#bit brain fried not sure if there are glaring mistakes in this one | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kimnjss · 4 years

Text

petty games | pjm

⇢ pairing: ot7 x reader // jimin focus. ⇢ genre: smut. // pure unedited filth. ⇢ word count: 6.2K ⇢ theme: established relationships. ⇢ rating: explicit. ⇢ warnings: cursing, slight dirty talk, fingering, light dry humping, oral sex (m. receiving), orgasm denial, jimin is petty as hell lmao, squirting, unprotected sex, two quick handjobs, interrupted orgasms, blowjobs, masturbation, finger licking... i think that’s it?? idk let me know . ⇢ A/N: sooo if this feels all over the place it’s because i wrote this nd the newest update for ‘be my baby’ literally an hour apart from each other nd my brain is fried.

Jimin has always been the biggest tease out of your seven boys. He loved to watch you squirm and never passed up an opportunity to make you beg. You could always tell when he was in a particularly teasing mood because he'd always start out by flat out ignoring you. Denying you the attention that you wanted throughout the day, that sexy smirk weighing on his lips the entire time.

Today was one of those days. It had started when you opted to ride with Jin and Jungkook on your way back to the mountains. A lighthearted joke about his reckless driving which was met with a playful eye roll and mocking laughter.

Not thinking much of it after that, you enjoyed the smooth ride back. Filling up on the yummy food from Tae's mom and chatting with the other cars through the walkie-talkie's.

It's when you're pulling up to the house land do you realize your mistake. May have laughed a little too hard at the fact he left his luggage behind, joining in with Hobi on the teasing. Jimin laughs along too, not entirely annoyed – especially after he's finding out his luggage is being brought in a different car.

That didn't mean he wasn't going to get his own version of payback for all your teasing in the few hours you were with each other.

He's moving in close as you make you way up toward the house, strong hands landing on your hips as he halts your step – pulling your body into his chest. You're instantly surrounded by his warmth, can feel the ripples of his stomach through the fabric of your clothing. The blow of breath against your ear has a shiver running down your spine.

And warmth pooling between your legs.

“You just think everything's so funny, huh?” His voice is gruff in your ear, much deeper than the usual sweet tone he uses when he's talking to you. Without even making the effort to peak at his face, you just know there's fire in his eyes.

You were never one to just cower away, though. “Is it not funny?” You challenge, feeling his grip slightly tighten around you.

He's scoffing quietly in your ear, brow lifting as he tilts his head. Your body shivers when you feel the sharpness of his teeth nibble at your lobe. “Alright, we'll see.” He mumbles, all at once releasing you.

Walking the rest of the way into the house as if he didn't just shake you to the core. Easily had you near drooling, ready for him with a set of simple words. 'We'll see' and you were more than ready to figure out what that was.

After a delicious lunch, where you spent the majority of it sat close to Hoseok, joining in on the random conversation that flowed around you, you're following Yoongi up to the Upper House.

The entire short walk up, he's filling you in on how much he improved on the game he was currently interested in. A long arm wrapping around your waist as he speaks. Not forgetting to mention how he once asked Jimin what his score is, laughing cutely when he reveals what the young boy's answer was.

Yoongi is easily pulling you into his lap as his long fingers tap against the mouse, waking up the desktop. You're able to relax against him at once, his strong arm wrapped around your waist and your head resting on his shoulder.

The sweet smell of him intoxicates you, always smelt a bit like honey. But beneath all of that a scent you can only describe as him. His chin rests on your shoulder, eyes staring on the screen and you're sure this is the most comfortable you've ever felt. He's focused on the game but the gentle stroke of his fingers over your belly never falters.

Drawing random patterns against your skin, soothing you against him. You don't talk. Simply enjoying the comfortable silence that comes with being in his arms. Watching as he mumbles at the screen, controlling his character on the screen in hopes to up his ranking.

The touch against your skin never strays too far from innocent. Even with the cool dampness of his fingers from his drink against your warm skin, he doesn't push it. No matter how many times you shift in his arms. Fingers dragging down the front of your body until he's able to grasp your thigh, the shorts you're wearing allowing him to meet the smoothness of your skin.

“You just shaved?” He wonders, eyes never lifting from the screen. He speaks like it's an afterthought, a mere observation instead of something that was done for his benefit. Either way, you're nodding, tilting your head up so you can steal a glance at his features.

Lips brushing gently over the shell of his ear as you speak. “Full body wax,” His brow lifts, fingers twitching against your skin as if he's daring to check just how 'full body' you're talking. Yoongi doesn't go right for it, takes him time with his advances. Half his focused still on the game, but now he's a bit more tuned into you.

Open-mouthed kisses are pressed against the skin of your shoulder, tongue lightly brushing you just before he's closing his lips around a bit of skin. That paired with the teasing stroke of his fingers on your thighs has you squirming in his arms. He's gentle with the way he touches you, simply enjoying how soft you feel underneath his fingertips.

Yet, each movement is inching higher every time. His kisses growing a bit more heated, teeth coming out to scrape against your skin. Still, one hand still remains on the mouse, directing his character on the screen and even though he wasn't doing all that well, you still didn't have the full attention you wanted.

So you're shifting in his lap, wiggling until you're straddling his thigh. His eyes flicker from the screen to your hand that travels down the front of his body, the tips of your fingers sneaking underneath the waistband of his pants. And he hisses, you've barely touched him and a sharp hiss has left his lips.

Sat in anticipation as you take your time with lowering your hand underneath the band, fingers tense on the mouse. “Shit,” The curse falls from his lips in the same moment his character loses, but you're positive he's referring to the fact that you've wrapped your hand around his shaft.

He's warm in your hand, quickly hardening as you move your hand toward the tip – rolling your thumb over it slowly. Without the game stealing his attention, Yoongi's hand moves more deliberately on you, fingers sneaking into your shorts to meet the lace of your panties.

“Let me take care of you, baby.” His words mumbling into your ear, free hand lifting to pull yours from his pants. Needing a clear head to concentrate on pleasuring you. A jolt of pleasure rushes through your body from the feeling of him teasing your clit. Slowly rolling it between his middle and ring finger as whimpers fall from your lips. “Feel good, baby?”

You're nodding, breathlessly, legs spreading wide for him. It's not long before a wet patch is forming at the front of your panties, the fabric sticking to your skin as he strokes you through it. The feeling has grin pulling at his lips, instantly sliding his hand underneath to meet the softness of your bare pussy.

“Soft,” He sighs in appreciation, a finger dipping into your wanting hole. Walls squeezing around the digit, protesting each time he draws back. His thumb comes up to tease your clit with each thrust, loosening you up until he's able to slide another finger inside of you.

Yoongi pushes in deep, despite the tightness of your walls around him. Groaning along with you when they constrict around the digits. “You're so tight... would feel so good around my cock,” His hips lift at the thought, ready to try out his theory.

He doesn't make any moves to do so, fingers staying buried deep inside of you as his thumb teases your clit. Your hips are doing all the work, fucking yourself on his fingers and he watches with great fascination each roll of your hips. Soft lips press against the side of your neck, allowing you to have your fun.

But only for a moment. It's not long before he's lifting his hand, stilling the movement of your hips, and pulling his fingers back. You're whining out in protest, attempting to chase his fingers with your hips – but he's got a good hold on you.

“Oh!” You're shouting when his fingers drive back into you. Curved upward to drag over the most sensitive spot buried inside of you. Your legs shake with the sudden pleasure, fist gripping his thigh, taking advantage of his loosened grip to rock your hips. “I'm c-close, fuck, Yoongi!” The tingle starts between your legs, quickly traveling throughout your limbs.

It's not long before your hips begin to buck, walls clenched tight around his fingers. Eyes rolled back as your teeth cut into your lower lip. So close you can almost taste it. Just needed a bit more...

And then it's gone. Ripped away from you so fast it takes you a moment to piece it together in your head. Yoongi's pulled his fingers from inside of you, busying himself with licking them clean. An innocent smile spreading across his features when you whip around to face him.

“What was that!?” You're out of breath and it's evident in your tone. Cheeks flushed and head foggy from your near orgasm. Barely able to sort out your thoughts, but that doesn't stop the glare from forming on your features.

He's leaning up, wet lips pressing to the tip of the nose. Finding your angry face extremely adorable. “What was what, baby?” He asks pulling out, so casual that you're wondering if you hadn't just imagined the whole thing.

But the shine on his lips says otherwise. Yoongi's leaning up once more, lips catching your cheek this time. “Think I'm pretty tired. Wanna go join the others while I rest?” And you're so confused that all you can think to do is nod.

Sliding off of his thigh so he can stand, he gives an exaggerated stretch before he's leaning down to press a soft kiss to your forehead. You watch as he takes lazy steps toward the outside door, hand lifting to ruffle his own hair.

Your mind stuck on one thing. What just happened?

Taehyung is the first person you see on your way back to the Main House. He's heading in from the lake, shirt slightly damp and hair floppy cutely around his face. He smiles brightly when he spots you, an arm lifting to wrap over your shoulders – tucking your body into his side.

“You look happy.” He nods, the cute smile he wears growing slightly. “It's so peaceful here,” There's a dream-like tone in his voice which has a grin breaking onto your features. Pleased to see him so relaxed, so in his element here.

It's what he deserved with such a hectic lifestyle. It's what they all deserved. Your arm is wrapping around his waist as you nod in agreement, walking wrapped around him the rest of the way to the Main House.

A sleeping Jungkook is the first thing you spot when you're entering the house. Sprawled out not too far from him is Jin, who is also fast asleep a rolled pillow underneath his back. Hoseok and Jimin build quietly side-by-side, cautious not to make too much noise in fear of waking them up.

Taehyung is carefully unwrapping himself from you, moving to take a seat at the table, finding interest in the half-finished game laid on it. Just with a quick survey of the room, you're instantly noticing someone is missing.

“Where's Joon?” Words directed to either Hoseok or Jimin, but Hoseok is the only one that turns his attention to you.

Jimin on the other hand doesn't look up from the game that he's holding, reading the words that are printed on the back as if his life depended on it. Not paying him much mind, you shift your gaze onto Hoseok.

“He went upstairs to read his book,” He tells you, eyes dragging over your frame before he's turning his attention back to the building blocks he's been working so hard on since you've arrived.

Joon is as advertised, sat in his room with a book in hand. One long leg cross over the other as his large hand holding up his face, pretty eyes scanning over the words on the page. His head turns to you as you enter, lips lifting into a smile while sitting up, tucking the flap of the cover inward to hold his place.

“Don't stop cause I'm here, I like watching you read.” Sinking your bum into the comfort of his bed, you lean back on your elbows. Able to look at him over the bridge of your nose and boy, does he look handsome.

He looked really good in nature, you're deciding. Of course, the hairspray and makeup that came with his one stage persona were eye-catching, but there was something about a bare-faced Joon with messy hair, doing something as simple as reading that had a different type of feeling bubbling in your stomach.

With a quick shake of his head, he's standing, setting the book down on the wooden table set at the foot of his bed. “I'd much rather pay attention to you,” His voice is deep, smile revealing the dimples you have fallen for ten times over.

The bed dips as he lifts his body onto it, arms caging you against him. His face is just inches from yours, close enough that you can see the shades of brown hidden in his dark eyes. Soft bangs tickle your forehead as he leans in, the gentlest of kisses pressed to your lips. “I'm glad you came back with us. They've missed you.”

Always one to speak for the time, hardly ever bringing up his own feelings unless he's provoked. Usually, you're taking what he says as a whole. Assuming that when he speaks of the other's he's also speaking for himself. Not this time, though.

You want to hear him say it. They had gone back to Seoul for a few days and with how busy their schedule instantly got you weren't able to see them at all while they were there. Which wasn't unusual, considering how in demand these boys were. But, it was a harsh change from being able to fall asleep with them, wake up in their arms, play whenever you wanted, laugh happily together... to absolutely nothing.

With the lift of your arms, you're able to wrap them around his neck – back falling against the soft mattress with the absence of their leverage. Joon's leaning with you, arms moving quickly to keep himself from completely crushing you as he hovers. “What about you?” Eyes searching his as confusion furrows his brow.

“Did you miss me too?”

There's a soft tint in his cheeks, the dust of pinkness that gives way just how much he missed you. Either way, the sight of the blushing smile that pushes on his lips, the heartwarming: “Missed you like crazy,” That falls from his lips, has your heart rate rising in the best way.

So much so, that you don't hesitate to press your lips back against his. Mouth moving over each other's slowly as your fingers knit themselves in his soft hair. His lips taste like sweet coffee, warm. He's able to pull a soft moan from your lips by sucking your lower lip between his teeth.

Hands sliding down to grasp your waist, holding your body to his just for a moment before he's reaching down. Joon's fingers dig into your thighs as he lifts your legs, wrapping one around his hip so he's able to lower himself in the space he's created.

Your hands slide underneath his shirt, nails scraping over the toned skin. His cock jumps from the contact, paying great attention to the drag of your fingers that seems to slip just low enough to barely graze the growing bulge in his pants. He's pushing his wet tongue past your lips, rolling it with your as his hips roll down.

The slow drag of his hard length against your cover clit has a whimper falling from your lips. Hips lifting to his, moans dying on his tongue. His hold on your thigh tightens, tugging your body flush against his until it feels as if there's nothing separating you. A loud pop parts your lips, and you're only allowed a moment to admire how he looks right now.

Eyes hooded, cheeks flushed, and lips wet and bitten red from your teeth. Joon is quickly lowering his head into the crook of your neck, sucking marks into the skin as the thrusts of his hips pick up in speed. He's using his grip on you to guide your movements, ensuring that your clit is meeting his cock with each lift.

Quickly, you're growing desperate. That familiar pressure building in your stomach from the consistent stimulation to your most sensitive area. Lips, teeth, and tongue work to create pretty bruises on the skin of your neck, following a wet trail until he's reaching the tops of your breasts.

Light kisses are placed against your cleavage, while a hand sneaks up to tease your nipple through the fabric of your shirt. This has a pang of arousal shooting through your body, back arching as a panted moan flies from your lips. “Fuck, Joon.” There's no point in hiding the whine that coats your voice.

His smirk is felt against your skin, teeth baring to nibble at your skin while his finger tweaks and pinches your nipple into a peak. All the while, his hips haven't slowed down their roll into your core. Legs wrapped tight around him, you can feel every inch through the fabric of his sweats.

You're close, can tell from the way your walls clench around nothing. And he can tell from the frantic lift of your thighs, desperate to reach your high. His hips slow, head leaning back to reveal that teasing smirk to your dazed eyes. “You close, baby?”

“Yes, yes... please,” Not even able to finish your sentence, because his hips are stopping completely. Stealing away any ounce of friction you once had. A soft kiss is pressed to your protesting lips, body moving from yours before you can properly objection.

Scrambling to sit up, your eyes narrow at him from where he now stands across the room. Picking his book up as if he hadn't just had you right at the edge of an orgasm. “Joon!” Your shout has his head lifting, mocking confusion written on his features.

“Yeah, baby?” A wide gesture of your hand is directed toward you, in a type of 'duh' motion that's also written across your features. He acts as if he has no idea what you're talking about, hand lifting to push his hair back on his forehead. “I'm gonna go shower, I'll be back.”

Despite your annoyance, he's still leaning over the bed to press a soft kiss to your forehead. Hands buried in his pockets to keep from pulling you toward him or anything of the sort. His book tossed and forgotten on the chair and you're laid back on his bed watching as he stalks into the bathroom.

Not a care in the world. Not even sparing a backward glance.

“Jimin, do you want to come play ping pong with me?” Asking as you enter the room, Hoseok in the same spot as before with even more Lego pieces placed out in front of him. Jimin holds an iPad in his hand, eyes focused on the TV as he scrolls through for a song to Karaoke.

A quick glance is spared in your direction, so quick if you hadn't been staring at him the way you were – you would've missed it. “No thanks, I'm gonna do this.” He's gesturing to the screen, a pout instantly taking over your features.

“Are you still grumpy with me?” He's not answering, ignoring you with that smirk on his face as he waits for his song to load.

It seems like whatever he's on has spread throughout the house. First the build up with Yoongi, that took you longer than it should've to put together that it wasn't just in your head. Then, the whole thing with Joon upstairs. Being teased by both of them and ignored by Jimin who couldn't seem to get rid of that smirk.

Yeah, something had to be up.

With nobody to ping the pong with, you're entering the room. Sitting crisscross in front of Hobi while Jimin sings his heart out behind you. “Can I build with you?” He's nodding instantly, two large hands pushing the pieces closer for you to reach. The rest of the night continues like that.

Happily building with Hoseok as Jimin sings in the background, now joined by Taehyung. Joon chimes in here and there from the deck where he paints. If it weren't for the dull ache between your legs, called from the two denied orgasms earlier – you'd be the most relaxed you've ever been.

Because it's nice. And you're able to stay in this semi comfort zone until dinner is rolling around. Called up by a hurried Jungkook, a proud smile on his face as he fills the room in on his newfound flat fish filleting skills. You're all heading up to the set table at once, taking seats around.

Sat between Jungkook and Jimin, body leaning toward the elder subconsciously. In need of some type of attention from him and he's enjoying depriving you of it. Not sparing a gaze as he shovels food into his mouth, but you don't miss the way he transfers your favorite bits of soup into your cup.

Still grumpy with you, your foot. It's sad, how the simple action has you buzzing, but it does. And the dopey smile doesn't drop from your features the entire time you're sat beside him eating. Something as small as this having you swooning, so imagine your excitement when his arm is wrapping around your shoulders as you stand.

“Think you've been teased enough tonight?” His words are mumbled into the ear, the only thing you hear over the member deciding on who was going to stay back and clean up. So he did have something to do with it! Not sure how or when he rounded up his Hyungs to play along with his little game, but it made so much sense now that you knew they were in on it.

The 'we'll see' he had mumbled in your ear earlier holding much more weight now. That doesn't keep you from leaning into him, nodding your head quickly. “It's not so nice, now is it?” Sharp teeth graze over your lobe, the heat of his body pressed to yours and if you had a little bit less decency you'd be pushing him down onto the now cleared table.

The thought lingers in your mind a moment longer than you're willing to admit.

“No, it's not.” You try not to pout, but it's hard when you're emotions are on a high and all you want is some type of release. It's like Jimin is somehow reading your mind, his hands dropping to grasp your hips. He's leading you away from the table and into the house.

The giddy feeling grows in your stomach, the closer you get to his bedroom.

The moment the door is pushed closed, his lips are on yours. Body pressing yours against the wall as he moves his mouth in time with yours. His hands dropping down to reach for your thigh, lifting it off the floor to wrap around his hip.

“It's so hard to stay away from you.” He's mumbling through a groan, the pull from his teeth on his lower lip sending a shiver down your spine. You're pushing into him, arms wrapping around his neck as you pulling him closer. Wanting to feel more of him. Desperate for more of him. So worked up, from the teasing through the day. You're sure you'd fall apart with a simple swipe of his fingers.

Words swallowed by the plushness of his lips. “Don't do it again,” He's grinning against your mouth, pulling back to show off those straight white teeth of his. Loving the sight of the pout that curves your mouth. “You're so cute when you get pouty, though.” As if he needs to prove his statement, his fingers are reaching out to poke your pushed out lip.

“Never again.” You warn, attempting to sound intimidating, but it doesn't work in the way you think. Jimin's arms are reaching down to circle around your thighs, easily lifting your body off of the floor. Body higher than his, you're able to look down at him. Hands braced on his shoulders as he rests your back against the wall again.

He's leaning up, mouth attaching to the exposed skin just above your collarbone. It's the slow drag of his tongue that has your body squirming in his hold. Lips parting in a gasp when his teeth tug at the skin, your fingers curling into his messy hair. Your hips roll against his in response, pulling a grunt from his lips at the friction.

His shaft gently pressing against your thigh has you aching for more. Quick to reach your hand between your bodies, determination in your movements. Jimin's hissing out a breath when your hand is covering him through the fabric of his jeans.

Only resting your palm over his bulge and it doesn't take long before he's grinding against your fingers. His mouth on your neck leaving much sloppier kisses, concentration faltering with your hand on him. Meeting him halfway, you're stroking your fingers over him, spreading them so you're able to reach his balls too.

“Fuck,” Jimin grunts, head bowing so his forehead is rested against your shoulder. You feel him harden under your touch, his hips rocking freely in tandem with the movement of your hand over him. Hips twitching as your fingers squeeze around him, teeth digging into the plush skin of his lip.

He's reaching down, grasping your wrist in his. Slowly, he guides your palm into beneath the elastic waistband, lips finding yours at the same time he's curling your fingers around his shaft. A moan is falling from your lips with the feel of the velvety skin. One experimental thrust has a drawn-out groan falling from his lips, hips lifting to chase your hand.

You've shifted in his arms, managed to straddle his thigh instead. You're impressed with the amount of strength he's putting forth to hold you up, all while pleasure racks through his body. Not one to have a muscle kink... but right now, who knows?

Jimin's moans follow the movements of your hands, the twist that you had when you reach the top. How you've still managed to palm his balls with your free hand. It's when your thumb is teasing the sensitive clit that his hips are stuttering to a stop, a murmured cruse falling from his lips.

“Suck me off,” Enough space between your faces now that you can clearly see his face. How fucked out you were able to make him, just in the few minutes you had been jerking him. “Please.” He adds, not wanting his desperation to come off as rude. Which has a giggle falling from your lips.

Clambering down in front of him, kneeled down in front of him. And you look pretty even at this angle. Lips slightly swollen from the amount of enthusiasm he put into kissing you. His hands scramble to lower his pants off his hips, your eyes being met with the large bulge that strains against his briefs.

Hands moving faster than his this time, you're grasping the sides of the underwear, taking your time with pulling them down his legs. His cock bounces in its release, long, pretty, and glistening with a thin layer of precum, which has drool pooling on your tongue. Hands set on his thighs, so he's reaching down to wrap his hand around his shaft.

The muscles in his stomach constrict as he strokes his palm against himself. He looks so good standing over you like this, firm grip holding his cock in place while his free hand reaches to pull your hair into a makeshift ponytail. Jimin uses his grip to pull you closer to him, and your mouth is opening instantly.

Tongue pushed out, the head of his cock is warm against the wet muscle. The breathy moan that leaves Jimin's mouth as he's pushing deeper into your mouth fills the room, sending a shock of arousal throughout your core. A single hand wrapped around his base to properly guide him into your wanting mouth.

Hips following the movement, eyes fluttering as he glides deeper past your lips. “Fuck, so warm, baby.” Fingers flex with the grip he holds in your hair, hesitating to pull you further onto him. His hesitance is met with the way your hands slide from his thighs to the roundest part of his ass, tugging him closer.

A hissed breath falls from his lip, the hand that had been clutching his shaft lifting to move his shirt out of the way. Only so he can watch you properly, hips slowly thrusting into your open mouth. Eyes lifting to take him in, head slightly tilted back, jaw clenched revealing that vein at the side of his neck.

His eyes are meeting yours, which awakens a fire in his stomach. Pulling back slightly, only to push back harder into your mouth. He watches the way you're able to swallow him down with each thrust, mouth wide and watery eyes staring up at him. “So pretty,” Jimin mumbles, fingers tightening in your hair.

He holds your head still this time as he pulls back, moving slowly as he pushes further. Throat instantly constricting from the tickle of his hip, you fight the cough that claws its way up your throat, urging your throat to relax.

Jimin's quickly falling into a steady pace. Hips rocking against your face as he watches his cock disappear inside of your mouth with each forward push. Drool pools around your lips, mixing messily with the precum that leaks from his tip. Eyes watery from the strain, but still pretty in Jimin's eyes.

There was something different that came with sucking Jimin off. The way he looked at you, the desire written in his lust-filled stare. It always made you feel hot. Wanted. And this time is no different, wetness pooling between your thighs and you're not sure if it's from his stare or his cock between your lips.

Either way, it has a hand sliding down the front of your body. Two fingers easily pushing past your dripping walls. Jimin's eyes are following the movement of his fingers, a soft gasp falling from your lips once they're between your legs. He fastens his pace almost on instinct, never tearing his gaze from the push of your fingers inside of you.

Concentration split between sucking him off and fucking yourself, hips rocking to help you along the way. The movement of your fingers matches the roll of his hips. Heel of your hand hitting against your clit each time you're pushing in deep, forcing a muffled moan through your lips.

He watches the skillful way your fingers move inside of you, how deep you push them, and the attention that you pay to your clit. Hips rolling to meet the thrust of your fingers. You had been so worked up all day that you're reaching the edge sooner than usual. The stretch of your fingers, paired with him cock down your throat has you teetering until you're tumbling over with one powerful thrust.

Your orgasm washes over you like a wave, thighs threatening to close which only results in lifting your hips. The spray of your orgasm is forcing your fingers from inside of you, quickly lifting them to tease your clit as ride the rest of it out. Whimpered moans muffled by the cock in your mouth.

The vibrations of your voice shoot through his shaft, stomach caving in while his cock twitches on your tongue. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” His chant is followed by the drag of his cock leaving your mouth. It's wet with your saliva, a thing line of it keeping your lips connected to him.

Jimin scrambles to reach for you, lifting you off your knees. There's haste in his step as he crosses the bedroom, laying your body onto his bed. He's just as fast with hovering over you, mouth capturing your as he pushing his tongue against yours. Tongue twisting and swirling with yours and he can taste himself heavily through the kiss.

One hand nudges your legs apart, the other wrapped firmly around his shaft. “I didn't want to cum before I fucked you,” He's explaining through an embarrassed laugh; which has a laugh falling from your lips as well, legs parting wider for him. “Fuck me, then.”

He doesn't need to hear it twice before his bulbous head is pushing against your entrance. Wet from your previous orgasm, the wet squelch fills the room as he breaks through the first ring of resistance.

His dark eyes burn into yours as he pushes his way past your tight walls. Soft groans falling from his lips with each inch that sinks deeper into you. Your fists grip the bedsheets beside you, the pained pleasure of the stretch of him clouding your senses. He's got one hand firmly set on your hip, the other keeping your leg lifted and out of the way.

“Oh, God.” You whimpering, when the last bit of him pushes past your walls. Hips flush against yours. His grasp is moving from your hip to lift your other leg onto his waist, sliding just a bit deeper.

Only a moment is spared for you to get used to the stretch before your hips are wiggling, silently begging from some movement. Jimin's quickly drawing his hips back. “Your pussy feels so good,” He whines, the feel of him and the sound of his voice pulling a moan from your lips.

Hips meeting each other's in stuttered thrusts until you're falling into a steady pace. Jimin is rolling his hips against yours, smoothly pumping in and out of your aching core, and you meet each one of his thrusts with one of your own. “Look at this greedy little cunt,” He's pulling back until his head catches on your entrance.

“Desperate to cum all day, huh?” Surging forward, forcing your body upward on the bed. He repeats the action twice more, broken cries falling from your lips. “Yes!” Head bobbing up and down in agreement, which has a smirk lifting onto his lips.

He's fucking into you with new found confidence, pleased that his little plan to get you worked up had worked. Eyes widening, a whimpered squeal leaves your lips from the feeling of his cock brushing against your gspot. Back arching as you reach for his arms.

“Right there, baby. A-again.” You gasp. And he's granting you with the same swivel of his hips as before. “That good, baby?” Brain to fogged to form a coherent sentence, you take to nodding your head, a long hum sounding from your closed lips. He's concentrating his thrusts on that spot, loving the way your thighs shake against him.

Your orgasm nearly knocks the wind out of you, walls constricting around his shaft as your back lifts off the bed. Broken sobs of praise and his name fall from your lips, toes curling as your hips buck. Jimin manages to fuck you through it, groaning hotly in your ear from the new tightness that comes with it. It's not long before his thrusts are growing sloppy, hurried as he chases his own release.

“Fuck, Yn!” He grunts, pinning his hips to your as his cum leaves his body. Painting your walls in thick spurts, that has a buzz of pleasure starting in your core. Out of breath and sweaty, he's placing a quick kiss to your lips once he's regained his strength.

The smile that takes over his features has your heart skipping a beat, hand lifting to push your hair from your face. “You're so perfect,” Sighing, he leans up for one last kiss, drawing his hips back to pull out of you.

Both too tired to go properly wash off, you're falling asleep wrapped in each other warms. Enveloped by his warmth and the gentle stroke of his head on his back. He's asleep before you, the steady rise and fall of his chest lifting your head.

Not far behind him, you keep an arm wrapped around his torso. Legs intertwined with his and a smile on your face. Yeah, you definitely had to tease him more often.

- seven days in the forest spent with your seven boyfriends while they film their upcoming reality tv show. there’s no telling what the eight of you will get into when the cameras are off.

⬷ masterlist ⤖

⇝ taglist: @randomkoalablog @smoljams @dee-ehn @jaiuneamesolitaiire @hehehehahahohohuhu @sw33tnight @butterflylion @withlovestudyblr @soulstaes @bangtansonyeondayyyum @samros95 @korkanswers @houseofarmanto @marifujioka @tae165 @uxwi @jinhitwhore @preciouschimine @yeontanie21 @aa-ronpa @taefect94 @lee-karliah @codeinebelle @mochibabycakes @diminieshoe @fuddyize @soloikeadates @0xmysticx0 @bbyjoonies @amoreguk @tricethecharm @diminieshoe @jayyayyy17 @softlyjins @bangtan-noona @fan-atic-blog @fuck-expectations-people @paradisetaemin @nyamjinnie @lilacdreams-00 @vsugakookie0104 @koostime @la-evforia @betysotelo18 @chocobetterknot @simplysanha @delicategukkie @kookieswithtaeq @jeon-ggukkie @angjeon @bangtansbun @flamboyant-louie @elliemeetsevil @angiexyoung @stonyiscanon @strawberryforever25 @mipetronella @rageyoudamnednerd @hellotherehoneybee @joonies-babyy @mypurplelamp @jikooksgirl19 @sushi-date-ghost @bigimpression @kookiesjoonies @amour-quinn @diamonddia-mond @alterlovess @gemad08 @daydreambrliever @acc3ssdenied @silentlyimpractical @bella-victoria002 @ashleyjoyx @yoooonie @diamonddia-mond @btsbed @sungieshines @thia-aep @taeshuworld @hopiebabie @trynavibewhileicry @illwritetomorrow @kookoo-kachoo @prettxyliies @triviasjms @ratking101 @elephantdoors @feel-like-gold @kelitt @itsponybeaches @alpaca1612 @jeonkookiebangtan @rather-not-sayy @kimsouthjoon @beeeb05 @dreamcatcherjiah @yoongiverse @aethrav @studyroy @miinoongi @fangirls94 @catsandstrawberries @jiminsreads @gee-nee @dreamingaboutyousworld @seokjinslittledumpling @meowmeowyoongles @loisje123 @honeyspillings @taehyungsmatcha @kuppyjiminie @kookitykook @rjsmochii @hobidyll @jrobmorebangtan @xxstrangegirlxxx @saymynamewithluv @kookunot @stvvcks @moments-of-melancholy @take-u-2-an0ther-w0r1d @holaaaf @hobiismyhopeu @ayyyocee @purpleheartsfortae @cecedrake2217 @joontoxicated @uppiespuppy @cjphoenix135 @kookscrescent @oii-f-eli-x2 @aesthetic--fangirl @sweeneyblue1

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free-pool-trash · 3 years

Text

everything - peter maximoff

PART 2 TO DISAPPOINTMENT (you can read it on its own but it might be a tiny bit confusing)

hey guys, i missed peter and i hope this makes you guys feel better abt the first part of this fic <33

comments/reblogs/asks always appreciated <3

word count: 4k

warnings: angst, panic attack, fluff, probably some mistakes its 3:33am 😩✋🏻

summary: peter comes to your new reality <3

masterlist

His fingers drummed rapidly against the metal table located in the jet hanger, beneath the basketball court. Hank waited too, although, the beast was considerably calmer than Peter was at the moment.

“The radio has been quiet for like twenty minutes… do you think something went wrong?” Peter forced the words out in quick succession as he gnawed on his lips.

Hank sighed as that was the fourth time Peter had asked that question, every five minutes for the past twenty minutes- like clockwork, he’d asked Hank the same thing. The only varient was that the question started with, “It’s been five minutes...,” then, “It’s been ten minutes…,” to, “it’s been fifteen minutes…”

Hank understood that the boy was nervous, he was too, afterall Peter wasn’t the only one with a girlfriend on the uncharacteristically sketchy mission. However, if Peter asked him the same question one more time, he’d turn blue out of annoyance.

“Peter, I’m begging you to stop asking. They’re probably fine, the mutant’s energy surges probably just fried the radio,” Hank explained, trying to sound convincing for his and Peter’s peace of mind.

Peter gaped in response, “And that doesn’t worry you?”

Hank threw his head back with exhaustion and groaned, “Of course it does,” he started, running his hands down his face before continuing, “But stressing out about it isn’t going to do anyone any good. All we can do is wait for them to get back,” he finished, fixing Peter with a stern look as he’d began to bounce his knee relentlessly- annoyingly.

His fingers drumming faster than the human eye could see, his knee jolting at a similar speed, a feeling of unmistakable dread had started forming in the boy’s stomach, and no amount of finger tapping or knee bouncing could make it go away.

He had a feeling in his gut, one that he wouldn’t be able to back up with any type of logic or reason, but regardless, he had a feeling seated deep in the pit of his stomach that told him, extremely definitely, that something wasn’t right.

As best he could for the next hour and a half, Peter tried to stay quiet. Leaving the hanger to run laps around the basketball court; his attempt at exerting some nervous energy, his attempts were fruitless though as all he could focus on was that feeling in his bones that told him that you, his longtime girlfriend, were in danger. What only served to amplify his anxiety was the fact that if something terrible had indeed happened to you at the hands of the reality jumping mutant; there probably wasn’t much he could do to reverse it.

The conversation he’d shared with you last night rang through his head while he weighed up every possible outcome of your situation, and in conjunction; the situation he could possibly find himself in.

“So say your lovely girlfriend does get sent to an alternate reality… would you follow?” Within a second of your question, Peter had flipped your positions so that your back was against the mattress and the man in question was hovering on top of you with a cheeky grin.

“Sweet cheeks, I’d follow you anywhere.” He told you and you giggled at the stupid pet name before pulling him down to kiss you.

He meant it, he knew he meant it. Peter Maximoff had never been so sure of a fact in his entire existence; he’d follow you anywhere. His issue was that anywhere usually didn’t extend to alternate realities, but to him, if it meant rescuing you, he’d figure out a way to work out the kinks. Peter shook the thoughts from his head, he needed to be rational. You were probably fine, but yet again, he found last night's words echoing in his brain, the promise you’d made rattling around the confines of his head as violently as a screen door during a hurricane.

“Pete…” You whispered, moving your arms to wrap around his neck. “I’m gonna be okay. Raven and Charles will be with me the whole time, we’ll be in and out. I promise.”

When his heart began to beat out of control, he stopped running at lightning speed in favour of leaning against a thick tree adjacent to the basketball court. Aiming to steady his pulse he briefly closed his eyes and sucked in a deep breath. He thought about you; about how you’d play with his fingers to stop him from drumming them, how you’d cause any and all of his intrusive thoughts to be ejected from his mind when your lips would meet his in surprise kisses, or how you’d drape your arms around his shoulders and rest your cheek against his chest at random times. Those were the small interactions that brought him the greatest amount of serenity. Just as his heartbeat returned to its usual overactive pace, the jet you’d left on earlier was flying overhead.

Peter rushed back to the hanger, nervous energy at an all time high when the jet landed before him and Hank. Peter bounced on the heels of his feet as he waited for you to bound into his arms and pepper kisses all over his face. But that didn’t happen.

Peter’s heart dropped into that familiar pit in his stomach when Raven and Charles stepped out of the plane, looking crestfallen and solemn when their eyes met Peter’s wide, fear filled, brown eyes.

Before anyone could say a word, Peter sped into the plane, unfortunately confirming his suspicions; you weren’t there. Only a second later, the boy was back in his original spot in front of Charles and Raven.

“She better not be where I think she is right now or I swear to God, man-“ Peter began to threaten as Hank let out a shaky breath of disbelief.

“Peter,” Raven placed her hand on his shoulder when he looked like he was about to hyperventilate, Charles had yet to speak, no doubt trying to find an appropriate way to tell a young mutant that the only constant in his life, his only pacer, had been lost on a mission due to his negligence.

“Where is she? Tell me where she is, I’ll go get her I can be there in back in like five minutes just-“ Peter immediately rushed to speak, ignoring Hank’s confused gaze and Charles’ pained grimace.

“Slow down, bud,” Hank voiced when Peter neared the point of vibrating where he stood.

“The mutant, Galan, he said he’d bring her back, if, and only if, we complied with his demands,” Charles started to explain, grimacing again when Raven cut him off rather bluntly.

“But we can’t. His demands are insane.” She glared at Charles as she spoke, she believed that he shouldn’t have even brought up the option in front of Peter, there was absolutely no way they could accept the deranged mutant’s demands, Charles knew that, and Raven hadn’t wanted to give Peter false hope.

“So what?” Peter yelled, anger replacing nervousness. He’d warned them it was a bad idea. You’d warned them it was a bad idea. It could’ve been avoided. Had he been there, he could’ve saved you. “So what, she's just gone? My girl is just gone and what? I’m supposed to just be okay with it?” He seethed, his breath heavy while his chest heaved with rage.

When, after a moment, nobody spoke, Peter shook his head, “Come on you guys… you’re not seriously considering leaving her in some wacked out world all by herself, are you?” His voice sounded pleading, like a child, stripped raw and entirely vulnerable in a way that made them all wish they’d been more careful, hell, even Hank felt guilty and he hadn’t even been there. He, too, had been against the whole mission in the first place, actually.

“We’re really sorry, Peter,” was all Charles said before he exited the room, Raven stayed rooted in place though, at a loss for what to say or do next.

Peter swallowed thickly, his throat closing and his heart pumping at a rapid rate as tears welled in his eyes and oxygen seemed to disappear from his general area when the reality of the situation set in. You were gone, he’d get you back; even if it took him the rest of his life he’d get you back, but right in that moment, you were just gone. He hadn’t heard Hank’s and Raven’s “Woah!”s as the silver haired boy stumbled on his feet, his knees buckling before he had a chance to steady himself. Nor could he hear the gut wrenching rasps that left his mouth as he slipped into a panic attack that would surely result in him passing out.

“Peter,” Raven was in front of his face, but it wasn’t right- no, you were the one who talked him down, not Raven, it wasn’t right. “—you need to calm down, breath—“ her voice was distorted, as if he was hearing her from beneath a surface of water.

The older woman looked to Hank in desperation, he only furrowed his brow and gradually lowered Peter to the ground. He watched as the speedster rasped and muttered, he only managed to pick up a few words, his heart pulling with each one.

Hank rubbed a soothing hand up and down Peter’s back, while Raven prompted him to breath, eventually they managed to get through to the boy, though, Hank could tell it was more a matter of him having worn himself out.

“You’re alright,” Hank tried to soothe but Peter only whimpered.

He sniffled and met Hank’s gaze, hollowly and miserably, his lips quivering as her spoke in a desperate whisper, “I have to get her back, man. I just have to.”

The kettle screeched out a whistle from the kitchen, letting yourself and Wanda know the water was boiled, “I’ll get it,” you told her, you stood from the porch steps, squeezing Wanda’s shoulder on your way in as she gave you a grateful smile.

It’d been a few months since Wanda had sought you out after WestView broke down, you recalled the words she spoke fondly; “You don’t have to be alone. Remember what I said when we first met? We could help each other.”

Of course, you’d agreed to go on the run with her. And true enough, you’d both been extremely helpful to each other. She was a true friend and if nothing else, she was a bright light in the confused foreign world. As much as you adored Wanda, and as much as she adored you, neither of you were so naive as to think you weren’t still swamped in a pool of loneliness, craving for what you’d both respectively lost.

“Wands, was it peppermint you wanted?” You called from the kitchen, grinning slightly when she responded.

“Ya! With honey!” She yelled softly, “Please!”

Dutifully, you made the two cups of tea before returning to your spot next to Wanda on the steps, holding the hot cup between your hands and breathing in the minty steam. The scenery that surrounded you was gorgeous, nothing short of breathtaking. Rolling hills, huge lakes and flower fields that surrounded the cabin gave it the vibe of something plucked right from a storybook. If it was taking yours and Wanda’s story into consideration, you thought, it’d be one tragically dark storybook, but all the good classics were like that, you supposed.

Despite the eye catching backdrop, your mind was elsewhere today, more so than usual.

Wanda’s voice pulled you from your thoughts, “May I ask you something?”

Taking a sip from your tea you gave her an amused smile from over the rim of your ceramic cup, “Always.”

With that, Wanda turned her body to face you and you mirrored her action, then, she tilted her head curiously, “I’ve been wanting to ask you this for a while, but I didn’t want to pry,” she began causing you to snort out a laugh.

“Never stopped you before,” Wanda rolled her eyes, but smiled, continuing to her actual inquiries.

“When we were in WestView, you woke up a few times, but only when the imposter acting as my brother was near you,” you let out a heavy sigh, which stopped her in her tracks. This conversation had been brewing for a while, you could see it in the way Wanda sometimes hesitated before bringing up certain topics.

“In my reality, I have a boyfriend. He’s my everything, really,” you told her, staring blankly out into the fields as you spoke, “We’ve been together since we broke his father out of a high security prison together in ‘73– did I ever tell you that our timelines are different?” You wondered, losing the thread of your thoughts as you recalled the most significant few days of your life that had transpired in 1973, when you and Peter were just eighteen. It was only five years ago for you, but in this reality, the 70s were more than forty years ago.

“You’ve mentioned it,” she reminded you and you nodded, clearing your throat and getting back to the explanation that Wanda was expecting.

“Well, he’s a mutant like me. He’s got super speed, like your Pietro. His birth name is actually Pietro but he hates it, had it changed to Peter when he moved to the states— kids used to pick on him for it,” you explained, laughing lightly, thinking about the way his nose would scrunch up cutely when you’d call him Pietro.

“That man in WestView… he was identical to my Peter and he had the mutation and… his last name is Maximoff so, I don’t know, I guess it made sense that he’d be playing your brother. When we met I thought nobody was ever going to come for me, then I saw him and I was so happy…” Wanda rested a gentle hand on your knee when your face grew mournful.

“I thought he’d come to save me, bring me home, you know? But it wasn’t him at all, just some guy called Ralph Bohner,” you shrugged with a small pout, attempting to diffuse the weight of the confession with a light, humourless chuckle, “Stupid name.”

Wanda fixed you with a genuine smile, “Tell me about him,” she promoted and you sighed, dreamily this time.

“He’s kind, and funny, he makes me laugh more than anyone I’ve ever known— seriously, I could be having the worst day of my life and all he’d have to do is look at me and everything would feel better,” Wanda’s smile widened, she understood, her Pietro had that effect on her too.

“He’s honest, he’s so good hearted but he can be so full of mischief sometimes, he’s a huge prankster back home,” you paused, biting back a smile for a second, then carried on, “He’s got killer taste in music, before we actually started dating he used to lend me his favourite vinyls and make me mixtapes… he used to write crap on the top of the cassettes with black sharpie, like, “kinda cool songs for a sorta cool girl” or, and this is my personal favourite, “songs that make me think of you”, he drew a little winky face so, naturally, I thought it was going to be super cute,” your own laughter cut you off, Wanda’s mingled with yours and she raised her eyebrows.

“And was it?” She asked, chuckling when you shook your head, your smile the widest she’d ever seen it. She couldn’t help but smile too, the more you told her about him, the more she realised he really was just the alternate version of her brother.

“The only song on the whole thing was ‘Let’s Get It On’ by Marvin Gaye!” Wanda threw her head back in laughter, your cheeks hurt from smiling but your heart felt lighter having spoken about the boy you love.

Once she’d stopped laughing, Wanda took you in before speaking the thing she’d been thinking about since you became friends, “You know, I think Pietro would’ve liked you very much,” she joined you in staring off into the fields, “Peter sounds a lot like him.”

“You’d like him, I think,” Wanda nudged her knee against hers and sipped her tea.

“I hope I get to meet him someday,” she stated, causing your tone to dampen ever so slightly as you agreed.

“I hope so too.”

Peter hadn’t slept in weeks, by now, the speedster was running on nothing but twinkies and redbull. He hadn’t gotten a chance to sleep really, he’d left the mansion almost two weeks ago on what he was calling a solo mission. By solo mission he meant; finding the mutant that sent you to another reality and asking him, politely, to just plop him wherever he sent you. He had no return plan, but he knew what the X-Men had planned, well, more specifically Erik. He was going to kill Galan, and if that happened that eliminated every chance Peter had of getting his soulmate back.

Peter made a choice the second he left the mansion, he’d rather be in an alternate reality with you than in this reality without you.

Besides, he was sick of his friends telling him he should “move on”, you’d only been gone six months and everyone was acting like waiting for you was a hopeless waste of time, it was driving him insane.

You were it for him, he wouldn’t move on for as long as he lived and he knew you felt the same, but, regardless of that, he wanted to find you sooner rather than later.

Your side of the bed didn’t smell like you anymore, your favourite blanket (which Peter had shoved in his rucksack that he brought with him) didn’t hold the same warmth as it did when you’d wrap it around his shoulders. To put things simply, missing you was eating him alive.

He was following leads to get to Galan and finally, in a dingy motel in some lesser known area of the south, Peter found him.

“You’re one of the X-Men aren't you? Here to agree to my terms? Took you long enough,” the mutant spoke lowly, his grumbling voice all the more intimidating in the dimly lit room.

Peter stood awkwardly, out of place, while the mutant stared at him expectantly, “Uh, no, actually,” Peter finally managed to choke out after a moment of silence.

Galan scoffed, “Look, like I told your buddies; I’m not bringing the girl back-“

Peter shook his head, cutting Galan off frantically, “I don’t need you to bring her back. I want you to send me to her,” Galan raised a scarred eyebrow at the young man in front of him, he looked like all hell, bags under his eyes so prominent they almost didn’t look real. He had something of a nervous quality about him, Galan thought.

“You’re Quicksilver, am I correct?” Peter simply nodded his head in confirmation and Galan rolled his shoulders, “I gotta admit, it’d be nice to get you out of my way.”

Peter looked at him pleadingly, “So? Will you send me to her?”

Galan nodded his head, there was no downside for him, really. “Don’t see why not. But humour me for a second, kid. What’s so special about this girl?” Galan asked, a smirk on his face that unnerved Peter.

Peter took in a deep breath and looked Galan straight in the eyes, “I love her, she’s sorta my other half. I’m a total loser without her,” Peter tried to sound aloof but his body language and pleading gaze weren’t fooling anyone.

Galan snorted out a laugh, muttering something along the lines of “Ah, young love” but that was the last thing Peter heard before the world around him faded away.

When he came to, all he knew was that he was freezing, which was saying something considering he was nearly always too warm. He jolted into a sitting position, darkness surrounded him and all he could smell was grass and a very faint smell of smoke coming from somewhere in the distance. After a few seconds, Peter’s eyes adjusted to the darkness and all he could gather was that he was somewhere very, very hilly. The noises of wild animals in the distance spurred Peter to get onto his feet and start running.

He ran for maybe one minute until he reached a cozy looking wood cabin. The lights were off but smoke still poured from the chimney.

Too cold and too exhausted to think too much, Peter walked up the porch steps and knocked three times on the door.

“Hey, uh, anyone home?” He called when nobody came to the door after a few minutes. Just as he was contemplating running away a girl he didn’t recognise opened the door. Her eyes were wide and her mouth hung open in shock, Peter wasn’t sure why.

“Come in,” she told him immediately, and again, Peter didn’t question it, the strawberry blonde led him to a sofa and motioned for him to sit down, with a flick of her hand the fire sparked to life and Peter let out a silent breath of relief. Whoever this girl was, she was a mutant like him. “I’ll be- I’ll be right back.”

Wanda practically ran into your room, shaking you awake roughly, a crazed smile on her face like a child on Christmas, “Y/n, wake up!”

You cracked your eyes open with a groan and hid your face against your pillow, “What?” You asked in a whine and Wanda would’ve been endeared by how much of a child you were when you were sleepy, had it not been for the love of your life sitting on your living room sofa.

“Just come on, will you? You’ll sleep better once you see this,” she prompted, you let out a weak groan but threw your duvet off your legs anyway, sluggishly following Wanda into the living room, your fuzzy socks helping you shuffle over the hardwood floors without needing to lift your feet off the ground too much.

“It’s like 3am, Wands, this better be—“ you cut yourself off with a sharp gasp immediately upon seeing him, “Peter?” You asked, this time you had to be sure.

His own eyes widened and before he could even consider giving you a verbal answer, you were completely encompassed by his arms, but that was all the answer you needed.

A choked sob left your lips as you wrapped your arms around him, his back shook and his tears were already soaking through your tee shirt, letting you know he was crying too.

“Y/n,” he muttered against you, pressing feverish kisses all over your face while he took in your appearance, “You’re okay?”

You nodded your head, eyes watery and smile shaky. Yours hands cupped his cheek, your thumbs brushing the tears away from under his tired eyes, “I’m okay.”

Peter’s eyes continued to rack over you, his fatigue catching up to him as your soft thumbs stroked his cheekbones, “When was the last time you slept, Pete?” A sleepy smile formed on his lips at the sound of your voice, he would never be able to articulate how deeply he’d missed you.

“S’been a few weeks,” he answered and your eyes widened.

With a sad smile, you placed a kiss on his cheek before taking both of his hands in your own, “C’mon, you need rest so you can answer all the questions I plan on asking you in the morning.”

Wanda, it seemed, had already slinked back to her own room.

Once you arrived in your bedroom, Peter shimmied out of his jeans before crawling into your warm bed and opening his arms, beckoning you in. You didn’t need any convincing, you happily crawled into bed and let Peter wrap his arms around you as you laid your cheek against his chest.

“I have so many things to say but I’m pretty sure I’m about to pass out,” Peter said softly, squeezing you against him as closely as possible, burying his nose in your hair and sighing gently.

As gently as you could, you leaned up and placed a tender kiss against his lips, “You can say everything you need to say when you wake up.”

“I love you,” Peter whispered, chasing your lips with his languidly, “You’re my everything, you know that?” Of course, you wouldn’t know how much weight the statement held just yet, that didn’t matter to Peter, though. He had you back, the other details didn’t seem so important anymore.

#peter maximoff #peter maximoff x reader #peter maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #wandavision x reader #x men x reader #wandavision spoilers #wanda maximoff imagine

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bbrandy2002 · 3 years

Text

Fool’s Rush In

Part 15

Book: The Royal Romance

Pairing: Liam x MC

Warnings: mild violence

Series Premise: With two weeks until Liam is to marry Madeleine – his pick during the social season – the guys throw him a bachelor party in Vegas. After a drunken night, he finds himself with more than he bargained for.

Thanks @burnsoslow for the beta read.

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

Supposedly, the more a person suffered in the name of love, the more it showed they really cared.

At least, that's what Riley thought.

After nightfall of this particular evening -- when she least expected it -- she never realized how much truth that belief held.

Or how much it would hurt to sacrifice the one person who made her believe she was worthy of love and saw who she really was on the inside.

Her dainty arm -- a delicate bronze in color, sleek, with a glittering red strap across one shoulder -- linked through the arm of the man she had grown to love more than life itself as they entered the palace ballroom. Working tirelessly over the last week to ensure everything went off without a hitch had taken its toll on her. All she could think about, as she shook hands and charmed dignitaries with a sparkle in those twinkling brown eyes, was how much sleep she planned to make up for after the ball ended.

This ball was to introduce the King and his new bride to the Cordonian court for the first time. A show of solidarity and, hopefully, strength. A way to establish that what happened in a tiny chapel 10,000 miles away weeks ago between two strangers wasn't a careless mistake, and that she could handle the duties bestowed on her as a common American woman.

Or at least pretend she could for now.

However, for the King and the "Jewel of His Heart" whom he escorted through the curious crowd of pretentious naysayers in extravagant gowns and tuxes, with their fake smiles and tedious posturing ...

It was nothing less than fate.

Riley was the key that unlocked that safe space deep inside Liam's heart that had been sheltered for so long, waiting for the perfect person to come along and open it. This was the place where he kept his most sacred feelings: a genuine love, never-ending laughter, joy, romance, ecstasy, and every dream he ever held for the future -- one he presumed would never exist in any form he longed for.

But she didn't just unlock it. Riley shattered it wide open, where everything came flooding out at once and consumed him like a raging wildfire.

And it was the most remarkable, intoxicating experience of his life.

Liam showed her off all evening as they mingled during their rounds, danced, and conversed with the variance of nobility. She was the sexiest woman in that room, and he'd dare say the looks of envy shot in his direction from high-class men as he proudly cavorted her around didn't bother him in the least. Not that that was her only quality -- far from it. There were so many things about Riley that were special. But he couldn't help feeling a sense of pride that she was all his.

And without question, he was all hers.

Seated at the head table, Riley swallowed a morsel of the veal medallion she wanted to be served for this occasion. When given a choice between fish and lamb, the fish never stood a chance. The memory of that smelly, god-awful lunch with Regina three weeks ago was not something her palate had forgiven her for yet. As wonderful and savory as this extravagant meal, covered in a light brown mushroom sauce and served with a side of broccoli rabe, was, it couldn't hold a candle to what she craved the most: a slice of white pizza from Carmine's back in Brooklyn.

Or a slab or two of the New Yorker.

With maybe some cheesecake.

Covered in chocolate.

And a sausage rice ball. A Frito pie smothered with sour cream. Definitely a rainbow bagel from The Bagel Store. Barbecue ribs and beans from the mom-and-pop diner hidden just off the strip in Vegas.

Of course, her grandma’s country fried steak with white gravy sounded delicious too.

For sure, a fried Twinkie like the one she ate at the New York State Fair in 2013.

"You've outdone yourself, sweetheart," Liam marveled while wiping at the corner of his mouth with a napkin. "The meal was delicious, and our guests appear to be enjoying themselves." The others seated at the table looked up, adding their compliments.

Still dreaming about a fat slice of New York-style pizza, Riley smiled graciously back at him, until she noticed the server refilling Liam’s glass with merlot, causing her to do a double-take.

Hot tears pooled in her eyes, and a heavy feeling of sadness swelled in her chest as she panicked. "I asked for the Pinot Noir. Not the merlot,” she rasped meekly. “You don't like merlot, Liam. And the Pinot Noir was from the 'C' place where Duke Hakim lives. He'll be so disappointed and think I'm slighting his duchy. They’ll all hate me forever and ... wait a minute." She trailed off as a realization hit her, and Riley quickly glanced down at her plate before scanning each of the dishes from those seated around her.

The anxiety intensified; she could no longer suppress the heartbroken sob that wailed out of her. "Where are all the potatoes? We were supposed to have the potatoes, Liam. They didn’t serve the potatoes. Now the whole night is completely ruined, and it’s all my fault. I'm such a failure as a queen, and you should just send me to the dungeon now and throw away the key. I apologize to all of you for my incompetence and the lack of potatoes with your meal." Riley’s red-hot face, full of tears, plunged into the palms of her hands, then quickly sprung back up as Liam hesitantly tried to place a hand on her shoulder. A strong urge to use the restroom ended her crying spell as if it never happened. “Oh, oh. I gotta pee so bad. I’ll be right back.” She gave a warm smile and excused herself as she pushed her chair back and scurried merrily toward the nearest restroom.

Liam, Regina, Leo, Maxwell, and Olivia watched with confusion as she happily took off, not knowing what to say or what to make of the sudden shift in her moods.

“What the hell was that?” Olivia scowled, her eyes fixed on Liam.

“Is she all right, dear?” a concerned Regina asked.

Liam scratched the back of his head, nearly at a loss for words. “I ... I don’t know. I’ve never seen her that upset … especially over potatoes.” He paused in thought. “She was a little on edge this morning. Still, she’s been working a lot on the preparations and everything else going on. It must have gotten to her.”

Maxwell shrugged. “Maybe she just finally snapped.”

Leo shook his head, swallowing a forkful of beef. “Or maybe she has the premenstrual syndrome.”

“Leo!” The group admonished.

“What?” Leo bit back, taking in each of their disappointed glares. “Don’t act like it’s not true. Trust me, when I have cramps and bloating, I can go from a happy little Leo to a Bertrand, just like that.” He snapped his fingers, following it up with a frown. “It ain’t pretty, you all.”

Maxwell looked across the table at Liam and agreed, “He has a point.”

Wanting to shed his skin and slither away, Liam pinched the bridge of his nose. “Can we not discuss something so personal and private, especially while several hundred people are dining around us?”

“I’m just saying, little brother, that you need to be understanding and gentle during this special time of your wife’s 'lady business.' You should speak softly and slowly to her because Shark Week messes with a girl's mind, man. Their brains short-circuit, and there’s nothing left up there but a couple of crickets and man-eating rattlesnakes. One second, you think she’s fine, but if you’re not careful, in the next second, you’ll find yourself with two venomous fangs rattling from your nut sack, dude. She will tear you apart and spit you out like a rabid dog. You can make it through these next few days, but only if you take my advice.”

“That is the single dumbest thing I’ve ever heard you say,” Olivia spat, boring her eyes into him. “And you’ve said a lot.” She turned to Liam, whose face was slightly pale and void of expression. “Don’t listen to his sexist drivel. Why you haven’t declared him insane yet is beyond me. You should have sent him away with that filthy hairball to Valtoria you had caged earlier.”

“IT WAS MONGO!” Leo erupted, causing the dishes on the table to clatter as he jumped to his feet and hovered over the redhead. Every head in the ballroom whipped around to see what was happening, and a deafening silence filled throughout. Even the orchestra stopped playing their classical tune.

A wide-eyed Regina smiled sheepishly as she glanced out at the quiet audience who were waiting to see what all the fuss was about. She thought fast before calling out, “We were just playing a little game of … 'It was Mongo.'” The former queen snatched Maxwell’s Sunset Rum punch from his hand, thrusting the drink up at her stepson, towering beside her, and instructed in a grandmotherly tone, “Be a good lad, Leo. You lost this round. It's time to chug-a-lug, my boy.” With his face burning, Liam slid down in his seat.

“Ooooo, I wanna go next.” Maxwell bounced excitedly while the guests resumed the festivities. "How do we play?"

“I think I want to go, too,” Liam replied, straightening back up before hurling his napkin on the table. “I’m going to go find Riley.”

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

Riley exited the ladies' room, clutch in hand and a fresh dab of clear gloss gleaming on her pink lips. She stopped walking just as the door closed behind her and smiled with a look of surprise at seeing Liam leaning against the opposite wall. "What are you doing out here?"

He pushed himself off the wall, closing the distance between them and meeting her in the middle of the empty corridor. They wrapped their arms around each other, indulging in the warmth of their lovers' embrace. "Would you believe me if I told you I just missed you?" he answered, placing a tender kiss on her lips that skimmed lower to her jawline.

"I missed you, too," she moaned with each gentle pressure of his seductive lips, suckling and nibbling along the spot that trailed behind her ear that he knew drove her crazy. "But something tells me that's not the only reason you left the ballroom."

Their gazes met simultaneously. "Leo."

Riley chuckled softly. "Do I even want to know?"

Liam sighed, smoothing back a loose hair behind her ear. "You know my brother and his wonderful words of wisdom." There was no way in hell he would tell her what they really discussed after she left; he could only imagine her embarrassment. "Everyone was just a little worried about you, that's all."

"I didn't mean to scare everyone. I just wanted tonight to be perfect. Instead, so many things went wrong. I can only assume what the court thinks about me now." She lowered her gaze to the red carpeting where they stood. "I let you down."

"I don't want to ever hear you say that again. Riley, sweetheart, you can never let me down. Do you understand that?" Liam lifted her chin; her tentative eyes stared back at him for a moment before nodding. "Good. And just so you know, our guest are used to bombings, stabbings, kidnappings, shootings, and terror plots at most of my palace events --"

"Wait. What?"

" -- I assure you, just the fact alone, that none of that took place tonight, and they're all going to leave here soon -- alive -- will be huge for them. Not having potatoes with the meal or the right wine was the least of their worries. They will consider this night a success. And a testament to their new queen. You should, too. I'm so very proud of you."

"I have so many questions about everything you just said."

Liam smiled, caressing Riley's petal-soft cheeks and lowering his head to kiss her again. "All in due time, my love.”

Riley let out a deep, drawn-out yawn she lightly covered with her palm before stretching and rolling her neck. A couple of weeks' worth of planning and endless decisions had left heavy tension in her shoulders and overwhelming exhaustion like nothing she'd felt before. None of it went unnoticed by Liam, who placed his hands on her shoulders and gingerly kneaded the taut muscles.

"What do you say about heading back to our quarters, taking off all of your clothes, and I'll be up soon to massage this gorgeous body from head to toe? And hopefully, when I'm through, you'll massage parts of me, too … with any part of your body that you'd like." His lips curved into an inviting smile.

"Mmm, that's tempting," she purred, rubbing her hands over his ample chest. "But I can't just leave. It's the Queen's Ball. Without me, it's just ... The Ball." She chuckled, despite herself.

“Don’t you worry your pretty little panties over the ball. Just go upstairs and take them off. I’ll handle everything down here. Then … “ He squatted down to her eye level. “ … I’ll handle you.”

Her heart fluttered every time Liam spoke to her that way. The way he desired only her. She bit the corner of her lip teasingly. “I love you so much.”

Liam smiled. “You better. You’ve got one hell of a husband. I’d even venture to say you’re the luckiest woman on the whole damn planet right now.” Before Riley could respond to his jest, he put both of his hands on her cheeks to hold her head still and began placing playful, wet smooches all over her face, causing her to laugh riotously. After a few seconds of her squirming around and cackling at his antics, he paused to look at her. “You know I love you, too. Now go on up. I’ll be right behind you soon.”

With a pat to her backside, they went their separate ways.

---------

Liam returned to the ballroom, having offered to finish what little time was left without her. He would offer his apologies for her absence, but in reality, the King couldn’t have cared less what anyone there thought. Since his bachelor party weeks ago, he had grown from a man who had no choices to one who made his own. His marriage and relationship with Riley came first. Her wellbeing was the main priority -- to hell with anyone who had a problem with that.

As Riley placed a hand on the elegant wooden handrail of the grand staircase and took the first step up, her thoughts meandered to where she had been in her life one month ago and how vastly it had changed in such a short time. For the first time in years, she was happy, and it felt so good to be in that place where she could finally let go of the past and move on. Liam was a game-changer, and she was thoroughly convinced he was the only person on the planet who could have gotten her out of her own head and to this level of blissful existence.

Rounding the corner at the top of the stairs, she reached into her clutch to pull out the key card to her quarters, exhaustion slowing her strides. Shuffling past a row of closed office doors and framed artwork, she made her way to the residential wing.

The squeak of a door behind her and the click of heels drew her attention, causing her to stop and turn to see who was there.

The color drained from her face as Madeleine casually stepped out, her hands behind her back and a devious, unsettling grin cemented on her face.

It wasn't the fear that made Riley's heart pound with a sickening thud, but more shock than anything. No one had seen or spoken to the Countess since the confrontation in Las Vegas when she showed up unexpectedly after finding out Liam had married Riley the night prior.

Now, suddenly, there she was, as if out of nowhere, a gleam in her eye, looking all too pleased to have this run-in with Riley.

"A little dramatic, don't you think?" Riley scoffed, taking one step back the closer Madeleine approached. "What are you even doing here?"

"I'm not going to hurt you, if that's what you're worried about," she answered contemptuously. Her green eyes drifted to one of the cameras mantled at each end of the hallway. Riley placed a shaky hand over her stomach, letting out a low, relieved breath, hoping that was the truth. "Not physically, anyway."

"Well, that sounds promising," Riley replied sardonically. "Now, if you don't mind ..." She turned away, wanting nothing more than to escape this conversation and make it back to her quarters.

Madeleine reached out and grabbed the Queen by her elbow, pulling her back and harshly twisting her around so they were now face-to-face. "You're not going anywhere until I'm through with you," she hissed with an icy glare. "I told you I would make you regret what you've done."

Riley jerked her arm, trying to free herself. "Let go of my arm, Madeleine!"

"Not until you hear what I have to say."

"I'm not interested in anything you have to say! Now LET ME GO!" Riley hoped someone heard her yell or at least witnessed what was happening on the camera. Where the hell is security?

While continuing to struggle to free herself, she reached up with her free hand in an attempt to pry off Madeleine's bony fingers that were squeezing tight grooves around her elbow, her manicured nails digging deeper into Riley's skin. "You're hurting me. I said to let me go."

"Very well, then." The woman, who had twice lost her chance at the crown, released her firm grasp, knowing that the momentum would cause Riley to stumble back as soon as she let go.

Just as predicted, Riley planted a foot behind her for leverage before drawing her arm back as hard as she could, one last time. Her eyes grew wide, and she let out a sharp gasp that sounded well down the corridor. Riley sailed backward, tripping over herself and toppling to the ground. She finally landed with a hard blow on her backside, the rear of her head just inches from slamming to the floor.

A shockwave of pain coursed up Riley's spine from hitting so abruptly. Before she had a chance to respond or process what happened, Madeleine crouched down beside her, holding a DVD up and gaining Riley's attention.

The pain had morphed into a throbbing ache that was soon forgotten as the Queen stared quizzically at the object displayed in front of her like a grand prize.

"What is that?" her voice trembled.

"It's my ace in the hole," Madeleine stated, then wagged a finger. "Someone used to be a very naughty girl."

Furrowing her brows, Riley responded. "I don't know what you mean."

"You know precisely what I mean, but just in case, please allow me to refresh your memory," Madeleine smirked before rising to her feet and prancing around as if she were having the time of her life. "I did a little digging after my brief visit to Las Vegas and came across a man who knew you very, very well at one time. I made some calls. We exchanged e-mails, a transfer of money or two. And he was all too eager to accept my offer of payment for any dirt he could give me on you."

There was no point in asking "who" -- she already knew; the thought made her nauseous. Riley closed her eyes and muttered. "Tyler?"

"Yes," Madeleine beamed, " Your ex-husband. He had a lot to say about you."

"I'm sure he did. Does it even matter to you that he's a liar and a cheat -- not to mention greedy? He would make up anything if he thought he could profit off of it."

"Oh, it matters. Personally, I don't believe a damn thing he had to say. Honestly, Riley ... even someone like you could have done better than that slime."

Riley cringed in pain as she pushed herself off the floor and turned to her oppressor. "Just get to the point, Madeleine. Clearly, he gave you something you thought was valuable enough to use against me, so just spit it already."

Madeleine smiled, "How very astute of you. You're correct. He did." She held up the disc as Riley regarded it suspiciously. "On this disk are several hours of the two of you ... together. Very graphic, if I do say so myself." Riley's jaw dropped upon hearing those words as Madeleine continued, "Now don't worry. I only watched it long enough to make sure the video was legit --"

"Give me that!" Riley reached out to snatch the DVD, but Madeleine pulled it away just out of her grasp. A burning sensation filled inside her chest and spread across her face. "You're lying. I never made videos like that."

"Oh, I think you did," the blonde countered with a mirthful tone. "You just didn't know about it. Your ex admitted as much to me ... an asshole move, for sure. But nonetheless, I purchased the copy from him for a hefty sum. And ... well ... here we are now. You're more than welcome to take this disc and see for yourself; I have it downloaded as a backup, knowing you'd want proof."

At that moment, all Riley wanted was for Liam to walk down that corridor where she now stood, pick her up in his arms, whisk her away to safety, and tell her it was all a bad dream. Not that she did anything wrong -- she was married at one time to the man, presumably on the video, and would have been a consenting adult.

No, it was the fact that Tyler Brooks had taken intimate videos with her during their marriage, without her knowledge. Now Madeleine had possession of them.

God only knew what she planned to do with them, but Riley had a pretty good idea. "What do you want?" she whispered in defeat, afraid to hear the answer.

Madeleine grinned from ear-to-ear. "For you to leave Cordonia tonight and never return, or I release everything to the press."

Riley shook her head. "No. As much as I don't want anyone to see that video, I did nothing wrong, and I won't be blackmailed or intimidated by you so that you can get your grubby little paws on the crown."

"Is that so?" It wasn't a question so much as a remark meant to convey who was in control.

Maintaining her position, Riley raised a brow, refusing to give in.

Madeleine was far from giving up, though; she had manipulation in her blood. "Very well, then. I'll release the video in the morning. It should be interesting to see how the world reacts to yet another scandal by this monarchy. Their Queen plastered all over the internet again, except this time, uploaded on every porn site on the web.

"The news will run the story with your blurred-out silhouette in the background. Your father will see it, and his business will become a target.: Your friends. Family. Students. They'll all be inundated with your sexual proclivities. But the worst part will be the tribunal. The council will have no choice but to question Liam's decision-making abilities after not only squandering his pick of queen on some American nobody, but now one whose ass will be featured on the desktops of teenage boys across the world. It's a shame that he'll lose his reign, all because of you. Would you really do that to Liam? Do you genuinely believe you're worth all the trouble it will cause him?"

Riley froze. She knew Madeleine was taunting her with the people she cared about the most. The last thing she wanted was to embarrass each of them. But to possibly cause Liam to lose his legacy, his birthright, and the rulership of a country he loved so much? It was something she couldn't shake.

Staring blankly, twisting the bands of gold that belonged to Liam's mother, she couldn't get the question Madeleine just asked out of her mind: Did Riley believe she was worth the trouble it would cost him?

Nothing was damning on that video, aside from the fact that she never knew it existed. But she already had so much to prove; another video in the press' hand would tarnish Liam. Maybe the Countess of Fydelia was right: He would lose it all.

"Time is ticking," Madeleine reminded Riley as she tapped her watch. "What's it going to be?"

----------

@burnsoslow @dcbbw @ao719 @hopefulmoonobject @jessiembruno @texaskitten30 @janezillow @merridithsmiscellany-blog @mskaneko @callmeellabella @queenjilian @sirbeepsalot @drakexwillow @caroldxnvxrs @jovialyouthmusic @forthebrokenheartedthings @bebepac @kingliam2019 @lovablegranny @cordoniaqueensworld @amandablink @liamxs-world @choiceskatie @iaminlovewithtrr @hopelessromanticmonie @charlotteg234 @annekebbphotography @txemrn @thecordoniandiaries @alyssalauren @cordonianroyalty @monsoonbloom12 @mom2000aggie @theroyalheirshadowhunter @princessleac1 @kimmiedoo5 @graceful-leah @iam-the-kind-and-thoughtful @thegreentwin @gkittylove99 @cinnamonspongecake @lifeaskim @neotericthemis @pink-diamond13 @walker7519 @natureblooms24 @yourmajesty09 @gabesmommie1130 @sweatyrysconnoisour @kat-tia801 @debmcg1106

Liam x MC: Cordonia-gothqueen

FRI Series Tags: @narrytheworld @queenwalton @cordonianprincess @zaffrenotes @zilch3 @drrookie @sfb123

#liam x mc #liam x riley #prince liam #king liam #the royal romance #trr #choices liam x mc #Fools Rush In #bbrandy2002

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hopeless-starry-kingdom · 3 years

Text

you broke me first | Peter Parker

Summary: You have to remind Peter it was his fault you were broken up

read part 1 and 2 here !

song: you broke me first by Tate McRae

a/n: happy valentines day!! hope everyone’s day was good and here is the last part of this mini series :))))

Maybe you don't like talking too much about yourself

But you shoulda told me that your were thinking ‘bout someone else

“If you guys are going to make out can you at least do it somewhere else. I’m eating.” MJ put her book back to her eye level as you and Harry pulled away from each other. You blushed and Harry smirked before throwing an arm over your shoulder.

“C’mon, MJ. Don’t be such a cockblock.” You slapped Harry on his arm and he laughed. “If you want I can set you up with one of my friends.”

MJ put her book down and pretended to think about the offer. “A rich daddy’s boy with two functional brain cells, who’s also a fuckboy. I’ll pass” She smiled sarcastically at Harry and he chuckled.

“Have I ever mentioned I like your friends?” You giggled at him and shook your head. MJ flipped him off and you had to bite back your laugh.

“Stop patronizing her.” You tried to be stern but the smirk on Harry’s face paired with MJ lips twitching up didn’t help your case. “Yes madame.”

Or your phones been off for a couple months, so you’re callin’ me now

He leaned down and pressed his lips to yours before turning back to eat his lunch. You smile was big as you stared at him but something caught your attention. From behind him you saw Peter, Gwen, and Ned walking. Gwen had her arm wrapped around Peter’s arm. Ned was talking to Gwen about something and Peter was already staring at you. You gave him a small smile and a head nod before turning back to your small group.

“Hey, did Mr. Harrington ever say when the essay was due?”

“I cant keep going. My brain is fried.” You groaned as you flopped down on MJ’s bed and rested your arms over your eyes to block the light from coming in.

“Yeah, i’m pretty burnt too. You hungry? I can order some pizza.”

“Please?” You begged and sat up as MJ was looking for the number on her phone your phone buzzed with a message. It was Harry.

Can you come over tomorrow? I wanna spend time with you <3

You bit your lip go hide to hide the smile that was threatening to come through. Harry was always so sweet with you. He had a cocky front that he showed everyone else, sometimes with you as well. But you knew deep down he was a teddy bear. Texts like this showed that. And even though Harry explained to you that his father never showed him love, and continues not to, he doesn’t see a reason not to show love.

But I ran out of every reason

“Hey, can you please stop sexting Harry? I’m trying to hang out with you.” A pillow collided with your face and you gasped.

“MJ! I’m not sexting Harry. He wants to know if I can hang out tomorrow. It’s sweet.” You quickly responded back to his text and told him you could.

“You two are disgustingly cute. It makes me sick. And tell him to stop hogging you, I feel like he’s always with you. Does he not know he has to share?” You threw your head back and laughed at her.

“So now i’m an object of sharing? Nice to know.” You laughed and soon MJ was joining in with you.

Took a while, I was in denial when I first heard

That you moved on quicker than I coulda ever, you know that hurt

“I’m happy for you, Y/N. I know the whole thing with Peter had you in a funk..” You looked down at your hands and nodded. You still thought about Peter often. Soley because you had him in some of your classes and you constantly saw him around school. But you never thought of him like you used to. You stopped loving the way his smile reached his eyes and lit up the whole room. You stopped loving his curls. You stopped loving his unconditional kindness.

It was over now, officially. You weren’t hurting anymore and it felt so amazing to say it. The storm had passed and had taken Peter Parker with it. You were happy now with Harry. So extremely happy. You didn’t actually think it was possible but after giving the relationship a chance, you couldn’t believe how happy you were with Harry.

You never wanted to depend your happiness on soley being in a relationship. You were better than that. But you were finding you were happy by yourself and with Harry. It was the best middle ground. You thought you had to depend on Peter or a relationship to be content. And it definitely wasn’t true.

“I’m just glad that it’s all over with. And Peter was an asshole to you.” You both laughed at her statement.

“Yeah, i’m glad it’s over too.” She smiled at you before tapping a button on her phone.

“Hi, I’d like to place an order for delivery.”

Swear, for awhile, I would stare at my phone just to see your name

Gwen Stacy gasped as she read the note that fell out of her locker. It was the fourth one this week. And she couldn’t count how many she got over all. Apparently she was a dirty two-faced snake. She preached girl supporting girls but to everyone else she stole someone’s boyfriend which didn’t exactly sit right with the girls of the school. Gwen didn’t mean for it to happen and she tried explaining it to some of the girls in her art class but they just rolled their eyes at her.

“Another one? Let me see.” Peter grabbed the note and read over it before tearing to to shreds.

“Yes, another one Peter. In fact the fourth one this week. And maybe if i’m lucky i’ll get one tomorrow and see what else the girls have to say about me in the girls restroom. I can’t keep doing this Peter.” Gwen slammed her locker and held her head in her hands.

“Ok, well i’ll go talk to Mr. Harrington. Or even the principal. I’ll tell them that it’s been getting out of hand and—”

“No, Peter. That’s not what I mean. I mean I can’t do this. Us.” Gwen crossed her arms over her chest and refused to look at Peter because she knew if she did she’d melt.

“W-what? Gwen, what do mean?”

“Peter I cant keep living like this! People hate me all because you broke Y/N’s heart. And I can’t blame them either becuase you left her for me, you broke the poor girl. I’d hate me too.”

“They’ll get over it! It’s none of their buisness.” He reached over and tried to grab the girls hands but she instantly pulled away.

“Peter, I really like you. I do. But with college applications coming up and school’s scouting, I can’t risk letting this affect me getting into NYU. I don’t have the time for petty school drama.”

“Gwen, cmon. Please, I really like you too. I can figure something out.” He pleaded. He couldn’t let Gwen go, not after everything that happened with you.

“I’m sorry, Pete. I really am.” She leaned up and kissed his cheek before smiling sadly at him. She turned with her books in her hand and walked away.

Peter groaned and kicked the locker next to him. It created a dent and some people began to whisper and point. He sighed before walking to his first class.

‘Did you hear what happened????’

You furrowed yourself brows at MJ’s text. You quickly looked up and seen your teacher pointing to the board and explaining today’s lesson. You placed your phone in your lap as you typed back a response.

‘Hear what? Did Flash trip and fall into the trash again?’

You looked up again and pretended to take notes and waited for her to text back. Once you felt your phone buzz your eyes nearly bulged out of your head

‘No! Though that would make my day— Gwen broke up with Peter! Some junior over heard it from their locker and started to spread it. That’ll show him!’

You gulped as you put your phone away and stared ahead. Peter no longer had Gwen. Peter no longer had the girl he left you for. She ended it with him. You had a mix of emotions. For one you wanted to rub your relationship in his face. He left you for someone and now they broke up with him.

You couldn’t believe how much it back fired on him. You wanted to laugh in his face and call him a huge idiot. You wouldn’t ever dare think of leaving him. He got his karma.

But you also felt a little sad for him. Gwen broke up with him. You couldn’t imagine how upset and sad he was feeling. But you couldn’t shake the feeling of it being his fault. Becuase maybe it was.

The rest of the week was filled with gossip about Peter being dumped by Gwen. The girls said he deserved it but also thought it didn’t excuse Gwen either. She noticed she still got stared in the hall but the whispers stopped and so did the writing in the restroom. It was a start.

They scoffed at Peter and made sure to give him a dirty look. Peter wasn’t feeling too good either. He couldn’t belive he lost you and Gwen. Ned tried to reasure him that it wasn’t meant to be. All Peter did was smile and nod. And then he saw you smiling and laughing with Harry. Living your best life and he felt jealous and angry. Jealous and angry that you were happy without him. And jealous and angry that Harry was the one to kiss you and give you hugs from behind.

That should be me.

He hated himself for thinking that. He broke up with you. He left you. So why was he thinking about you like he had in the past? It dawned on him for the next few days that letting you go was a mistake. He didn’t actually like Gwen, he liked the idea of her. The popular, girl next door version of Gwen Stacy is what he liked. Sure, Gwen was funny and nice and smart but so were you. And much more in his opinion.

He was an idiot who let you go because he liked the idea of someone. He chose that over loving you.

“The blood drive took way longer than I thought.” You pressed your phone against your ear with your shoulder as you began to enter your locker combination.

“Well saving lives isn’t a two second process miss Y/L/N.” You rolled your eyes at Harry being sarcastic.

“I can’t believe your missing school to attend one of your dads meeting in the Upper East Side.” Harry chuckled and shrugged.

“What can I say? I’m a buisness man too.” Harry’s father glared at him as they walked in the halls of the conference room. He knew that was his way of telling Harry to get off the phone.

“Hey, babe. I have to go, the meetings starting soon. I’ll see you tomorrow. Stay safe.”

“Bye, Harry. See you.” You smiled as you hung up the phone and pocketed your phone. You were excused for two of your class periods and now had to be at your next one as the bell rang. You quickly grabbed the books you needed and slammed the locker shut. You gasped in surprise when you seen who was behind the locker.

“Peter? Um, what are you doing?” You looked around anxiously to see if any other students noticed you and the curly haired boy standing within a few feet of each other. They had.

“H-how are you?”

“I’m good? Do you need something? I have physics next and—”

“Your teacher will kill you if you’re late.” He chuckled as he nervously twiddled his fingers. You didn’t laugh though. “How-How’s being able to drive now? I bet it feels like you have a ton of freedom.”

“Peter, i’m sorry if this sounds rude but what do you want? You’ve made it pretty clear these past few months you don’t want anything to do with me. So what do you need? Is this about you being you-know-who?” You whispered the last part to make sure no one heard. “I promise I won’t tell Harry or anyone else.”

“No! It’s not that it’s... Okay I know this might sound so crazy and insane but please, just hear me out.” He had his puppy dog eyes on and you couldn’t ever resist them. What was a few minutes?

“You have like two minutes before I have to go.” You glanced at your phone for the time.

“Okay, sweet. First off I want to say how sorry I am for the way I treated you, Y/N. It was so shitty and I just tossed you to the side. I will never be able to forgive myself for that but I was hoping... maybe you can?”

You smiled at the boy once you realized what he was doing. He was giving you a formal apology. Though it was long over due you knew you couldn’t hold a grudge against him. You just weren’t that person. And you were finally over Peter. It was all working out.

“Of course, I can forgive you, Peter. Thank you for apologizing. It does mean a lot. Well i’ll see you around?” Peter’s brows furrowed before quickly shaking his head.

“Wait that’s not all.” Your looked at him quizzically and urged him to continue. “I was wondering I-if you’d like to give us, me and you, another try. At dating, of course.” He smiled at you and suddenly you were no longer smiling. You took a step back as you stared at him in disbelief.

How dare he? How dare he break your heart and then come running back to you the moment Gwen breaks up with him. You were his second choice and that hurt. And to top it off, you were with Harry, happily.

“How dare you, Peter Parker?” Peter gulped as he recognized the anger and disappointment in your tone.

“Becuase shit isn’t going your way, you think this is okay?” You voice was now raised and now suddenly everyone in the hall turned to face you two.

“Y/N, please. Just let me explain—”

“Now suddenly you’re asking for me back? Could you tell me where’d you get the nerve?” You spit and Peter didn’t think he’d ever seen you so mad.

“I made a huge mistake. I miss you. I miss us.” He tried pleading but you scoffed

“You can say you miss all that we had but I don’t really care how bad you’re hurting, Peter. Not when you broke me first.”

There were tears in your eyes and your heart was heavy. How could he do this to you? You were over him now and then he comes and pull this stunt. You were also very angry.

“Y/N, please. I—”

“I don’t want to heart it, Parker! Leave me alone! I mean it, Peter. Don’t talk to me anymore, don’t look at me in the halls or in our classes. Don’t even think about me. It’s over Peter. Find your dignity while you’re at it.” You spat and purposely pushed his shoulder roughly with yours.

You tried to ignore the whispers as you started to speed walk to the nearest restroom, your class long forgotten.

You tried to hold in your sob as your thoughts began to eat you alive. But you couldn’t hold back as it pried its way to the surface. You didn’t care about if the floor was dirty as you slid down to hug your knees. All you could think was screw Peter Parker. This wasn’t the Peter you knew. Peter would never publicly humiliate you and turn you into a joke. But he did.

What did you think would happen?

I’ll never let you have it

What did you think would happen?

You had to remind yourself that he in fact did do those things. You were a game to Peter, it seemed. His second choice. And it hurt, you hate to admit that it hurt.

“Y/N.” MJ walked into the bathroom and sighed when she saw you on the floor.

“I-Is the whole sch-school talking ab-about me?” You hiccuped and she placed a hand on your knee and gently rubbed her hand back and forth.

“The only thing they’re saying is how Peter’s a jackass and you don’t deserve that.” You sighed and nodded and tried to brush your tears away.

“I just can’t believe he would d-do this to me. It’s like i’m a jo-joke.” You sniffled and MJ scoffed. “He’s such a dick. Once I get my hands on him—”

“No, MJ. It’s fine. I gave him a piece of my mind already.” You smiled weakly at her and she helped you off the floor. She shook her head with a scowl and then snorted.

“What?”

“Once Harry hears about his little stunt, Peter is done for.”

Your eyes widened as you thought about Harry. He tolerated Peter because of you and once he hears what happened, you have a good idea what he’d do.

“My god, I have to call him. But he’s in a stupid high class professional meeting.” You whipped out your phone and went to his contact. You couldn’t call him but you thought a text should be enough until you see him later.

‘Don’t freak out...Peter asked me out again

BUT!!!! I obviously said no and handled to situation!

So when you come to school tomorrow and hear about the drama pls don’t pummel Peters face in ??? <3’

“Hm. That should hold him off. Let’s skip class and go watch the cheerleaders fall from their pyramid.” You tried to keep a straight face but ended up laughing.

“Yeah, i’m down for that.” MJ smiled at you and started to walk out of the bathroom.

You sighed and thought about if Peter was hurting right now. But then you shook your head.

But I don’t really care how bad it hurts

When you broke me first

He broke you first and now he had to deal with the aftermath, not you.

#peter parker #spiderman #peter parker blurb #peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker imagine #peter parker x you #harry osborn #spiderman far from home #spider man: homecoming

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writingthingsisdifficult · 3 years

Text

Saving the world (Double booking pt 2)

I was asked to write a second part, and as inspiration struck, well… here it is.

They've shared a room. Now what?

If you like it, let me know :D

Word count: 5655

Part 1

_______________________________________________________________________

The light is seeping under the curtains, dragging you back to the conscious world, but you're not ready to get up just yet. So you squeeze your eyes shut and stretch your back. It's stiff as a board, and your cheek has seemingly set in a permanently squished position. The room feels stuffy and warm, and there's a soft noise you don't recognise at first. But when you finally open your eyes, you can't help but smile.

Everything's a bit blurry without your glasses, but there's no mistaking the man sleeping in the bed next to yours. His arm, which you suddenly notice isn't gloved, but a prosthetic, is hanging over the edge of the bed, and if you strain your imagination, it's almost stretched towards you.

It looks like he hasn't moved at all during the night. Neither have you when you come to think of it. When you stretch again, your neck cracks as if you were eighty, and it's a struggle to lift one leg over the other, though that might just be that you're still half asleep.

As you fumble for your glasses, Bucky opens his eyes and gives you a sleepy smile. "Good morning."

Your heart skips a beat, and it's as if you've forgotten all suitable responses to such an innocent greeting. "Yeah." That's what comes out of your mouth, and you groan.

"You sleep good?" He yawns and props up on his elbow.

"Mhm. Like a baby."

"Me too."

You grin and roll over on your back just as the loudest growl erupts from your stomach. Heat creeps up your neck and ears, and you mutter a soft "Sorry."

Bucky laughs. "Don't apologise for being hungry. What do you say we go get some breakfast?"

"I could eat."

After a quick shower and a couple of frustrating minutes picking an outfit, you really don't want to look like a slob in front of Bucky, you're both seated in the restaurant, devouring the bacon and eggs like your lives depend on it.

The conversation is light. You're slowly getting to know each other. "I'm freelancing for the government," Bucky says and gulps down his orange juice. "It's all really boring, though."

You nod and stuff your mouth with bacon. "I'm sure it isn't. But paperwork, am I right?" you add with a chuckle.

Nodding, he wipes his mouth and takes another bite. "Mhm. How about you?"

"Oh, it's not very interesting. I freelance too, I guess. Right now I've been hired to design a calendar with paintings from the city. It's not well paid, but it's fun."

"So you're an artist? May I see some of your work?"

Suddenly you feel a bit self-conscious. That's weird. You haven't had doubts about your art in forever. "I've got some photos in my phone." You hesitate for a second, then fish it out and unlock it. Scrolling down, you find the series of paintings you did last spring. Green and lush, you get a pang of longing for the fresh air and colourful flowers. The contrast is vast from the grey city.

"Wow, these are good!" Bucky exclaims and starts gushing over your lines and colour and the composition, and you feel your ego inflating with every word. All you can do is sit there with a stupid grin on your face, and a pulsing heat in your cheeks, while he builds you up like he's a professional.

You've totally forgotten the time when the staff tells you that the restaurant, unfortunately, is closed now, but that you're welcome back for dinner later. With many an apology, the two of you get up and head to the lobby, where you stay, talking for almost an hour before you remember why you are here in the first place.

"Sorry," you say, and mean it. "I need to get some work done before the light goes. I was thinking of heading down to the harbour today. See if the water can inspire me."

"Oh. Yeah, I guess." Bucky looks down on his feet and gives you a small smile. Then he looks up again, his eyes shining, competing with the glorious smile that grows on his lips. "Do you mind if I come with you? I mean… you don't have to say yes, I just…"

"No, of course." You're relieved that he asked, letting you out of asking him yourself. "Some company would be lovely. Just gotta get my stuff. Meet you back here in ten minutes?"

He nods and sighs almost imperceptibly once you've turned away, watching as you almost skip towards the elevator. A tiny voice in the back of his head warns him that he has tripped and is going to fall hard if he doesn't get a grip soon, but he ignores it. The feeling is too pleasant to care just now.

The next few days you establish a routine of sorts. Bucky knocks on your door, asks to sleep next to you, you say yes, and you wake up, turned towards each other. After breakfast, you head out into the city, sometimes he's leading the way, sometimes you have a plan, and you spend the day drawing and talking and without realising it, falling hard for him. Every evening you have dinner in one of the restaurants near the hotel, and every evening you forget what is happening around you, and all you can focus on is Bucky.

_____________________________________________________________________

The sun is shining. A bird is singing in the tree behind you. You can barely hear the traffic from the road outside the park. Bucky is lounging on the grass, chewing on a straw, and you've been drawing him in secret for the past two hours, your original subject completely forgotten and rejected. When he looks up at you, his face is filled with happiness. "This is nice," he says, careful to mask his full joy.

"Yes, it is," you reply, quickly hiding the drawing under a sketch of the bridge and skyline.

He sits up and looks like he wants to say something, but he closes his mouth instead. After a small pause, he gets up and holds out his hand. "Let's go grab something to eat."

"Okay," you whisper, breathless from the feel of his hand in yours. "Lead the way."

He takes you to a small café at the edge of the park, explaining that it's famous for its fries, and they've got the bestdipping sauce, you just have to try it.

You're in the middle of the meal, laughing at a joke, when a shadow interrupts. Looking up, you hear Bucky mutter a curse under his breath, and you feel a pinprick of fear in your neck. He's glaring at the stranger, and the stranger surprisingly returns the look.

"Um…" You look between Bucky, sat at the table with a curly fry sticking out from the corner of his mouth, staring daggers, to the man who just interrupted your lunch. The truth smacks you in the head with force. Holy shit! That's Captain America. Captain freaking America! And it slowly dawns on you who Bucky really is.

The glass you just picked up slides back to the table, sprite sloshing over the sides as it hits, but you don't realise your hand is cold and wet. All you can focus on is that your roommate for the last week is… Bucky Barnes, AKA The Winter Soldier. Yeah. You try very hard to swallow the food in your mouth, but it's so dry, and forcing it makes your throat ache.

Said soldier quickly chews the curly fry and swallows thickly. "What do you want, Sam?"

Sam hands him a pad, and upon reading the contents, Bucky's frown deepens.

"It's very nice to meet you," Sam says, his shining smile lighting up the whole room. "I'm Sam, by the way."

"Y/N," you reply, still unaware that the hand you're using to shake Captain America's hand with is wet and slightly sticky. Actually, you're kinda unaware of your surroundings altogether.

Sam laughs, making Bucky look up from the message, scowls at Sam, then returns to his reading. "So you're the one who's keeping Bucky busy, huh?" He winks, and you feel that heat creeping up the back of your neck. "From the look on your face, I'd say you didn't know who you're having lunch with, right?"

You nod, squeaking a confirmation.

Sam laughs. "I thought after the whole Flag Smashers case, everybody knew who Bucky was."

Your ears burn, and you breathe a little faster now. Of course, you've been to the exhibit at the Smithsonian, and of course you know about Steve Rogers' best friend, it just never connected in your brain that this super sweet man is a WWII hero and assassin.

Your eyes flick from his prosthetic arm and up to his face. "Uh… I'm just not super into the whole celebrity thing?" you offer, blurting out the first thing that pops into your head.

Snickering, Sam turns to Bucky. "And you didn't tell her?" There's a hint of annoyance in his voice.

Bucky picks on a stain on the table before setting up a defiant face. "It didn't come up." And he wants to add And by the way, how do you go about saying Oh, and FYI I'm a former assassin and murderer, to a woman you really want to get to know better?

He looks so uncomfortable, you get a strong urge to hug him, but now you're uncertain of all this. What if the two of you are against the rules? Wait, what are you, really? Friends? Accidental roommates? You like Bucky. You really like Bucky, and you had kinda hoped it would grow into something… more, but now… Swallowing the lump in the back of your throat – that was an unexpected reaction – you smile flatly. "Are, are you allowed to, to… I mean, can you be friends with…" You swallow again. "Civilians?"

Sam's eyes widen for a split second, and somehow you feel as though he can see right through you. Then he laughs, and all the tension around the table dissipates. "Of course. We're human, Bucky's human, as difficult as that is to believe. Of course we're allowed to have friends, relationships, family. Wouldn't be much of a life without it, would it? But expect them to do a background check on you, hell, they probably already know what you ate for dinner on your twelfth birthday."

"Oh."

"I'm sorry, Y/N, but I'm afraid I have to whisk your boyfriend away for a while. There's a situation."

"We're… we're not…" You have to admit that thought feels good, but really, any hope you had has been well and truly smashed.

Bucky gets up and smacks the pad at Sam. "I'll see you later?"

"I'll be here," you reply with fake confidence. "Please be safe. Both of you," you add with a small smile.

"You too," Bucky says softly. "Be careful if you go out after dark. It's not as safe as you think here."

That makes you snort. "It's me. I don't even like people, what am I supposed to do outside after dark, huh? Don't worry. I'll probably stay in my room and paint all day anyway."

He mutters something that sounds suspiciously like "good", but it's hard to hear over Sam. "I'll take care of him," he laughs, ducking under Bucky's hand as he swats at his head. "Come on, Buck. Let's roll."

"Be safe," you mutter again, looking after them as they head to the black, unmarked car waiting by the flower shop on the corner. It's as if all colour drains from your vision.

_______________________________________________________________________

The first sip of coffee feels divine; just what you need to wake up after spending another night without Bucky. It has been another restless night. You tossed and turned and couldn't settle properly. And the dreams… You'd rather not think about them. Never before has your brain produced such chaotic absurdities, such eldritch horrors, but to be honest you're not really surprised. Sleeping next to Bucky; something just clicked. You smile into your cup, feeling calmer just thinking about it. It's weird how quickly you got used to his presence, and how wrong it feels when he isn't there.

But you don't get to enjoy your drink for long. Before you've even finished the second sip, someone shoves you hard from behind. The coffee spills over the sidewalk, painting the concrete and splashing all over your shoes. "Hey! Watch where you're going!" you bark, turning to confront whoever pushed you. But before you can even see them, they pull a bag over your head.

Panic rises in you, and you scream until your throat feels raw. Someone smacks you across the mouth, and the shock and pain shuts you up. Your lip thumps: it's split, you can taste the blood now. Tears stream down your cheeks, the soft fabric of the bag clings to your skin. Feeling the darkness caress your mind, the world starts folding in over itself. Still you possess enough awareness to kick the person holding you. They yelp and swear, resulting in a sharp rap over your ear. Your head is ringing.

A pair of strong arms pick you up as if you weigh nothing, and haul you along, struggling with your flailing arms and legs. There's a metallic clang, like a van door opening, then you're half lifted, half pulled up, all while screaming and cursing, hoping someone – anyone – will hear.

Someone speaks a language you don't recognise; your sleeve is pushed up and there's a sharp prick in your arm. Seconds later your brain starts spinning. The faint light that seeps through the weaving of the bag blinks like a starry sky.

You sway back and forth, feeling off kilter and fuzzy, as the voices around you grow all garbled and muted. Someone pushes you backwards, but before you hit the floor, you're out. As the world fades from your consciousness, you just wish you could have seen Bucky one more time.

When you come to, your head is pounding, your mouth is dry, and everything is dark. You try to move, but your hands are shackled, and your feet are bound to whatever you're sitting on. At least you're right side up, you think, before the situation dawns on you, and the contents of your stomach threatens to make an appearance. You swallow thickly. God, your mouth is so dry. Your tongue sticks to the roof of your mouth, and there's not enough liquid to even wet your lips. All you can do is grimace, feeling how they crack and pop. It stings. The taste of metallic, rusty blood coats your tongue.

Your throat itches, so much so that you can't even speak, but you can cough. Hard, like explosions in your head, and it's enough for you to lose your breath.

Something floppy is shoved into your hands.

"It's upside down, you idiot!" someone shouts, and the paper is turned.

Panic surges through your body, and your throat constricts, increasing your coughing. Your heart is racing, but everything happens so fast you just can't process it. Someone removes the bag from your head. The light burns in your eyes, and the shock stops your coughing instantly. Everything is white. There's voices, and movement, but you can't see anything clearly, and for a moment you wonder if you've lost your contact lenses. Slowly your vision returns, but they all keep to the shadows, and they've covered their faces, so you can't make out any details. The buzzing in your ears almost drown out every sound in the room.

"Look straight ahead," they command, and by some miracle you actually manage to move your head. "Keep your eyes open. Ready!"

There's a bright flash, someone else yells "Got it!" and then, in a flurry of motions you're untied, dragged through a dark hallway and unceremoniously dropped on the floor. The door clangs ominously behind you, and you freeze, waiting for someone to grab you or hurt you. There's no one in the room, but you remain in the floor, rubbing your wrists and trying to calm your breathing.

It's cold in your cell, room, whatever people call it, but at least you've got a blanket, and they've fed you, so there's that. But no matter how many times you've asked, nobody tells you anything.

You're over the initial shock now, and the fear has begun to settle into anger, but you're too numb to react.

"Who are you? Why are you doing this to me? I'm no one, never been important in my whole life, hey, someone please say something." Silence. You bang on the door, not sure what you're hoping for. In the back of your mind you know it's risky, but you need to know. The silence is making the walls come closer. You lick your lip. It's bleeding again.

You figure your friendship with Bucky has something to do with your current predicament, but you're not sure exactly what they hope to achieve. It's not like you're best friends or anything, but maybe what you have is enough for him to come for you. That thought sends an electric jolt straight to the small of your back. For a moment you allow yourself to hope, to imagine him blasting through the door and marching in with murder in his eyes, angels singing, and the light surrounding him like a halo.

You laugh grimly. What are even the odds of him finding out where you are? Does he even care? He is the Winter Soldier, after all. He's probably got better things to do, he's busy saving the world, no doubt.

_______________________________________________________________________

Bucky smiles as he walks through the hallway, the ugly carpet muting the urgency in his steps. He can't wait to see you again. It's only been four days, but it feels like forever so the moment he got the all-clear after mission report, he made Sam drop him off at your hotel.

A short walk later he's standing outside your room, heart in his throat and arm outstretched, ready to knock. His stomach dances, pure happiness courses through him. It's been so long since he felt like this; he swears he can almost feel it in his metal arm.

A soft knock. No answer. He knocks again, harder this time. Still no answer. It's only a few minutes past eleven, you won't be asleep yet. You never fall asleep before midnight.

Suddenly it's like someone's poured a bucket of ice water over him. Putting an ear against the door, he listens like some kind of creep, but the room is silent. Maybe you're out. But that doesn't make sense either. It's too dark to get any proper work done, and you're not one for night clubs, or so you've said. Could you have checked out? Bucky's heart skips a beat. What if you're gone? But… wouldn't you at least have left him a message?

Turning on his heel, he marches back to the elevator as if he's got the devil on his tail. There's a really nasty feeling growing in his gut, something he just can't afford to think about now.

He presses the elevator button multiple times, but it takes its sweet time, so instead, he heads to the stairs, taking several steps at once, then skips the steps altogether and jumps over the railing, landing with a heavy thud on the ground floor.

There's a tenseness to his stride as he walks to the front desk, feeling more and more anxious with every breath. He never thought he'd feel this way again; that pit in his stomach and the growing stone in his chest. Last time, he was on a plane, heading for Italy in 1943, not knowing what was waiting for him.

"Excuse me," he says, rather gruffly, spooking the receptionist, though how she didn't hear him stomping through the lobby is a mystery. His own ears buzz loudly, and it's a miracle he can hear her at all.

"Good evening. How may I help you?" She smiles in that professional way people do when they're interrupted and don't really want to talk.

Bucky glances at the reflection in the glass wall behind her. Solitaire. He shakes his head to clear it a bit. "Um, yeah. Is there a message for me? For James Barnes or maybe Bucky."

She looks through the papers on the desk and shakes her head. "Sorry."

He closes his eyes and breathes through his nose. "Okay. Don't suppose you could tell me if Y/N has checked out of room 508?" His brows furrow, but he tries to smile anyway.

Another head shake. "I'm sorry. I'm afraid I'm not allowed to disclose that kind of information." She looks briefly at her screen, then back up at Bucky, fake smile plastered on her face.

Bucky bites his tongue and swallows the rage that's building in him. It's not the receptionist's fault. She doesn't understand. But then he gets an idea. "Right, of course," he says, making his voice sweeter. "But maybe you will allow me to leave her a message?"

"Certainly. Let me grab a pen and paper for you."

So you haven't checked out. From the look on her face, the receptionist doesn't realise she's confirmed his suspicions. Well, he'll leave a message just in case, but it's time for drastic measures.

Outside it's dark now. Low clouds are threatening with rain. No one sees the dark figure slipping around the corner and jumping to grab the lowest rung of the fire ladder. Bucky easily hoists himself up, and climbs to the fifth floor, keeping to the shadows and making as little noise as possible. He knows where the window to your room is, and in less than a minute he's standing on the tiny balcony, peering in.

The room looks untouched. The bed is made, your stuff is all there. There's an almost finished portrait on the sketch pad on the desk; a smiling, content picture of himself. Nothing is missing except you. Bucky is three seconds from losing it.

A cold raindrop hits the back of his neck, drawing him from his haze. Soon the sky has opened up, and he's blasted with icy water. It soaks through his jeans, and drips from his hair into his eyes. Without looking back, he slides down the fire ladder and lands in a puddle. He doesn't know what to do next. Maybe Sam knows, so he ducks back into the hotel to get out of the rain, but before he can make the call, he's interrupted by the receptionist.

"Mr Barnes, I apologise. I didn't see this before. Someone left this for you." The woman hands him a large, brown envelope. All of a sudden he's transported back in time; drowning in flashes of memories of past missions, but he shakes himself out of it. Leaning on the column by the door, he opens the envelope.

There's nothing in there but a photo. It makes his stomach turn, and for the first time since he's been free, he has to fight the rage of the Winter Soldier, expanding, threatening to explode and send him on a vengeance fuelled killing spree. "When? Do you know who delivered it?" His voice is darker than usual, and the woman steps back just from the sound.

"I'm sorry," she squeaks. "It's been here for a couple of days, I think. I wasn't here when it was delivered." She hurries back behind her counter, putting a safe distance between them.

Bucky adjusts his stance, and forces his voice to sound kinder. "Thank you. Is there somewhere I can make a phone call, undisturbed?"

She nods and points to a nook behind the oversized fern in the corner. There's a sliding glass door that will provide some privacy.

Turning the envelope over in his left hand, Bucky is careful to not leave any more fingerprints on it. It is unmarked, but he knows people who can read things that no one else can see.

Whipping out his phone, he dials the first number in the contact list. He doesn't realise it, but he's shaking. The four seconds it takes for Sam to pick up are an excruciating eternity, and Bucky grips the door handle to keep himself from running off without a plan.

Before he can even say hello, Bucky wheezes: "They've got her, Sam!"

"Who?"

"Y/N! They've taken her!" He closes his eyes. The photo has burned into his mind.

"I'm on my way."

Bucky relaxes his grip on the door. There's a dent in the metal, and that makes him even angrier. They've made him lose control. He curses as he exits the tiny room, pacing over the floor, waiting for the voice of reason to arrive.

Being Sam, being Captain America, opens a lot of doors, so when he shows up at the hotel, requesting to look through the surveillance tapes – though it really is a demand; he's got a way with words, Bucky muses, thinking back to when he realised that what he first took as being soft, really isn't soft at all. Anyway, they all fawn over each other, fighting to be the one to give Cap access. Bucky can hardly watch.

"Give us a few minutes," Sam says with a smile, settling in front of the computer.

"Of course." The manager bows and closes the door.

Then Sam turns to Bucky. "Okay. When did you see her last?"

"Four days ago, right before we left on that goddamn mission." He wants to beat himself that he exposed you to danger, and he resists the urge to take out his irritation by slapping Sam over the head. Instead he settles on a flat, emotionless that he hopes conveys all his frustration.

"Right, so somewhere after last Thursday, then." Sam pushes a button, selects the right floor and presses play. Nothing happens for a while, and he pushes a new button, making the footage speed up.

"There!" Bucky shouts, pointing at the screen. There you are. Leaving your room with a large bag over your shoulder. Bucky smiles in spite of his fear. A soft expression on your face and your trusty art supplies at your side. Everything looks normal.

Fast forwarding through the footage, nothing out of the ordinary happens. You return around seven, looking a little bit tired, but happy enough. Food is brought to your room an hour later, and you don't go out again that night.

"Sensible girl," Sam comments, drawing Bucky out of his thoughts.

"Yeah. But she didn't know how much danger she was in."

The night passes in a blur. A drunk couple stumbles through the hallway around two in the morning, but other than that it's quiet, until you leave again around 10am, again with your bag over your shoulder. You look tired, yawning and dragging your feet. The bounce in your step is gone, Bucky notices, and he wonders if it has anything to do with your abduction.

They keep fast forwarding, but when the time stamp shows 11.30pm, Bucky's chest plummets. He knows you're not coming back.

Sam looks at him. “Calm down, man. You look like you’re about to explode!” he hisses, putting his hand on Bucky’s shoulder.

Bucky shakes him off and glares. “Because I’m this close.”

“But that won’t do her any good, will it? We gotta keep our cool, don’t do anything rash.” Sam's voice is still calm. Bucky doesn't know how he does it.

"Fine." Bucky takes a deep breath, just how his therapist taught him. "Show me what direction she went."

Sam clicks and drags the front camera onto the screen. You stop outside for a few minutes, then head down the street towards the city centre. They follow you on the screen until you disappear from view.

There's a shoe shop on the corner where you turned, so after thanking the hotel manager for the help, they follow your moves through the city. The shoe shop doesn't have a quality video, but it's enough to recognise you. Tracking you through the streets feels like an endurance hunt, Bucky thinks, impatient to find out who took you and where you are. That's all he can focus on: to get you back. And god have mercy on your kidnappers if you're not okay. Eventually Sam and Bucky stop at a small restaurant, but they don't have surveillance at all.

"Okay. Let's head to that Starbucks," Bucky says, nodding across the road. "They're bound to have surveillance, right?"

Sam rolls his shoulders. "Let's go."

The video shows three large figures, lurking in the shadows in one of the side streets. They're watching as you enter the café, and when you exit with a large coffee in hand, the gang is ready. The footage jumps a bit, but it captures the terror in your face, and Bucky feels like throwing up. You're hauled into a waiting van, it's an unmarked, normal van, but as it speeds away, luck strikes. The camera got a clear shot of the number plate.

Bucky lets Sam handle the rest. He can't shake the guilt, the pit in his stomach that grows larger and larger. And his anger grows too. Why didn't anybody react, nobody can convince him that nobody heard or saw anything. He watches as Sam talks on the phone, already mentally punching your kidnappers to a pulp. The metal arm flexes involuntarily.

Sam puts down the phone and turns to Bucky. "Okay, so here's what they told me: The van isn't connected to anything, they didn't even have a name for me. It's probably a fake number plate. But they said it's been spotted driving to and from a warehouse not too far from here. Let's go suit up while we're waiting for the address."

Bucky exhales. They better hurry up with the address. You've been in captivity for far too long already.

_______________________________________________________________________

It's quiet in the building now. You don't know what time it is; they've taken all your stuff, but you know it's late. Your eyes sting, both from exhaustion and from wanting to cry, not to mention your contacts are getting dry, but you refuse to remove them – not being able to see would terrify you. But neither sleep nor tears come. Sitting on the cot, wrapped in the blanket they thankfully provided, you are too wound up to relax enough to sleep. What if someone comes in while you're out? There's not much chance to defend yourself, but at least if you're awake you can try to put up a fight.

How long have you been here? It's hard to tell. After the first shock they've pretty much left you alone. Except for the interrogation a few hours later. They kept asking you about where Bucky is, what he's doing, details on his mission, but you told them, truthfully, that you don't know anything. And they seem to believe you. But they still won't let you go. You sigh and pull the blanket tighter around your shoulders. Even if you knew everything you wouldn't have told them anything, but you didn't say that out loud.

Suddenly there's a loud bang reverberating through the walls. Instinctively you flinch, trying to make yourself smaller. Your blood roar in your ears, and it feels like your heart is trying to beat its way through your rib cage. There's a pause – the silence is deafening, then someone yells. You hear gunshots. Heavy boots rush past your door. It's torture just listening to the fight, not knowing what will happen. What if there's a fire? Or what if you're abandoned here? Is this how you're gonna die?

The fight is getting closer. You drag the blanket over your head, locking your arms around your neck. Unfortunately it doesn't mute the sounds, and you have to remind yourself to keep breathing. Slowly the fight dies down, and for a moment everything is calm. You feel woozy, grateful that you're already sitting down, and you steel yourself for what comes next.

The door opens. Heavy boots slaps against the hard floor. Someone blocks out the light, and you feel a gentle hand on your shoulder, making you flinch and whimper.

A soft voice whispers in your ear. "Y/N?"

You forget to breathe again.

"Y/N," the voice repeats, coaxing you out of your makeshift cocoon.

You look up, and into the eyes of the man you never thought you'd see again. His face is blood-spattered, and his expression is a murderous rage, but the moment your eyes meet, he softens. "Bucky," you breathe, folding yourself out, and reaching for him like a toddler.

He scoops you up, holding you close as you begin to sob into his neck, and he rocks you back and forth until you calm a bit. "Are you hurt?"

Shaking your head, you climb down from his lap and looks over at Sam, hovering by the door. There's a look in his eyes that you can't quite decipher.

"You're bleeding," Bucky says, touching your lip gingerly.

"Oh." You don't know what else to say, as he helps you up on your feet. His arm stays around your shoulders all the way out into open air, and you lean into his embrace. The building is littered with bodies, some are definitely dead, others are being detained by soldiers dressed in black. Your knees buckle from the sight.

"Hey, I've got you," Bucky murmurs into your hair.

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"For coming to get me."

"Of course," Sam says, offering you a reassuring smile. "Why shouldn't we?"

You exhale shakily through your nose. "I thought you were busy saving the world and all."

Bucky pulls you closer.

"Don't you know?" Sam asks quietly, so no one else can hear. "You are his world."

_______________________________________________________________________

@schwarzwaelder-kirschtorte

#bucky barnes x reader #marvel fan fiction #fanfic #female reader #fluff #angst #marvel

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whenisitenoughtrees · 4 years

Text

to be honest, capable (of holding you) (part 2/3)

He walks forward, crouching over the snake, and when it doesn’t stir at all, he works up his courage and pokes it, just a little. Its scales are warm and smooth under his fingertip, and he resists the urge to stroke them. He doubts he could get away with that.

“Janus?” he asks, trying to keep the somewhat hysterical laughter from his voice. “That you?”

Thomas didn’t know that Janus could turn into an actual snake, but he’s glad to hang out with him regardless. More than glad; ecstatic, even, because he’s been trying to figure out how to befriend him for ages, and this seems like a good first step. What he can’t figure out is why human-Janus is being so weird about it.

(Alternatively: Janus doesn’t trust easily. He wishes he could stop trusting Thomas— it would be so much less terrifying.)

Chapter Warnings: blood and injury, Remus being mildly unsettling

Chapter Word Count: 5,074

Pairing: platonic Thomceit

(part 1) (part 3)

(masterpost w/ ao3 links)

They don’t talk about it.

Thomas would very much like to talk about it. But whenever he goes to bring it up, Janus glares at him in a way that promises a world of trouble if he so much as breathes a word, and Thomas really does not want to set back any of the progress he’s already made with him, so he shuts up about it. He’s not entirely sure why Janus is so opposed to addressing it; it can’t be that he doesn’t want the others to know, after all, because all the others are literally parts of Thomas and as such are privy to the knowledge of everything that Thomas experiences.

As best as Thomas can tell, it’s some sort of embarrassment that holds Janus back, some sort of shame, and Thomas doesn’t get it. Surely he knows that Thomas doesn’t mind at all, that Thomas enjoys the time they spend together, even if their conversations are far more one-sided than he would like. Janus seems to be under the impression that coming to him at all is in some way unseemly, while Thomas just wants him to be comfortable enough to approach him as a human.

But as more time passes, that seems less and less likely. Thomas spends far more time with snake-Janus than with human-Janus, and Janus begins to come with him even when the sun shines bright and his spot by the window is available. Thomas becomes quite familiar with carrying a weight looped around his neck, and wishes he could puzzle out why Janus is acting this way.

The worst part is that with every passing day, he feels like he understands Janus less, not more. Because the way he acts during meetings and discussions, when he pops in to offer opinions and advice masked as sarcasm and cutting quips, is entirely different to the way he acts as a snake, when he and Thomas are alone together, when he leans into all the contact Thomas has to offer, seeking warmth, and, Thomas suspects, company. It’s almost as if he’s dealing with two entirely different people, each one unwilling or unable to discuss the other, and frankly, Thomas has no idea what to do about it.

Because he’s worried that if he pushes too hard, demands one answer too many, Janus will stop approaching him at all, in any form. And that is the last thing he wants.

So, he leaves it be, and resigns himself to the idea that human-Janus may just remain incomprehensible to him, and that snake-Janus is the closest he will get to making a friend out of him. And if that turns out to be the case, then gosh darn it, he will be the best friend to snake-Janus that he possibly can be.

This has the side effect of leading him to a snake-centric fact-finding mission, which Logan appreciates, at least, because “even if the information may not be applicable to most aspects of your life, at least you’re learning something, Thomas.” Which he supposes is fair. He learns a great many things about snakes over the course of a few days, most of it interesting, if not particularly relevant. He doesn’t know how much of this actually applies to Janus, since he’s not a real snake.

Though he does find out that snakes don’t have eyelids. That would explain the whole no-blinking thing.

Other than his impromptu investigations, they fall into an equilibrium fairly easily. Janus will seek him out at all hours of the day and wrap himself around his arm or neck, sometimes staying awake and aware and sometimes drifting off into sleep. And when he’s fed up with the company, he leaves, disappearing with neither warning nor fanfare. Thomas settles into this new routine with little effort, and decides that if this is all he’s going to get from Janus, he’ll take it.

He gets used to it, so much so that he stops looking every time he feels Janus curl around him. This turns out to be a mistake.

He’s procrastinating, as per usual. His deadline is a full week away, and even Virgil has been unable to provide the urgency that Thomas needs to push through and finish his latest project. He knows that this will only end badly, that he’s going to end up staying up until the early hours of the morning in a few days if he doesn’t get started now, but he simply doesn’t feel like it. So, he’s scrolling through Amazon instead, clicking through pages of items that he neither needs nor particularly wants.

He’s been looking at a lot of frogs, lately. Cute, decorative frogs, the kinds that sit on mantles and don’t do much of anything. And plushies, too, and those are actually tempting. He’s pretty sure that it’s Patton’s influence.

“What do you think?” he asks, holding up his arm so that Janus can see the screen. Janus hisses quietly, and he laughs. “Yeah, I didn’t think so.” He doesn’t have the money to spend on a bunch of decorative frogs, even if he had a strong inclination toward doing so, but it’s fun to look. He’s seriously considering a stuffed animal, but he’s pretty sure that Logan intends to talk him down from that, so there’s no real need to be concerned about it. Even if he ends up buying one after all, he thinks it would be worth it.

He glances down at Janus, trying to figure out if he’s enjoying this at all, or if he’s just irritated. And that’s when he finally notices the blood.

He freezes up, his muscles tensing, and blinks hard, hoping that it’s a trick of the light, or that spending so many hours doing practically nothing has fried his brain at last. But no; Janus’ scales are dotted with rusty red, and Thomas traces the blood back to a long gash trailing down his side, sluggishly oozing, slowly dripping onto his arm. He stares for a long moment, his mind stalling, and he wonders if the scent of iron flooding his nose is real or imaginary. Or rather, real by a certain standard, since everything to do with his sides is technically imaginary, but oh god, why is he bleeding so much? He thought that his sides could wave off injuries, that nothing could truly affect them unless they wanted it to? Or is that just Logan? And then there’s the question of what did this to him in the first place, and how exactly he’s supposed to treat someone who’s a figment of his imagination, and whether or not any of the real medical supplies he has would work at all—

Focus, Thomas.

It’s like a whisper in his ear, gentle and firm. Logan’s voice. The world snaps into sharp clarity, mind and adrenaline working in tandem.

“Oh my god,” he says, and Janus’ head swivels to face him. The movement is slow, almost lethargic, as if he’s operating on a time delay. “You’re hurt. Okay. Well, not okay. But you’ll be okay.”

He has a first aid kit in the bathroom. He has no idea whether that will help or not, but he won’t know until he tries, as his logic helpfully points out. So the first order of business is to get to the bathroom. He stands, setting his laptop to the side, trying to jostle Janus as little as possible. Now that he’s paying attention, more and more details filter in; Janus’ grip on his arm is looser than usual, his eyes dull and glazed. His hat, usually so perfectly placed, is just slightly askew.

He makes it to the bathroom in short order, yanking the kit out from under the sink and nearly spilling its contents across the floor. He’ll need both hands for this, and he looks to Janus with no small amount of trepidation, wondering how well he’ll take being moved. He doesn’t want to cause him more pain than necessary, and he doesn’t know how aware he currently is, doesn’t know if he’ll lash out if he feels threatened. He gives him an experimental nudge, prodding at him with one finger, and Janus hisses, shifting his coils to hold on tighter.

“C’mon,” Thomas says. “You gotta let me help you, buddy.”

There is is again: buddy. He still doesn’t think it fits quite right, but it seems to slip out anyway, and now is hardly the time to worry about it, not when Janus still shows no sign of budging.

“Please, Janus,” he says, dangerously close to begging. “I promise, I’m not gonna let anything else happen to you, but you need to let me see where you’re hurt.”

Janus’ tongue flickers out, tasting the air, and his eyes seem to focus just a bit. One minute passes, and then another, and Thomas is about to try to remove him by force when finally, he lets go, slithering onto the counter, his motions hesitant and pained, softly hissing all the while. Blood begins to drip onto the sink, the sickening red smearing across the countertop.

“Thank you,” Thomas says, not bothering to hide his relief. “Okay, um, I’ve got bandages. And painkillers, if you want them… can snakes take painkillers?” He sets things out as he names them, slowing as he hits a snag. Not only does he not know if snakes can take painkillers, but he also doesn’t know if there are any other substances in here that would do more harm than good, or if there are any special steps he should take due to his scales, or the fact that he’s cold-blooded. In fact, he has absolutely no idea how to treat a snake, and the idea that he might end up making things worse is enough to send his anxiety ratcheting up a few notches.

Is he overthinking this? He might be overthinking this. But what if he’s not?

Try to remain calm. If you don’t know enough to work within this situation, change the situation.

Logan again, though he’s not sure how that’s supposed to help. He would change the situation if he could— heck, that’s what he’s trying to do— but if it were so simple as wishing this whole scenario away, he would have done it by now. He’s not sure how to—

Oh, wait. Change the situation, or change Janus’ situation?

He has absolutely no idea how to treat a snake. But Janus doesn’t have to be a snake.

He crouches down so that he’s on eye level with Janus, who is limp and unmoving on the sink counter, tracking his motions with clouded eyes. It’s not just the large gash, he realizes; that’s the worst of it, but there are several shallower cuts, all still open and bleeding, and he swallows hard.

“Okay, so, I don’t want to make things any worse,” he says, keeping his voice low. “Do you think you could turn back into a human for me? Just so that I know what I’m doing?”

Not that he knows much about treating humans either, but at least he’d know where to start. Perhaps if Janus’ injuries were less severe, he could work with them in this state, but that prominent gash looks deep and angry, probably about six inches long, wide and painful, rending scales apart and leaking dark blood and god, he is so afraid of making this worse—

Janus stares at him, and doesn’t react.

“I’m sorry,” Thomas says, because he is. He doesn’t know why Janus only initiates contact with him as a snake, doesn’t know why the very idea of deviating from that seems to disquiet him. Asking him to be human now, like this, almost seems wrong, like they’ll be breaking what understanding they do have between them, breaking the peace they’ve found with each other lately. But then, the peace is already broken, he thinks, has been broken since Janus showed up bleeding. “I know you probably don’t want to. But I want to make this better, and I don’t think I can if you’re uh, shaped like this. I… I guess I’m asking you to trust me.”

It’s a tall order, and he is well aware of that. Janus is Deceit, after all, and Deceit is practically the antithesis of trust. He’ll probably have to work with Janus as a snake after all, and he’s just resolving himself to do the best he can when Janus shifts in place, raising his head.

Thomas isn’t sure how to process what happens next. One part of his brain tells him that the change happens slowly, that Janus’ form stretches and morphs in impossible ways, scales fading away and features rearranging before his eyes. The other part of his brain insists that the shift is instantaneous, that it happens as quickly as blinking, that in one moment, there is a snake curled on the counter and in the next, there is a man, with no gradual transition between the two. But however it happens, Janus now sits in front of him, arms and legs all present, hunched in on himself and wheezing. One hand flies to his side, clutching at his shirt.

Thomas blinks. For a second, his mind fights with itself, trying to decide on what, exactly, he just watched. Then, he decides that it doesn’t matter, that he’ll have a crisis about it later, and that there are more important things to concentrate on.

He reaches out, placing a steadying hand on Janus’ shoulder. “Easy, easy,” he says, raising his voice to be audible over Janus’ gasps. “Are you okay?”

It takes a minute for Janus to get his breathing under control, and when he does, he looks up at Thomas, his expression pinched. “Just fine,” he rasps. “Absolutely perfect, can’t you tell?” His voice is strained, tension showing in the lines around his eyes and in the thin set of his mouth. “Really, Thomas, the fuss is hardly necessary. I—” He cuts off with a slight gasp, eyes squeezing shut, and Thomas feels his heart clench.

“Hm, yeah, no, I think I’ve got the right to fuss a little bit,” he says, hoping his voice stays level. He looks him up and down, searching for the injury, and finds nothing; his shirt appears immaculate, his whole outfit as perfectly assembled as usual, not a rip or tear in sight. If it weren’t for the pain on his face, the tremors wracking his frame, Thomas wouldn’t suspect that he was injured at all, and he frowns. “Can you, uh—” He gestures— “take off your shirt, maybe? So I can see where you’re hurt?”

Janus sighs heavily, as though the request has greatly burdened him. He waves one hand in the air, and his shirt and capelet vanish, revealing his bare torso. Under any other circumstance, Thomas might be fascinated by the scales that trail all along his chest and left arm, but right now, his attention centers on the gash bloodying his side, and the thinner scratches that cover him. They all look bigger than they were before, more serious, and he hopes that he didn’t make the wrong decision in requesting him to shift. If it had been a bad idea, he would have refused, right?

“God, Janus,” he says. “What happened?”

Janus sighs again, rolling his eyes. “A mishap in the Imagination,” he says. “Unfortunately, both Roman and Remus designed the place so that its effects stick around even after leaving.”

… Alright. That’s probably something to talk about later; he doesn’t particularly like the reminder that he has no idea how most of the mindscape works. “But I thought you could heal yourselves?” he can’t help but ask. He vividly remembers the day he met Remus, the way that none of his attacks seemed to affect Logan for more than a few seconds.

“We all can, to some degree,” Janus agrees. “It’s more difficult for some of us than it is for others.” He hesitates, and the next words come out slow and almost defensive. “I am capable of it, if I succeed in persuading myself that the problem doesn’t exist in the first place, but in order to do so, I need to sufficiently distance myself from any negative sensations that accompany the harm. I am… currently finding that difficult.” He glares. “I’ll mange perfectly well, given time. There is no need for any of this.” He waves an arm to punctuate the declaration, and it might have been somewhat convincing if it weren’t for the fact that he immediately curls in on himself, face paling, like he’s pulled something the wrong way.

“Yeah, okay,” he says. “Well, how about you let me help you anyway, just for my peace of mind?”

Janus stares at him for a long moment, face unreadable. Finally, he glances away. “Do what you wish,” he says. “If you want to waste time on this, be my guest.”

He hums noncommittally, already inspecting the wound. “I don’t think that taking care of you is a waste of time,” he says, fishing through the first aid kit. He comes up with a bottle of extra-strength Tylenol, looking up just in time to see what can only be an expression of shock fade from Janus’ face, and god, what must he be doing wrong if that is Janus’ reaction to being told that he cares about him? He can’t unpack that right now, or else he might cry, so he holds out the Tylenol instead. “Painkillers?”

Janus nods slightly, and takes two dry. From there, Thomas works in silence, cleaning the wounds as best he can and bandaging them. It takes longer than he expects, and he debates whether or not the long gash will need stitches. He decides not to make the attempt, trusting that what Janus says is true and that he will be able to heal before too long. So he wraps bandages around his torso, and Janus, for his part, remains perfectly still, staring straight ahead, an occasional soft hiss the only thing that betrays his discomfort.

“Okay,” he says quietly, inspecting his handiwork. “I think that’s the best I can do.”

Janus shoots him an unreadable look. “In that case,” he says, “I believe I’ll be going now.”

He hops down from the counter before Thomas can stop him, and his face crumples like a wet sheet of paper. Thomas catches him as his knees give out, hooking his hands under his arms. He is surprisingly light, his skin cool to the touch.

“How about we don’t do that, actually,” he says. “I’ll tell you what, let’s go to my room, and I can work and you can get some rest?”

Janus hisses, trying to jerk away. It’s not difficult to prevent him from doing so; he has all the strength of a floppy pool noodle. “Oh yes, because I’m in dire need of a babysitter,” he spits out, and perhaps Thomas should feel intimidated, but looking at him, at the way all the color has drained from his face, at the way his eyes have glazed over even as they dart around the bathroom, all Thomas can muster up is a deep worry.

“I’m not trying to babysit you,” he says. “Believe me, I know that you of all people don’t need babysitting. But if you try to sink out now, I’m just gonna be stressed out, so if you’d stick around for a little bit, I would really appreciate it.”

Janus stills. The silence stretches on.

“Fine,” Janus says. “Sure. Whatever.”

Thomas restrains himself from letting out a sigh of relief, instead adjusting his grip on Janus until he is only supporting part of his weight. From the look on his face, Janus wants very much to grumble about the indignity of the situation, but miraculously, he remains quiet all the way to Thomas’ room, though he begins to drag his feet when he sees what Thomas intends.

“If you want me to rest,” he says, “I am perfectly capable of doing so in my own room. There’s hardly a need for me to take up space in your bed.”

“Okay,” Thomas says, lowering him to sit on the bedsheets and doing his level best to ignore his glare, “but then I won’t know that you’re alright. Also, I don’t see what the big deal is? It’s not like we haven’t done this before. You were just, uh, snakier.”

He knows immediately that it is the wrong thing to say. Janus’ face sets into an impassive wall, and he looks away, refusing to make eye contact. Thomas can’t tell what he’s feeling, whether it’s anger or embarrassment or frustration or some stubborn combination of the three. But he settles himself against the headboard without further argument, seemingly determined not to carry on any further conversation, so Thomas resigns himself to the silent treatment and sets up with his laptop on the other side of the bed, several inches placed between them.

The atmosphere is awkward, heavy. They both know that Thomas wants to talk, and they both know that Janus will not reply, or if he does, it will be with sharp sarcasm or otherwise cutting words, an answer that will not answer anything at all. So Thomas doesn’t say anything, merely glances over every now and again to be sure that Janus is still there, is still fine, is still breathing. Every time, he is greeted with the same sight: Janus staring off into the empty space in front of him, face blank, a faint tightness around his eyes the only indication that he is still in pain. There is a wall between them, invisible yet insurmountable, and Thomas has no idea how to breach it.

Why does their relationship feel so off-kilter now? Why are things so natural between them when Janus is a snake, small and speechless and cuddly, and not when he is a human?

“I don’t mean to force you to stay,” he murmurs. “If you’re really that uncomfortable, it’s alright if you leave.”

He’s watching him out of the corner of his eye, and as such, he sees the wince, slight though it may be.

“It’s… not that,” Janus admits. “I am grateful for your concern, truly. I just… so love being in unfamiliar territory.” His voice is a quiet drawl, but laced with exhaustion, his words just shy of slurred together.

He takes a second to parse through the words, and then smiles. “Well, that makes two of us,” he says. “I’d be alright with muddling through together. And look, I know that most of the time, when we hang out, you’re a snake. And that’s fine! One hundred percent fine, if that’s what you’re most comfortable with! But uh, I really wouldn’t mind spending more time with you as, like, a person, too, if that makes sense. Not that you’re not a person when you’re a snake! Wait—” He furrows his brow, trying to untangle his words, and looks over, certain that Janus will at least be amused by his rambling.

He’s not. Because Janus is asleep, his chin resting against his chest and his hat about to fall into his lap. Thomas feels an inexorable sense of fondness sweep over him, and with a gentle movement, he reaches over to pluck the hat from Janus’ head, revealing brown hair that falls in springy waves. He places the hat on the nightstand, casting one last look at Janus before returning his attention to his laptop.

There is plenty of work to do, and he is content to do it here, sitting in bed with Janus napping by his side. So he does, his fingers clacking against the keys long into the night, and Janus sleeps on.

-----------

He doesn’t remember falling asleep. But he must, because he wakes, and slowly processes the fact that all is not as he left it. For one, the light is off, the room dark, and his laptop is resting on the nightstand, next to the shadow of Janus’ hat. For another, there is a heavy weight on top of his chest, pinning one of his arms against his side, and in the seconds before his eyes adjust sufficiently to the darkness, he fears the worst, fears that someone has broken into his apartment and… crawled into bed with him, and the irrationality of that idea is enough to dampen his panic. He squints, trying to will his vision into focus, and begins to make out what features he can see of the face pressed against his chest, features that very closely resemble his own, and that is when he remembers: Janus on his arm, Janus injured and bleeding, Janus on his bed, Janus asleep. Janus… still here.

Janus, snuggled up against him, his head resting on his chest, his body curled into his side, latched onto him with both… no, there’s more than two arms. At least four, maybe more; it’s difficult to determine without the light on, because all that Thomas can tell is that he is being very thoroughly hugged, and that it feels very nice.

This fact is distracting enough that it’s a full three minutes or so before he realizes that there is another figure perched on the edge of his bed. Panic roars up in him once again, his heart pounding and the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end, but then he notices the details, notices the poof of the figure’s sleeves, the wildness of their hair silhouetted against the light that creeps around the edges of the doorframe, the unholy red gleam of their eyes. And he… well, he doesn’t relax, not exactly. But most of his fear sidesteps directly into annoyance.

“Remus,” he hisses, as quietly as he can manage. “What are you doing?”

Remus cocks his head, his eyes shining brighter. He’s crouched almost like a grotesque parody of a cat, ready to pounce. But the Duke himself is still and silent, and it’s very odd. Almost worrying. And when he finally speaks, it’s not at all what Thomas was expecting.

“DeeDee got hurt,” he says, voice a subdued whisper, and Thomas is taken aback, both by the seriousness of his tone and the evident consideration toward not waking Janus up.

“I— yeah,” Thomas replies, uncertain as to where this is going. “I, uh, patched him up as best I could. He said he’d heal soon.” A thought occurs to him, and if Janus weren’t keeping him flat on his back, he’d be sitting bolt upright, finger pointed in accusation. “Wait, he said he was hurt in the Imagination. Did you have something to do with that?”

“I can’t keep an eye on every part of La La Land at once, Thomas.” He shrugs. “It’s not my fault if Snake from Snake Farm wandered into something he shouldn’t have.” He giggles, high-pitched and a little manic, but Thomas wonders at his tone of voice. It’s as irreverent as always, but underneath that— can it be concern? He really didn’t think Remus did concern. “Snakes should know better than to let their guard down. Your mind is dark and full of terrors.” He smiles, several rows of pointed white teeth gleaming an unnatural white in the shadows.

“I don’t even watch—” He cuts himself off, shaking his head, and then freezes as Janus makes a small sound. Seconds pass, and he waits with bated breath, but Janus doesn’t seem to wake. “Okay, then,” he continues, more quietly. “Is there a reason why you’re here?”

Remus blinks, and once again, Thomas is reminded of a cat. A terrible, eldritch horror of a cat, but a cat nonetheless. “DeeDee doesn’t like to be around people when he’s hurt,” he says, rocking back and forth in place. “He doesn’t like people knowing when he’s weak.” He sighs through his nose, his breath whistling more than is natural. “He holes up in his room and doesn’t come out for anything, usually. Not even when I bang on the door and put rats in his air vents.”

Thomas stares, trying to process that. “But he’s here with me,” he says dumbly. “He decided to stay here. He’s…” He trails off. He doesn’t need to describe what Janus is doing; surely, Remus can see it for himself, can see them engaging in what can only be labeled as cuddling. And it’s not as if this is the first time; it’s just the first time Janus has been human-shaped.

“Yes, he is,” Remus agrees, voice sharp, and he is definitely trying to convey something here, something that Thomas is missing. “Tommy-boy, Tommy-boy, Tommy-boy, you’re just not getting it, are you? Well, that’s fine. Just remember that the snakes on the plane die too, if the plane crashes.”

“Is the plane crashing?” Thomas asks, voice hoarse, hesitant, and once again, Remus smiles, wide and dangerous.

“Not now, maybe,” he says. “But it still could. It always can. That’s the fun thing about airplanes. I could help with that, if you wanted.”

“No thanks,” Thomas is quick to reply.

Remus shrugs. “Suit yourself,” he says, and then pauses. “Janus doesn’t let just anyone this close, you know. So don’t fuck it up.”

It’s such an uncharacteristic statement that by the time Thomas has recovered enough to reply, Remus is gone, melting into the bedsheets in a grotesque puddle of goo, and then, even that disappears. Thomas is left in a dark, quiet room, and he has never felt more awake.

But Janus is still here, still asleep, is holding onto him for dear life and hiding his face against his chest. And it’s something precious, something intimate, something that Thomas feels privileged to see at all, and Remus’ voice rings loud in his head: Janus doesn’t let just anyone this close. Why, then, has he allowed him this? Why has he let Thomas see him at his most vulnerable, no matter how reluctant he was at the start? Why did he choose to stay, rather than leaving once Thomas nodded off?

Each question only leads to more questions, and it’s clear that he won’t receive any answers tonight. So he settles back in as best he can, though it is a long time before he manages to fall asleep again.

In the morning, Janus is gone. He wishes he could be more surprised.

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

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cozycryptidcorner · 3 years

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The Mad Prince, Chapter 11 (sfw)

Chapter 10

“Are you sure?” You ask, gaping, and Clementine glares at you in response. You’re suddenly hyper-aware of how she has dedicated her entire life to identifying, hunting down, and killing driders, all while on the bloodied front lines of a war, so she is currently an expert on such a topic.

“Am I sure that the front line footage that some soldiers died to send back to base is somehow fabricated?” She asks, testily.

Your brain is buzzing like a thousand fireflies have crawled into your ears. “But that doesn’t make any sense, Clem.”

“You’re absolutely correct,” she still sounds vaguely pissed, but that’s her default tone. “Which means that there’s more than meets the eye, and we now have to figure out what.”

The keias values honesty, Elias’ words come back, unbidden, if you ask, he will answer.

“We can’t go prodding around now, though, because that will throw a lot of weird suspicion on you.” You bite at the skin around your thumb, trying to figure out how to go about this in the most delicate way possible.

After a moment of hard silence where you are almost too aware of how loud your breathing is, Clementine prods, “you and the prince or whatever he actually is weren’t acting too couple-y.”

Annoyance starts dripping into the hollow of your chest, and you feel a build of angry pressure beginning to rise. “He- he didn’t tell me he was engaged.”

For the first time since her bubbly mask fell off, she shows some semblance of human emotion by almost choking on her spit. Quickly, she gets herself under control and shakes her head as though she might have expected such, then sighs.

“I mean, and his fiance was assassinated. Elias told me she died of sudden heart failure, but like she was a drow and-”

“A drow?” She turns to you again, her eyes narrowed until they were almost slits, “as in, two legs and walking upright? Are you sure?”

“Y-yes,” the indignancy of being lied to by omission is still thrumming through your chest, “and he apparently really loved her.”

“Obviously so, because it would have been rather illegal for him to marry outside of his species.” Clem sits back up from her lounging position, plucking a flower that grew right in front of her legs.

You don’t like all this new information being rained down upon so quickly, but you suck in your breath and try to take this one in stride. There’s a dull thudding in your head, like a distant drumbeat. “So there are race-based marriage laws?”

“Of course, didn’t you know?”

No, you’re suddenly acutely aware of how unprepared you are. “The matchmakers didn’t make me aware of that.” You suppose it does explains a lot, like how stressed the prince is at you meeting the rest of his family, or how he doesn’t seem to want you to go out and explore on your own, and such.

Clementine lets out a gruff sigh, you suppose from frustration at having to hold your hand like a toddler throughout a warzone. You try to not let that bother you. It’s… not really your fault, is it? You didn’t want this to happen, if you could go back to your completely shitfaced self as you were about to enter all pertinent information to Starward Matchmakers™ glowing neon booth, you would bludgeon the back of your head with a bat.

“Okay, so someone is trying to kill you,” she holds up one finger, “and we know from that assistant guy that they are very capable of doing so,” she adds another finger, “and you aren’t even in the good graces of your princely other half, assuming that drider is who he says he is.”

You swallow thickly, feeling positively ill, pressing your fingertips into the pressure points on your temples in the hopes your brain might untangle. “Clementine?”

“Yeah.”

“The Starward Matchmakers™ did match me with the prince, right? This isn’t some kind of weird mistake? Or like… or like what they were trying to do with you?”

“Do you know anyone with the budget of a large government’s military that can handle a bribe of such proportions who might think it’s funny to pull such a dangerously cosmic prank?”

“No.” You look down at your hands as the last bit of hope that this might all be a nightmarish misunderstanding slips through your fingers.

Clementine softens, though only slightly, letting out another sigh and very awkwardly giving you a pat on the back, which is about the most she’ll ever offer in the way of sympathy. “Tough it out. Paint a pretty smile on that face of yours and maybe make out with him a little.”

“Clementine!” You raise your voice, then look self consciously back at your guards as they assess whether or not you need their aid. “That’s not how this works.”

“This is exactly how this works, kid, even if he’s an alien spider, he’s still a male.” She rolls her eyes. “And stop acting like a prude.”

“Yeah, but he is,” another wave of frustration razes through your blood and right to your fingertips. “One time I kissed him, he thought it was essentially a marriage proposal.”

Her face wrinkles into a grimace, but she seems to take in marginal good humor. “Okay, so he’s a virgin. That makes things easier, maybe just show him your ankle or something, he’d drool all over it.”

You’re going to say something snippy in response, maybe tell her that she should do the ankle-showing, but the mental image of the fucking drider prince of Lolth freezing as he stares at a bare leg and foot does have a level of absurdity to it that makes you choke your words down into a wry laugh. “I don’t know, maybe it will give him brain damage.”

“All the better to finish this war finally,” Clem stretches out her arms, “Anything else you’d like to fill me in on?”

“Heikka Nisesh, you know, the famous war criminal? He was supposed to be my first physician, but I threw a big enough fit that I ended up with a basic drow doctor.”

She immediately tenses, her entire body going into an alert that is unique to a trained soldier. “Tell me you’re joking. Now.”

“I’m not.”

There’s another expression in her eyes, now, one that you’re not at all familiar with. Panic, of which she’s obviously trying to settle so the guards don’t become suspicious and approach to get within hearing range. With a shuddering, tense breath, she shakes her head and tries to orient herself back into reality. With no small amount of room in her tone to be anything more than a command, she says, “know that they and I mustn’t ever meet, do you understand? We can’t cross paths, or this whole thing is going to dissolve.”

“Do you want to talk-”

“No.” She stands, glancing over at the guards. “I’d like a tour now.”

Shakily, you agree, getting up so fast you almost faint. There’s a brief dizziness rattling around in your skull, but you manage to get everything under control enough to show her around.

Whenever you aren’t in the gardens, you have to be very, very careful of dancing around talking normally and not revealing too much. Because ‘girl talk’ is supposed to be about boy troubles and gossip, but having a whole conversation about the crown prince monarch’s shortcomings when there are an indeterminate amount of people listening and reporting back to him doesn’t hold any appeal.

So the present conversation immediately drops as you give her your very restricted-access tour, the long hallways of the floor she is on, all the while she disguises her memorization of all exits and entrances as admiration for the architecture and ornate doors. There’s an odd kind of pinch throbbing between your eyes, and you have to stop for a moment to give yourself a moment to breathe.

“Are you alright?” For once, Clementine drops a shred of her false personality, her hand grabbing onto your arm almost tightly to hold you up if you faint.

“I just- I think I need to sit down.” The edges of your eyes blur somewhat, the top of your brain fuzzing over like someone poured a soft drink into your skull.

“Can you walk?” She asks, glaring at the guards when one of them steps forward, probably to carry you.

“Yeah,” you lie, hoping that you can just will yourself to keep from passing out, “I think your room is close enough.”

When you wobble just a bit, Clementine wraps her arm around your waist and props you up with her hip, then quickly gives up the strain of one arm and trades it in to pick you up like a baby.

You protest, of course you do, but there’s little you can do to actually wriggle out of her grip. Shockingly, it’s not the first time she’s had to carry you because of an almost skull-splitting headache, though the last time it was because she side-swiped your legs out from under you and your forehead was the thing to take the brunt of the fall. She also wasn’t so nice about it, either, dragging you to the side of the room by the arm like a ragdoll to await a medic.

Now, you suppose with the guards eying you, she can’t yank your limp body back to her room, and you’d honestly rather let her carry you than one of the drow guards. Once you get inside her apartment, she almost unkindly tosses you onto the couch, mumbling something about an ice pack or blanket.

“Did you call for someone?” She asks, and it takes your brain a muddled moment to realize that she isn’t talking to you.

Quiet mumbling, all things you can’t catch.

Almost impatiently, she yells, “are you both fucking daft? Call the assistant, what’s his face. The one with the white hair! Yes I mean the prince’s first servant, who else did you think I’m talking about?” Her words shift into a language you don’t understand as she walks over to the kitchen, but you’ve heard enough foreign swear words to know that she’s probably cussing them out of a job.

It doesn’t take too long for Elias to arrive, or maybe it took a long time, and your brain is just so fried you didn’t notice.

“Why isn’t there any ice in the foodkeep?” Clementine’s already pounced, and you’re not sure if this is her ‘worried best friend’ character or her actual self about to dress someone down for putting one of her soldiers in danger.

“For what, exactly?” Elias sounds slightly taken aback by the show of aggression, something rattling in his hands.

“For her head, stupid, she’s almost burning up!” Again, her language dissolves into something unintelligible, though her tone gets the message across. Maybe she’s showing a bit of both sides for your sake.

“I have some pills,” he almost sounds defensive, now, “it will help with the pressure, her head should-”

”Give me that,” Clem snaps, and you hear even more rattling as she looks over whatever he was about to give you. “What the hell are these?”

“Painkillers,” Elias takes her fury in stride, probably having dealt with much more significant threats in his day, “the best and highest dose for her human body. They were just imported from one of your human pharmaceutical companies, Bionova™, it’s what the matchmaker files suggested we get her.”

There’s another round of rattling, but then footsteps as Clementine sits herself on the couch, just in front of where your legs tug under a blanket she absentmindedly threw onto you earlier, and hands you the bottle.

Now you manage to sit up, despite the angry tightening in your skull, like each individual blood vessel in your brain is squeezing the gray matter down a size. Holding the pill bottle in one hand while scratching your arm nervously in the other, you ask Elias one more time. “You say these were imported?”

“Straight over the border,” Elias promises, “no one would want anything to happen to you.”

I beg to differ, you think, but pop the lid open anyway. The dull thrumming in your head has you almost desperate to do anything to get yourself rid of it, so you put one of the pills on your tongue and swallow it dry. Clementine, at least, is already rummaging through her cabinets until she finds a glass to fill with water.

“The keias has been notified of her condition, and will come as soon as he is able.”

You try not to roll your eyes, to be entirely honest, even shifting your irises sends a sharp nail through your head. “Tell him not to rush on my behalf.”

Again, Clementine sits by your side, handing a glass of water over and watches you gulp it down like a dehydrated animal. Elias, also, seems to watch you with a nervous regard in his eyes and dismisses the soldiers with nothing more than a couple of words. When the extra ears are out of the suite, he turns back over to you.

“This doesn’t leave this room,” he starts, glaring over at Clementine, “but I want you to be aware that he can’t seem to have any weaknesses for you, which is why he isn’t rushing as quickly as I’m sure you’d like.”

Letting out a breath, the pain of the headache getting to you, you ask, “why are you telling me this?”

Elias looks at you, not with anger, with disappointment, and that’s the thing that makes you feel almost ashamed with how you have been treating the prince as of late. “So you do not feel abandoned, your grace.”

Oh, right, it’s back with your grace, Elias’ own way of giving you a super polite cold shoulder. “Thanks, I guess.”

“Also, just as a precaution, the prince will want your doctor to look over your state, but I believe that it would be pertinent to have a so-called house call instead of going down to the clinic in person.”

“Probably, yeah.” The aching throbbing between your eyes has reduced your language usage down to the basics, and it takes you a hot minute to process anything anyone else says. Clementine had been missing for a moment, but she suddenly returns with a damp cloth she places over your eyes.

There’s a tense, but calm conversation, and as much as you’d like to try paying attention, you can only focus on the dull throbbing in the rear of your head. More talking. You curl up into a ball, the couch large enough so that your knees don’t hand off the back, and you try to dig your fingers into any pressure points of your skull in the hopes it might ease the tension.

Suddenly, a hand comes to rub the side of your arm. “Hey, princess,” Clementine whispers almost soothingly, “you’re going to wait for the doctor and spend the night here, okay?”

You mumble something in affirmation.

The doctor comes, you hear her voice and feel her prodding touches, but you don’t feel like you’re capable of even offering a meager greeting. There’s a pinch of something in the crook of your elbow, and the feelings cease, slowly. You don’t remember the point in which you fell asleep. Only that you wake up with Clementine conked out in the chair opposite of the furniture arrangement.

When you wake back up, it’s because your head feels like someone took an ax to your skull, it almost causes you to faint from the pain itself. All you can do is lay on the couch, arms wrapped around your head. It feels like every bone in your body is bruised or fractured, but your head takes the brunt of the pain.

Someone is talking again. You don’t have the ability to focus on them.

You’re not sure if you can fucking survive this, but gentle hands help you sit up, and there’s yet another sharp, pinching pain in your arm. After a moment, there’s a softness washing over you, like a manifestation of light and comfort flows through your veins and eases the suffering.

You’ve felt this way before.

When you open your eyes, the room is washed in a kaleidoscope of colors you hadn’t noticed until now, and you’re surrounded by a bunch of people that you know, you think you know, but your brain takes its sweet time putting names to faces. “Oh. Hello.”

The big one puts a hand on your head, running it down the side of your face. You don’t think you mind so much, but the smaller one is watching him with the eyes of a predator. “How are you feeling?”

“Very fucking high.” You click your tongue against the roof of your mouth, just to make a noise.

“That’s completely normal, keias.” There’s a taller woman, her robes a pleasantly warm gray. “The drugs have overwhelmed her system, she will be more lucid in a few minutes.”

“Of course.” The big one turns to you again, and you look at his face. He’s… angular, alien, but beautiful nonetheless. You don’t think you’re afraid of him.

“What does that mean?” You ask, your lips heavy and difficult to move.

“What?” It’s the smaller one that speaks.

“That word they just said. Keias.” You think you know what it means, but you want them to explain it to make sure.

“It’s a royal title?” The big one stares at you, quizzically, as though trying to figure out a puzzle in front of him.

“A royal title?” You don’t think you’ve ever met actual royalty before, at least, you don’t think you have. There’s a lot you don’t remember about yourself. “Are you like a king?”

The smaller one snickers at this, then says, “babe, no. He’s a prince.”

“A prince?” You look at him again, your eyes wide. “You’re a prince?”

He doesn’t seem flattered, only oddly concerned. Turning to the female in robes, he says, “she didn’t possess memory loss when she was last dosed.”

“I gave her a different, faster-acting painkiller.” The woman taps on the screen of a datapad. “It works to block out different parts of the brain, but she is lucid enough to get on a starship, memories, or not.”

“So it’s not actually dulling the pain, it’s just telling the brain not to process it?” The smaller woman asks arms crossed over her chest.

“Exactly, which is why it’s fast-acting and doesn’t lose effectiveness over time. The memories can be a side effect, but they should return when the drug filters out of her system.”

“You say ‘starship,’” the prince!!! observes, his many eyes narrowing slightly.

“I did indeed, your grace.” The female is not intimidated. “I think it would be best if my patient spent some time in lower gravity conditions, which can be best produced in a starship while in space.”

The prince stares at her for just a moment, as though he cannot believe she would suggest such a thing. “Nisesh says a drug can be produced to aid in here acclimation.”

The female scoffs. “Nisesh believes they might become a god with enough drugs at their disposal. I mean no disrespect towards you, your grace, but sometimes the best cure is the most obvious one.”

The prince is quiet for a long, tense moment, but the doctor doesn’t back down. It’s the smaller woman who speaks up, her voice almost laced with an underlying threat, “if that’s what’s best for her, then you need to get it done.”

His eyes snap up, and he assesses the woman with a critical eye. Then he nods sharply, once. Turning back to the doctor, he says, “how long do you suggest she stay?”

The doctor taps something onto her datapad. “I would have preferred she acclimate slowly, spending a longer time in orbit than she has, but since her body managed to stay together so well, I think you might find an improvement pain-wise within a day. So long as her body bounces back quickly, mind, because it might take longer for her to recover.”

“You will join us, then, so you may monitor her condition.” It’s not a request, but an order.

“Of course, keias,” the doctor bows at him, then steps away, tapping on the datapad.

“I’m coming, too.” The way the smaller woman speaks leaves little room for arguments. There’s something almost… admirable, you think, about the way she stands up to the bigger one, even though he looks very capable of snapping her human body in half.

“That is… acceptable,” the prince says.

Without much thought, you reach over and touch the end of his hair nearest to where you sit, the strands soft and silky as you pull them closer. “Has anyone told you that you have really nice hair?”

He stares. After a moment that consists of the woman snickering quietly, he says, “actually, yes. Yes, I have.”

You must have blacked out again because when you wake up, you are not in Clementine’s room. In fact, you’re no longer on Lolth, because the sleek, brilliance of the space is nothing like the solid, ancient architecture that you had grown accustomed to. And just beyond the edge of the large bed you’ve been placed in is a window.

There are no windows on Lolth, really, because there is nothing to gaze at when a society grows from the inside of their world, instead of the outside. As you sit up, you notice the echoes of a headache pulsing in the back of your skull, where the spine connects, and it feels like you had a rough fall. But when you place your feet onto the thickly threaded rug and stand, you find that you do it with some semblance of ease.

“You’re awake.”

You almost jump out of your skin, because the prince is hiding so efficiently in the shadows of the room that you didn’t notice him until he spoke. “Y-yes.”

A moment of awkward silence follows. You’re still wearing the same clothes as you were giving Clementine the tour- oh fuck, Clementine-

“You were asleep for a day and a half.” His voice interrupts your hazy anxiety. “I was… concerned, but the doctor said your body was repairing itself.”

“I suppose so.” You wrinkle your forehead, realizing there is dryness choking your mouth, tongue something like sandpaper against the inside of your cheek. With little ceremony, you strip out of your outer shirt, your skin singing with no longer being suffocated by cloth, your camisole much more sheer and thin. “I need some water.”

The prince rises to a stand, “allow me. Please.”

You’re not sure what he means by that, but he opens one of the cabinets of what you’re now seeing is a starship cabin, then fills a glass to the brim with the tap. His movements are jerking, unfamiliar, as though he’s having his own issues with growing used to a different form of gravity. When he hands you the cup, you’re standing right by the window, staring out at the stars.

“God,” you say, after quietly thanking him, “I forgot how much I missed this view.”

“They are beautiful,” he says, “it’s difficult to believe that they are each suns of magnificent strength from this distance. They all seem so… small. Insignificant.”

There’s a moment of quiet contemplation as you down the whole glass of water with minimal effort, then you remember what you wanted to ask him before. Looking at his reflection instead of actually making eye contact, you question, “where’s Clementine?”

“In her own cabin, or perhaps roaming around.” He pauses, mulling something over in his head. “She is- has... character, isn’t she.”

“You’ve got that right, believe me.” You let out a sigh, vaguely remembering her wordless glares, her face fuzzy in the more recent ones. Then, just for the purpose of watching his face flush dark, you say, “she thinks we should just fuck and make up.”

“Is- is that how humans solve all their problems?” He asks, though you can see the question was a fight to release. There’s a tension in his shoulders when he talks about sex now, but thankfully, he is without the odd aversion he had before like he’s… like he’s trying.

Still, the way he says it… you burst out laughing. “Oh, if sex could solve all your problems, then-” you abruptly stop yourself, realizing that this might have been a step too far outside of his comfort zone.

There’s an awkward moment of silence shared as the both of you stare out into the void, then the prince turns around and stares at you, hard, and you feel a trickle of fear thrumming up your spine. Finally, he says, “don’t. Don’t do that.”

You swallow thickly. “Don’t do what?”

“Pull away.” He stares back out to the stars, sharply, all eyes narrowing. “You show me the smallest part of yourself, and then you refuse to give me anything more. I don’t like it when you do that.”

You’re quiet for another moment, then, “well… you didn’t really approve, before.”

“Didn’t… approve?” He echoes in the fashion of a question, glancing in your direction. “What do you mean?”

“You seemed uncomfortable when the subject of sex gets brought up.”

“Ah.” He leans back slightly, his facial features relaxing slightly. “I see.”

“So I stopped.”

“There’s more than that, though.” He turns back to face you, his expression softer. “It was worse when that abomination was present. You would hide parts of yourself from me, especially when it was here.”

“The- oh.” You remember the Starward Matchmaker™ representative’s oppressive presence, and how you walked on eggshells around her. “Right. Yes. The company doesn’t want me to fuck anything up.”

“A bit hypocritical of them, then,” the prince’s gaze goes back out towards the stars, “as their formula is supposedly infallible. If all parts of us are compatible with each other, then there should be no reason for you to keep some pieces of yourself hidden.”

You stop staring at his almost translucent reflection in the window and look at his face, his profile washed in the smattering of light easing in from billions of lightyears away. More to yourself than to him, you say, “I guess that’s true.”

“So you will stop trying to keep yourself from me?” He asks, firmly, looking over at you, too.

“I-” you swallow thickly, looking at the fingerprints you left on the otherwise flawless glass in your hands, “okay. Yes.”

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calientecoochie · 3 years

Text

It Happened So Fast-

•1•

From a mundane, cushy home to Japan Y/N went. Yes, it was nerve wracking to not only believe and see it was happening right in front of their face but, that the agency had accepted you so easily with such a minimal resume. Sure, you knew your stuff but barely anyone would give you the time of day to show off your natural skills. If one thing was certain, F/L/N knew how portray even the worst of the worst in the best light. However, F/L/N’s Japanese was very poor and just borderline coherent. Time to brush up while on the way there...

~L A T E R~

Y/N doesn’t even know where to begin to look. Everything was moving so fast and just so, so crowded!

Gah! Did I make a mistake?! No! We belong here! They selected us. They must’ve seen something worthwhile in you. Suck it up and keep it moving. I already accepted the one way trip anyway...

“Now to find my bags. Who to ask? Who to ask?? Ah, an attendant! Hopefully, my Japanese isn’t too shabby”

They power walked towards the attendant and asked where the luggage claim area would be. Albeit, poorly, followed with hand mannerisms and a several stares but, one understanding host and a frazzled staff later, Y/N’s bags were secured. Thank god.

What were the directions again? Someone was supposed to pick me up, right? Mmmm, let me read the notes again. Y/N pulled up the notes on their phone. They were not the best but still understand...kind of. Once the plane ride was done, someone IS supposed to pick us up. Apparently, 15 minutes ago. So, either we keep missing them or, they’re late.

“I guess- I guess I’ll just head outside then.”

~30 minutes later~

The people have thinned out quite a bit. The sky was slowly but surely becoming a darker blue mixed with beautiful orange and pink hues. Gorgeous.

Sigh...Okay, this is becoming re-damn-diculous, “If this was prank why the HELL would you pay even go through with paying for a plane ticket? A last minute one at that.. I’m already here... might as well enjoy a free trip.”

Just as Y/N sets their feet on the ground, a loud motor could be heard approaching.

A very nice, very sleek matte black sports car with a little yellow stripe on the side sped past Y/N. It just barely missed hitting the curb. For a the few seconds it zoomed by, Y/N swore they heard a loud Chris Brown song bumping within the car.

“Does everyone drive like a bat out of hell around here?!”

As if that was the que, the car froze and flung into reverse (just as fast) just to stop again at Y/N’s feet. The window rolls down and we are greeted with two men. The driver, who had a god awful smolder, had yellow blonde hair with a black stripe (opposite scheme of his car) with fox-like eyes. He had on a plain black shirt and red basketball shorts. The passenger held a bright, friendly smile (his eyes told a different story as they glaring towards the driver). He had beautiful, medium black hair, pulled back into a bun near the nap of his neck. He wore a blank white shirt and black, slightly baggy jeans.

Are these two my ride...uhhh :/

“Hey, baby” Y/N internally cringes, not at his broken English but, at the unwarranted flirting, “Looking for a ride?” The blonde winked. “We were told to come pick you up butttt how about we hang out instead? I know ALL the good spots.” He waggles his eyebrows to emphasize his poorly masked innuendo.

Unamused and tired Y/N spoke monotone, “ No thank you. I’ll just walk back to where I came from.” They grab their bags and start walking.

The blonde slowly paced the car to remain along side Y/N. “H-hey, beautiful, you don’t want to do that! You’ll probably drown you know!” The black haired passenger breathes a heavy sigh, head in his hand and other hand on the wheel as he witnesses the driver attempt to bring the stranger into the car.

“That’s the plan.”

The car rode along in silence with a defeated blonde hanging out of the window. The black haired passenger decided to step in and salvage the situation, “Denki, stopped the car” Denki stops the car while the passenger pushes the blonde’s face out of the way of the car window, “Aye, Mami/Papi, come back, please! I apologize for my friend. You see, he’s a bit brain fried. You can keep walking if you want but, the ocean is one hell of a detour just to go back to (place you’re from). Kiri would be disappointed. He’s never met a Y/N before.”

Upon hearing their name and their place of origin, Y/N froze from their walk of anger. “Ho- Kir-!!” Y/N squints theirs eyes and starts to approach the sports car, “Who are you and how do you know my name?”

The raven haired man, smirked and tilted his head to the side, “ Sero but you may know Cellophane better-

“Never heard of him.”

Sero shrugged and just leaned back in his friend’s seat, “And I know you’re name because we were sent to pick you up. DENKI just needed to make ‘“a few’” stops before we picked you up. If I had know we were taking the whole damn store, I would just gotten you myself. So sorry.”

Silence hung in the air for a bit.

“So, do I just get in or...

Denki perked up at, “<Yeah! Yeah! Just climb on in!>” he began pumping his fist in excitement. He practically had stars in his eyes.

Y/N barely registered what Denki had said looking towards Sero for some kind of explanation.

“Oh! He said come on in! We will take to to your place first then bring you to Red Riot’s agency”

“<Bro, why are you calling him by his hero name?>”

“<I don’t know if they even know Ei’s actual name, man>”

Once, Sero and you get your bags packed, the three of you go off to your new home...

~An hour later~

“<HEY, HEY WE ARE HERE, GORGEOUS!>” Y/N’s waking mind barely registered Denki’s broken “get ups” and “this place is sicks” before their eyes set on the outrageously beautiful home in front of them. It was small but looked so luxurious. Bay windows and a tiny garden surrounded the home. Sero comes to Y/N’s ear with their bags, “Yup, it all you, man. Nice place to. Kinddd of jealous.” He continued walking to your house with your bags. He was joking of course.

Denki came by and slapped your back and spoke in his his best English, “Like it that much, huh! You’re literally stuck on the driveway!”

“You know, you don’t have to speak english all the time to me. I can speak some Japanese” Denki gave a shy smile at Y/N.

“<Haha, I can’t be that bad, right? I have to admit though it’s pretty cool you could speak Japanese. We’re you born here and just moved or did they teach you in school? Ooh, ooh, this is just so awesome!” Denki turned towards a confused Y/N.

Y/N just twiddles their thumbs and looks downward,”<C-Could you repeat that for me? I couldn’t catch anything after right, haha..>”

“Same boat,huh” Denki smirks

“<Same boat.” Y/N replies.

“Yo, are you two going to keep talking or are we going to look inside? We could also got to the agency. You’re call, la Monada.”

Y/N ponders for bit, “Let’s see the agency. This home is beautiful but I’ll get to see it plenty after my place of work.”

~At Red Riot’s Agency~

“...This place is huge...” Y/N stood practically in the middle of the sidewalk , mouth agape and looking upwards.

“Hey, Y/N, Sparky and I are going to head inside to see, the Big Boss, you coming?”

“Y-yeah in a bit! Thank you, Sero”

“Remember: elevators on the far right. Push the highest button!” Denki shouted, “If you go to the far left it will take you to a completely different building! See you up there, Y/N!”

With that, your new acquaintances left. You look at your surroundings which is pretty futile seeing as it just leads back to the RR Agency. “So big...”

“If you think that’s big you should see my manly pal, Bakubro’s. His is huge!! He was always a showoff though. I like to think of it as good competition” A hearty laugh filled your ears.

“AHH!!”

#y/n x bnha #y/n x mha #y/n x Kirishima #mha #bnha #fanfic #mha kirishima #bnha sero #bnha denki #black!reader #bnha x black!reader #mha x black!reader #reader x kirishima

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somebodyhelpthenotdeadfreds · 3 years

Note

Savage Siblings + Scandal meeting the Legends or Gary meeting the Six

When Gary wakes up and smells toast, he instantly thinks he's having a stroke. He knows this because of late night frantic google searches when he's feeling like a hypochondriac. Turns out his neighbor had fried their hair in a curler. Life can be funny like that.

What is not funny is coming to, smelling toast, and realizing his legs are cuffed to the chair he's sitting in.

Memories start to creep back of how he got in this predicament. The memories aren't complete, as he can't remember how he got in this big dining room. He woke up in a weird hospital room, and managed to escape it into the hallway, where an arm wrapped around his neck and yanked him into a room. It was then he saw Scandal for the first time in easily ten years. She didn't have any answers for him as to where they were. In fact, the last memory he has before waking up here is seeing a man with a missing hand in the hallway before a sharp pain suddenly struck him in the neck.

And now he was here, strapped to a chair, smelling toast and noticing his sister in a chair just opposite him. She wrapped her fingers around a fork and held it in her lap. Gary shook his head to clear any brain fog, and was interrupted by a cheery voice behind him. "Finally, I'm starving!"

A plate was sat in front of him, a pancake with a whipped cream smile beaming back up at him. The same dish was put in front of Scandal, and the chair between them was pulled back and Bishop sat down. He was all smiles with the pancake in front of him, and Scandal didn't break her glare.

"There's chocolate sauce, and blueberries, and strawberry preserves. Feel free to add what you want," Bishop told them, adding butter to his pancake.

Scandal didn't reach for her food or speak. Gary couldn't eat around the lump in his throat, but spoke up in a croak: "What - is this?"

Bishop popped a bite into his mouth, laughing. "Gare, it's a family breakfast. We haven't had one in what, twenty years? Hard to tell, time being what it is."

Ava (but not Ava, but also Ava, because clone, Gary's brain scrambled to focus on anything other than this moment) poured Scandal a cup of hot coffee. Scandal didn't touch it. Scandal still didn't move.

Gary tried again, his big mouth forever unable to stay shut. "Bishop, why - why are we - where are we?"

"Gary, you're home, that's all that matters."

"Answer the question," Scandal bit back, her glare hot enough to melt whipped cream.

Bishop sighed. "But why can't we just have a family breakfast, Scandy? You never were any fun."

"Take the anklets off and let's have some real fun."

Bishop chuckled, poked her nose. He left a dollop of whipped cream on the end of it. "Is that a smile I see?"

Scandal's face didn't move. It was frozen in the same smile a lion gives a gazelle.

"Aw, it is! See, Gare, I always could get her to smile. You would try too hard."

Gary was squeezing his hands together under the table, holding back vomit. The smell of maple syrup was overwhelming and he wanted to run away from them, from this, again. He's done it so many times before, one more time wouldn't hurt, right?

"You guys haven't eaten your pancakes! Chef Ava's worked so hard on them, it would be rude to leave them uneaten!"

Neither sibling moved.

"Guys, seriously, it's a normal family breakfast, we're just-"

"We aren't a family," Scandal cut in, voice like ice. "We share the same blood. But we aren't a family."

Bishop's carefree smile settled into a familiar smirk. He leaned back in his chair, back on two legs, before leaning forward again. He picked up his fork and knife. "Well, if you guys don't want pancakes, I won't waste them. You like strawberry, right Gare?"

Gare closed his eyes as strawberry preserves covered the smiley pancake. He flinched when Bishop elbowed him lightly in the side, a laugh on his lips. "Lighten up."

He cut a third of Gary's pancake and put it on his own plate. He did the same to Scandal, joking as he offered her a bite.

Gary was pretty sure she could bite through the fork if it reached her lips. The whipped cream on her nose dripped into her coffee.

Bishop shook his can of whipped cream, put some in his mouth. He enjoyed his bite, had a sip of coffee.

Gary felt the words come out of his mouth like the remnants of a bad night. "Who was that in the hallway?"

Scandal shushed him, but Bishop smiled, squeezing Gary's shoulder. "Glad you asked, but you don't recognize your brother?"

"What?"

"That was Louis, he was one of our brothers, guys. I think from the 12th century, not sure. It's been a while since I've gone through the records."

"Why isn't he - here? At the table?" Gary asked carefully.

"Well, because he's not special like you guys! Us three, we were important! We meant something to Dad."

Scandal let out a barely audible hiss. "Is he - here?"

Bishop shook his head with a frown, brushing one of her bangs back. The frown changed to a grin when she moved her head back. "Not yet."

Maybe if Gary focused enough, he could melt down into his chair like whipped cream, slip through his cuffs and into the floor so he could disappear forever.

"What are you talking about?"

Bishop put up a finger as a 'hold on', chewing his bite of pancake. He began moving the pancake pieces around, humming a theme song Gary was familiar with. "I don't want to sound like one of those cheap Marvel hacks, but you know the Ship of Theseus idea, right?"

The pancake pieces were put into one complete circle, and Bishop added another smile on top of the creation.

"No? I guess I really did get all the smarts in the family."

"It's a foolish concept," Scandal said through her teeth. "There's no spirit for a body left."

Bishop grinned, all attempts at niceness fading away as he pulled a coin from his pocked and flipped it onto the table.

Gary has seen this soul coin before, so he doesn't give out an audible gasp the way Scandal does. Instead, he goes back to daydreaming about melting away.

"Why are we - why are we HERE?"

"Because we're special, Scandy. You were Dad's favorite, we all knew it. I was thinking your heart, but that's gone all soft. I think he'd want the eyes, what do you think? Gary's good for a spleen or a kidney."

Gary felt like he was going to pass out.

"Oh, don't worry! I'll grow you all new ones. Dad needs the old parts, you know, like when you need to fix an old watch. Gotta use the same parts, have the know-how. But Gary, I have a job for you especially. You always liked the little jobs more, yeah?"

"What do you want?" Gary croaked again. He didn't know what else to do except listen. Once again.

"Well, Gare. You're going to call your little friends. Gotta make homecoming a real party right?"

"I don't know what you're - talking about."

Bishop suddenly reached out and turned his head to face him. His smile held nothing but malice. "I'd say you never did learn how to lie, but they still don't know, do they? I can't believe you'd lie about that, Gare. That doesn't make you a good friend, does it? I mean, even Scandal told her lunch table about Dad."

"I'm not calling the Legends," Gary told him, raising his voice and instantly regretting it.

"Gary, Gary," Bishop tsked, squeezing his chin harder. "Don't you want to do the right thing?"

"Stop."

"The Legends aren't your friends, not if you can't tell them the truth. But we're your family. We don't lie to you, we aren't turning you out into the cold for a silly mistake or two."

Gary didn't look away but he couldn't stop shaking. Bishop poked his nose, making him flinch and then he laughed. "See, Gare? We're all going to be one big happy family again. All you have to do is your part."

He leaned away from Gary, turned to Scandal, and got a face full of hot coffee. He howled, clawing at his face as Scandal shoved his face into his pancake creation.

"Don't forget," she told him as she shoved him one more time for good measure before letting him up. Her smile was pure hatred. "At the end of the day, you're still a box of spare parts for Dad, same as us."

Bishop glared at her through strawberry preserves, wiping his face. "Then let's play double or nothing, Scandy. Gary brings Dad's friends, you get to walk home.

"He doesn't?" He slid a photo across the table and Gary watched Scandal's face dissolve into anguish.

"The first person Dad visits is his grandson."

#legends of tomorrow #scandal savage #gary green #bishop #I haven't written in so long #it felt good #a bit of angst never hurt

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bffsoobin · 4 years

Text

Iced Chai

↳ you had a small obsession with drinking iced chai lattes between class, and it just so happened that the coffee store on campus had the best ones. when a new barista replaces the one who used to make your drink, you put him to the test. he makes the most wonderful iced chai you’d ever had. he’s also one of the most handsome boys you ever seen on campus.

➤ fluff, college!au, shy barista!hueningkai

Word Count:3,830

A/N: yes, this fic is very much influenced by my massive love for iced chai lattes and the way I consumed them up until March when we had to leave campus. Sadly I didn’t have any cute boys serving me :(. Anywho, I hope you enjoy it! Please keep in mind that I haven’t proofread, so there may be some small mistakes!

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:••:•.•

Calculus was a pain in the ass. Obviously, you knew this well before you scheduled for your freshmen year of college, but there was no way to avoid the reality handed to you by your major. So every Monday, Wednesday and Friday morning at 8 am you endured the rambling lectures of your less than spry professor who could barely work his desktop computer. You tried your best to pay attention, you really did, but there was only so much you could do when the conversation shifted from tangent lines to the best way to reheat fast food french fries.

As you doodled in the margins of your lined notebook, your mind wandered to the only good thing sitting through this class does for you. Other than the credits. As soon as the clock struck 9am, you had a date with the on campus café. The roughly hour break between the end of calculus and the beginning of chemistry gave you the perfect window to enjoy some alone time. Homey, student run and always playing some version of a coffee shop playlist; the place was your haven on campus. Not only did you love the atmosphere and the fact that it was the best place on campus to study, but they also serve the best iced chai latte you’d ever encountered. The thought of the drink alone made your mouth salivate. From your first hesitant order, you had become hooked. Within your first week on campus, you had easily drank 10 cups of the chilled goodness before your roommate expressed concern for the sheer amount of sugar and dairy you’d been consuming.

Due to the timing of your tri-weekly trips, you had always been served by the same lovely barista, Rachael. She was stylish, down to earth and always told you a good joke when you showed up looking especially out of it. Most importantly, something about the way she mixed the drink convinced you that she surely was sent from the heavens.

When your graying professor finally let your class go for the day, you walked on clouds to your favorite spot on campus. It had rained during class so the air was chilled and the ground was still damp. The telltale scent of rain invaded your senses and a chill ran through you. Most people would be craving a hot coffee or steaming cup of tea- but all you desired was the smooth flavor of your favorite drink. The walk to your beloved café wasn’t long, but you always found yourself in a bit of a rush to get there as soon as you possibly could. In a moment of carelessness, you stepped right into a rather large puddle and soaked one of your feet right through your shoes and your sock. Disgusting you thought as you finally arrived at the door. The handle was slick with moisture thanks to the weather, but you wiped your hand onto your sweatshirt as you stepped inside and let the familiar scent of coffee grounds occupy your mind. Your shoulders relaxed simply at the relaxed atmosphere.

A few students who also frequented around this time were sitting at their usual tables, and you waved at them politely before taking yourself- and your squelching shoe- over to the small booth you’d come to know and love. You ditched your bookbag on the table with a thud, feeling secure with the knowledge of your agreement with the girl who sat at the table next to you to keep an eye on your things.

As you headed toward the counter, you belatedly noticed that the line seemed a bit more backed up than usual. It wasn’t too big of a concern, as your college was relatively small and waiting an extra five minutes would by no means ruin your timing. It was just curious. Usually Rachael ran the counter with the ease of an experienced sailor, but that ease seemed to be missing today. Nevertheless, the line inched forward steadily. Engrossed in your phone, you hadn’t noticed the glaring difference in your routine until you got to the cash register. While placing your plastic ID card over the scanner, you chirped “just my usual, Rachael!”

Despite what your mind told you would happen next- she would laugh, say okay, maybe ask about class while handing over a receipt- you were met with an awkward stutter that your trusty barista certainly didn’t make.

“I-I’m sorry, I don’t know your usual,” upon finally looking up, your brain processed the sight of a new boy. A new gorgeous boy. Did they only hire beautiful people here? His black hair was falling into his eyes, charmingly shaggy and exposing just enough of his forehead to make you oddly wish you could see more. His cheeks were dusted in a light pink blush that both charmed you and made you feel bad at the same time. He seemed so fresh. Upon further inspection, you caught his handmade name tag written in slightly shaky handwriting that was so cutely boyish. Hueningkai. He had decorated one corner with a smiley face and the other with a drawing of a coffee bean that looked suspiciously like nothing more than a dark brown blob with a small accent line down the middle.

“I’m sorry, Hueningkai,” you didn’t miss the way his eyes widened slightly at the use of his name, “usually Rachael is here to take my order. But I’ll take a large iced chai latte, please.” He nodded quickly, reverting his eyes to the LED screen which his eyes bounced around for a few seconds before he finally found the correct button. This must have been why the line seemed abnormally long. As the sound of your receipt printing filled the silence, you asked; “first day?”

A melodious laugh fell from his lips, causing a scrunch of his perfectly pointed nose that you felt honored to have seen as he stepped away from the register to start making your drink. “That obvious, huh?” Another worker came to take his spot and serve the next student but you followed Hueningkai to his new destination. For as shy as he was at the cash register, he moved with much more confidence when it came to actually making drinks. His earlier hesitation was totally gone as he got to work mixing up your drink. In his new position, you could get a better look at his hands, adorned in simple silver jewelry that embarrassingly made your breath catch in your throat. His actions were over almost as quickly as they began, and his earlier hesitation seemed to return as he slid the drink to you over the granite counter top. You grasped at it eagerly in the same moment he reached to balance a straw on top of the lid.

For a brief moment your fingers lingered and your mind went wild at the absurdity that you honestly felt sparks pass between the two of you.

“Oh, uh, sorry,” he mumbled, dipping his head down awkwardly as he finally tore his hand away. You smiled back earnestly, hoping to make him understand that you weren’t bothered at all by the contact.

Back at the safety of your table, you took a second to collect yourself. Surely you were overreacting to the small interaction. After all, you were already having a pretty weird day. Looking down at your clear cup, you remembered the beginning of your dilemma- the absence of amazing barista Rachael. Hueningkai was adorable, but could his skills hold up to the woman who made drinks you literally dreamed about? Tentatively, you took a sip of the drink and immediately cocked your head to the side. On the off chance your taste buds had totally deceived you, you took another long swig from the cup.

Hueningkai’s drink was even better than Rachael’s.

——

The next morning, you awoke before your alarm even started to beep. Thursdays meant no class until 1 o’clock, so you had almost all the time in the world to catch up on assignments and homework and do your errands. Instead of doing anything constructive, you found yourself craving yet another iced chai latte. As you voiced this desire to your roommate, she looked at you as if you’d just admitted to the murder of 4 people.

“Are you insane? Do you not remember how miserable you felt after drinking two a day? I can’t let you do that again. You can go to the café but at least drink something different!” You knew that she was right, but something inside of you- that shitty little perpetual teenage boy who hides in a corner of your mind- told you to do the exact opposite of what she said.

“I’m sorry,” you shuffled through the shirts hanging in your closet, the sound of the plastic hangers clicking together resonating in the otherwise quiet room. “But you have to go to class so there’s no way you can police me. Plus,” you pulled a shirt out of your closet and slid over to your cheap full length mirror to inspect yourself. “You didn’t see Hueningkai. He is...” your cheeks flushed as your roommate began to let out a high pitched squeal. “Shhh! The walls are thin!”

“Oh don’t act so scandalized. I guess it makes sense that you’d have a crush on the boy who feeds your addiction.” You rolled your eyes at her, lobbing a pair of rolled up socks in her direction in retaliation. They hit her side softly before bouncing to the floor dejectedly. “You,” she pointed a finger your way as you rooted through your drawer for a pair of jeans, “are ridiculous. Have fun with your dreamy boy while I’m at class.”

Despite the familiarity of the path to the café, you still felt a bit out of place making the trip on a Thursday. Even the other students passing you by felt wrong in a way you couldn’t quite place. There was also the lingering worry that Hueningkai wasn’t even working today, and you’d show up to the small building just for a dose of disappointment. In you worried haze, you had barely noticed you arrived until the door was pushed open from the inside and a small pack of students held the door aside for you.

Inside of the building, a blanket of warm air surrounded your form and the faint smell of cinnamon drifted easily through the air. You were instantly calmed by the scent until someone bumped into your shoulder. With wide eyes, you looked around to see about double the amount of people your usual visits yielded. You were in no way prepared for the absolute mass of bodies that filtered between the tables and comfortable sitting areas.

Feeling a bit lost, you put yourself into the line of waiting students and tried your best to peer over heads and around bodies to see if you could catch a glimpse of the barista that had captivated you so easily. It didn’t look like he was making drinks, but you held out hope that he was manning the register that was blocked from your sight. After what felt like forever, you reached the register and came face to face with...not Hueningkai. Despite your disappointment, there was no way you would turn down a drink, even made by a non-Hueningkai.

Once you had the chilled cup cradled in your hands, you took a hopeless look around at the full dining room. Almost every table looked to be occupied, and some students had even resorted to leaning against the walls to chat and sip their drinks. The back of your neck began to heat up as you wandered around hoping for anyone to decide they were done and get up to leave. You had almost given up and decided to just go back to your dorm and lick your metaphorical wounds when a voice called your name. It only took a second of looking around to lock eyes with the one who was calling for you.

Hueningkai. He had a light blush filling his cheeks as he waved a hand noncommittally your way. He looked ethereal sitting at the table, hot cup of something steaming next to his sticker covered laptop. His eyes were wide and adorably eager; akin to the look of a puppy who had just seen their owner after a long day. Your feet were working before your brain, so when you arrived to the table you had to scramble for an opener.

“Hey! I was looking for you!” you winced. Way to go, Y/N. Out yourself on the second meeting. “I mean, uh,” you felt the cup in your hand start to slip with the sweat your palms produced, “I was hoping you’d make my drink again.”

A smile spread like wildfire on Hueningkai’s face and his eyes crinkled adorably in the corners.

“You liked it that much?” His voice was meek, oddly shy for the way he beamed up at you with so much ease.

“Yeah! It was really good. Even better than Rachael’s, to be honest.”

“Really? She was the best barista here!” He brought a hand up to his mouth in shock.

“Yeah, really! Anyway, I can get going if you...you look busy,” you gestured toward his open laptop and drink that you were sure was rapidly cooling the longer you distracted him.

“No!” he blurted the word before visibly flinching at his actions. At least it wasn’t just you feeling like a fumbling idiot. “I called you over cause it looked like you needed a seat? And if you want to sit with me, you can. I’m just working on a presentation and you won’t distract me, I promise.” There was no way you could deny the eagerness lacing his voice, so you pulled the chair opposite him across the floor and settled in.

----

“That sounds like a date. A hangout at the very least,” your roommate asserted as she typed some code into her computer.

“It was not a date!” You whined, glaring up at your ceiling from your spot on your twin XL. “He just saw me looking for a place to sit and offered.” She scoffed.

“Yeah, and then he proceeded to ignore his homework to talk to you. And then he asked if you were coming back to the cafe tomorrow. And then he-”

“Okay, I get it! But what am I supposed to do? Ask him out?” A bubble of nerves was resting heavily in your stomach at the thought. As much as you liked him, who were you to think that he wasn’t just being kind? When you voiced this concern to your roommate, she tossed her computer to the side and strode over to your bed to not-so-gently pull you out of it. Without an idea of what she was doing, you stood dumbly until she put on her slippers and drug you out of your room.

“What are you doing? I didn’t even put my slippers on!” Your sock covered feet slid across the tile of the hallway as your roommate finally hauled you into the common room of your floor, where a few small groups had gathered to do various activities.

“Hi everyone! My lovely roommate Y/N and I have a question for you. Do any of you know Hueningkai? He works at the cafe, really tall, music major?” A few people nodded in confusion, surely wondering why the hell one of the polite tenants of room 112 was conducting some kind of survey in the lounge.

“Great. Has he ever shown interest in any of you? Asked you to sit with him in the cafe? Spent about an hour inquiring about your life instead of quietly working? Gave you his number?” Everyone who had previously nodded stood still, not moving an inch as they whispered between each other. “Okay, that’s all!” Your roommate left with no further elaboration as you called out a weak apology to everyone. Back in the safety of your room, you stared at her, scandalized.

“What was that?”

“That, my dear Y/N, was proof. He likes you!”

----

A nervousness you hadn’t felt since move in day was crawling through your body the closer the clock ticked to 9 am. Theoretically, you could just skip going to get a drink today, and therefore avoid the source of your nerves; but you knew that Hueningkai was expecting you to show. He had even sent you an eager text this morning with a series of heart wrenchingly adorable emojis. There was no way you could avoid him after that.

Late fall weather had surely settled in today and you felt the chill settle into your bones as soon as you stepped out of the math building. For a few seconds, you stopped to watch a rough breeze rustle browning leaves across the concrete paths of campus before simply digging your hands further into your pockets. You had to power your way through this. Worse case scenario, he says no and you can never show your face on campus again. Simple.

The door felt especially heavy under your hands as you hauled it open. The much more familiar, sparsely populated shop greeted you but only ratcheted up your nerves. With less people milling around, there was no way to delay your conversation with Hueningkai. As soon as you began to approach the counter, you could see him stumble over to the register before the other working student could even attempt to. He tried to casually lean his elbow onto the half wall to his left, but he miscalculated and ended up shyly tucking his hands into the front pocket of his apron.

“Hi,” you swallowed the lump in your throat and hoped that he hadn’t notice the shake in your voice. The familiar beep of the card reader interrupted your worries momentarily as you heard the boy in front of you exhale a greeting.

“Your usual?” He inquired as if he hadn’t already seen you with the drink two days in a row. Not trusting your voice, you simply nodded and waited for him to punch the order into the screen. His hand hesitated as he glanced up at you again. “You’re the only person I know still ordering cold drinks in this weather,” a teasing smile had blossomed on his pink lips and your heart jumped at the sight.

“Well, I guess I’m just a bit stuck in my ways,” you followed him, as always, to the other side of the counter where orders were placed when finished.

“I like that,” he commented as he grabbed a cup, “it makes my job a whole lot easier,” your eyes locked onto his hands out of instinct. Yesterday you had noticed the addition of a thin silver chain around his wrist, and you would be lying if you hadn’t spent a few minutes admiring the delicate chain contrasted against the strength of his hands. A pour of ice pulled you out of your thoughts, and you caught the back half of a question from him.

“What’d you say?” You felt as if lava was bubbling right under the surface of your skin as you reeled in embarrassment. You couldn’t believe that you’d let yourself miss a chunk of conversation for something so stupid.

“Oh,” he seemed equally embarrassed that you hadn’t heard him, and it hurt your heart a little to see the way his eyes shook. “I just wanted to know if you had a good night yesterday. I mean because you-you told me when we hung out that you had a lot of reading to do, and I wasn’t sure if you got it all done. Sometimes I get so overwhelmed with readings that I don’t do any of them, and Taehyun yells at me for that but I just can’t seem to stop doing it.” He was rambling, and you both knew it, but you let him continue as he shyly looked away in order to pour your drink over the ice.

“Yeah, I know what you mean. I had an okay night. My roommate was a bit much, but I love her, so it was okay.” His eyebrow quirked softly at the mention of your roommate, but he seemed afraid to broach the subject just yet. He gave your drink a good swirl after sealing on the lid and slid it over the smooth counter to your waiting hand. Unlike the first time you had met, you had already grabbed a straw from the small display and plunged it into the drink.

Although you should have walked away, something kept you rooted to the spot, Hueningkai seemed to be under the same kind of spell as he looked over his shoulder to see that no one else had lined up to be served quite yet.

“Hey, I was wonderi-”

“This might be weird-”

Your sentences clashed in the air as you spoke at the exact same time. Your mouth hung open like a fish out of water and Hueningkai waved his hands around wildly in your direction. “Go ahead!” He enthused, looking as if he was going to melt into the floor as a side effect of interrupting you.

“No, I mean, you can say your thing first, if you- if you want,” you offered weakly.

“No, it’s okay, you definitely spoke first. G-go ahead,” he nodded rapidly in order to convince you further. You raised your eyebrows in a silent question of ‘are you sure?’, to which he nodded again.

“Okay, I was wondering if you’d like to, uhm, go out sometime? On a date?” The words felt like weights rolling off of your tongue. Hueningkai blinked once, twice, a third time before he broke into a peal of laughter. A sudden wash of panic, as if someone had dumped a bucket of ice water over your head, filled your senses. This was it. You would have to transfer schools and change your hair color to get rid of this incident. Goodbye, life you had come to know and love.

Hueningkai must have recognized your panic as he took a harsh breath and surged forward to reach for your arm.

“Wait! I wasn’t laughing at you! It’s just that I was, um, also going to ask you out.” This time, a laugh bubbled up in your throat at the confession.

“You’re right. That is pretty hilarious.” You admitted, feeling the tension around you totally dissipate.

“Well, I think this bodes well for us. We’ve only known each other for a few days and we already have telepathy. My roommate will be so jealous. He’s been trying to meld our minds for weeks.” His personality was beginning to peak through when he spoke about his friends, you noticed. It was charming. He was charming. Not to mention, he still made the best damn iced chai latte you’d ever had.

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beauty-abstraction · 3 years

Text

Title: The Best Ending

Pairing: Tsukkiyama

What you’re getting yourself into: confessions, first kiss

Synopsis: Yamaguchi finally gets Tsukishima to play a game with him, gay panic ensues

“Hurry up, Tsukki!”, Yamaguchi whined. “That’s rich coming from you ” Tsukishima replied, an obvious jab at the fact that he is usually the one waiting due to Yamaguchi’s near-constant penchant for running late. “Sorry Tsukki!! I’m just so excited that you finally agreed to play this game with me! It has been out for months now”, said Yamaguchi. “I would hardly call me losing a bet ‘agreeing to play that with you’” Tsukishima said sarcastically. “To be fair, I still have no idea why you bet against me in the first place! Do you not believe in my epic athletic abilities?” Yamaguchi replied with a teasing tone.

The bet was on whether or not Yamaguchi could get 5 service aces during the practice match. In all honesty, the real reason that Tsukishima bet against Yamaguchi was to give him something to focus on other than his nerves. Also, Yamaguchi was just so excited about his new game, and the bet gave Tsukishima the opportunity to cave to Yamaguchi’s puppy dog eyes without admitting defeat.

“It’s not that I don’t believe in you, it’s just that I do believe in the other team’s ability to get the ball up” Tsukishima said jokingly. “Whatever,” Yamaguchi scoffed, “Let’s go! There is an otome game with our names on it!” Tsukishima smiled to himself at Yamaguchi’s excitement before zipping up his bag and following Yamaguchi to his house.

For reasons that Tsukishima would never understand, Yamaguchi adored otome games. Where Tsukishima found them cheesy and disgustingly cliche, Yamaguchi found them sweet and interesting. Yamaguchi would often go into rants about how the character archetypes played into the overall narrative in each game and were decidedly not as cliche as Tsukishima found them to be, thank you very much. Despite Yamaguchi’s love for this genre, Tsukishima has never actually played one of these games, or watched someone else play one, preferring to just listen to Yamaguchi rattle on about his most recent playthrough during their lunch break.

After showering and eating dinner with Yamaguchi’s family, they retreat to Yamaguchi’s room where Yamaguchi reads off the synopsis of the game as well as the basic descriptions of each romanceable character from the promotional material.

“I’ll probably start with this one,” Yamaguchi says, pointing to a standoffish character with glasses, “the kuudere character route is usually the easiest for me to get the good ending on.”

“Kuudere?” Tsukishima asked, confused.

“A kuudere is a character that seems apathetic and cynical at first, but as you get to know them and gain their trust they show that they actually really care and that their personality is a facade they keep up to protect themselves.” Yamaguchi helpfully explains. “Their route always ends up being the cutest anyways, so we should definitely start there.”

Tsukishima tries (and fails miserably) to not think of the implications of this ‘kuudere’ type being the one that Yamaguchi finds the cutest while Yamaguchi boots up the game and the campy theme music comes blaring out of his laptops’ speakers.

The rest of the night is spent with Yamaguchi playing his game and Tsukishima desperately trying to pay attention to anything but his own racing thoughts. But the only girls that Yamaguchi has previously expressed interest in were nothing like this stoic character on the screen. In fact, there is only one person in Yamaguchi’s life that really fits that description… and that person is currently in full blown gay panic mode next to Yamaguchi on his bedroom floor. Then, to make matters worse, Tsukishima’s brain unhelpfully reminds him of the fact that Yamaguchi has mentioned playing otome games with all-male romanceable options as well. What does this mean, if it means anything after all? Does he like men? Women? Both? Neither? Or does he just play both types because they provide a different gaming experience? He looks up from the screen and studies Yamaguchi’s face for a bit, thankful that he is too engrossed in his game to notice the attention. Yamaguchi’s face is cutely scrunched up in concentration, his teeth nibbling his lower lip as he decides what dialogue option would be best. Tsukishima realizes that he has been staring perhaps a bit too long and quickly jerks his head in the other direction.

Unfortunately for him, this is around the same time that Yamaguchi pulled his attention away from the screen to see Tsukishima’s reaction to the cute line that the character just said, seemingly oblivious to Tsukishima internally screaming at himself for being so gay and in love with his best friend.

“Awww Tsukki! You like them too? That line they just said was just too cute!” Yamaguchi says excitedly, unintentionally misreading the situation. Tsukishima quickly reads the line on the screen and panics when he finds that it is just as cliche as he thought it would be. I mean, who writes this stuff?? More importantly, how is he going to play this off when his two options are admitting that he has a big, fat, stupid crush on his best friend or pretending to be attracted to some boring 2D character from a cheesy otome game? Rather than choosing the more logical option #2, Tsukishima decides to childishly give Yamaguchi the silent treatment while dramatically pretending to not hear him. This method seemingly works as Yamaguchi just giggles, rolls his eyes, then turns his attention back to the screen, dropping the subject for now.

After another hour or so of Yamaguchi playing and sneaking glances at Tsukishima to gauge his reactions to each new scene, Yamaguchi decides to shut off the game for the night in favor of helping Tsukishima set up the futon.

This is when he decides to bring the topic up again. “You seemed to be really focused on the game Tsukki! Especially that character. I told you they would be the cutest!! I really didn’t expect them to be your type though.” In a panic, Tsukishima goes back to his original method of avoiding the questioning completely, but he is out of luck as Yamaguchi is the most stubborn person that he knows and will not drop it again until he gets an answer. “Still nothing?” says Yamaguchi, “how about we do 20 questions?”

“...”

“hot or cold?”

“...”

“You tell me why you’ve been quieter than usual tonight?”

“What are you talking about?” Tsukishima demands, whipping his head up to look at Yamaguchi. “Hah, gotcha!” Yamaguchi gloats, “but seriously, what is up with you? You were fine until we started playing. Are you just too proud to admit that these games are actually entertaining or —” “I don’t like these stupid games, I like you!” Tsukishima interrupts in a sudden outburst.

Yamaguchi stands there with his jaw dropped open as they both struggle to process the words that just came out of Tsukishima’s mouth. “Really?” Yamaguchi finally says, his shaky voice barely above a whisper. “Yeah, so… yeah” Tsukishima replies eloquently as he turns away from Yamaguchi to begin quickly packing up his things in order to make a quick escape. He freezes when Yamaguchi lightly grabs his wrist to prevent any further movement. He is sure that his ears are bright red, betraying his emotions even though his face is hidden from Yamaguchi’s sight. Then, Yamaguchi starts laughing. “Great,” Tsukishima thinks “I just told him how I feel and he’s laughing in my face”. Tsukishima steals a glance at Yamaguchi only to see him laughing while fondly looking at Tsukishima like he was the most precious thing in the whole world. And maybe he was in Yamaguchi’s eyes. “Sorry,” says Yamaguchi while wiping a tear from his eye, voice still slightly shaking with uncontained laughter, “it’s just that you make fun of otome games for being cliche when you are the walking definition of a kuudere! I absolutely can’t deal with you!” Yamaguchi only laughs harder at the glare that Tsukishima sends his way until Tsukishima quietly says, “the difference is that you actually like those games…”

Yamaguchi pauses while he considers Tsukishima’s words. Was he really so oblivious to Yamaguchi’s many, many attempts at flirting? He was hardly subtle. Subtlety is definitely not one of Yamaguchi’s strengths, he is more of an ‘all or nothing’ kind of guy. What stumbles out of Yamaguchi’s mouth next could be considered somewhat of a hot mess as far as confessions go. “Are you kidding me? Like, you’re being serious right now? You’re not joking?”

“Yes.” Tsukishima replies coldly, ready to just make a run for it so he can go crawl in a hole and die alone in peace.

“Sorry Tsukki!” Yamaguchi replies hurriedly, “I just… it’s just… have you really not noticed?”

“...noticed what?” Tsukishima says, suddenly reconsidering his whole crawling-in-a-hole plan.

“I have liked you for so long, and I definitely haven’t hid it. I mean, I even regularly share my fries with you!” Yamaguchi half-screams, exasperated at how stupid his seemingly ‘smart’ friend is being. “That doesn’t mean anything if they’re just the ones that don’t meet your ridiculous criteria for a ‘good’ french fry and — wait what?” Tsukishima responds, cutting himself off as he truly realizes what Yamaguchi said. “I said that I like you too, idiot” Yamaguchi says fondly. There he goes again, looking at Tsukishima the same way that he looks at the shiny rocks that he picks up on the way home after practice sometimes. Perhaps Tsukishima has more in common with those shiny rocks than he cares to admit. “I am not an idiot” Tsukishima says instead, faking offense in a way that he knows will make Yamaguchi laugh. “Ehhh” Yamaguchi responds while giggling again.

In yet another lapse of judgement, Tsukishima leans forward to grab Yamaguchi’s face and pull him into an obviously inexperienced kiss. Realizing his mistake, Tsukishima quickly pulled away and apologized “ Sorry, I should’ve uh… asked first or something… you just looked so cute and I…” He was cut off by yet another chaste kiss from Yamaguchi. “It’s okay, you’re really nervous so I’ll let it slide,” Yamaguchi says with a small smile, his face still inches from Tsukishima’s own, “we should probably get some sleep now.” “Yeah, we probably should” Tsukishima agrees while pulling Yamaguchi in for another kiss.

#tsukishima x yamaguchi #yamaguchi tadashi #tsukishima kei #tsukkiyama #hq fluff #first kiss #confessions #sleepover

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annabethy · 4 years

Note

you’re embarrassing me in the teacher au!!! 💞💞💞

#5 “You’re embarrassing me.” Teacher AU!

Today was just not Annabeth’s day.

It was as though her students were trying to make her off herself. Each class period was agonizingly slow, and watching her kids stumble around in front of the white board unsure of how to answer a math question was just flat out agonizing.

“Piper,” Annabeth seethes as the girl makes a dumb mistake. Annabeth only feels bad for calling it dumb for two seconds before she doesn’t care. “Is that how you distribute the parenthesis?”

Piper blinks. “Is that not how you do it?”

“When you’re distributing an exponent, you write it out, not multiply everything by two.”

Honestly. She’s about to throw something.

Piper tries again, and Annabeth can feel a headache coming in as she stood there hopelessly, watching her calculus kids crash and burn. She no longer has it in her to even try and put out the fire because these were seniors who she has taught for years and they should very well know how to distribute.

“Ms. Chase,” Piper asks cluelessly, turning towards her teacher. Annabeth was perched against the wall, one hand on her forehead because dear lord. “How do you use pascal’s triangle again?”

Annabeth swallows hard, counting to three. “You don’t need to use pascal’s triangle.”

“Oh, right.” Piper turns back to the board.

It really is painful watching her students not know how to do simple math when she has taught it a million times over. Normally she would assume she was the problem, but this — there was no way she was the issue here. This was just pure stupidity.

“This is pure stupidity,” Annabeth repeats after her thoughts, pushing herself off the wall and snatching a dry-erase marker from Leo’s desk. She tries to show them how to do it, knowing full and well that she will not be teaching them integration today. Because high schoolers are high schoolers, they don’t pick up on it and Annabeth has to physically retrain herself from walking out the door with her middle finger held up high.

She gets through one problem, and she has a tiny bit of hope, but it immediately dissipates when she takes in their faces. Annabeth likes to think that they were not looking at her, but rather through her. There was no light behind their eyes, and she kind of wanted to knock the light out of her own eyes if it meant she didn’t have to bear witness to this.

“Are you okay, Ms. Chase?” Piper asks, oblivious as always.

Annabeth turns towards her, a little lightheaded and baffled (what did they put in these kids’ cheerios this morning?). “I’m just not really understanding what’s going on,” she says.

Leo tilts his head, leaning forwards on his desk with two arms. “Neither are we.”

“That’s what I’m not understanding,” Annabeth says, a snappy edge to her voice. She knows she shouldn’t yell at them because they were still kids, and things like this were inevitable, but come on. “You understood this last week.”

“We forgot,” he excuses.

“Forgot?” Annabeth says meekly.

“We had a test in marine today, so our brains are fried,” Reyna throws in. Annabeth snaps her head to Reyna, who is leaning back carelessly in her seat, picking at her nails.

Jackson.

“We still have twenty minutes left of class,” Annabeth says. “But you all smell like fried fish and are useless to me.”

Piper grins. “Ask us something easy and we can call it a day.”

“What do you need to make sure you never forget to write when you’re integrating an equation?”

“The answer!” Leo shouts confidently.

How is this level of stupidity possible?

“You’re all going to fail the AP test,” Annabeth says.

“What was the answer?” Piper asks, frowning.

“The plus c, as in crappy children are clueless.”

The pounding in Annabeth’s head is increasing with every second she looks at these kids’ faces. Right now, they were all ugly blobs she wouldn’t mind hitting over the head with a hammer, but as a teacher, she has to pretend this is motivation for her to teach them. Not that they deserved to be taught, because no, they deserve to be hit over the head with a hammer. Also maybe a tennis racket.

Annabeth just stares at her students’ ugly faces for what feels like eternity. She’s pretty sure she can see their brain cells dying with every passing second. She hears the door open behind her back and she assumes it’s one of her students leaving, and she is so jealous that it was not her leaving. She doesn’t even bother looking because if she looks, she swears she is actually going to—

“Chase!”

Annabeth scowls, turning towards the voice.

“What’s with the face?” Percy asks cheerfully, just working his way into the classroom.

“Jackson,” she says, snarling. “This is your fault.”

“What is?”

“You gave them a test and now they’re dumber than you.”

“Babe,” Percy teases. “That’s mean.”

Annabeth’s face flushes red immediately as she hears the snickers start to roll in from the twelve kids in the classroom. They’d managed to keep their relationship under wraps to avoid exactly this, but for some reason, Percy just loves to go around flaunting pet names. She isn’t sure if it’s some reverse psychology thing to make them think it’s all fun and games when it’s really not, but she does know that this is mortifying.

“You’re disgusting,” is the only response Annabeth can think of.

Percy slides up to Annabeth’s desk beside the front whiteboard, settling into her chair, prompting Annabeth to raise an eyebrow.

“Don’t you have a class?” she asks.

“It’s my planning period,” Percy says.

“Go bother literally anyone else,” Piper says. Annabeth has to admit Piper has balls.

“Thank you, Piper,” Annabeth says, impressed.

Piper preens. “You’re welcome, Ms. C.”

Percy just scoffs and rolls his eyes, rocking her chair with his foot on the ground. “I wanted to see how your class was going. It seems like it’s not going at all.”

“Thanks to you,” Annabeth says. “You’re not helping, interrupting right now.”

Percy simply takes one look around before his eyes settle back on hers. “You weren’t going to get anything done today anyways.”

“I’m in the middle of class though.”

“Is it still class if you’re not teaching?”

The look Percy gives her is one she would like very much to smack off his face. He looks so smug, and a part of her thinks that maybe he planned his test for today just so her students would forget how to do anything math related, and he could sit and watch it all fall apart.

“All I’m saying,” Percy says, turning to fiddle with a pen on her desk, “is that you could use some cheering up right now, so don’t kick your best friend out of your room.”

Annabeth glares at him.

“Piper texted me,” he explains. “Said you were being mean and to come save them from an early death.”

“Mr. Jackson!” Piper complains.

Percy disregards her, giving Annabeth a dashing smile that never fails to make her knees weak, and he stands up to hold his arms out towards her. “Come here.”

“No,” Annabeth says, taking a step back.

Percy gives her the look, and she finds herself unable to resist approaching him anyways. She steps into his arms, despite Reyna’s animated gagging motions and Leo’s whoops, and he wraps around her tightly. He’s really warm right now, and he smells so good that she could just curl into a ball and fall asleep right now. She never wants to leave his embrace. She feels protected and cared for, and it offers a place to hide from Leo’s mean flirtatious remarks.

Percy holds on for longer than expected and Annabeth has to pry his arms away. It works for a second, but then his hands are going to her cheeks and pulling her towards him, and her stomach is dropping.

He presses a sloppy wet kiss to her cheek, making sure to be obnoxiously loud, and Annabeth gasps, smacking him and wiping her cheek.

“Got you!” “You’re embarrassing me,” she whines, taking the bottom of his shirt to wipe his slobber away.

Piper has her phone out and a big smile across her face. Percy gives Piper a thumbs up before looking at Annabeth. He’s still smiling, basking in her misery and humiliation.

“But I made your day better!” Percy says, laughing. “Tell me you don’t feel better.”

“Oh, I feel fantastic that you just planted one on me in front of a bunch of students,” she says sarcastically, shoving him by the chest. He stumbles back but immediately returns, undeterred.

“As a student of yours, I do not feel fantastic,” Reyna interrupts. “In fact, I feel violated.”

Leo winks at Reyna, and Reyna shivers.

“I hate you all,” Annabeth says. “You children are the sole reason I regret becoming a teacher.”

The banter continues on between Percy and Annabeth for the rest of class, the students chiming in to team up against them. Even though Annabeth was immensely annoyed, she still has to admit that she does feel better. She hates these kids so much, but they also mean the world to her, so she can’t find it in her to be too bothered that they lost a day of teaching anymore.

The bell for lunch rings and Annabeth all but kicks her students out. Piper is the last one out, demanding a hug from Annabeth, and it’s only a little weird. Annabeth was used to Piper’s antics by this point.

Once the door closes, Annabeth turns to Percy, tilting her head at him.

“It was funny,” he says, snickering under his breath at her face. He comes up in front of her, and because there is no one else around, he puts his hands on either side of her to trap her against the wall.

“It was embarrassing,” she mumbles, resting her head against his chest.

“I love you,” he says, kissing the top of her head. “You were having a rough day and I thought I could make it up.”

“By nearly outing us to the class?”

“You said it yourself — they’re too stupid to actually suspect anything.” Percy nudges her chin up with his nose. “If you’re still having a bad day, I can perform some tabular integration with you?”

Annabeth snorts, accepting the short kiss he gives her. “What?”

“Urban dictionary. Look it up.”

Annabeth shakes her head and bites her lower lip, endeared. She really loved this boy, even if he taught marine and used undeniably dirty terms off of urban dictionary.

“You plan on interrupting future classes again?” Annabeth asks, pressing her lips back to his. She breathes into it, letting her earlier worries slip away.

Percy smiles into the kiss. “If this is what I get, then yes.”

#percy jackson #percabeth #annabeth chase #pjo #percy and annabeth #percy jackson and the olympians #my writing #anon #asks #teacher au #i hope u enjoy😬i admit i am quite nervous with this

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dinosaurtsukki · 4 years

Text

haikyuu!! music idol au (nekoma and fukurodani vers.)

i haven’t actually posted some hc’s in a while because i’ve been reading the manga but i hope you guys enjoy this surprise !! also check out the karasuno vers. and seijoh and shiratorizawa vers. for more music idol au’s

TOKYO IDOLS ENTERTAINMENT

(this may or may not be the last of this series, maybe I’ll make one for inarizaki and date tech who knows?)

Also I hope y’all are ready for me Badly Titling Things Again

Okay so they’re both under Tokyo Idols Entertainment

Hah that wasn’t so bad was it just wait for it

Stray Cats and OWL6

This blogger’s brain cells are so fried that they’ve now resorted to puns

sO THEY’RE BOTH UNDER TOKYO IDOLS AND THEY’RE REALLY AMAZING GROUPS AND THEIR TALENT HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH THE SHITTY GROUP NAMES

anyway so it was set up by Nekomata and they’ve been pretty good at producing groups over the years but their biggest hits have been their two recent groups

both of them actually started at the same time but they work with quite different concepts and have different dynamics

but they tend to collab and interact with each other a lot which the fans love

so lets get into the groups

Stray Cats - Nekoma

their leader is Kuroo ofc and they work with a lot of bad boy/edgy concepts and their music is more on the hip-hop and R&B side

a lot of their music videos and outfits are in the black-and-white with pops of red, blue, and yellow

you think the fans would get tired of seeing them in matching suits and leather jackets but no

anyway, Kuroo’s they’re leader who’s also main rapper, dancer, and visuals

he actually started out as a vocalist but since Stray Cats was going to be more of a hip-hop group he eventually picked up rapping (although those who have Deeply Analyzed the backing vocals for some of their tracks claim that Kuroo’s vocals will save the world)

his dancing looks super fluid and natural because he also tried ballet dancing at one point

sometimes he films himself practicing and shows off by wearing stilettos and not once tripping over himself

kai and yaku were his fellow trainees and just like in the manga, kuroo and yaku did not get along and kai had to be there to make sure no one died

kuroo and yaku were quite competitive with their dancing but eventually they realized that the fans loved their dynamic during their dances and worked together for once

their choreos almost always involve someone carrying yaku on their shoulders

he’s also another main rapper and he’s really good at a variety of styles

he’s also the mom of the group and likes to check on everyone before going live

the one who trains the more inexperienced members with their choreography and while he’s very much a perfectionist, he’s also the one who reassures them when they make a mistake on a live stage

kai is actually the genius behind most of their songs because his producer skills are mad crazy he’s been invited to collab with so many other artists (including the wonderful Kiyoko-san)

kuroo and yaku have no idea what goes on in his head but it’s probably music

they always make sure that kai gets enough sleep and is eating right when he’s working on an album

his dancing is pretty solid but he’s more well-known for being a main rapper and his smooth, sultry voice during the chorus that gives everyone eargasms

next we have kenma who’s one of the few main vocalists of the group

his voice is a nice tenor and he can hit a good amount of the high notes

can harmonize like it’s nobody’s business

he and kuroo had been friends since they were practically born and while kuroo dreamed of becoming a music idol onstage, kenma was more interested in songwriting and producing music

he joined Tokyo Idols for the opportunity to be a producer but Nekomata was like ‘why not be an idol?’ and kenma was like ‘no, I’ll have to dance’

he was then persuaded by kuroo and kenma decided to do some vocal training to make up for not wanting to move around so much

so, most of the time, he’s in the back and during his turn in the chorus he’ll make a bit of an appearance

he has done a few live solo performances but he’s playing the piano in them so he doesn’t have to look at the audience so much

he loves working with kai in the studio more than anything

doesn’t have a social media account because he doesn’t want to see how the fans talk about him (they mostly say good stuff though!)

now we have taketora who’s the main rapper of the group as well

this guy is an expert beatboxer and he does a very good job of hyping up the crowd

his rap is the kind that even fires up his teammates and they always let him know that he did a good job after every performance

he actually has a good amount of tattoos on his arms and he used to cover them with long-sleeves but the fans love them arms and the tattoos even more so

#MakeTaketoraSleeveless movement on Twitter thus begins

Taketora was super flattered but okay with it

Fukunaga is another main vocalist and he has a very deep voice that blends really well with his fellow vocalists

His voice doesn’t stand out that much and he doesn’t have a lot of solos but Stray Cats’ specialty is really blending their vocals (aside from their rappers and dancers)

And you can also definitely notice a difference when Fukunaga isn’t singing a part

He’s also the kind of dancer who does a lot of cartwheel and flip-like stunts that come in during the dance breaks

Has this habit of staring blankly in the distance during group interviews and fans make memes using his face

He also likes messing with his senpai’s but they all blame lev and don’t suspect a thing with Fukunaga (well, that’s until he posts the video)

Lastly, we have lev who is the youngest among all of them and also main vocalist and visuals

He has a nice baritone voice and he does most of the singing in the chorus but tends to get a bit lost when Fukunaga and Kenma come in

A lot of his time is spent practicing how to not get lost when people are harmonizing with him, especially since that’s what Stray Cat’s known for

He actually came in a bit late, like after the group had its first debut since they felt like they needed another vocalist

Lev also has a natural talent when it comes to dancing so Nekomata added him to the group

It was a bit difficult integrating him into the group but he also added onto the overall chemistry as the baby of the group

As much as they know he makes mistakes, his senpais always congratulate Lev on how far he’s come

No one wants to admit that he gets handsomer by the day because it will add to his ego but the fans do enough of that

OWL6 - fukurodani

They only have four members (because idk a lot about all the members and I also wanted to have like a four-person group)

JUST BECAUSE THERE’S A NUMBER 6 IN THE NAME OF THE GROUP DOESN’T MEAN THAT’S HOW MANY MEMBERS THERE ARE *glares at SEVENTEEN* *also I ended up looking up how many members there are in Day6 and now I feel bad I’m sorry day6 fans*

aNYWAY

They’re a very small group since Tokyo Idol wanted to try out having a four-person group

They don’t really have a singular kind of aesthetic or style like Stray Cats does but work with a variety of them

They do a good number of lively pop songs as well as ballads for the b-side tracks

They’re also made up of four vocalists, two of which also know how to rap, and are overall pretty solid

Bokuto’s their leader (even though its mostly Akaashi who holds the group together) but he speaks a lot for the group during interviews

He’s main vocalist, main dancer, and also main visual

His stage presence is astounding especially with his natural talent for dancing and his stamina is endless

He can sing really well even busting out the hardest dance moves

Although he’s unquestionably talented, he does get hit hard by online haters and will shut himself in the dance studio to practice until everyone drags him out

He’s super endearing and sweet around his fans, he’ll remember a fan that he saw more than once and send letters in response to fanmail

Bokuto’s known for being super clumsy though and he has destroyed a mic or his clothes or someone else’s clothes more than once

Once tripped on the way when OWL6 was about to receive an award

Sarukui is another main vocalist and rapper

His voice is quite deep but it sounds really melodic and unique that anyone could tell when he’s singing

Also knows a thing or two about music production and has helped produce a few of their tracks

He’s the one assigned to saying ‘That’s our leader!’ to Bokuto when he’s feeling down

Also responsible for the ‘Bokuto and Akaashi are dating’ prank on Twitter that became a whole thing

A shitposter, basically

Konoha Akinori is once again our jack of all trades, especially since he’s rapper, dancer, vocalist, and visuals

I would say that his back hurts from carrying OWL6 but each member knows how to hold their own

His back just hurts from curling up like a shrimp when he’s asleep

He gets a lot of lines because of this and fans love it when he leads the dance breaks, that being said he’s also tired all the time

Konoha has fallen asleep in interviews more than once and Sarukui takes the pictures of him

Because of his jack of all trades nature he also has a lot of weird, random talents that he likes to showcase in variety shows

These weird talents range from being able to name all of the countries in Europe backwards to being able to make a slingshot using his feet and a rubber band

It’s always something new with him

Everyone cheers him on except for Akaashi who’s soul has left his body

And last but definitely not the least, we have the youngest in the group, Akaashi, who’s also main vocals and visual

Everyone in OWL6 agree that Akaashi is the prettiest among them

He also has such a sweet and beautiful voice that gives everyone eargasms

Sometimes everyone has to stop dancing during practice whenever they hear Akaashi sing

He also does a lot of vocal covers that he posts online and has released a few solo albums since he’s always working on making new music

Although everyone knows that he’d also do really well as a solo artist, Akaashi knows that his members were the reason why he wanted to debut in the first place and it just wouldn’t be the same without them

Extra HC’s for Stray Cats and OWL6

Kuroo and Bokuto have been friends since their trainee years and even though they were disappointed about not debuting in the same group they agreed to collab on a lot of things

During award shows they like to have a performance together, most often a dance cover, until Akaashi and Kenma decided to help out by writing a song for the two of them to perform

The members of both groups like to sneak into each other’s dorms because the more the merrier and they share and order food

Yaku and Kai actually like staying in the OWL6 dorms more because its quieter (since Lev and Tora aren’t there) but change their mind when they see Bokuto

Eventually they divided the dorms into ‘the quiet people’ and ‘the noisy people’

Both of the groups love doing those Halloween performances and dressing up really scary with the same level of production and everything

None of those cutesy costumes, Fukunaga will straight up come in a headless man costume and Sarukui brings a fake chainsaw with him

Some of them like to do really weird costumes though like Lev dressing up as a bottle of vodka and Konoha coming in dressed as Oscar the Grouch from Sesame Street

Sometimes the fans just don’t know what goes on in their heads

Kai tends to get a lot of awards for his producing skills but the first time he did Stray Cats came onstage with him and basically cried all around him while Kai tried to do his speech

They also like to mess around in the comments section when another group is doing a VLive

For example, Kuroo commented ‘send feet pics’ during one of OWL6’s lives and Bokuto retaliated by uploading the ugly selfies that Kuroo takes on his phone

They also either make up the fanchants or memorize each other’s fanchants for the songs

Yahaba, watching Stray Cats doing the fanchant for OWL6′s song: why can’t we be like that?

Iwaizumi: because we have Oikawa

Oikawa: IT’S NOT MY FAULT IT’S USHIWAKA

#haikyuu!! music idol au #nekoma #fukurodani #haikyuu!! music idol au (nekoma and fukurodani vers.)#ok here we go with the tags #kuroo tetsurou #kozume kenma #kai nobuyuki #yaku morisuke #fukunaga shouhei #yamamoto taketora #haiba lev #bokuto koutarou #akaashi keiji #sarukui yamato #konoha akinori #haikyuu!!#haikyuu headcanons

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particularemu · 4 years

Text

Sharing is Caring | A Lee Know/Lee Minho Scenario

Word Count: 1412

Prompts: 103 (Sharing is caring. Now give me your fries.)

Author’s Note: This was a request, but I also want to tag @chrono-miroh. I do have an original Valentine’s fic in the works for you, but because I was sick as shit yesterday I wasn’t able to get it done along with the other fics. So don’t worry bby. Yours is coming!

This legit almost ended up being a smut fic. Whoops

I’m not taking any requests from this list anymore, but the prompt in this fic is from this prompt list.

Having Lee Minho as your best friend was quite a chaotic experience. Over the years he threw you for a loop — the incessant teasing, bickering, and fun memories made you fall for him… HARD. Being best friends with Lee Minho and having feelings for him...

Ouch.

It’s not that you couldn’t tell him how you feel, it’s just that this chaotic and caring man was one of the few people you could actually be yourself around, and you didn’t want to lose that. He comforted you when you were sad, took care of you when you were stuck in depressive episodes, AND he forced you to leave the house when you were being a lonely little hermit.

You couldn’t afford to lose that.

Obviously, if he were to turn you down, he’d probably say something along the lines of “Don’t worry, this won’t change anything between us.” Even if that phrase was a complete lie, he’d do his best to make sure you don’t feel like shit.

Truth is, you weren’t worried about him cutting contact. You knew that you would be the one to distance yourself until the friendship was completely gone — the way all your other friendships ended.

“Hello?” Minho waved his hand in front of your face, laughing when you came to. “I swear, it’s like talking to a brick wall.”

You chuckled. “Why a brick wall? What if I’m a statue?”

“Aren’t statue’s supposed to be pretty?” Minho snickered when your mouth dropped open.

“Rude.” You grabbed a couple of fries and shoved them into your mouth to hide the obvious pout that was bound to form. Even though you knew he was kidding, that joke stung. “Too far bud.” You mumbled, face falling a bit.

“Hey.” Minho reached across the table and tilted your chin up, forcing you to look into his eyes. “You know I didn’t mean it, right?”

You chuckled and shook your head. “I know.”

Minho knew this look all too well. You were feeling down about yourself again. Despite the effort he put into hyping you up all the time, you still managed to sink back into your negative thoughts.

“How long?” Minho turned his attention to his food, taking a bite of an onion ring on his plate.

Your head shot up, confusion evident in your features as you shoved some more fries in your mouth. “What are you talking about?”

“How long have these feelings been back.”

You paused. Fuck he figured it out. You tried to keep a bright smile on your face — you tried so hard to appear happy so he wouldn’t get sick of your negativity.

You wouldn’t blame him. You were sick of yourself.

“A while.” You responded, suddenly becoming very interested in the way your fingernails looked.

Minho nodded as if this was common knowledge. “When did you plan on telling me?”

“Honest?” You reached for one of his onion rings, munching on the fried vegetable while you waited for his response.

“Always.” He took one of your fries and shoved it in his mouth.

“Never.” Again, what is with that nail? Why does it always split?

Minho reached across the table and took your hands in his, turning your attention to the man in front of you. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, but I’m here if you do.”

Your eyes glassed over as he let go of your hands. You reached for one of his, feeling comfort wash over you when he laced his fingers with yours. “Thanks.”

“Mhm.” Minho eyed up your plate before asking, “Can I have some of your fries?”

“You’ve been eating my fries this whole time.” You giggled. “No, if you wanted fries, why didn’t you just order them?”

“I didn’t want them at the time but now they look good.” Minho laughed when you glared at him.

You released his hand, guarding your plate as you frowned. “No you aren’t getting any of my food.”

“Sharing is caring. Now give me your fries.” Minho slipped past your shield and grabbed a bunch of your fries.

“I don’t care about you.” You smacked his hand, causing him to drop a couple of fries on the table.

“You and I both know that’s bullshit.” He chuckled, shoving the fries in his mouth. “Besides.” He chewed on the mass of potato slices until he could form a sentence. “Even if you didn’t, you owe me.”

“Umm excuse me?” You scoffed. “Why do I owe you anything?” You couldn’t recall any lost bets… and you definitely didn’t make the mistake of stealing his snacks again. What’s he talking about?

“You’ve been keeping a secret from me.” Minho shrugged as if it was common knowledge. “You never told me you had a big fat crush on me,” Minho smirked, making your cheeks flush a bright shade of red.

Oh shit, he found out!

You frowned and looked at your food, avoiding his gaze. “Look I understand if you don’t feel the same way. I just hope this doesn’t change anything.”

You really didn’t want to lose him as a friend. It would be tough to lose the late-night cuddles sessions, binge eating ice cream sessions, and the BEST pillow fort builder the world had to offer.

“Wait? Seriously?” Minho’s eyes widened — shock replacing the shit-eating grin that was once plastered on his face.

You panicked as you asked, “What?”

“You really do?” Minho paused, chuckling nervously before adding, “I was just teasing you.”

Oh…

“You know what? You’re an asshole.” You spat as you grabbed your purse, throwing the strap over your shoulder.

“Wait sweetheart, hold on!” Minho reached out to you, gasping when you shoved his hand away.

“Fuck off.” You turned around and left, slamming the door behind you.

You were done — done with all the teasing, done with those dates that weren’t really dates, done with all that flirting. You were done with it all! You’d be happy if you never saw the boy again. It’d give you a chance to move on.

You stormed off home, throwing your purse onto the bench before plopping on the couch. Realization hit you all at once. You just lost your best friend… The person who has been there for you through everything. The man who comforted you during your last horrible breakup.

Five years. Five whole years you dumped down the drain.

Tears streamed down your cheeks as your brain attacked every little bit of you. You were such a horrible friend! You didn’t even give him a chance to speak. God, you fuck up everything!

A knock on the door shook you out of your negative thoughts, attention suddenly shifting to the man behind the door. Was it Minho? God, you hoped it was Minho. You needed to apologize for being such an ass.

You ran to the door and opened it, sighing in relief when you saw Minho on the other side. He instantly closed the distance between you two, lips pressing against yours for a second before he pulled away, hands resting on your cheeks. “You have a horrible habit of not listening.” He kissed you once more, moving you into your apartment as he kicked the door shut with his foot.

Minho’s tongue slipped past your lips as he guided you to the couch, separating to allow you to lay on the couch. “I’ve loved you for so long.” Minho hovered over your body, smiling when your legs wrapped around his waist. “I should have confessed ages ago.” Minho’s lips were back on yours, tongue swirling around yours as you pulled him closer.

You separated to say, “I love you so much.” You practically moaned when Minho kissed down your neck, tongue darting out every now and again. Your hands ran up his back as he sucked on your neck lightly, leaving a light purple bruise. “Hey…”

Minho stopped all movements, eyes boring into yours as he waited for what you were about to say.

“Does this mean I get to steal your hoodies?”

Minho lost it — his head dropped onto your chest as he laughed loudly — the boyish giggles echoing in the room. “Really? That’s what you’re going to ask me about right now?”

“I want to know.” You giggled.

“No.” Minho smiled. “You don’t get to jack my hoodies.”

“Sharing is caring.” You giggled as Minho pressed his lips to yours, effectively shutting you up with a kiss.

#lee minho imagines #lee know #lee minho #lee know scenarios #lee minho scenarios #lee know fluff #lee minho fluff #lee know x reader #lee minho x reader #lee know x you #lee minho x you #stray kids x reader #stray kids x you #stray kids scenarios #stray kids fluff #skz fluff #kpop fluff #fluff #my writing

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vanaera · 4 years

Text

Love at First Snow (jhs)

Synopsis | It is during the first snow Hoseok first meets Y/N. It is also during the first snow he prepares to put a ring on her. Little does he know, fate has other plans. (OR: As Hoseok relishes in the spirit of the Holiday season, he cannot help but also reminisce how you two, though entire polar opposites of each other, ended up together. Characters | dance major (and “academically-challenged”)!Hoseok x Genius!female reader (College AU) Prompt | “You know, you remind me a lot of the Grinch. The only difference is in the end, his heart grows three sizes, but you stay an asshole.” Genre | Fluff, Humor, Angst Wordcount | 16.9k (I’m sorry, this ended up longer than I intended) Warnings | Discussions of verbal abuse from toxic families and mentions of panic attacks A/N | Hi Cristine! It is I, snowflake, your secret santa! This is my gift for @bts-poetry for @bangtanarmynet, and @btsbookclub ‘s Secret Santa 2019 event! I combined this gift with the prompt I claimed in @kwritersworld’s 2019 Christmas Event as my inspirations for both events have merged into one story hehe.

Everyone has some titles to live by. “Well-versed lawyer,” “patient teacher,” “single mother,” “broke student”—one-liner characteristics and descriptions enough for people to summarize the entirety of one another. From each other’s greatest achievements to their itty bitty mistakes, any of them can be used to replace an identifier. After all, people always see what they want to see. It all depends on what title sticks out the most to the majority around them. For Jung Hoseok, he lives up to the title of a lovable boyfriend and a rare one, too. As whenever people look at him, the first thing they see is the aberrance of how he ended up….dating Y/N.

There’s nothing wrong with him, or Y/N for that matter. It’s just…they are the most impossible couple to end up together as they are the most literal polar opposites of each other.

People remember Jung Hoseok as the golden dance major of the prestigious South Tigers University. He got into the Performing Arts program, Major in Dance by acing the laborious dance audition despite his unimpressive results in the written exam. Hoseok’s colorful background from his long-term dance crew, Hope World, and his countless wins in different hip hop dance competitions were more than enough proof to know he is indeed one of the top dancers of the university. With a body capable of executing each move ever known to humankind with such grace and precision, Jung Hoseok also has a stage presence that warrants everyone’s unbridled attention. Thus, it is without question he is the prided Most Valuable Dancer of his university’s varsity dance crew, Synergy. The long line-up of trophies Synergy has placed in STU’s hall of glory, all thanks to the competitions Hoseok led, are enough to say Hoseok is literally the modern-day Apollo.

However, it is not just his talent or insanely god-like face and physique that makes Hoseok so “golden.” Because as if Apollo wasn’t enough, Hoseok also impersonated Helios. Jung, Hoseok is warm and kind and funny. He easily makes everyone want to be his bestfriend the moment they met him. Most people often speak of him first thing in the morning with another wonderful feat he pulled off. Hoseok is great in the things he does — playing as the great wingman for people who need the extra push in their romances or becoming the occasional teacher’s pet who goes to the professor and (easily) successfully convinces them to give the class a deadline extension for a requirement. Hoseok turns up every campus party into the happiest event anyone could ever be in and he is such an amazing, sincere friend who remembers everyone’s birthday and gives out the nicest of hugs. Hell, Hoseok even volunteers in long-inactive “dead” college organizations like the Campus Drunk Patrol, Environment Protection Squad, and Animal Welfare Group in his free time. Hoseok is the literal sun and anyone who knows him — which is literally, everyone — will never be unable to deny otherwise.

So when Hoseok expressed romantic interest in Y/N in sophomore year, everyone around him was beyond bewildered. Most especially, his friends.

“Y/N?” Jimin sputters, “as in…The Y/N, L/N from our batch?”

“Well, yeah-”

“Like the Analytical Physics major Y/N L/N?” Taehyung gapes.

“Yeah, I mean,” Hoseok sends them a questioning look, “is there any other Y/N L/N?”

Taehyung scratches his head. “Well, no…I just thought there’s a Y/N in another batch?”

Hoseok gives him a pointed look, unamused.

But Taehyung’s true sentiment is voiced out when Jimin half-screams at their table, “Why her?!”

“Well, why not her?” Hoseok half-smiles, picking on the fries that were dropped scattered onto the table after Jimin unceremoniously pounded his fist on the surface in an act of over-exaggeration.

Taehyung sends Hoseok a disgusted look but continues his friend’s argument, “Dude, she’s like, the entire opposite of you.”

“And that is an understatement.” Jimin points a fry toward his direction, glaring at Hoseok.

Hoseok huffs, “Oh c'mon, you’re all just going overboard. What happened to the golden rule ‘don’t judge a book by its cover?’”

“First of all, Y/N’s not a book,” Jimin scoffs. “She’s like, the whole fucking library of science textbooks. Last sem, we’re busy doing a group project when Y/N suddenly spewed some SOHCAHTOA shit about the Bermuda Triangle. As if the things she said are already a whole level of weird, she even said them in a manner like Liam Neeson’s ‘I don’t know who you are but I’m going to kill you’ monologue from Taken. And second of all, the golden rule is ‘do not do unto others what you do not want others to do unto you,’ dumbass.”

“Okay I got the golden rule wrong,” Hoseok groans, “but nevertheless, you’re still violating it by judging Y/N.”

“In our defense tho,” Taehyung mumbles over the straw of his milkshake, “Y/N judged us first. I was watching Orange one time in the library and she came over and took a seat with me. And then she said some alien gibberish about how Naho Takamiya always fall stupidly on the stairs because she said, by verbatim, ‘according to basic logic and common sense, that’s not how projectiles work,’” Taehyung clicks his tongue and Jimin cringes. Taehyung continues, “Y/N said Naho wouldn’t fly to the hallway when she tripped on the actual steps. She even actually drew a diagram with computations of Naho’s fall and gave it to me before she abruptly got up and go. God, I’ve never felt so stupid and insulted both at the same time.”

“And,” Jimin adds, “last December, I shared a meme on Facebook about turning on your brain instead of your heart this coming 2017 and guess what she did? She commented below “guess, you’ll just die of heart failure before 2017 even comes.” Jimin rolls his eyes, “She made me feel dumb as if I don’t know how heart failure works. So us judging her back is just fair and square.”

“But you don’t actually know how heart failure works,” Hoseok retorts. He glares at Taehyung, “And dude, to be honest, Orange is overrated and Naho really flies whenever she trips, or gets tripped, on the stairs.” Hoseok throws up his hands in annoyance. “Seriously, are you two judging her for just…I don’t know, being smart?!”

Taehyung sighs. “Okay, that’s a bit true, but the thing is, Hobi, our IQ levels are already a bit higher than yours—”

“What’s that got to do with this?!”

“—And if Y/N’s already treating us like the biggest idiots of the world,” Jimin continues Taehyung’s words, “then what chance do you have in having a decent conversation with her? Much less a more fruitful one that could end up in a romantic relationship? There’s like a 99.9 percent sure-ness she will make you more of an idiot than us!”

“Yeah,” Taehyung nods. “Her thoughts are composed of quadratic formulas and science shit like ‘the mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell.’ While I’m not even sure you know what DNA stands for.”

Hoseok gawks, “Of course I know what DNA stands for!”

“Then say it,” Jimin cocks a brow.

“Dual Nucleus Association—fuck, why am I even doing this—” Hoseok glares at his friends, “What do you take me for? An imbecile?”

“Well, yeah,” Taehyung says honestly.

“That’s why right now, we’re telling you to drop anything you’re feeling in that,” Jimin points to Hoseok’s chest, “for Y/N. Hell, how will you even click together? Y/N’s allergic to nonsense and emojis and your daily vocabulary is entirely nonsense and eggplant emojis.”

Hoseok opens his mouth to argue he also knows about the clown emoji but before he can utter a word, Taehyung beats him to it.

“Dude, we’re not telling you this to insult you.” Jimin snorts and Taehyung closes his eyes before he looks again at Hoseok’s eyes, “Okay, maybe we’re enjoying teasing you a little too much. But we can say this is just payback for you not letting us go home earlier yesterday because you said we ‘need improvement’ which I damn well think not, bitch.” Hoseok squirms and Taehyung claps his shoulder hard, making him wince. “Anyway, what we’re trying to say, Hoseok, is we just don’t want to see you get hurt.”

“How will I get hurt?! Nothing’s happened yet. I’m just saying I like Y/N—”

“That’s what we’re worried about, Hoseok,” Jimin cuts him. “Nothing’s happened yet but we know something already did.”

“Like what?”

“You like Y/N. That’s the problem,” Jimin deadpans. “Hoseok we know you like to take relationships seriously. We even know that when you set your heart on a girl, your imagination is already two steps ahead, playing your wedding in your head.”

Hoseok gulps, a guilty sweat forming on his temple.

“But you see, Y/N belongs to that type of people who have their what-will-you-be-in-10-years solidly planted in their heads. And it’s highly probable a relationship, much less a wedding, is written in those 10-year plans. Much more, art majors like us are stigmatized to bound for failure because society is still close-minded and deems art won’t feed us. And by the meaning of society, it’s the ‘almighty and noble’ science folks Y/N belongs to. For God’s sake, there’s a lot of movies that have already forecasted science and art don’t mix!”

“Well, I don’t remember any movies—”

Taehyung looks at Hoseok, incredulous. “Dude, there’s like The Theory of Everything—”

“That’s science and faith!”

“Stephen Hawking’s ex-wife sang in a choir. And she also started writing after their divorce! So that’s still art!”

Hoseok was about to retaliate when he feels Jimin clasp a firm hand on his shoulder. He looks at him. Jimin sighs, “Hoseok, we just want you to not regret your decisions in the end. Y/N belongs to those snobbish high-hat people who treat everyone below them like dirt. There’s plenty of other girls out there who are much nicer than Y/N. Nice just like you. For one, why don’t you try giving a chance to the girls who’ve been crushing on you since freshman year? I know a few and they’re actually sweet. Just anyone who’s not Y/N. Seriously, just trust us on this, Hobi.”

Except Hoseok does not. If there is one characteristic to describe Hoseok other than nice and talented, that would be his hard-headedness. He didn’t listen to his parents when they tried to discourage him from taking dance as his major. Hoseok disregarded numerous peers’ suggestions to join a frat so he can “shine more.” He even disregarded the toxic masculinity fraternities promoted by rocking pink overalls with his sparkly ugly sneakers and multicolored acorn pouch (which Jimin told him was the bane of the entire fashion industry) at least once a week. He even changes it up with other colorful ensembles the fashion students make. Hoseok did not even listen to Taehyung when the former told him not to drink before taking their finals in World History because, "no Hoseok, the alcohol does NOT bring back memories.”

And look where his stubbornness got him. Hoseok became one of the greatest dancers his university has ever handled. His sole talent is enough for him to get invited to teach classes in several prestigious art colleges in the country. Hoseok gained more fulfilling and growth-inspiring friendships than surface-level ones offered by frats. He enjoyed more substantial conversations than booze temptation and toxic, trivial fights over games and girls. Hoseok even accidentally created a modeling career with local brands after his viral modeling of a peach acorn-inspired outfit for the project of his fashion major friends. Although him disregarding Taehyung’s reminders was a big mistake as he totally flunked World History, that night actually made Hoseok learn his lesson not to drink before the finals (and also because he learned the alcohol does not bring back memories he actually needed for the exam. But memories of his most embarrassing moments — like the one where he ended up performing in a children’s party as a fairy godmother—complete with the rainbow gown, fairy wings, plastic crown, and wand—because he mixed up the location of the college’s Halloween party with his friend’s family get-together).

So, why would Hoseok listen to Jimin and Taehyung when setting his eyes and heart for Y/N feels like the most right decision he has ever made in his life? Especially when Y/N’s nowhere the high-hat snobbiety concept Jimin put her in. Hoseok is sure about this because he started to see and know her more than anyone else could after the fateful night of the Science Majors’ last year’s Christmas party.

“Is that Y/N?” Hoseok squints his eyes. The person walking towards him is clad in a black coat and indigo satin slip-dress that falls short on her mid-thigh. Her hair is a mess and her small glittery satchel is slipping off her shoulders even if she adjusted it again and again. Not to say she’s also limping on her two-inch silver heels. When the girl raises her head and sees him, her face falls into an annoyed scowl. Hoseok right then confirms it is aberrantly, and shockingly, Y/N. At the sight of recognition in his face, Y/N immediately runs away in the opposite direction. Hoseok finds himself already chasing after her before his mind could acknowledge that he is actually running after the campus’ excruciating goody-two-shoes in the ass'o clock of the night.

Hoseok easily catches up to Y/N. He blocks her way, causing her to halt. Hoseok hunches as he breathlessly puffs, “Hey Y/N, why you so fast?”

“No-none of your business Jung Hoseok,” Y/N turns away from him and crosses her arms. Hoseok almost smiles. It is amusing how she effortlessly pulls her usual “intimidator stance” even in such a weird scenario.

“Well, it is my business if you’re wandering on campus grounds in the night and obviously not sober.”

Y/N whips her head towards him, “I am sober. What are you even here for?”

“According to my eyes, you’re clearly drunk. Look,” Hoseok points to her face, “you look red all over and you can’t even look at me straight.”

Y/N slaps his hand away.

Hoseok puts his hands back in his pockets, “You’re clearly doing some beautiful eyes challenge right now.”

Y/N cringes at him but Hoseok continues, “And for your second question, I’m patrolling for the Campus Drunk Patrol.” He smiles and points to the logo on his jacket.

Y/N leans forward and squints at the logo. Seeing her raised brow, Hoseok explains, “We aim to help drunk students sober up before commuting home. We can also escort them to their dorm facades and notify their RAs to come and get them.”

Y/N still has her brow raised, skeptical. Hoseok sighs, “Well, it’s a dead org so I understand why you don’t believe me. If I also learn some org that’s been inactive for five years has suddenly gone active, I will be skeptical, too. But trust me on this, okay? I’ll just walk you around until you’re sober enough to know how to go home. I heard you’re dorming here. I can help you get to your dorm if you want.”

Y/N still looks unconvinced and Hoseok releases a sigh again. He juts his thumb and points to his back, “We have our Patrol Marshal stationed there by the campus gates. He can totes see us here and tell you’re one of the stubborn drunk students who refuse to cooperate with our protocol.”

Hoseok smugly puts his weight on his left foot.“You can refuse and go ahead. But because the marshal doesn’t let drunk people he already caught go home, he will notify the head RA and trust me when I tell you I’ve seen a lot of students end up in bigger trouble for not complying with our joint protocol with the RA Council. Or,” Hoseok smiles, “you could just make our lives easier by letting me help you sober up.”

Y/N looks away, gnawing on her lip. When Hoseok hears a faint “fine” come from her, he has to keep his jaw from hanging open.

Because, why wouldn’t he be flabbergasted?

Y/N L/N, the fearsome Analytical Physics major, is not the sweetest star out there. With a resting bitch face, innateness to give cold replies, gift of the perpetual judging stare, and insensitivity to joke cues, Y/N is one of the hardest people to cooperate with. It is not entirely because she does not put in any effort. No one just found it easy, or tolerable even, to interact with her. Sure, Y/N’s smart, a genius in Hoseok’s eyes. However, what stuck to everyone’s memory is how she unconsciously belittles everyone around her. Y/N gives out unnecessary run-throughs of chemistry concepts about any movie or animation brought up in a conversation. She instantly goes grammar-nazzi on anyone who slips on the rules of English grammar, especially when people make errors concerning the Oxford comma in their papers. She even goes out of her way to explain to her fellow students the physics of how and why they drove or parked badly with their bike or scooter.

But the pinnacle of Y/N’s negative reputation has to be her merciless removal of her senior’s name, Oh Sehun, from the case study required in Communication Media Theories. In her very first year in university, at that. Although her action is justified as Sehun did not contribute anything at all in the group project, this name removal caused outrage among every college student. Sehun, who is actually the college’s renowned quarterback, graduated late and was now behind of his original team who already got into the professionals. All because of Y/N. Hence, the people in the university have started to associate her name with the title “stuck-up-iest bitch to ever walk on Earth.” Some don’t even seem to remember her name. All everyone knew is that Y/N’s one hell of a condescending bitch.

So having Y/N walk silently by his side, cooperating for the first time without reciting her rights based on the constitution with such accuracy in verbatim while passively and implicitly insulting him, Hoseok cannot help to be so shocked.

Noticing the complete silence that has surrounded them two, Hoseok breaks from his trance and leads Y/N to the college’s cafe. It’s already closed, given the lateness of the night, but it has their outdoor metal chairs set-up outside. He lets Y/N plop down on one of the metal seats as he produces a coffee-in-can for her.

“Do you just casually carry around canned coffees with you?”

“No, just when I am on duty for the patrols. Caffeine is the best way to help people sober up fast.” Hoseok inserts an edible straw for her and she grabs the drink.

“I don’t think so,” Y/N mutters, “Human body processes consumed alcohol on its own, thus, it’s processing speed is neither affected nor aided by any exterior substances. With this, there’s no such actual thing as 'sobering up fast.’ It just feels like that because caffeine is a stimulant and hence, counters the sedative effect of alcohol, making you feel alert and appear to be sober.” Y/N takes another sip, “Nevertheless, thanks for the free coffee.”

Hoseok almost gapes. The people were not kidding about how Y/N casually spouts science shit wherever she goes. Although he’s supposed to get tipped off, Hoseok just finds this set-up oddly amusing. He leans forward in his seat and props up his arm on the table to cup his face. “Anyway, why are you out in the late of the night?”

Y/N gives him an unamused look, “Because I was obviously partying. Is there any other party in the campus right now than the Science Majors’ Christmas party?”

“You’re right,” Hoseok chuckles, “but what I mean is, why are you already outside? The party doesn’t end 'til 2 A.M.”

“I just decided I want to go home.”

“Why?”

Y/N drops her drink on the table, “Are you just gonna ask me 'why’ everytime?!”

Hoseok tilts his head and smiles, “Talking with drunk people is part of our protocol in sobering up. So, yeah, I’m gonna ask why every time until the redness on your nose and cheeks subsides a little.”

“Fine,” Y/N hisses. She gives Hoseok a steely glare, “This night is the first time I’ve done something so stupid such as going to a party in an attempt to expand my connections. It turns out everyone still irrationally hates me about Oh Sehun’s name removal and they refused to interact with me. They kept sending me glares while I just pathetically stood in the corner of the room for the duration of the party, dumbly holding a cup of some alcoholic drink I just realized 30 minutes ago was what you call ‘spiked.’ These pretty heels I wore hurt my ankles and toes all for nothing.” Y/N covers her face with her palms, “God, I don’t even know why I’m opening up about these things with you when it’s just the first time I talked with you. Maybe it’s just because I’m just drunk, god, it’s so stupid–”

“It’s not stupid,” Hoseok interjects and Y/N raises her head from her hands. Hoseok smiles, “When there’s too much alcohol in our system, we get to do stuff we never knew we can. And sometimes, they are things we really desire to do but dare not let out in the open, afraid of what others may think. And it may come off as stupid as you’re letting your heart do the talking instead of your brain. But you know what? You have to be stupid sometimes to acknowledge what your brain may be missing out on. Plus,” Hoseok stretches open his arms wide, “there’s just the two of us here so no one can really judge you because hey, I’m just all ears here. After all, I’m just an officer of the Campus Drunk Patrol helping you sober up.” At the sight of Y/N’s pursed lips and eyes set on the coffee beside her, looking as if she’s convinced (and it looks like it’s not like her to admit it), Hoseok smiles wider and leans forward. “Now, back to your story. Why did you decide to go to a party?”

“Because,” Y/N sighs, “I don’t know, @keanu_reeves_is_the_real_daddy from Hoboken said in Reddit that going to parties is a great opportunity to make friends.” Y/N looks down at her hands and interlocks them, “I’m just–I’m just desperate to get some friends. I’m already in second year, and still, no one wants to be with me. I often talk about how I don’t care whether people like me or not. Most of the time, I really do not care at all. But sometimes...it also gets lonely when you feel everyone seems to hate you.”

“Well, I’m not everyone.”

Y/N looks up at him, frowning, “That’s a great joke, Hoseok. I saw you hanging with Jimin just yesterday and I heard my name as the subject and "stick-in-the-ass bitch” as the predicate in a couple of sentences.“

"Hate to break it to you, sweetie, but it was just Jimin who talked bad about you. Did you hear me say your name and 'stick-in-the-ass’ in one sentence?”

Y/N glares at him. She then rips her gaze away from him to set them back on her interlocked fingers. “What are you trying to imply, Hoseok?”

"I’m trying to imply, if you want to have a friend, I’m willing to be one.”

"But you already got lots of friends.”

Hoseok smiles, “That doesn’t mean I have no room left for one more.”

Y/N gives him that skeptic look again and Hoseok snorts. “Hey, I’m being serious here. I really want to be your friend if you’d like. And no, it’s not because I pity you.”

Y/N raises a brow at him in disbelief and Hoseok purses his lips. He raises his hands in surrender, “Ooohkay, maybe like 0.001 percent I do, but 99.999 percent I just don’t like how everyone hates you for something that is not actually your fault. I really want to get to know you if you’d let me.”

Y/N just stares at him and Hoseok, for the first time in his life save for the days he’s answering written exams, has literally no idea what to do. Is Y/N angry at him for blurting out those things? Or is she aggravated he seemed plastic? But Hoseok knows he meant every single thing he said because first and foremost, he cannot lie even if he wanted to. He’s a goddamn horrible liar that anyone will know he’s lying before he can even start to lie. Second, he always says the first thing that comes to his mind because, in the majority of his life, he is incapable of thinking first before doing something. And third, Hoseok really meant what he said. He’s always been curious about Y/N. Jimin and Taehyung always talk ill about her and from the numerous negative shits he hears from them, he can’t help but think that maybe, her reputation is just one big hell of a rumor. It’s just impossible that so many rumors and negative comments about someone who he rarely sees outside the university, to be true.

Hoseok knows because he also has his fair share of rumors he has struggled to disprove. Like how he “cheated” in dance contests because no one can’t believe someone is just so exceptionally talented that they can win every single competition they join. Or how he “slept around” with almost half of the female population in the university just because he has lots of female friends and he loves to joke around with eggplant and saliva emojis in his texts. It’s hard to be contained in such one definitive title, much more a heavily negative one. Hoseok knew what it felt and it feels it’s just wrong to stay as a standbyer while the entire university jeers on Y/N for such a trivial reason.

“Do-do you really mean that?”

Hoseok looks at Y/N and nods. “Yes, I do.”

Something wet drops on his jacket and Hoseok looks up at the sky. The sky is pitch black, save for the white inklets dotting the atmosphere, lightening up the dark horizon along with the glow of sparkling snowflakes. He turns to Y/N and smiles, “Oh look, it’s the first snow.”

Y/N returns his smile this time. She tells him she wants to stay for ten more minutes to appreciate the snow before going home. Hoseok grins at her and says he’s got enough time to spare before his duty ends.

The next day, Y/N’s frowning at Hoseok as the latter awkwardly holds his lunch tray next to her table.

“Uhhh, aren’t you standing by the wrong table? Your friends sit over there.”

“No,” Hoseok quips. “Jimin and Taehyung are not seated anywhere here because their lunches are scheduled way later today. And, this, in my opinion,” Hoseok scoots to Y/N’s side and sits down beside her, “is the perfect table.” Hoseok digs in his lunch and grins at her, “You should probably start eating now, too, y'know? Your food’s gonna get cold.”

“I–” Y/N bites her lip and look away before she refocuses a glare at his face, “Are you really taking seriously your joke last night?”

“It’s not a joke,” Hoseok retorts, dropping his utensils. “I’m serious about everything I said."

"But I didn’t mean mine. I’m drunk, remember?”

“If you really didn’t mean them,” Hoseok looks at her, “then you can just tell me to leave. I’ll do whatever you say.”

Y/N stares at him, brows scrunched together as if conflicted. She looks down on her hands on her lap and sighs, “I…don’t really want you to…leave. I’m sorry, I just…thought you’re just playing with me. You know all of this is still new to me. I’m sorry.”

“Hey, it’s fine,” Hoseok chuckles, “no need to be so serious. We can take things slowly as long as you’d like.” Y/N pulls up a small smile and Hoseok grins. “Let’s finish our lunches and then we can look at memes. Memes are essential building blocks in friendships.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Taehyung and I became friends after we accidentally sent each other hilarious anti-government blinking man memes.”

It is needless to say the entire university goes berserk later when they find Y/N, the campus bitch, and Hoseok, the university’s sunshine boy, guffawing over chemistry memes during lunch. Hoseok does not understand a thing, but he enjoys laughing with Y/N as she passionately explains to him each concept and why they are funny.

It is true that Y/N wasn’t the dearest person in the world. Hoseok learned this after weeks of dealing with her unintentional snarkiness and unnecessary science lessons that may seem insulting and offensive to others. But through the time he got to befriend her, Hoseok learns Y/N is just too smart for her own good. Y/N always goes around like an encyclopedia because she doesn’t know what else to say when she wants to find common grounds with other people. It is just unfortunate that Y/N cannot speak of anything that does not involve quantum mechanics and chemical structures. Meanwhile, her unintended snarkiness is always directed to people’s redundancy and anomalies in their speech. Hoseok found out about this as soon as February rolled in, that it has to do with the restrictive childhood Y/N had. This, he discovered when Professor Minyoung Park called for him after his Science 11 GE class.

“Hoseok, I see you getting close with Y/N, these days.”

“Yes ma'am,” Hoseok replies. He sits on the chair in front of her desk.

“Oh, then you must have been familiar with how she can get,” Ms. Park leans forward, “not so…friendly around people. I know she and her mind of hers can be a little too much for others.”

Hoseok’s forehead furrows. How did Professor Park know? Although Y/N’s bad reputation has easily spread like wildfire among college students, not many professors or any of the university staff have shown any interest in her life other than her impressive academic standing. Hoseok asks, “How did you know, Ms. Park?”

The 40-year old professor leans back and smiles. “Would you believe I used to tutor Y/N L/N back in middle school?”

“No way,” Hoseok’s jaw drops open.

Ms. Park chuckles, “Yes, it’s true. I know, what a coincidence right? I remember how that pretty girl used to be so insecure about her braces.”

“Yeah, she must be so…adorable back then,” Hoseok looks away bashful. He’s not used associating Y/N with such adjectives. Saying them aloud feels too weird on his tongue.

Ms. Park’s voice makes him turn back to her. “Until now she is. It’s just a shame how she did not outgrow her…usual speech style. But in her defense, it’s not entirely her fault.”

Hoseok’s eyes widen. His curiosity is instantly piqued. “What do you mean, Ms. Park?”

“Well, Y/N L/N is brought up in a home…quite not friendly for children growing up. The L/Ns is a prestigious family. Not for their wealth, but for their remarkable lineage of geniuses. Y/N’s great grandparents are renowned mathematician whizzes. Her grandparents own Fields medals for their remarkable contributions in mathematics. Moreover, Y/N’s parents are well-respected chemists in almost every pharmaceutical congregation. Even their relatives are families of renowned doctors and engineers. From over ten years of tutoring her, I noticed how expectations pile up upon the short shoulders of young Y/N. Every single school day, Y/N has to attend cram schools and private tutoring after her classes to ensure she stays on top of the overall batch standing. She also has to be exposed to upper-class parties at such a young age which I think does not help anyone at all. Especially a child. All the people ever do there is brag about their achievements, scour for new families to ally with or manipulate, and eye each other’s mistakes so they can prove publicly how better they are than everyone else.” Ms. Park looks at Hoseok in the eyes, “Believe me, I used to dream about attending such parties until I finally learned how they go when I’ve been invited by the L/Ns. And with Y/N being a single child, all eyes were on her. So any room for mistakes is non-existent. Her parents assured her to grow like the perfect daughter they wanted her to be by making sure her movements are always constantly monitored and kept in check. You think Y/N studied here because this is just a prestigious school? No. The L/Ns wanted to send her abroad. To Harvard. Y/N refused and convinced them instead she’ll study here because I work here. And her parents trust me that I can be their eyes to see Y/N’s progress.”

Hoseok nods but he cannot help but let his mouth hang open at everything he’s discovering right now. No one really knew anything about Y/N. And suddenly out of nowhere, on some random Thursday afternoon, he is introduced into a pandora box of history where everything about her suddenly seems to make sense.

Ms. Park must have noticed his troubled face so she reaches out and holds Hoseok’s hand. “Hoseok, I’m not telling you these to pressure you. In fact, I am happy Y/N finally found someone who can listen to her and understand her, instead of watching her like a glass-cased perfect doll. I’m just telling you all these not to excuse the mistakes she has done but for you to understand where she’s coming from, especially when interacting with her can be difficult sometimes. So I hope you won’t give up on her, Hoseok. I know you’re a good kid. I just want Y/N to finally enjoy herself like every other college student out there.”

And Hoseok, with his ever characteristic stubbornness did not give up on you.

“What do you mean I cannot state the faulty quantum mechanics in Antman to Taehyung?!” Y/N scowls at Hoseok, fingers frozen on the book she has mid-taken away from the shelf.

“Because you will break Taehyung’s heart,” Hoseok purses his lips and steps nearer to her, almost cornering her to the back of the bookshelf. “And can you lower your voice? We’re in a library.”

“For the same reason you should also back up a bit as I do not fancy you borderline sexually harrassing me.”

“Sexual harassment?!” Hoseok whisper-yells, “I’m stepping closer to you because I feel the need to whisper louder for you to get my point that you should not explain whatever Antman’s faulty quantum shit to Taehyung because that will make him angry. And sad!”

“Why will he be angry?” Y/N sticks her nose up and crosses her arms. “Shouldn’t he feel grateful I am adding heuristic value to his existing knowledge?”

Hoseok drags a hand down his face, “Well, I didn’t say you cannot explain some facts to Taehyung. I’m just saying you don’t tell him those things in a matter-of-factly way you always do because he’ll think you’re insulting him for watching such movies.”

“How should I say them then?” Y/N quips back.

Y/N learns the answer to her question before she knew she already did it. She realizes it when she gets out of her film class and Hoseok, who has been waiting for her last period to finish, asks her how did it go.

“Well, I told him 'The film Antman is quite weird.’”

“And what did he say?”

“Taehyung grinned at me and high-fived me.”

“Well then, it was successful. Much better than how you initially decided to do it,” Hoseok grins.

“But still…I called Ant Man weird, I’m still perplexed why Taehyung is pleased.”

“Calling something weird is a common expression to us,” Hoseok starts and Y/N tilts her head. Hoseok explains further, “’Weird’ can mean as a good endearing weird or an insulting ‘weird.’ If you added statistics of probability and some laws with calling something ‘weird,’ it will sound like 'Hypothesis one is proven: the movie is confirmed to be bullshit because of unquestionable proof.’ And that will appear insulting because you are not giving room for others’ opinions to be valid. It will make you look you’re belittling them if you said it that way. But today, you did not. See?” Hoseok smiles, “you do not have to state 100 percent what you really meant. Just a bit of truth you find essential for others to know is already enough for a small talk.”

Y/N nods, her lips morphed into an amused “oh.”

Hoseok grins as he puts his hands on his waist, “Trust me on this. I became Mr. Congeniality last year for a reason.”

“What does it have to do with making small talk?”

“It means, I am the expert in making small talk.”

***

“C'mon, Y/N, let’s go to the spring festival. Please, please, please, pleaseeee.”

“No, Hoseok,” Y/N pulls her hand from his grip, “I have to study for our finals.”

“But, Y/N, it’s too early for that. The finals is yet to come 'til next month! Look at me, I do not feel any pressure to study yet.”

“But that’s because you do not have any academic standing to maintain.”

Hoseok’s face falls and Y/N immediately rectifies her mistake. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that, Hoseok. Of course, I know you also value your class standing, given your program and all. I’m sorry I’m being insensitive again.”

Hoseok breaks into a laugh. “Oh my god, I’m just fucking around with you! You’re partially right though, I don’t have an academic standing to maintain but a performative one. Although I still have to keep my grades up so I can continue studying here. Anyway,” Hoseok grins at Y/N, offering his hand out, “I only accept apologies in the form of accompanying me to the spring festival.”

“Fine, Hoseok,” Y/N begrudgingly accepts his hand. But Hoseok cannot miss the small smile forming on her lips.

“Don’t fret tho,” He boops her nose and she cringes at him, “we can insert some Q&A sessions later so you can do a bit of studying if you’d still like.”

“How will we do that?”

Y/N learns the answer to that when she finds themselves screaming from the opposite ends of the giant boat ride.

“HOSEOK, DAMN YOU!”

The boat tips and her stomach drops but all she can hear is Hoseok screaming.

“WRONG, Y/N. The answer to the drilling ship which can dig 'til the mantle of the earth IS CHIKYU! NOW, off to the next question. What are CYANOBACTERIA?!!!”

But Hoseok does more than just sticking by Y/N’s side and not giving up on her. He falls in love with her.

Through the months he has become Y/N’s friend, Hoseok cannot help but be endeared by her. The things about her he never thought will come as close to what he calls cute suddenly grows on him. It grows too much that he lives off every single one of them. Even if it usually ends with him getting roasted. He used to get frustrated by Y/N’s never-ending witty comebacks. Now, his heart started singing during their bicker-banters that Hoseok even started to look forward to their bickering. Y/N’s smile that Hoseok used to think was a standard horror level of creepy is now all he could dream about when he’s asleep, and even when he’s awake. The way Y/N laughs at him, or smiles when she sees him were heart-warming. Until they upped 100 million levels and now they have become cataclysmic for his heart. The way Y/N patiently teaches him his lessons, or how her science-y jokes and memes become funny was something Hoseok used to overlook as trivial. Now, he couldn’t wait for the days he’ll bring his notebooks to the library and stare at Y/N’s face while she teaches him quantum mechanics and chemical structures.

Y/N’s small “tokens of appreciation,” as what she called it, like her handmade ‘thank you’ cards she gives Hoseok every month, or her invitations for Hoseok to accompany her to some street event or nearby dance event, or as uneventful as a new food stall that has opened in the university were something Hoseok never put much thought on. Now, they’re Hoseok’s source of both happiness and headaches as they make his heart fly and his brain ache for thinking too much into her actions. The way Y/N looks at him like never someone else has before—so attentive and focused in everything he says as if everything that comes from his mouth has so much worth listening to. Even if it’s a disgusting tale of how he almost shitted his pants before their science exam because he didn’t listen to Jimin when he told him to stop binge-eating spicy wings as a coping mechanism to stress, Y/N listens. This used to be something Hoseok treats as his special privilege as her friend. But now, it has become a national treasure he does not want to share with others. Especially with Namjoon, his roommate, whom Y/N managed to befriend because the former is a Biology major who’s on the same level as Y/N’s intellectual prowess. God, Hoseok cannot even count on his hands the number of times he’s been conflicted if it was jealousy on Namjoon’s effortless way to make Y/N laugh, or petty anger because he cannot even understand their jokes.

Hoseok doesn’t know how or why he suddenly felt all of these things for Y/N. It just happened. And so is how he accidentally blurted it out to her during one of their conversations, despite Jimin and Taehyung’s adamant warnings not to ask her out.

"And whenever I use the microscope in my room, I’m always scared turning the coarse knob so much. It will be horrifying to see the objective lens break the slide and the coverslip.”

“Y/N, I like you.”

YN’s jaw goes slack and she stares at him, eyes wide. Hoseok almost feels perspiration dot his entire hairline for what feels like ten whole minutes in purgatory. Will Y/N leave? Will she scream at him, laugh at him even for his audacity? Will she reject him? Of course she will, what is he thinking? Taehyung and Jimin are right. Y/N is smart and he is too dumb for her to even fulfill at least an ounce of her standards. Y/N is respectable and he is a shameless clown–

“I…am allowing you to be sexually attracted to me, Hoseok.”

“W-what?”

“I said,” Y/N looks straight into his eyes, “I am giving you permission to like me, Hoseok.”

Hoseok balks. “P-permission? W-why do I need permission?”

“Because, if you’re going to like me, I need you to know I am acknowledging your sexual attraction to me seriously,” Y/N stands up, putting her hands in the pockets of your coat. “It will be a waste if you do not want a long-term commitment. I do not have time to dwell on anything less than that.”

Lucky for Y/N, so does Hoseok and he wastes no time proving it to her. For the course of six months, Hoseok courts her in the most possible best Hoseok-way. Y/N lived the majority of her life within suffocating walls surrounded by academics, titles, honors, and people waiting for her to fall. Hoseok wanted to take her with him on a break (and a possible future lifestyle) away from them all. So he takes Y/N to carnivals, dance events, and festivals–ranging from streets decorated in cheap glowing lanterns to grander events that have remarkable fireworks displays.

Hoseok shows Y/N himself at his most vulnerable and strongest. He lets her watch him perform alone in practice rooms as he expresses the things muddled in his head, things he never dares to say to anyone else. Y/N’s been with him when he broke down due to his anxiety concerning his not-so-impressive acads. She was also with him in his embarrassing drunk adventures. Hell, Y/N even participated in his crew’s weird end-of-the-sem party. She let Hoseok dress them two like the two robbers from Home Alone–complete with the rageddy cut gloves and dirty face makeup. But, Y/N has also seen Hoseok’s crew’s successful university tours, the exclusive events he got invited to, and his dance recitals that got many theater and entertainment scouts crowding the room he’s dancing in.

Hoseok shows all of himself to Y/N. Willingly and so transparently, that in turn, she started to show him her self, too. Y/N let him see her in her utter glory. She let him see her receiving awards from various electronics competitions and exhibitions, her creating the first demo of her portable printer and scanner machine that earned many positive reviews from numerous investors, and her getting featured in not just the university’s newspaper or any other school’s newspapers, but the city’s news for a composting machine she invented. And, Y/N also let Hoseok see her at her worst. She let him see her get told off by one of the people she had unconsciously insulted in the hallways, her failing her Communication GE classes, and her having a panic attack when her parents announced yet again another party of scholars who wish to see what she’s been up to lately.

These things made Y/N realize Hoseok was serious about her and she, in return, has started to cherish the golden boy who would never leave her alone for the day until she’s crying from sheer laughter and happiness.

However, it is the small things Hoseok does that really really gets to her.

Hoseok remembers the small details Y/N slips in during their conversations.

“Hey, you are not supposed to eat that,” a fork clashes with Y/N’s own, preventing her from reaching the delectable dish.

“This pasta?” Y/N looks up at Hoseok.

“It has chopped shrimps. I asked Seokjin about it and he said it has prawns.” Hoseok grabs Y/N’s hand and leads her to the other side of the buffet. There, he gets her pasta with white sauce, this time, garnished in bacon. “Here, eat this, instead. It may not taste like the one with the shrimp but at least you won’t get allergies and you can enjoy the rest of the night instead of chilling out at the hospital watching sad re-runs of The Big Bang Theory.”

***

“Hoseok, you won’t believe how fascinating my yield turned out to be, like–Hoseok, what are you doing?

Hoseok pauses in his fumbling and blinks at Y/N. He looks down back at his bag and sighs. “I was hoping to keep this a surprise but oh well.”

He pulls up something from his bag and Y/N’s left gaping when he hands her a box of baked cookies. He rubs his neck, the tip of his ears reddening under her gaze. “I remember you telling me it’s been a while since you ate cookies. My mom baked a lot for us so here, have some. I know you’re on some ridiculous diet your parents told you to take. But I hope you could give yourself a cheat day and just eat and enjoy the day. Your parents aren’t here.”

Hoseok never fails to check up on her.

“Hey, how long have you been hunched over your desk now?” Hoseok’s voice blares from Y/N’s phone’s speakers and she sighs.

“About five hours now, I think?”

“Okay. Why don’t you take a break for ten minutes before going back to the grind? You told me your back is being an ass to you for two weeks now. Give it some rest. Also, drink some water.”

“Okay mom, will do,” Y/N chuckles over the line.

“Okay my daughter,” Hoseok sing-songs and she snorts. “I’ll call later and check up on you. Don’t dare to not take a break. I know where your dorm is and I’ll break into your window if I have to.”

“Okay, okay, will do, my personal health support system.”

“Glad to be of your service, ma'am.”

***

Y/N sighs as she throws her bag onto her bed. Today is a beat day. Mr. David was sour and he poured all his frustration on their class by giving out unnecessary lectures instead of teaching the new lesson. Y/N guesses she’ll have to self-study again for a quiz the prof has irrationally scheduled for tomorrow. And oh, Ms. Peterson also gave out a heavy paper late. It will force Y/N to cram for it in two days as submission date is just the day after tomorrow. Why is every deadline piling up today? It’s not yet even finals week yet!

Y/N plops onto her desk with a heavy sigh. She’ll end up having to do an all-nighter again — wait, what’s that doing there? There’s a pack of sandwiches in a clear food container sitting on top of her desk, beside her notebooks. Y/N doesn’t remember buying one or requesting her rommate, Jae In, to buy her one. Curious, she picked it up and turned it around. That’s when Y/N sees a yellow post-it attached on the plastic container.

“Hey Y/N. I thought of you today and decided to make you a sandwich. This is edible, I assure you. I asked my cooking mama friend Seokjin to come over and help me. Eat this snack before you do your work. I know you always start work right after coming home from your classes. I hope you eat on time and not skip on meals.

With super duper mega love,

Hoseok 😘”

And Hoseok helps Y/N to the best he can, whenever he can, especially about things she’s passionate about but no one takes time to really understand.

"Hey Y/N,” Hoseok greets as he plops down next to her seat in the library.

“Hoseok?” Y/N glances up at him, eyes wide, “What are you doing here? You told me you have practice today.”

“Eh, the members cancelled on me today. And also, I’ve missed you, so I figured why not visit you.” Hoseok grins at her and she momentarily forgets how to breathe. Y/N doesn’t know when Hoseok started to have that effect on her, it just happened. And although it is starting to be an inconvenience regarding how she becomes a nervous wreck under his gaze, she weirdly cannot find herself complaining against it.

Hoseok leans forward, breaking her trance. “Now, what should we study today?”

“Uh-uhm, cellular mechanisms. I wanted to learn more about cancer cells.”

“Cellular mechanisms it is, then. Want me to help you make diagrams?”

Y/N nods and Hoseok grins, “I see the skills of artist Hoseok is not about to die anytime soon, eh?”

***

“How does that work, Y/N?”

“Well, it converts the mechanical energy from every step you take into electrical energy. It’s not yet finished so I’m still figuring out how many more parts I need for this to work. My previous demos have a lot of mistakes.” Right at the same time, a bolt pops off. Y/N runs a hand over her face, “And a lot of malfunctioning parts.”

Hoseok scratches his head. “I don’t know about any energy conversions but I know how to screw well?”

“Is that a question or a statement?”

“A-a statement. I can fix what we have for now while you revise your design. Whaddya think?”

“That sounds good.” Y/N turns around and heads for her blue prints. But before she can pick up her measuring materials, she turns back to Hoseok, meeting his gaze as he’s mid-picking up a screw driver.

“Thank you, Hoseok for assisting me on this. I know it’s just a personal project and I may be taking too much of your time when you should probably be resting at your dorm.”

“Pssh, you’re not taking too much of my time. I am enjoying my time with you. Also, it’s not just a personal project. It is a personal project so of course, it deserves to have gigantic importance to you. And it will turn out great because I know it will. Now go let’s get these revisions done so we can do another test run.”

Hoseok has been a wonderful friend, an amazing supporter, and a sincere person who never feels ashamed of showing Y/N what he felt. That is all she needed for her not to doubt anymore and accept his confession.

“Hey, Y/N,” Hoseok huffs, hands tucked deep in his red parka. “Why did you tell me to meet up in the park? It’s cold out. Can’t it wait 'til tomorrow?”

“No, it cannot,” Y/N faces the man, brows scrunched, her lips red from the number of times she has bitten it. “Hoseok, there’s something I need to tell you.”

“W-what is it?”

“I…am reciprocating yo-your profession of your sexual attraction to me.”

“What?”

“I said, I am reciprocating–” Y/N’ bites her lip and closes her eyes. When she opens them again, she gives Hoseok the most focused stare she can ever give. “Hoseok, I am accepting your love confession. I like you, too.”

Hoseok stares at Y/N, eyes wide, mouth agape. And for too long that Y/N thought the cold must have frozen him all over.

“Hoseok, why are you staring like that? I am telling you, I like you too–hmppf!”

Hoseok is kissing her, his lips pressed softly against hers in a gentle peck. Before Y/N could process things in her head about what to do when the boy she likes started kissing her, Hoseok is already coaxing her lips to dance with his. And before long, Y/N is returning him a kiss with the same ardor as his. It’s not like her to suddenly make out with someone so publicly. Hell, it’s not even like her to kiss someone with such passion that the warmth she feels on her chest comes close as to the heat of the sun. But as Y/N stays in Hoseok’s embrace in the middle of the frosted park which contrasts their warm chests, everything just feels so right.

So right, as if fate just planned this very night for the two of them. Because, as their kiss comes into an end, Y/N and Hoseok both jolt at the drop of wetness that land on their heads. Y/N looks up and sees the familiar soft white snow falling from the dark night sky. The first snow. Right then deja vu sets in of how it was just one year ago she met this giggling boy in front of her at the very same time of the year.

“I guess the universe wants us to be together, too.” Hoseok smiles.

Y/N grins at him and sinks deeper into his embrace. “As preposterous that sounds given that the universe is, literally speaking, a no-higher living being, it is more preposterous that I am finding myself agreeing to and blushing because of this.”

“I can’t understand what you said but I think it means you like it too so I’m deciding this is one of the best blush-worthy moments I ever had,” Hoseok kisses the top of Y/N’s head, “and whatever you say won’t stop me from taking back what I said.” Y/N nuzzles her nose against his chest, smiling at the way she cannot tell her heartbeat apart from his–the beats beneath their chests in sync despite the incongruity in her words.

***

Loving Hoseok is easy. He is charming, generous, understanding, and everything Y/N ever wanted. Even more, nothing really changed from their friendship, just the addition of cheesy pick-up lines, sweet kisses here and there, hot make-out sessions which more often than not escalate into passionate (and very amazing) love-making. And Y/N loves her relationship with him as well for this. Because even if Hoseok succeeds in making her a soft mush for him, she cannot live her life without having him be the best-est friend she could ever have in her life.

But from all the things Y/N loves about Hoseok, her most favorite has to be his utter transparency. What she sees in him, is what she gets. Hoseok is unabashed in proclaiming his feelings for her. He does not get embarrassed in showing Y/N his love for her. And, Hoseok does not keep secrets from her. He just willingly tells everything about him to her, no euphemisms, no lies. Y/N guesses this is probably the reason why their fights never last too long. Moreover, this quality of his makes up for Y/N’s inability to effectively express her thoughts and feelings. He taught Y/N pure utter honesty that so many people have stigmatized for naivety, but actually felt so amazing. He also taught Y/N to trust and let down her walls for people so they can be able to love her. Hoseok inspires and motivates Y/N to become a better version of herself, not only for the sake of others, but also for herself, and she cannot be grateful enough for that.

Titles didn’t matter with Hoseok, with Y/N, and their relationship. What only matters is their labels for each other–boyfriend and girlfriend, lovers loved and in love. Hoseok does not encrypt his messages in a way that would match Y/N’s mental capacity – He just talks with her like the way he is, nonsense and eggplant emojis and all. Hoseok does not burden Y/N with heavy, unreasonable expectations. He just loves her and lets her be whatever she wants. He just stays by Y/N’s side as she freely learns from and works on her mistakes like every flawed human being. With Hoseok, Y/N knew what she deserves and she started to live her life the way she has always dreamed of–so flawed but so perfectly Y/N L/N who is unafraid of what the future may bring to her.

However, not everyone cannot fully comprehend Y/N’s relationship with Hoseok. Loving Hoseok may be easy but the environment surrounding their relationship is an entirely opposite scenario. For Hoseok’s and Y/N’s disregard of titles, does not guarantee everyone else around their relationship will do the same.

Y/N’s relationship with Hoseok spread throughout the campus like a Jeffree Star fight-controversy with another YouTuber in 2x speed. The entire university has gone berserk yet again, unable to fathom how someone who shines so bright like Hoseok can be together with someone like Y/N who dims other’s lights. And for other people, they cannot understand how such a happy-go-lucky academically-challenged student like Hoseok can even amuse such no-shit, genius brain of Y/N.

Almost everyone has something to say about their relationship. And, most often than not, they are negative. It didn’t help anything in their relationship as Y/N is already insecure as to why Hoseok even chose her when he can have any woman he wished. Y/N knows she’s difficult to be with. She struggles with expressing her feelings and thoughts. She even feels like she’s making things too hard for Hoseok. You see, Y/N’s a safe player. In whatever grounds she’s in — academics, social life, family ties — she always plays safe. Y/N finds it hard to not be so, especially when all her life, she has been groomed to be a person well-liked by everybody else — a person safe from any negative impression that may tarnish her reputation. So, when things get a little bit too hard with Hoseok, Y/N finds herself automatically heading for the exit.

Just like in one Wednesday night in August. Y/N had her fair share of fights with Hoseok. From the difficulties that tie with his popularity, her inability to show her feelings to him that sometimes makes him question her love, his procrastination and occasional lack of care for his academics, her nature to obsess over her studies that she tends to forget herself and everyone around her, to his numerous female friends who have the audacity to still flirt with him even if they all know he’s dating her — Y/N and Hoseok have fought about them all within their seven months of dating. And sure, they were already pretty bad fights given that they were immensely serious with Y/N and Hoseok ending up screaming at each other, giving each other cold shoulders, and ignoring each other for at most (usually) five days. But this Wednesday night was not like any of ther previous fights. Because this time, Y/N told Hoseok she wanted to break up with him.

“Will you stop for a second, Y/N?!”

Y/N swiftly turns around, tears brimming her swollen red eyes, “What do you want, Hoseok? I already said what I need to say. I am tired of constantly being the bad guy whenever we fight. I am tired of this, of you. I want to break up.”

“No, you don’t mean that,” Hoseok almost cries. He looks equally devastated as her — swollen eyes, pale face, trembling fingers. “N-no, you don’t mean that,” he repeats, this time, his voice breaking.

“Of course I mean them, Hoseok,” Y/N spits, “I never say things I do not mean. You know me.”

“I know you,” Hoseok retorts, “that’s why I am telling you right now you don’t mean telling me you’re tired of our relationship, of me. That you want to b-break up. B-because you’re Y/N,” he breathes out. “You seem cold but you actually care. You do not speak your thoughts or feelings aloud but act on them. Okay, maybe you speak them out, but you say it in a way most people do not understand so that still does not count. But, Y/N,” Hoseok reaches for her hand before she can even think of shaking off his hold, “I know you love me. Deep inside the deepest of your hypothalamus, like you said, I believe you love me. Or else, you wouldn’t stay when I told you to watch me dance alone, frustrated with the world. You wouldn’t put in effort befriending Taehyung and Jimin despite knowing what they all said about you in the past. You wouldn’t have told me you wanted to come with me to my hometown and meet my family for my dad’s birthday. And,” Hoseok looks down at his feet, “you wouldn’t have stayed with me this long knowing how annoying I can be and what everyone else has to say about us. So please, Y/N. Just please…stay. Let’s talk it out together. Don’t just break up with me. Please don’t just l-leave me alone.”

When Hoseok looks up at Y/N, it is with his brows scrunched together, eyes glazed over, and form almost kneeling in front of her. He holds her hands so tight, but yet so gentle, as if afraid if he clasped her fingers tighter, it will be too suffocating that she’ll slip away from him. He just looks at her and she cannot help but return his gaze. Y/N realizes right then, it may have been a bad decision to do so. For all she could see in his eyes is her reflection. Her and only her. It even seems as if he’s trying to keep the entirety of her as vivid as a memory can be. And maybe it’s because it’s the way he unabashedly tells her everything he loves about her. Or the way he remembers every single detail about her. Or how he knows her so well despite their relationship blooming at such a young age. But, they are all enough for Y/N to hold his hands tighter and let him engulf HER in his arms.

“H-Hobi–”

“S-see? You even still call me like that,” Hoseok mutters above her head and Y/N bites her lip as she clutches onto his jacket tighter.

“Hobi, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean them. I’m not tired of you. I’m not tired of u-us. I do not want to break up with you. Not at all. I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” Y/N lets out a sob and Hoseok hugs her tighter, running a hand over her hair, knowing it calms her down. “It’s just that everything’s been too much lately. The-the way your friends–”

“What did they do?” Hoseok’s voice deepens close into a low growl. Y/N gulps. “Please tell me, Y/N,” Hoseok says softly as he cups her face in his warm hands. Y/N bites her lip and looks away. She does not want to be that type of girlfriend who instigates a fight between their significant other and their friends. She does not want Hoseok to have a bad blood with people he cares about. But then, Y/N remembers their fight two months ago. That night when she confronted Hoseok about the consecutive late nights he has spent in the practice room, neglecting his studies and even his own health for the past two weeks. The moment Y/N cornered him about it, Hoseok broke down and told her everything — how he lacked the motivation to perform well in his recitals and how his course adviser told him to pull his shit together before he fucks up the nearing international dance competition.

“She told me that I’m dating you right now but why can’t I even pull my shit together like you do. That she doesn’t understand why you’re even dating me when you can date far more competent guys. That sooner or later, you’re going to break up with me. Because,” Hoseok sighs and smiles, but it doesn’t reach his cheeks, a tear slipping down them instead, “look at me. I’m so sloppy. I’m such a loser—”

“No, you’re not!” Y/N interrupts him and Hoseok jolts. “You…you’re not a loser. Sloppy, yes, sometimes,” Hoseok winces and Y/N grabs his arms and pulls him toward her so she can hug him tight. “Hoseok, listen to me. I’m your lover. No one else’s but yours. I love you and I will not leave you. I do not care about other guys, if they are more competent or whatever. After all, competency is just a social construct designed to promote the societal standards that aim for conformity.” Y/N disentangles herself from him to cup his face in her hands. “Hoseok, you are not a loser. And, you’ll never be. How can you be at least an inch of one? You were the one who led countless competitions which won our university so many awards. Almost ALL the trophies in our campus’ Hall of Honor were all thanks to you. You were the one who helped our fashion design majors grab an opportunity with various labels after your runway a year ago became viral. You were also the one responsible for resurrecting countless dead orgs with actually good goals. They even received rewards from the local government because of the projects you arranged! You’re not a loser, Hobi. In fact, you are the opposite of loser. It’s just your prof is an ungrateful bitch, demeaning you like that when you’ve brought glory to her name as your program adviser. What a fucking asshole, I could have punched her in the face and—”

Hoseok detaches his lips from hers and smiles. “I can’t believe I’m starting to rub off of you. You just said your first curse word. Two even!”

“Damn you, Hoseok. I’m being serious.”

“And so am I. Thank you for cheering me up, Y/N. This is why I love you so much!”

Hoseok has always been honest to Y/N and she decides it’s only right for her to do the same.

Y/N looks up at him. “Nayeon, Sungyoon, and…Sara cornered me yesterday and I thought it will be about what you are recently up to. Why you were absent at yesterday’s practice. It turned out they did this high school toxic open-forum-like session where they told me all my shits and why I shouldn’t hang out you. They said you were no longer the Hoseok you used to be because I kept dragging you down. That I…do not deserve you and you should be with girls like you. And you know what, I thought so, too. Because, you have far better things ahead from you than tying you down here with me.”

“No one can tell what you deserve or not, Y/N,” Hoseok retorts. “Only you can. And, I know what you are thinking right now maybe the opposite of what you really think about yourself. But if I could help, I think you totally deserve me. Even more than that, honestly. Because, Y/N, you are not tying me down anywhere. In fact you are tying me up. Not literally but figuratively. Okay” Hoseok closes his eyes, “I know it doesn’t make sense—whatever I say doesn’t make sense on the regular basis, so what’s the difference—but, what I mean to say is, Y/N, you are keeping me afloat. You are keeping my head up from the expectations and shitstorms that is plaguing me. You are helping me stay alive and keep pushing through all the difficulties I face. And for that, I am eternally grateful for you. So,” Hoseok smiles, “do not let anything anyone else says about us get to you. Because, they don’t really know anything about me and they very much don’t know anything about you. They don’t get to judge. Not when they do not know how it feels to have the most amazing angel by your side.”

Y/N scrunches her face at him but she hugs him tight nevertheless. “Must you always be this cheesy and cringey?”

“Only for you, baby,” Y/N could feel Hoseok grin from the top of her head. “Also, I’m gonna have a talk with those girls so expect apologies coming your way. And if things go the other way,” Hoseok clicks his tongue, “expect a decrease in my friends.”

However, everything Hoseok spouted is easier said than done. Because truth be told, Hoseok thinks it is him who actually doesn’t deserve Y/N. She is intelligent but so is she kind. She’s mature and it is usually her who does most of the helping and progressing in their relationship. Most of all, it is more realistic to say, Y/N is the one who has far greater things ahead than him. And it became clearer to him the night she took him with her to her family’s home for one of her parents’ parties.

Y/N countlessly told Hoseok she didn’t need to attend it. She even highly advised him not to come with her. But Hoseok has forever been stubborn so of course when he told Y/N he wanted to meet her family, he did every bit of convincing that get him to where he is now — shaken and lost in the middle of a fucking science exhibit of a party. The night actually started out well. He introduced himself to every member of the L/N family, even distant ones who stayed in the farthest, most unnoticeable corners of Y/N’s house. Y/N’s family members welcomed him with smiles and actively talked with him. Her parents even handed him his plate of food themselves and invited him to spend Christmas with them.

It only started going downhill when it was time for the main event of the party—the what-have-you-been-up-to lately segment or what Y/N would like to call the “let the best bragger win.” Everyone started spewing their achievements for the year in a fashion that challenges the other party to disclose their far greater successes. Which, ultimately, insult the others for their lack of any. The party felt as if it was a battlefield with every member of Y/N’s family pitting their achievements against each other, no matter what context they are in—even if they are not of the same category to even compare. Next thing Hoseok knew, he was being dragged into the center of the conversation, with Y/N’s father asking him to tell his “revolutionary thoughts.”

Hoseok tried his best. He really did. He had recalled every lesson he learned in his Science-related GEs and even tried to apply them in the academic journals he saw Y/N reading. That’s why he doesn’t understand why every single time he opens his mouth, Y/N’s entire family is laughing at him. Is the Dual Nucleus Association found in fingerprints that funny? Hoseok didn’t take too long to ponder on it, for the next second, a hand is pulling him to the front doors of the L/N house. It takes another second for Hoseok to register Y/N was the one who’s dragging him onto the street in angry stomps.

“Y/N! Why did we go out?” Hoseok pulls on her arm, “We have to come back! It will be rude to your parents! I don’t want to leave a bad impression y’know–”

“It doesn’t matter, Hoseok!” Y/N whirls around, distraught, and Hoseok only notices just now her glazed eyes. Y/N chokes out, “Leaving an impression on them doesn’t matter because we have to get out NOW.”

“What? No, Y/N! That’s not appropriate! I–”

“Then is it appropriate for my parents and relatives’ to blatantly insult you right in your face?”

Hoseok takes a step back, “What? But they were laughing at me there. I guess my jokes are–”

“Hoseok, they were mocking you in there. We both hell know the fingerprint DNA trivia you were telling them is not a joke.”

“But your father said the Dual Nucleus Association I muttered was revolutionary and funny.”

Y/N closes her eyes as she releases a staggered sigh, “Hoseok, ‘revolutionary’ in my father’s dictionary meant ‘stupid.’” Hoseok scrunches his brows and Y/N breathes out, wishing she could let out as well the aggravation and loathing for her parents she has kept inside for so long. “He was making fun of you, Hobi. DNA does not stand for Dual Nucleus Association. It’s Deoxyribonucleic Acid. My father fucking knew what this means because he took a PhD in Microbiology and he didn’t even have the heart to correct you. He even put you up in front of everybody else and humiliate you without you even noticing it.”

“W-what?”

Y/N sighs for the nth time as she reaches for his hands. “Hoseok, I’m sorry I left you alone. This whole time, I didn’t know you were in my father’s care. It’s just that my cousin came to me and asked desperately for help about the verbal abuse he experiences at home. The way he asked for my help, I knew he’s about to-to blow up sooner or later. So I immediately went to his aid. And I guess I got so preoccupied trying to make him calm without triggering his panic attacks that I…did not see where you stayed in the party. Worse, I didn't fucking even know you were with my parents. I know this is not enough of an excuse and I have been a shitty girlfriend tonight. So I’m sorry, Hoseok. I’m deeply so so sorry. And right now, I’m trying to make up for my mistakes by telling you we should leave. Now. I cannot let any of them insult you more,” Y/N’s voice breaks and she raises her hand to wipe a tear that has cascaded down her cheeks, “I cannot, Hoseok, for so help me God, I will march over there and declare I want to denounce myself as a L/N.”

Hoseok doesn’t reply. He just nods at her and looks down at his feet. Y/N gulps down the anxiety building up in her larynx as she leads the two of them to the car he rented. She opts for the driver’s seat and hits the gas. Within minutes, the two of them are enveloped by the silent nightscape, a stark contrast to the cacophony of pride in her house.

“Hoseok,” the man turns to the sound of Y/N’s voice. “W-what else did my father say to you?”

Hoseok starts to fumble with the loose thread of his navy suit jacket. “Do you…really want to hear it?”

“Is it that bad?”

“Well, I-your dad questioned my ability to provide for you in the future. Because of my major and aspirations and all.”

Y/N turns to him, aghast, “What?! Why would he even say that? What, he started to forget women’s abilities to revert back to the traditional patriarchal views?! Fuck him!”

“I knew you would say that,” Hoseok says, chuckling softly. Y/N faces him again, this time perplexed as to why he is laughing. Hoseok reads her look and he clears his throat.

“When you told me I was being insulted in the party, I will admit I am offended. But, before that, during an earlier talk with your father, I was not the least bit upset.” Hoseok meets your eyes. “That time, I was scared. Immensely shit-scared.”

“I should have come to you first, not my cousin–”

“No, let me finish first.” Hoseok purses his lips. He then looks out of the car window, at the scarce stars on the sky. “I knew we are far apart from each other. It was obvious even before we got together. Hell, I do not even get the memes you send to me when we first started out as friends. Sometimes, I even get insecure that even if you are not really bestfriends with Namjoon, he seems to get everything you tell me you found at the lab. Just by listening to our conversations, he understands them all. So effortlessly at that. I even have to plead him to tutor me and dumb-translate the science-y things you tell me, while I dry my brains out trying to understand them. But when I talked with your father, tonight, how he reiterated your status and skills and their difference from mine…I have never been this scared in my life. Scared that what he said will come true—that you will realize how someone like me can never truly understand you ‘til the long run. That you will get tired of slowing your pace down for me…That you will eventually find someone more compatible with you–who also has a much more stable future ahead of just an aspiring dancer.” Hoseok turns toY/N and he reaches out for her left hand, her free hand. He clasps them in his hands and looks up at her, “But, I swear Y/N, I promise I will do my best. Your father may not be convinced but I want you to know. That I will do my best for you, Y/N. I will learn more for you. I will understand you more. I will improve my reputation into a much more respectable one. Hell, I can quit dance if I have to.”

Y/N gives Hoseok a pained look. “No, Hoseok, you will not quit dance. I do not want you to quit dance. It will be too unfair for you and I know you will regret it.”

Hoseok sighs and shakes his head. “Yeah…that sounds easier said than done.”

“You don’t have to do those things for me,” Y/N squeezes his hand, making him look back to her. “I actually enjoy helping you learn. I love that you goof off the way you want because when you do that, I am reminded people like you still exist today — people who are not afraid of being themselves. Because of that, you inspire me to live more. I also love that you put in the time learning the things I’m saying because it means you genuinely are interested about my thoughts and you are not afraid of women being smarter than you — something most guys fail at. But that’s because most of them are misogynistic, prideful men on their high horses. And, I know you’re not like that. Most of all, I love it when you dance. Because through it you freely express every bit of your emotion. Because, you’re transparent, Hoseok. You’re an open book and I like it the best because you don’t leave me hanging, confused, troubled, and worried about what you’re feeling, especially when you know I am already bad at reading emotions. You are my stable ground, Hoseok. You make me feel safe. And despite the bad fights we’ve been through, I know you’re always doing your best. How can we stay this long if not for you being the brighter one between us when it comes to communicating, knowing that splitting because of things that can be solved will only result in one hell of a horrible mistake?” Y/N turns to Hoseok and he looks at her with his mouth agape, eyes blown wide. She smiles at this. “You have to know you’re more than enough, Hoseok. Like you said,” her smile grows wider, “no one can tell us what we deserve or not but ourselves. And with this, I know and feel that I deserve you, Hoseok. And you, me. What do you say?”

Hoseok’s response to that was not of a verbal one but a physical one—one that involved a feverish kiss on Y/N’s lips, and her jawline that led Y/N to park the car by the empty gasoline station. Feather-light kisses, desperate hands to grab each other as close as they can be to each other, Y/N indulges in Hoseok and him in her in a passionate love that burned so bright it rivals the sun. The only words that transpire during that fateful night was “I love you’s” and for Y/N and Hoseok, they are more than enough of an anchor of him to her and her to him as waves of obstacles come in your way.

All of these moments with Y/N have accumulated into Hoseok’s most wonderful memories in his life. And he still replays them in his head as another year of being her lover passes. Of course, problems never failed to arise as they manage their relationship. But, the ones caused by the comments of everyone in the university have lessened as Y/N and Hoseok have now graduated. Hoseok has left the university after he graduated, while Y/N stayed in the university as she applied for a Master’s degree in civil engineering.

Y/N still lives in her dorm for the convenience of teaching in the campus and studying after work. Meanwhile, Hoseok lived in an apartment in the city, close to the prestigious dance studio he works at. Their schedules are most often than not, amiss, and the distance between them can be sometimes frustrating. However, what remains the biggest obstacle is everyone’s opinions about the two of them. Sure, they were not as restrictive as what the two of them have experienced in the university. But it didn’t mean it hurt less when people say how they never thought someone as fun as Hoseok will choose someone so boring like Y/N, or how Hoseok’s intellect was a down-grader for her respectable reputation, saying she has a tasteless choice in choosing partners. Although these problems may get a little overwhelming, the two of them never let them get in between their relationship.

Hence, Y/N and Hoseok are still madly in love like the first year they have started dating. So in love that Hoseok felt it is now the time to propose to Y/N. For anymore day without her officially bounded with him, when you already own every piece of his heart, is something Hoseok cannot take any longer. He wants Y/N to be his partner for the years to come, his significant other for forever, and the only person he wakes up to and sees last in his day and nights for the rest of his entire life. Hoseok knows this and he has never been surer in his life.

This is the reason why Hoseok is where he is today: clad in an ugly Christmas sweater and mismatched socks, with a troubled look on his face. Hoseok may have only realized he wanted to marry Y/N in late November, but he was able to make an intricate proposal plan to execute before this year can end. Today is Y/N’s free day and he has classes that have ended early. Lucky for him, Jimin is free to take her out for some last-minute gift-shopping in the afternoon so Hoseok can have ample time to decorate Y/N’s dorm with hearts and diagrams of the hypothalamus (because “No, Hoseok, we do not say I love you from the deepest corner of my heart, but from the hypothalamus. We do not feel from the heart. It just pumps us blood”). Hoseok will have the gifts he bought for Y/N delivered that very same day to complete his decorations (and to also spoil her even more). He will cook Y/N her favorite dishes and make her hot cocoa even though he very much likes eggnog more, just because she likes the sweet chocolate beverage. He even requested his orchestra friends Yoongi, Jinyoung, Seokjin, and Sandeul, to play Jingle Bell Rock (“in cursive”) on the far side of the hallway so when Jimin drops Y/N off, she can have her favorite Christmas song as her background music when she steps inside her room and gets surprised.

That is why when his heart and hypothalamus decorations actually looked shit, the arrival of the gifts was delayed ‘til tomorrow, and the meals he cooked looked inedible—not to say the hot choco looked like a mess too and totally un-aesthetic—Hoseok finds himself frozen in his place next to Y/N’s Christmas tree, looking as if he was constipated for ten days. Worse, his girlfriend is already standing by her door frame, kicking the door close like it was just any other day.

Y/N hangs her coat on the hanger and puts her shopping bags on top of her wide cabinet. She nonchalantly glances at him, “Hoseok, what are you doing there?”

Hoseok feels sweat run down his face in waterfalls. If Y/N is surprised he was standing stupidly next to her tree, she did not show it. But right now, Hoseok’s concern is her seeing the decorations he made chucked in a large paper bag he hid behind the tree at the last minute. Of course, it is poorly hidden. He plays with the collar of his sweater “I…um, I–”

“Nevermind. I guess this is one of our spontaneous date nights you ironically always plan. You should inform me next time, you know, so I can prepare for you as well,” Y/N smiles at him. “Come sit with me.” She walks to the sofa by the Christmas tree and pats the seat next to her. Hoseok scrambles to sit beside her and tries not to look like the dumbest fool in the world. Y/N did not get surprised, the orchestra’s music is barely heard inside as the cold wind of early winter overrides it, and he looks totally shit. How can he propose to her now, huh? All of his plans are ruined!

“Di-did you eat already?” Hoseok asks, hands sweaty on his sweatpants. “I made you your favorite.”

“Umm…yeah,” Y/N bites her lip, guilty. “I was already hungry before Jimin and I can finish our shopping and I really felt a great need to devour some pizza today.” She reaches for her small satchel and produces a folded paper bag. “I saved some for you. We can eat it later while we watch Netflix.”

“O-okay,” Hoseok nervously laughs. His eyes land on the pink mug on the dining table. He looks back at Y/N, “D-do you want to drink something? I made you hot cocoa.”

“Ooh, I’ll drink it later. I just had a sweet choco milkshake before I got here,” Y/N bites her lips again in guilt. “I’m sorry, Hoseok, I didn’t know you prepared these stuff for me. If I had known sooner I would have never even stepped out of my dorm today.”

“It’s okay,” Hoseok pulls a smile and he tries not to look a tad bit upset about the failure of his plans, because he knows Y/N will immediately recognize that look.

And, he wasn’t wrong. “Why, Hobi?” Y/N cups his face to make him turn to her, “did I do something wrong?

“No,” Hoseok looks away. “It’s just, my plans…didn’t work out today.”

“What plans?”

Hoseok immediately feels his ass on fire. Did he just almost give himself away? He cannot just blurt out he wants to marry her! He wanted it to be special and he cannot have that happen in just her dorm with his shitty-looking outfit and almost-burned food. He wants Y/N to remember this day and he ain’t taking the risk of letting any bad memories mess up his proposal. And so, Hoseok sighs and decides he has to abort the plan and schedule it some other day. He’s just gonna make an excuse for now. “Well, I just thought we can make this random Thursday special y’know? Keep up with the aim of my spontaneous dates–good surprises making life much better without needing a reason to be. So I just made some food and stuff for the fun of it. It’s just a normal day surprise.”

“Oh, then I’m glad today is really spontaneous dates today. I may have…foiled your plans, but look, I happened to have a surprise for you!”

Hoseok tilts his head, “What is it?”

Y/N grins at him before turning around and fumbles for something in her bag. Then the next second, Justin Bieber’s Mistletoe is suddenly blaring loud from her phone.

“Y/N, did you seriously just play Justin Bieber’s Mistletoe in speaker mode?”

“Oh, don’t be an in-denial bitch. I know this is your favorite Christmas song. A good song has to create the aesthetic and mood for tonight,” Y/N chuckles, “Here, Hoseok, my present for you.” She hands him a box wrapped in a fancy green sparkling wrapper with a red bow tied around it. It was medium-sized, enough for one of his favorite KAWS models to fit inside.

“Present?” Hoseok asks, feeling both joy and guilt respectively swell in his heart and pit in his stomach. Joy, because Y/N is to add another model to his growing collection. And guilt, because he didn’t bring her anything worth the same as her gift. But as he tears open the box, another fancy green box just stares back at him. He looks up at Y/N with squinted eyes. “I see what you did there, sneaky missy.” She just chuckles at him and Hoseok continues to unbox her gift, only to have another box inside. Hoseok wonders what made Y/N think of doing this infamous wrapping technique for her gift when she wasn’t even that much into wrapping gifts. She always just give him gifts in standard wrapping paper, messily taped all over around. Moreover, what even is her gift and how small does it have to be? Because now, Hoseok’s hands are getting tired of unboxing box after box and the gift is now currently the size of a stress ball!

“Y/N, can you just tell me your gift? I’m getting tired. I can open it tomorrow instead and we can just get straight to Netflix tonight.”

“No, Hoseok,” Y/N laughs, patting his shoulders. “Keep unboxing.”

Hoseok continues forth with the unboxing and his heart starts to sink to his stomach as the box got smaller and smaller. This is probably a prank. One to get back at him for telling Y/N last year he bought her her favorite gift for their monito event with Jimin, Taehyung, and Namjoon. Only for him to arrive with nothing but a bow on his head and shamelessly declare to everyone that he is her gift. Nothing must be inside this box to contain a gift so small. The box in his hand is now just the size of a small toy car!

Hoseok sighs as he opens the box. Another green box will appear and then he’ll see the paper saying “Pranked you, Hobi!”

But it does not.

For the box on Hoseok’s hand right now, is gaping open to him right now. And all he sees is a sparkling, silver ring embellished with emeralds that seem to form waves around the base of the band. A fucking ring is sitting right on top of his hand.

Hoseok gapes and just stares. Far too long that Y/N decides to break the silence. “Surprise! I bought you an engagement ring! With green emeralds just like your favorite color.” She grins at him as she holds Hoseok’s hands in hers, making him turn to her while he stays jaw ajar.

Y/N suddenly feels self-conscious and unconfident. This is not the reaction she is expecting. She starts to fear if she’ll spend the coming Holidays boyfriend-less. Just by looking at Hoseok’s stupified face, it looks everything is happening too fast and too sudden tonight for her boyfriend. Nevertheless, she says, “I-I know this may come off as a really big of a surprise. After all, this is an engagement ring and right now I am trying to propose to you. Barely, even. So, of course, this is definitely a shocker. Especially when we only just spent two years dating. Still too early for a proposal to come, as what others will usually expect,” Y/N’s voice breaks.

She wrings her hands together, her feet trembling beneath her, and yet, she couldn’t bring herself to stop. “But, Hoseok, in these two years I have spent with you…I learned what it felt like to be loved and be in love with you. We fight, yes. Healthily usual even. But, at the end of the day, everything still feels worth it. And I guess,” Y/N smiles, “I cannot get enough of it. I cannot get enough of you. Being your girlfriend no longer satisfied me. I now want to be your wife. I want to be the only person you’ll stress over science just to impress. I want to be the person who’ll be your home. The one you will come home to, wake up to, and sleep next to every night, every single day. I want to be your partner-in-crime, especially when we have kids and we’ll play some game I never heard of but will still enjoy in the end just because you like it. But only if you want kids, hehe.” Y/N laughs awkwardly and scratches her nape. “Hoseok, I know I am clumsy in saying my feelings for you. Today is my first time saying everything so honest and raw like this so I know this may shock you. God, you don’t know how many times I practiced this speech in my office. Other professors must already be thinking I’m going crazy—anyway, what I only want to say is,” Y/N reaches for Hoseok’s hand and kisses it. “Hoseok, I want to stay by your side for the rest of my life.” When she looks up at him, she says, “And it will only happen if you’d also love to be by my side forever as well. So what do you say?”

“W-what, I will say?” Hoseok repeats, still shaken. However, he’s so happy he cannot help the wide grin splitting on his face. “Yes, Y/N, I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Forever and ever and ever and ever.”

“R-really?” Y/N’s releases a relieved sigh, fingers wiping the tears that have formed on her eyes. “T-Then, why did you look like as if you’re about to walk out on me when you opened the box?”

Hoseok cups her face in his hands, wiping away the tears. “Because you remind me a lot of the Grinch. The only difference is in the end, his heart grows three sizes, but you stay an asshole.” Y/N scowls at this and hits his chest, hard. Hoseok coos at her as he hugs her tight and chuckles, “You’re an asshole because you headed out straight for my heart—hook, line, and sinker — and now I am completely blown away when I was supposed to be the first one to do so. Seriously, Y/N, I did not expect this to happen this way. Not when I also prepared a surprise for you tonight.”

Y/N’s brows raise in curiosity. Hoseok unzips his gym bag on the sofa and turns back to her, now with a red velvet box on his hands.

Hoseok pops open the box, a ring of the same design as the one she bought him stares back at her. But this one, instead of green emeralds, is embellished with blue emeralds, her favorite color. Right then and there, Y/N wanted to cry.

Hoseok rubs his nape. “I’m supposed to propose to you tonight as well. But you beat me right to it and now I forgot my speech.”

Y/N chuckles at that as she wipes away the tears that have formed yet again on her eyes. Hoseok smiles as he squeezes her hand. “But, that doesn’t mean I’ll skip on this once-in-a-lifetime’s opportunity to propose to you,” Hoseok looks at her, “Y/N, I love you. And I know forever can be a heavy word and sometimes love cannot solve every problem that may come our way. But Y/N, what I said two years ago hasn’t changed. I will try my best. For you, I will. And we may be young but I know you and I are capable to make us work for as long as time can let us. Because you are Y/N, and I’m Hoseok. People may be against us but we know with each other, we are the best we can ever be. We deserve each other. We need each other. But most of all, we love each other. That’s all we need. Me and you. You and me.” After he breathes out, Hoseok cups Y/N’s cheeks and she leans forward and interlocks their lips in a soft kiss.

Y/N grabs onto Hoseok’s ugly green sweater and deepens the kiss, letting her mouth do the talking for her and him. For no words can be enough to express everything that is settling in their hearts tonight — euphoric bliss, the sweet feeling of triumph. Although Y/N can feel a tinge of the uncertainty of what may come to the two of them in the future grappling on her nerves, there resides in her heart the greater courage that despite the unpredictability of life, Y/N knows she can manage it with the constant she now has by her side — Hoseok. And for him, her. Because, Y/N is certain this is the most right decision she has ever made in her life: loving him. And, Hoseok proves it is the same for him as when the kiss comes into a close, he whispers on her lips, “Guess the déjà vu tonight is really working at its best. Fate really wanted us to be together.”

Y/N grins at him, her forehead bumping into his, “And where’s your proof, future Mr. Y/N L/N?”

Hoseok presses a kiss on Y/N’s forehead, on her cheeks, on her nose, then at the corner of her ear. He whispers, “Look outside.”

And there outside, white droplets fall from the sky, lighting up the near-black horizon while frosting up the window panes. It is the first snow. Y/N smiles. What Hoseok said to her when she reciprocated his love confession doesn’t seem so preposterous now. It seems like fate really tied the two of them up together as she first met and started dating Hoseok when the first snow fell. There’s a saying that whoever you’re with during the first snow, you will be with that person for a long time. Y/N and Hoseok have already been living proof of that for being together in three years—friendship plus dating days combined — amidst whatever people say against them two.

And Y/N hopes, that as she and Hoseok promise forever to each other tonight, the saying will come true. Because she wants the two of them to be together for a very, very, very long time. After all, Hoseok is right. She is Y/N and he is Hoseok and together, they are the best they can ever be, titles and achievements be damned. The weather may be cold during these pinnacle moments of her and his relationship but their hearts are warm and cozy, and there is nothing more Y/N could ask for.

Epilogue:

“You know, Y/N, my original proposal was beautiful, I’m sure I’ll have you bawling tonight.”

Y/N gives him a look and Hoseok laughs, “Good thing they’re gone now. D’you know I actually wrote my entire proposal in my hands? They just got erased because my hands have become so sweaty when I chucked away the decorations I made for you.”

“What decorations?”

Hoseok pulls on the collar of his sweater, “Cut-outs of hearts and hypothalamus?”

“R-really? You remembered what I said to you three years ago?”

“Of course, babe,”Hoseok smiles, “It’s you. How can I forget that? But they’re not available anymore as I already threw them away. They looked like shit.”

“Where did you throw them?”

“In a paper bag….by your Christmas tree–hey, why are you picking it up?”

Y/N turns towards him, smiling, her hands gently holding the crushed hearts and hypothalamus cut-outs. “Because you made it for me, Hoseok. Of course they hold value to me. It’s you.”

“You’re really a Grinch, you know? You’re making me cry with your sweetness and beauty when I should be jumping up and down with joy right now.”

“….Do you always have to be cheesy like this?”

“Only for you, babe. And get used to it. You have a forever to experience this one-in-a-million love from the one and only Jung Hoseok.”

A/N pt. 2 | Hi hons! Sorry my Christmas gift for you all was late! My requirement deadlines in uni ended up until Dec. 16 and so for the majority of December, I was solely focused on uni stuff. I tried limiting myself from using page breakers in this fic, a challenge I put on myself to train my skills again in doing transitions in my writing. This story is inspired by the rivalry of science and art majors in our uni in my first year! Also! I hoped you guys appreciate my take on @kwritersworld’s prompt. I want to incorporate it in a very unexpected way, while at the same time, reflects my character in a way I‘ve never done before. OC here is a bit grumpy and lacks social skills to be friendly so I interpreted her as an everyday-Grinch hehe). Lastly, @bts-poetry, I really enjoyed doing mini Q&As with you! I hope you like this gift and I also hope we can talk more in the future!

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