Jimin had reached for Namjoon’s wrist to keep it from soothing further down his thigh. “It’s okay…it’s okay…I’m fine,” Jimin took in a sharp breath, writhing underneath Namjoon, “I just haven’t looked at it, yet…”

It took Namjoon a second to realize that he was lying more or less on where Jimin had fallen and he immediately pulled away, trying to take a look at it but Jimin wouldn't let him. Namjoon sighed deeply but complied, keeping his hands off of Jimin’s thigh. “You have a doctor in here, don’t you? Can you promise me that you will make sure it gets treated? Not by you who would dismiss it and just ignore the pain but someone who actually cares for your body?”

Jimin bit his lip and nodded, “I-I promise.” He let Namjoon easily pull him in against him, as he leaned against the wall again but making sure he didn’t hurt the younger further. Jimin leaned his head on his chest, wrapping his arms around Namjoon’s waist tightly (or as far as he could reach with how broad Namjoon and how tiny he was next to him).

“I can’t go without him.” He whispered, “I wish I could just run off, but Jungkook needs me here. I can’t leave without him. I can’t let Hoseok let his anger out on him if I vanish before him.” Jimin played with the hem of Namjoon’s shirt, “So, I have to make sure he gets out of here first. No matter what.” Looking up at Namjoon, he stole one more kiss from him. “I just need his mizuage to be fine, to give him enough money. That he isn’t an asshole…that claims him still after it’s over.”

“I get it. And as I told you I can wait. You can be there for Kook for as long as you need to be. And I’ll be there for you.” He watched as Jimin played with his shirt, lost in thoughts and so cute that he wanted to just pull him back in and never let him go. “Claim him? What do you mean? I thought it was only allowed to buy someone in their mizuage night and then never again no matter the event? Isn’t that what tea houses advertise with; that they have beautiful people as trained and educated and pure as they could be?” It was an affront to compare a tea house to a brothel, Yoongi had told him that. He still had a hard time thinking of the coming of age ritual as anything else but sex work but he’d understood that everyone else didn’t. “I’m sure he will be safe. And you can stay here until he’s out of the tea house. That’s totally fine.”

“L-like that he wants to have him again. T-the one who paid you…t-they have some kind of ownership over you, haven’t they?” Jimin was getting nervous, shifting in Namjoon’s hold to blink up at him, “Y-yes, I mean…that’s true but…” His eyes widened when he realized how dumb he had been. How many lies Hoseok had told him to keep him in order, to make him do exactly what he wanted him to. Just a word about Jungkook and Jimin was on his knees, begging him not to hurt the younger. Jimin was shaking, his lips trembling, “Y-you’re right. H-he’s safe. Just one night, that’s…that’s all.”

Namjoon wasn’t stupid, there was something really wrong in the way Jimin reacted.

“Wait, that’s true, isn’t it?” Namjoon took Jimin at the arms to make him look at him again. “Yoongi told me. Basically everyone else I asked be it directly or the internet, it all said that if there is even a single exception then the owner isn’t allowed to call his establishment a teahouse anymore or sell his employees as geishas. He would lose all status. Hoseok wouldn’t risk that. Or has he? Has he done that, Jimin?”

Jimin had flinched hard when Namjoon grabbed him and even though it wasn’t a rough grip, it still had him whimpering. He wasn’t sure what to say, he felt like Namjoon was holding him up against the wall and shaking him – but in reality, they just stared at each other until Jimin couldn’t take it anymore. “He…never let a customer have a geisha again, no.” Jimin answered, but he still couldn’t dare to look at Namjoon again. “But he is the owner, right? He can do whatever he wants…it doesn’t matter.”

Namjoon sighed deeply, letting go of Jimin. “That’s... good, I guess.” He carefully caressed along Jimin’s jaw. “Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t wish that on anyone but it could have meant that Hoseok would lose permission to have his teahouse. And I don’t know how exactly such a situation would be handled but I guess it would have been easier for you to get out of your contract. Maybe it would have even been nullified. Anyway…” He stopped short when he realized how else you could interpret Jimin’s last words.

“Wait, you don’t mean… you weren’t trying to say…,” He bit his lip, his gut clenching painfully when the severity of those implications hit him. “You would tell me if… if someone was hurting you, right? You... you’re safe here, aren’t you? I mean, Hoseok is mean to you and he treats you wrongly and the whole thing is fucked up a little but he doesn’t… he wouldn’t… would he?”

Jimin’s eyes burned from the tears in his eyes. His whole body was trembling from the way he tried to suppress everything. But there was no use anymore. He had been breaking every rule there was already. Jimin had nothing to lose, but Namjoon and he was so afraid of it. That Namjoon would decide he wasn’t worth it, that he was disgusting, damaged goods.

“Hoseok...he,” Jimin choked on his words a little, feeling like his throat was closing in, “When I had my mizuage, he bid on me. Higher than anyone else. I thought it was nice, you know. I didn’t think about it...just thought that it’s someone I know, that I thought had the best intention.” Raking a hand through his hair nervously, Jimin was too embarrassed to look at Namjoon. “But I think he even knew back then that I was easy prey. I told Jungkook that Hoseok trusts in me, that he confines in me for the shows - but he doesn’t. But please don’t tell him...please, don’t say anything to him about this. He’s too sweet, too innocent.” He shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly as if he wasn’t even worth a better treatment. “He had seen the way I cared for Jungkook and Hoseok uses it against me. I can’t believe I’ve been so dumb to believe that he had a right…”

Shaking his head, Jimin chuckled humorlessly, “If I had...would it change anything though? It made sense to me. The debt, the mizuage...my body belonged to Hoseok. I am sorry, Namjoon. I am so sorry.” The geisha held on tightly to his shirt, wanting to seek Namjoon’s warmth again but now wasn’t so sure if the other even wanted him anymore. “If it wasn’t for my maiko,” He gazed up at Namjoon, “Jungkook still believes that all it needs for me to be free is a proposal...he doesn’t know about Hoseok’s ways and I want to keep it that way.” Reaching for the other’s hand, Jimin held on tightly to him, trying to read the other’s expression but Namjoon just stared at him, way too pale for Jimin’s liking. “Please, Joon...say something…”

“No…,” Namjoon shook his head, his mind in a haze. It felt like he had forgotten how to breathe properly and his inside had turned into acid burning everything in their wake. Hoseok had abused Jimin - while telling him that it was his right to do so. And Jimin trusted and believed him because it was the only thing he could do. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that it had happened to Jimin and that he had just learned about it now, unable to prevent anything from happening. How often had Hoseok asked Jimin to come to his room while Namjoon had been happily dreaming of seeing Jimin again? How often did Jimin have to hide the traces of what Hoseok did with him on his body for no one else to see? And he hadn’t told anyone because… there was no one who would have listened really besides Jungkook and Jimin had tried to keep him innocent.

“How... how could he do that? Why? That’s not… how dare he…,” He felt so helpless, so utterly useless. Because even though now he knew he still couldn’t do anything. And even if Hoseok called Jimin to him this very night he couldn’t help. “I’m sorry, I’m so very, truly sorry for… for everything. You shouldn’t stay here... you mustn’t. I want you to get out of there as soon as Jungkook can leave. I don’t care if you are ‘in debt’. That monster lost any right for compensation the very second he laid a hand on you.”

Jimin couldn’t help but kiss Namjoon again. It felt like the other needed the caresses, the safety, and the reassurance now, holding on to him to make him see that Jimin was here and with him and he was okay. More than that, because he was with Namjoon now. Shifting onto his lap, Jimin deeply kissed him, wrapping his arms around his shoulders. He nuzzled down his neck, placing sweet loving pecks on his jaw and neck. “I will be out of here one day,” Jimin whispered, kissing him again and again, staring up in his eyes, “Can you lawyer help me? Can you help me...please, don’t leave me, Namjoon.”

“I’ll call someone I trust tonight the minute I am home. I don’t know how exactly we’ll do this but I promise you, you won’t have to play by Hoseok’s rules any longer. Your body is yours and only yours. No one else is entitled to anything you don’t want to give freely and willingly. If he tries to touch you again make up an excuse and then call me. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep him from touching you again. Just hold on, Minnie. And if you feel like you can’t take it any minute longer then I’ll take both you and Kookie out of there. I don’t care for the consequences.” He sealed his promise with a kiss adding softly, “Of course I’ll stay. I’d never leave you. Not now, not ever.”

Jimin fell into the kiss easily, not wanting to leave the taste of his sweet mouth for a second. The promise was whispered against his, before Jimin closed his lips on Namjoon’s again. He settled on his lap a little more, letting Namjoon pull him closer as they kissed for what seemed like an eternity. And only when the rain outside slowly subsided, did Jimin lean onto Namjoon’s chest, feeling like all of his strength has left him, his limbs too heavy to move and he could only exist in his hold. He wanted to stay like this, never part from him again. He couldn’t imagine how Namjoon had wormed himself a way into his heart without him noticing, slowly making sure that he’d never forget about him. Namjoon was inked onto his heart now. Forever.

“I think its best when I let you out through the backdoor of the garden, Joon.” Jimin whispered, drawing little patterns onto Namjoon’s shirt, “If you come back in…I’m not sure if someone will see you. You can just go all the way around then without anyone noticing you.”

“Yeah, that’s probably best. I’d say we’re better safe than sorry from now on. We will have all the time in the world later on. I want you to be safe and don’t give Hoseok another “reason” to reprimand you.” He kissed Jimin one last time, not on his lips though but on his forehead in a sweet, protective gesture.

It was the hardest to part from him again, when he just felt like he was able to be with Namjoon more closely now. He held onto his hand as long as he could until the metal bars of the gate didn’t let him anymore. Nonetheless there was a smile on his lips when he walked back to his room, far gone in his daydreams about Namjoon, in the pure thought of being with him – somewhere safe, somewhere where no one could hurt him anymore.

Because Namjoon wouldn’t let anyone harm him.

Jimin sighed to himself, quietly opening the door, when he noticed both beds being still perfectly made like they had this morning.

No Jungkook.

Nothing.

Where was he? Was he still in the main room? The fear rushed through his veins so fast, that it made him dizzy again, the anxious feel back in his bones. Jimin gasped breathlessly and spun around quickly, thinking that maybe Hoseok had caught up to Jungkook or…

Jimin froze in his movements, when his eyes met a white shirt, his gaze wandering up each white button that was stretching with every heave of breathe the man took until he met his eyes.

“Hoseok,” Jimin gulped heavily, trying not to sound too nervous while hiding his hands behind his back to keep them from shaking. Taking a step towards him, Jimin simultaneously stepped back, blinking up at the taller man, eyes wide as he tried a wavering smile.

“Where were you? You think you can do whatever you want? That you can break whatever rules you don’t like at the moment. I thought I had made myself clear when I had told you to go back into your room. Do you want to embarrass me so badly? Running around in a ripped robe and showing your body to everyone who wants to see? I thought I raised you a geisha not a subordinate child. You need to remember that there are consequences for every action Jimin. And believe me I don’t like to remind you, I hate this just as much as you do. But if you don’t learn then I won’t repeat myself over and over again, I’ll just have to be more strict with you.” He gripped Jimin by his wrist and pulled him out into the hallway. “Think about why this is happening, Jimin and don’t you dare blame me for this. It’s your own fault, entirely yours.”

A/N: And I oooop.....aaaahghgh I am sorryyyyyyyy haha lmao anyways, I hope you still enjoyed this chapter lmao Please leave a comment down below! Cat and I love hearing your thoughts. ❤

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