#but most of the time he calls every week. they chitchat. he asks one question about whether there’s anything she’d like to talk about | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

youbloodymadgenius · 3 years

Text

Ivarello (Modern!Ivar x reader) Chapter 1

Moodboard by @quantumlocked310

Ivarello’s masterpost here

A/N: This is my entry for @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie 500 Followers Fairy Tale Challenge. It's a retelling of Cinderella. Congrats again, darling 💖

A huge thank you to @mrsalwayswrite, who's a great beta reader and an even greater cheerleader 😂

A massive thank you to @quantumlocked310, @vikingstrash and @serasvictoria. Thank you for agreeing to collaborate and for sharing your talent with me. Your moodboards are beyond amazing 🤩

In this story, Sigurd is alive. Ragnar and Aslaug are dead, but Lagertha didn't kill her. I took a lot of liberties with the show, I hope you won't mind.

Unlike the tale, there will be no magic involved. Not everything will be realistic, however. It's a fayritale, after all!

Let me know if you want to be tagged 😊

Summary: Orphaned five years ago, Ivar and his brothers have been living with Lagertha ever since. Now 16 years old, he wants to attend Harald's traditional Midsummer party, but obstacles stand in his way.

Warnings: description of car crash; orphaned kids; Sigurd being Sigurd; OOC characters.

Words: 1806

Additional note: I'm afraid I'll disappoint some of you. No more newspapers... The articles defined the setting of the story. From now on, it'll be a regular fic.

Hope you enjoy it nevertheless 🙂

🛡⚔️🛡

June 2021

Ivar yawns, rubbing his eyes, when he suddenly hears the front door open. The next moment, Ubbe shouts, "Hey baby bro, we're home!"

Slightly confused, Ivar looks at the time on his computer. Stunned, he blinks repeatedly, shakes his head and checks the time again, now looking at his watch. "Guess I lost track of time," he mumbles as he realizes it's really 5:30 pm. He clears his throat. "I'm coming!"

Yawning once more, he wheels to the kitchen. Hvitserk waves at him with one hand as Ubbe greets him with a grin and Sigurd... Well, Sigurd ignores him, as usual.

"Hello boys!" Lagertha smiles as she also enters the kitchen. "Did you go to the beach this afternoon?" It's a rethorical question, since sand can be seen on the tanned skin of his brothers, shirtless and wearing only swimming shorts.

When she looks down at him, her smile becomes softer. "Ivar, you seem tired. Did you work all day long?"

He nods, glad that for once she called him by his first name and not by one of those stupid nicknames that she likes but that make his skin crawl.

"Yep," he shrugs without smiling back, "I made good progress. The new version of your website is almost done. It could probably be online by the end of the week."

His stepmom flashes him a beaming smile. "Great, thanks!"

The conversation then moves on to the subject that everyone in Kattegat has been talking about for the last few days: the midsummer party thrown by their neighbor Harald Hårfager. Every June, it is Kattegat's not-to-be-missed event, to which every resident hopes to be invited.

Lagertha is invited every year, yet rarely attends; his brothers wouldn't miss it, not in a million years; Ivar never went.

He listens with half an ear as his brothers prattle on about the upcoming party, while taking a seat at the large, wooden kitchen table on which Lagertha has just put cakes and drinks.

"What are you going to wear?"

"Do you think Marit will attend this year?"

"Hopefully the music will be better than last year."

"Can't be as bad! What was the name of that reggae band?"

For a fleeting moment, Ivar entertains the thought of attending as well. Not that he's dying to, but… Sometimes, he feels a little bit like Cinderella in this house.

Don't get him wrong, it's not that bad.

First, his stepmom is not–

Wait, wait, wait, is Lagertha technically his stepmom? He's not sure. After all, she wasn't when his parents were alive, she was just his father's first wife. Anyway, she may be his guardian now, but he sees her as his stepmom and he honestly doesn’t give a shit if it's a little weird.

Where was he? Oh yes, Cinderella.

So obviously, Lagertha is not a wicked, haughty and abusive stepmom like this Lady Tremaine of the fairytale.

Actually, even if it pisses him off to admit it, she's pretty nice, patient and composed. Does he love her? Let's not exaggerate – he doesn't. She may love him though, which is a little bit uncanny, if he's being honest. He was the favorite son of her nemesis. Shouldn't she hate him? He would, if the situation was reversed.

The truth is, when he was younger, he tried, he really tried to hate her, blaming her for everything and anything. When too much pain prevented him from sleeping, he let his imagination run wild. There, bound to his bed of suffering, he could see Lagertha cutting the brakes on his mother's car, causing her crash, causing her death.

Of course, even then, he knew deep down that Lagertha had not killed his mother; that the story he told himself was just the product of his endless nights of insomnia. But what can he say? He needed this. Because blaming Lagertha rather than admitting that his beloved mother was at fault – by being distracted, or by falling asleep, he'll never know – was easier for the heartbroken boy he was.

Anyway... So yes, Lagertha is definitely not an evil stepmother like Cinderella's.

Also, he doesn't sleep on a sorry garret, on a wretched straw bed either.

Actually, he has a very large room on the main floor, with a king-size memory foam bed, a walk-in – well, a wheel-in for his case – closet and his own, huge bathroom, fully equipped for his special needs.

Sure, the bathroom and the dressing room were already there when his parents were alive; however, the memory foam mattress had been Lagertha's idea.

Anyway... So yes, he can't exactly complain about his sleeping conditions, unlike Cinderella.

And obviously, he's not forced into servitude.

Actually, one might think so, but no, he's not. Sure, sometimes he works for his stepmom, like today. But so do his brothers. When she had taken them in, she was a powerful businesswoman, working twelve to fourteen hours a day. Once she had become their guardian, she had rearranged her working time and learned to delegate; but even so, she had often run out of time. Therefore, it had seemed normal to them – yes, even to him – to help her out, each of them according to their skills and abilities.

So, while Hvitserk almost always does the grocery shopping, while Sigurd vacuums and does the laundry, while Ubbe mows the lawn and trim the bushes, he, Ivar, runs her company's website and sometimes even does the accounting. And since he loves computers and numbers, it's not exactly a problem.

Anyway... So yes, he's not a slave in this house. Unlike Cinderella.

So, yes, to sum it up, he can't really complain and he's by far not Cinderella. And he knows it.

But... Yes, there's a but...

Sometimes, he feels trapped, as poor Cinderella must have felt.

Sometimes he feels like a spectator of a life he doesn't belong to.

Sure, he doesn't have to be homeschooled – but gods, he's glad he is. The reasons for him to be continuously bullied by classmates are endless. The simplest ones being: he is a cripple, an orphan, the son of a dead mob boss, the smartest one in the whole damn school, let alone his class. Take your pick. It's no fun, no fun at all. Being home alone is preferable to that alternative.

Therefore, barely leaving the house except for medical appointments, he has no friends. He doesn't do sports either – obviously – and yeah, he lives a lonely life, filled with video games and Netflix series. And he's okay with that. Well, most of the time.

Sure, his brothers, or at least Ubbe and Hvitserk, always try to include him as much as possible. But the truth is that because of his legs, there are many, many things he just can't do.

And the other truth, the less pleasant one, is that he partially did that to himself. He cut himself off from a world that hurt him, yet he still misses this world sometimes. At times, he blames himself. Because his life, honestly, is hardly what you would call a life, is it? Not when you're sixteen.

That's why sometimes, like now, he feels this longing, almost a need, to live. To really, truly, fully live. And that's why, for a brief moment, lulled by the light chitchat of his brothers, he considers attending Harald's midsummer party.

But he knows better. This life is not for him, never has been, never will be.

And so, shaking his head, he chases the thought away and, placing his hands on his push rims, he's about to leave the kitchen while the incessant babbling of his brothers goes on.

"I can't wait."

"Don't tell me! As every year, the most beautiful girls of Kattegat will be there."

"Remember that burger food truck? Best burgers ever!"

"I've heard Y/N would be attending this year."

"There'll be booze and girls! Sounds like Valh–"

Wait. His mind goes blank.

Fuck.

What? Did he hear right?

As he replays his brother's words in his head, it's like there's an earthquake happening inside of him.

Fuck.

He stops breathing. Blinks, then clamps his eyes shut.

Fuck.

When he finally manages to draw air into his lungs, he swallows loudly before asking in a weird, high-pitched voice, his heart pounding in his chest, "What– What did you say, brother?"

Hvitserk turns his head toward him and shrugs. "I just said there'll be boo–"

"No, not you!" Ivar snaps at his brother, pointing his pointer finger at Ubbe. "You, what did you fucking say?" Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Lagertha frowning – 'no curse words in this house, boys'– and even if he barely contains an eye roll, he still mouths a quick 'sorry' at her before rewording his question, impatience coursing through him. "What did you say, dear brother? Who did you say would attend?"

Stunned, Ubbe looks at him with wide eyes. "Y/N? I said Y/N would come. That's what I heard anyway. She's Harald's niece. She was here once, right? Remember her, baby bro, huh?"

But Ivar is no longer listening, the blood draining from his face. Y/N... Y/N... Fuck. Finally. Fucking finally. After so long... He may see you again. Wow.

I'll go! I'll fucking go!

He barely contains the words, suddenly acutely aware of the deafening silence in the room, his brothers shamelessly staring at him.

With her brows furrowed and her lips turned downward in a slight frown, Lagertha takes two steps forwards before crouching down in front of him. "Are you all right, sweetie? You're a little pale."

He barely hears when Sigurd giggles, "A little pale? He's greener than an alien!"

Lagertha shoots Sigurd a dirty look and then gently cups Ivar's cheek. "Do you know her, Ivar? Do you know Y/N?"

Overwhelmed, self-conscious, freaked out, caught off-guard, he doesn't know how to respond. Should he tell the truth? Should he lie? His brothers will mock him, for sure. What is the point of telling the truth? What good would it do? On the other hand, he could really use some advice. Yeah. Sure. Advice from Sigurd. Just the thought of it is enough to make him sick. Fuck, what is he going to do?

Rushed words are out of his mouth before he can even gather his thoughts. "No. No. I don't. I mean, yes, I think I do but–" He's being pathetic and he hates it. So after a sharp intake of breath, he shakes his head and eventually replies in a flat, calm voice, the white lie rolling off his tongue. "I know her, but I thought Ubbe was talking about someone else. Sorry."

With these words, he hastily leaves the room, his eyes riveted on his knees, his heart still drumming in his chest.

Y/N. Fuck.

🛡⚔️🛡

Ivar's taglist: @waiting4inspiration @honestsycrets @lisinfleur @saldelys @gearhead66 @inforapound @readsalot73 @milkkygirls @xbellaxcarolinax @shannygoatgruff @zuxiezendler @hecohansen31 @lonewolf471 @fuckindiva @tgrrose @didiintheblog @peachyboneless @pieces-by-me @funmadnessandbadassvikings @ethereallysimple @destynelseclipsa @cocovikings23 @xceafh @mrsalwayswrite @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie @pomegranates-and-blood @jadelynlace @grimeundglow @quantumlocked310 @alexhandersen-marcoilsoe-fandom

Ivarello's taglist: @not-another-viking-fanfic-blog @hashimily @prepare4trouble @supernaturalvikingwhore @funmadnessandbadassvikings

#ivar #modern ivar #modern!ivar #modern-ivar #modern ivar x reader #modern!ivar x reader #ivar x reader #ivar the boneless #ivar ragnarsson #ivar imagine #ivar fic #ivar fanfic #ivar fanfiction #ivar vikings #vikings ivar #cherrypie’s500 #fairytale retelling #ivarello

122 notes · View notes

lottiebagley · 3 years

Text

You belong with me- Oliver Wood

You're on the phone with your girlfriend She's upset, she's going off about something that you said 'Cause she doesn't get your humour like I do.

"She's infuriating," Oliver complains, throwing the quaffle just a little too hard at his best friend. She was a chaser and the pair often did drills even when practice was long over, it helped Oli calm down and being utterly enamoured with the boy she happily stayed behind, wanting to be around him.

"She's your girlfriend Oli," She reminds, tossing the quaffle back and smirking when in his distracted state he almost doesn't catch it

"I know that, and I really do like her. It's just hard, we don't have much in common," He admits with a sigh.

"But she's beautiful and..." she trails off, no matter how supportive she tries to be she doesn't really have any more positives to say about his girlfriend Harriet. Harriet was truly beautiful, the year above and a Ravenclaw. She had longs legs and perfect skin and golden curls.

Other than that she was kind of a bitch.

She knew she was beautiful and it was the only personality she really had. She was rude and harsh, often make snide remarks and overall a typical bitchy mean girl. If she didn't like someone she wasn't secret about it and as her boyfriends best friend who just so happened to be a girl, the Gryffindor was becoming the victim of most of this.

Oliver, of course, would never have stood for this, he simply didn't know. It was little comments that went over his head and remarks when he wasn't around, it was looks he was too busy to notice and it was slowly but surely pushing her further and further away.

"She just doesn't ever take anything as a joke,"

"She's just got a different sense of humour than you Oli, don't worry, with time you will grow and adapt to each others humour," she tries her hardest to smile and Oliver seems not to notice how upset she is. He nods sending her a smile that melts her heart feel like it's squeezing in her chest.

"You're right, you always are. I'm going to go find her and see if she wants to study. D'ya wanna come?"

"No. Thanks. I should go and find George, I promised I'd help him with some potions homework," she excuses herself far too quickly, turning on her heel and heading up towards the castle without him despite the fact they're both going. Leaving Oliver wondering why he feels so jealous that she is spending her evening with their teammate that she was undeniably close with.

I'm in the room, it's a typical Tuesday night. I'm listening to the kind of music she doesn't like. And she'll never know your story like I do.

"You okay?" it's George's voice that seems to almost wake her up as she sits, pushing cereal around a bowl with her spoon.

"Do you think he notices?" she questions, George lets out a sigh, looking down the table at where Oliver is eating breakfast and chatting with Harriet, his eyes trained on her smile.

"He's stupid,"

"Y'know we haven't had breakfast together in three weeks. Lunch and dinner never mattered, we always ate with our group of friends. But breakfast, every morning since first year we got breakfast together and no one else comes, it's just us," She speaks in a tone that makes it clear to the ginger boy in front of her, the only one who knows of her feelings for her best friend, that her heart is slowly breaking.

"I'm sure he notices," George sighs, giving her shoulder a rub

"I don't know if that's better or worse," The girl admits, watching subtly as Oliver presses a kiss to his girlfriend's lips. "I'm going to class, I'll see you around George," she announces, standing from her seat and leaving towards her first class of the day even though it doesn't start for another 45 minutes. A feeling like she could be sick just sat the thought of him and her.

She doesn't know that Oliver immediately notices her leaving, to him it feels like the whole room feels a little colder, a little darker, like the sun itself just disappeared. He was almost used to the feeling, it meant she had gone. He looks up, noticing the bowl of cereal he had watched her pour 5 minutes before was untouched, grabbing an apple and throwing it into his bag to give her second period when he knew she'd be starving. His concern for only getting worse when she never shows to the lesson.

But she wears short skirts I wear T-shirts She's cheer captain And I'm on the bleachers Dreaming about the day when you wake up and find That what you're looking for has been here the whole time.

Oliver wasn't expecting her to show to practice that night, she hadn't eaten breakfast, she hadn't shown to any classes that he shared with her and she wasn't at lunch. He assumed she was ill, planning on checking on her after practise, he'd been busy with Harriet all day and hadn't had a chance to run to her dorm. So, he's mildly confused as she approaches the pitch, dressed in her quidditch robes and chatting happily to Angelina who was walking by her side.

"Hey love," he greets with a smile

"That is most definitely not me," Angelina smirks, slipping away to give the pair a moment of peace and privacy.

"Where were you all day?" he questions

"I just wasn't feeling great," she shrugs, in reality she had been avoiding classes shared with Oliver, the thought of him and Harriet a little too much to bare. She'd only come to practise because she thought she might get a minute alone with her best friend, desperate for his company, feeling further from him than she ever had before.

A quick glance around told her she wouldn't get this. Harriet is sat with her friends, dressed in a skimpy top and short skirt and clearly trying not to freeze. A dark and dirty glare aimed at the girl talking to her boyfriend. Making the girl feel uncomfortable and want to leave and be with anyone other than Oliver, after all she would never hear the end of it if she was with him too long.

"So, are you feeling better?" he questions gently, reaching a hand out to see if she feels warm. He tries to ignore the pang of hurt in his chest when she ducks away from his touch, shooting him a tight lipped smile.

"I feel fine now, so no need to go easy on me or anything," she informs attempting to make a joke but he can tell something is wrong with her, he just has no idea that it is him. She's walking away in the direction of Harry who is calling her over before he can question her any further.

The hour long practice feels off to Oliver. She plays well but she hardly looks at him. Only speaks to him when spoken to and only about quidditch. That would be fine if it was how she was with everyone, perhaps having a bad day or just tired but with every other player on the team she's her normal charming self.

His plan to catch her after practice is shoved aside when Harriet comes over and by the time Oliver can ask her to give him a minute before they go to his captain's office, his best friend is walking with the twins back up to the castle. With a sigh, Oliver decides to drop the whole thing, maybe tomorrow would be back to normal.

If you could see That I'm the one Who understands you. Been here all along. So, why can't you see You belong with me, You belong with me.

It kind of does fall back to normal. He watches her eat breakfast with their friend group and she's smiling and laughing, enjoying her waffles. He enters the Charms class room to see her talking happily with the Hufflepuff girl who sits behind them. Maybe it really was just an off day.

The slither of hope drops when her entire vibe changes as he drops into the seat next to her. There's no friendly hug good morning. There's no questions about how he slept and his day so far. A simple 'Hi Oli' before she's suddenly more interested in a Charms textbook than he's ever seen her before. Throughout the day and their shared classes he slowly manages to get through to her. From no chitchat to talks of quidditch to more personal chatter to their normal selves. Joking and laughing and utterly invested in the other.

She almost feels like this whole weird phase is over and everything is going to go back to normal, but when normally they would go and hang out with their friends in the common room after dinner he is heading to take Harriet to the astronomy tower and she's once again reminded that her best friend is slowly slipping away from her. That one normal day isn't going to replace the 4 months he's been drifting further and further away.

Oliver feels like his chest is on fire when he returns to the common room. She is no longer surrounded by their friend group. Instead she is sat with George, her head on his shoulder as he reads quietly to her by the fireplace. It wasn't long ago that it would be Oliver she would fall asleep in's arms and force to read to her, she would claim that she just loved his accent to guilt trip him into doing it and he would do it every time just to see her bright grin.

He tries to convince himself that the raging jealousy in his chest isn't that George and her may like each other. No. The jealousy he feels is because his best friend is doing best friend things, their things specifically, with someone other than him. He had Harriet. He was happy with Harriet. It just didn't help that the person she always seemed to be around now was tall and funny and good at quidditch and kind. It didn't help that they shared so many qualities because it made him feel like she could find a new Oliver and he knew he could never find someone who even compared to her. That is why he is jealous, he forces himself to say it in his head a few times to convince himself.

In reality nothing was going on between George and the girl. They had always been close friends, Oliver just never noticed how much time they spent together cause he was usually there too.

Walk in the streets with you in your worn-out jeans I can't help thinking this is how it ought to be. Laughing on a park bench thinking to myself, "Hey, isn't this easy?"

When word reached Oliver, through Percy Weasley of all people, which only rubbed salt in the wound, that she had gone on a date with Christian Ward, a boy from the year above, he couldn't help the spark of jealousy. He wondered why she hadn't even bothered to tell him, until he realised that they barely even saw each other anymore aside from in class.

So, when he saw her sat alone in the courtyard, nose in a book and enjoying the quiet he couldn't help himself from going over. He was only there because he was supposed to be meeting Harriet there but she was nowhere to be seen so he figured he had a minute.

"Hey angel," He doesn't quite understand why it hurts so much that she doesn't look up. Before now, if he called a pet name across a busy hall she would always look up, knowing it was meant for her, he supposed it was because recently they hadn't been and it hurt to know that the habit had been dropped from her life so quickly. Yes. That's what hurt. Not that he knew it was his fault. Not the thought of the first few times she would have turned around with that beautiful smile ready to greet him only to see his arms wrapped around someone else.

"Hey, I'm talking to you," he speaks gently, nudging her knee with his as he sits down next to her. He wonders why she springs away from his touch, not knowing about the threats and comments his own girlfriend had made towards her.

"Hi Oli," her smile doesn't reach her eyes

"What are you reading?"

"Little women," she shrugs with a small smile

"I've seen you read that book a thousand times and I have been forced to read it to you at least twenty," he teases

"It's a classic!" she defends. He knew the real reason it was a favourite of hers was that her and her sister used to read it together when they were kids. "Besides, you're attempt at doing voices was pretty incredible," she smirks, he laughs at the memory, speaking in a high pitched girly voice. He'd been trying to cheer her up after a hard day and he'd never heard her laugh as hard.

"I can't help being so masculine," he defends through a chuckle, thinking when she giggles that he couldn't remember the last time he was the reason behind her laughter. "So, heard you went out with Christian?" he question casually

"How'd you hear about that?" she asks, tilting her head to the side in curiosity making Oliver's heart melt.

"Percy," he shrugs. He doesn't say that Percy had told him when he was purposely pissing the prefect off, more as a way to get him to shut up than as friendly gossip. He also didn't feel like sharing that it had immediately worked.

"I forgot they do prefect rounds together," she comments

"How was it?" he questions

"Awful," she admits, he gives her a look of pity as she continues "He was just so stiff and the whole thing was awkward and it just felt so hard to talk to him," she admits. She doesn't add that it was the opposite of when she spent time with Oliver and everything felt so natural.

"When it's the right lad it'll be good and you will feel so at ease from that first moment that you will just know," Oliver comforts

"Is that what it's like with Harriet?" she questions. He feels uncomfortable. When he had offered that advice his mind hadn't been on Harriet, it had been on her, on how natural it was with her. It shouldn't have been, they were best friend but they were nothing more and he needed to remember that.

"It could be, in the future," he settles for his response even though it's a lie. "Listen, angel, I know that recently I-" he's cut off by a sickly sweet voice.

"Baby, are you ready?" Harriet is calling from across the courtyard. He sighs, wanting to talk to his best friend and apologise for how shit of a best friend he had been recently.

"Go, it's fine. We can talk whenever," the girl assures. Oliver nods, giving her a smile and walking off to his girlfriend, stealing one last look at the girl on the bench, the setting sun creating a golden glow that made her seem so angelic he could have melted on the spot.

And you've got a smile That could light up this whole town. I haven't seen it in a while Since she brought you down. You say you're fine I know you better than that. Hey, what you doing with a girl like that?

"Is it just me or does Oli seem off recently?" she ponders the question to Ally and Josh, their friend groups only couple. Ally was her closest friend besides Oliver and had her suspicions the girl may be head over heels for the boy.

"How so?" Josh asks, looking up from the open potions text book in front of him

"Just quiet and I don't know how to explain it just not himself," she shrugs

"He's been normal with me," Josh shrugs, thinking for a second "A little quiet I guess but normal on a whole,"

"Right," she nods, so it really was just her.

"You are stupid Josh," Ally comments, laughing when he jokingly grabs his chest like she just stabbed him "He has been completely off, he barely cracks jokes anymore and he's stopped being stupidly cocky, he practices quidditch less and he is never smiling. Like ever,"

"Do you think it's about Harriet?" she asks the question timidly, what if everyone else thought they were a happy couple and it was just her undeniable jealousy.

"Nah, no one is depressed because they are dating a girl that fit. I mean have you se-" He cuts himself off when Ally shoot him a pointed look "Like me I would never be depressed over a girl because you, my love, are so incredibly beautiful," he clearly misread the look that screamed shut up, not realising Ally was trying to silence him because she could see her friend sinking slowly into herself.

"Maybe it's about how he is never with his best friend anymore," Ally smiles gently

"What do you mean?"

"Just that you guys have kind of drifted a little, that's probably what's getting him down," Ally explains.

It was true, they barely spoke anymore and although the girl cared so much for Oliver she was more than a little annoyed. What started with a small distance was becoming a great gaping hole and he barely bothered to notice it. He'd slowly began to drop her, sitting with different friends in classes, speeding away from practice rather than staying late with her, not showing up for their Tuesday evening study sessions, not talking to her between classes, their best friend breakfasts, as Oliver used to call them with a stupidly wide grin, were a thing of ancient history.

She was annoyed. Annoyed that there was no doubt in her mind Harriet told him to distance himself from her. Annoyed that having been best friends for 6 years he was so ready to just toss her aside.

"That was his choice," The girl snaps, letting out a sigh "Sorry, I didn't mean to snap at you. I've got to go, I have practice," she explains, standing up and grabbing her quidditch kit bag from the ground.

She wears high heels, I wear sneakers. She's cheer captain, And I'm on the bleachers. Dreaming about the day when you wake up and find That what you're looking for has been here the whole time.

"Hey! Wait up!" Oli's voice is calling and she knows it's directed at her. Straight after practice he had retired into his captain office and so she had taken her time in the locker room, not in a rush to escape the area for once as Harriet was no where in sight so she finally took the time to tidy her locker up a little. The twins had offered to wait but she insisted she was fine. Leaving her the only person here, the only person he could be talking to.

"Hi," she speaks quietly, a layer of nerves that she had never felt around the boy in front of her. Every single bone in her body wanted to ask him to hold her. Life without him felt so much harder and she was tired. she needed him but she felt like she couldn't even ask anymore.

"You were great out there," he praises

"Oh, thanks. I've been a little off my game recently, sorry about that,"

"Hey, you have always played exceptionally well. I'd have said something if I thought you weren't"

"You don't really say anything to me anymore Oliver," he cringes a little, she hadn't called him Oliver ever. Not when he blew a potion up in her face and left her with a large burn there for a month. Not when he threw a quaffle too hard at her and knocked her unconscious. Not when they were so angry at each other they were both screaming. The distance between them had never been so clear.

"Look, I know that I have been a really, really, shit best friend. Recently, I haven't prioritised us and I should, I always should, because you are the person I trust the most on this planet and I know this isn't ever going to make up for the last 6 months. I know nothing I can say will make all of it go away but I miss you, I really miss you, and I hate not having you around and please, please just come back to me," He almost looks like he's going to cry and without a second thought she flings her arms around him, he lets out a sigh of relief, feeling every muscle in his body relax for the first time in months as he wraps his arms around her, holding her head to his chest and breathing in her scent.

After a minute or two she lets go, pulling away from him again.

"So, do you wanna do some extra practice?" he questions with a grin, she beams, ready to nod and finally spend some time with her best friend.

But then she notices it. The door swings open and he tenses up, a look of pure horror on his face, spinning around as quick as possible only relaxing when he sees Harry in the door way.

"Sorry to interrupt, I forgot my school bag," He informs, grabbing the bag from the bench and leaving again.

A tense silence fills the room. Oliver turns back round, maybe she didn't notice. Maybe she wouldn't be mad.

"You thought it was Harriet?"

"Angel-"

"No. No you thought it was Harriet and I saw the look in your eyes. You were terrified she would see you talking to me. It's the same look as when she walks into the great hall and you were with our friend group even if you've ignored me the whole time. It's the reason I can under perform at practice and you say nothing cause she's watching, and don't lie cause George and I threw a practice just to see what happened and you shouted at him but me, nothing,"

"Of course you were doing it with him," he regrets the comment the minute he says it when she scoffs.

"I would forgive you for a lot Oliver. I really would, but I refuse to be your dirty little secret," She turns on her heel and storms away, leaving the boy staring after her and wondering how he would ever repair this.

If you could see That I'm the one Who understands you, Been here all along. So, why can't you see You belong with me.

Oliver's hand hammers on her dorm door, he hadn't seen her over the weekend, he assumed she was avoiding him, but with the news he just heard nothing was stopping him from speaking to her.

"One minute!" she calls out. Oliver ignores the way his heart swells at the sound of her voice.

She pulls the door open, clearly fresh from a shower, her hair still damp and only clad in a large tshirt and some sports shorts.

"What do you want?" She demands, arms crossed over her chest and a scowl on her face. He pushes past her into the dorm, closing the door behind him.

"You quit the quidditch team," He tries to remain calm, not wanting to scream at her

"I did," she nods

"You didn't just quit, you broke protocol and went straight to the head of house rather than speaking to your captain,"

"Yeah, well my captain looks like he's been hit by a truck whenever he's seen in my general vicinity in public," she retorts

"Why the fuck would you quit the team?" He's furious, more at the fact he was loosing her than actually at her

"Because I can't be around you!" she shouts, unable to keep her temper down

"What are you talking about?" he questions, his heart sinking in his chest

"It kills me! Being around you physically hurts. Just seeing you creates this pain in my chest like I can't breathe. Seeing you so fine without me kills me Oliver! You were supposed to be my best friend and now you don't even look at me. You left me. I can't breathe because I don't have you anymore and you just seem so fine and it hurts, it really hurts!" She has tears streaming down her face as she shouts but she doesn't seem to care, he'd seen her in a worse state.

"What makes you think I'm so fine?" he demands

"If you weren't fine. If you felt even half as shit as I do then you wouldn't do it. You wouldn't ignore me."

"I have a girlfriend and I am trying to make it work and she doesn't like the way we are together. I'm saving my relationship you would do the same!"

"No! When I date a boy if he questions us for a second, if he asks me to distance myself from you I drop him. I drop him because I don't ever drop you. I couldn't do to you what you have done to me," Oliver's heart hurts because he knows that she's right. What he has done is the complete wrong thing.

"Rejoin the quidditch team. You love playing quidditch. Please, please don't let me ruin that for you,"

"I love quidditch, it's fun and exciting and it makes me feel free. But I only ever joined the team because you asked me to try out with you. I love quidditch because it was time we spent together,"

"You are making a mistake,"

"I can't be there. I can't be around you anymore because it hurts me too much. So, captain, respectfully I quit the team, if you are wondering I think you should put Katie Bell on in my place, she's you best alternate by a mile and she works hard. Now, please leave me alone,"

Standing by and waiting at your backdoor. All this time how could you not know, baby? You belong with me, You belong with me.

"I hate Oliver Wood," Fred grumbles, dropping into the seat next to the girl in the common room. She's sat in her workout clothes, planning on going for a jog but had got distracted by her a conversation with Ally who returned to her essay at Fred's arrival.

"Why?" she questions, turning to the ginger boy who is covered in mud and slightly sweaty, clearly fresh from his quidditch practice.

"He's even worse now you're gone. He made us do fitness drills for 45 minutes, I'm sorry what sane person asks someone to do burpees and run laps for 45 minutes. And he's so aggressive, I mean shouts at everyone. All the time. Seriously, poor Harry's glasses fell off and you'd think the boy murdered Oliver's mother. He's in a foul mood," Fred complains.

She can't help but feel a little bad, she knew Oliver like the back of her hand. If he was upset rather than processing it he would simply try to ignore it. He would take his anger out on others.

"Chin up, he'll get better," she smiles, patting Fred's shoulder before leaving the common room.

She exits the castle into the warm evening, summer truly beginning. She starts jogging her usual route and if she had thought for even a second she wouldn't have. She would have turned left in the direction of the greenhouses and not right, in the direction of the quidditch pitch. She could have guessed he would be there, if he was as frustrated as Fred claimed it's the only place he would be.

She sees him and her heart breaks a little. He's alone. Beating a bludger around, something he doesn't need to practice, as he never needs to do it, but often does when he wants to relieve some anger.

He sees her, jogging the route they've ran together a hundred times. Her hair thrown back and her sports shorts poking out of the baggy t-shirt she is wearing. Distracted looking at her and not thinking about the bludger racing towards him.

"Oli, duck!" she shouts, he reacts quickly, plummeting to the ground at her demand, hearing the whizz of a bludger snipping past him, it would have hit him in the head if she hadn't warned him. He lets out a sigh, looking up to thank her to see she's turned around and is sprinting off towards the castle. He could cry, watching his best friend so desperate to escape his company.

Oh, I remember you driving to my house In the middle of the night. I'm the one who makes you laugh When you know you're 'bout to cry. I know your favourite songs, And you tell me about your dreams. Think I know where you belong, Think I know it's with me.

It's two weeks later when they next see each other. Oliver knocks on the door to the 6th year girls dorms, cringing a little when it's pulled open by Ally.

"What do you want?" Ally demands, closing the door behind her so the girl can't hear.

"Is she here?"

"No. Your precious girlfriend is in her own dorm,"

"You know that's not who I mean," Oliver sighs, it's only then that Ally notices his eyes look a little red and puffy.

"Fine, but if she tells you to leave you do so instantly," Ally sighs, feeling bad and knowing they both wanted each other back. Oliver nods and pushes through the door as Ally leaves.

"Who was it?" The girl questions, not turning around from her desk

"Uh, me," he's nervous. She turns around an angry look on her face but softens when she immediately notices that he is on the brink of tears.

"Oli, what happened?" she questions, standing from her desk and approaching him tentatively, leaving a respectful distance between them.

"Well," he sighs, "I had a fight with Harriet. She always said she didn't like us being friends and all and I should have stopped her right there, but, it's just that I really thought I liked her and I didn't want to ruin it and she never actually spoke badly of you. But then today she started talking about you and she was so rude and I just, I couldn't handle it, so I snapped and shouted at her and, well, I don't think I have a girlfriend anymore,"

She sighs, not really sure what to say. Yes, he had defended her but now he was crying over loosing Harriet.

"Look, Oli, don't get too upset. Go and apologise and she'll be stupid not to take you back,"

"I'm not upset, I feel like I can breathe for the first time in nearly 7 months,"

"Then why are you crying?" She asks, sitting down on her bed and patting the spot next to her. He sits immediately.

"Because I hate myself. I treated the most important person in my life like absolute shit and now I'm running back to you and it's not fair on you. I hate that I hurt you, god I'd kill someone for hurting you as badly as I did,"

"It's okay," she sighs, reaching out to grab his slightly trembling hand. He uses his other hand to roughly wipe his tears from his cheeks.

"No. No it's not. Shout at me or slap me or ignore me," he demands

"Honestly Oli, I just want my best friend back," she admits.

"I'm still you best friend?" he questions timidly

"You're stuck with me Wood," she grins

"I wouldn't have it any other way," he admits, opening his arms out and unable to stop himself from smiling when she climbs into them.

"If anyone asks-"

"You didn't cry," she finishes, he laughs at how well she knows him. "Wouldn't want anyone questioning how strong and manly you are," she teases

Can't you see That I'm the one Who understands you? Been here all along. So, why can't you see You belong with me.

They lay on her bed. Oliver on his side to face her and her head turned to look at him properly, catching up on everything they missed in each other's lives.

"So, what's going on with you and George?" Oliver questions

"What are you talking about?"

"You guys are dating now," he shrugs, trying not to seem jealous. She bursts out laughing, making Oliver look at her in confusion.

"Where in the world did you get that?"

"Fred told me after practice," he seems truly baffled, only getting more confused when she laughed more.

"We aren't dating. Fred was annoyed at all the fitness drills and was trying to piss you off as revenge,"

"So you guys aren't even like seeing each other?"

"Oli, he is two years younger than us, obviously I am not seeing George," she laughs a little and he realises the relief he feels is because he is utterly and completely in love with his best friend. The realisation hitting him like a truck.

"About practice, you going to come back because we need you at this game against Slytherin on Saturday or we will lose?"

"I'd be honoured," she grins.

Standing by and waiting at your backdoor. All this time how could you not know, baby? You belong with me, You belong with me. You belong with me.

Oliver has his arm wrapped around his best friend's shoulder, two weeks later when he sees Harriet for the first time since the break up. He immediately tenses when he hears her let out a snicker.

"It's embarrassing really that she took him back," Harriet speaks snidely to her friends.

"What did you just say?" Oliver demands, spinning around to face her.

"Leave it Oli," the girl attempts to pull her best friend away but he doesn't listen.

"She is pathetic. You were so whipped you dropped your own best friend and the minute we break up she just takes you back into her life like nothing happened,"

"Well, if she's pathetic what does that make you given that you were so jealous of her," Oliver snaps, his voice low.

"If you think for a second I was jealous of her than you're fucking stupid,"

"Harriet, the whole school knows you were,"

"Why would I ever be jealous of that?" she questions, her eyes looking the girl up and down

"Because she is 10 times the person you will ever be. Because she is kind and funny and smart and beautiful. Because you can't hold a fucking candle to her!" Oliver shouts, aware of the crowd watching them.

"She is pathetic and desperate,"

Oliver doesn't react in the way she expects. She expects him to shout an insult and storm away tugging her along with him.

Instead he pulls her flush against his chest and slams his lips to her. He kisses hard, pulling her impossibly close to him and putting every ounce of love he feels for her into it. She kisses back, melting at his touch and certain if it wasn't for his hands holding her up her legs would give way.

She pulls away breathless and vaguely hears the Weasley twins starting out some loud chants and cheers but her entire mind is focused on Oliver.

"An interesting way to get her to shut up,"

"Well, I've been meaning to kiss you for a while so I figured two birds one stone,"

"So it wasn't just to get her to shut up?" she questions, seemingly insecure and shy.

"No, it was more because I've been in love with you for years and I never realised" he grins

"What a happy coincidence that I'm in love with you too," she smiles

"How could you not be?" he teases, smirking when she wraps her arms round his neck and tugs him down so his lips are on hers once more.

Have you ever thought just maybe You belong with me? You belong with me.

Masterlist

#harry potter #oliver wood #oliver wood x reader #oliver wood x y/n #gryffidnor #quidditch #hogwarts

273 notes · View notes

watevermelon · 3 years

Text

Expectations | Shirabu Kenjirou x Reader

✧ Summary: Having attended Shiratorizawa Academy from junior high, you were familiar with most of the students in your year. They were average, nothing special — until a certain vbc setter, from god knows whatever small town junior high he crawled out of, changed up your world. -> Tag: maybe language cause it’s shirabu; fluff and jealousy + slight angst

---xXxXxXxXxXxXxXx---

Shirabu Kenjirō was a living, breathing pillar of salt. And it was rightly so. He was the friend, the shoulder to cry on, and the person that everyone viewed as reliable. This was not entirely a bad thing, since he was viewed as much more dependable than others. And this idea was not limited to volleyball. But being placed in that category separated him from the very people who put him there. The girls viewed him as, at most, a friend. He was the king and leader of the friend zone.

It was the end of his second-year and he would soon be taking over as captain of the boys’ volleyball team. He justified lack of love life on the fact that he had bigger things to focus on. And after their crushing defeat, Shirabu reasoned that Shiratorizawa needed a focused captain to lead them to victory.

But the road to triumph was… rather lonely.

Shirabu had his team with him one-hundred percent and silently appreciated them for their confidence and own unfailing determination (he won't admit out loud!) But it seemed like he was surrounded by couples. His kouhai, Goshiki Tsutomu, found comfort in another first-year that was a regular on the women's volleyball team.

Couples were disgusting.

Of course, majority of the members of the male volleyball were single. Ushijima was a super volleyball idiot and his focus seemed to never stray from the sport. But even with his cinnamon roll personality, the female base of Shiratorizawa seemed to flock to him. He was undoubtedly very handsome and tall. His grades were well above average and his fan club was incredibly prominent. Ushijima had all the makings of a great man and was noticed as such by a large pool of the student body. The difference was that Ushijima was willingly single.

Shirabu, deep in the non-explored depths of his heart, wanted to be noticed like his Senpai. When playing volleyball, Shirabu strived to be the type of setter that went by unnoticed and drew out the strength of his ace. And he knew the consequences of such. But still. He was the main setter on a highly prominent team and his skills are not hard to notice.

Maybe it was his rough personality? Pft. He would never change that for a person, no matter how special.

Shirabu was above average height and had amazing grades in a prestigious powerhouse. What wasn’t there to like? His sense of style was trendy and he was complimented on his clothes more than once. He as not too preppy like Goshiki and not too wild like Tendou. Was it his looks? His bangs were unusual, but they weren't as bad as coconut-head/bowl/Goshiki. Since entering adolescence, he failed to ever break-out and was blessed with marvelous clear skin. On more than one occasion, he would stare at the mirror and truly wonder just why.

Why was no one interested?

Enter you.

You attended Shiratorizawa in both middle and high school. Coming from a wealthy family, there was nothing standing in your way. You were fairly popular and had seen the multiple personalities flit through your advanced classes. And in your first-year came Shirabu, an outsider to Shiratorizawa from a lower-class middle school. After being in the system for three-years, you knew almost everyone and seeing a new face was refreshing.

From the very start, you wanted to bet to know him more. But he was incredibly reclusive and mysterious to the general student body. Nobody could answer your questions. Well. Nobody except a certain Salami and volleyball idiot. You shared an advanced statistics class with the two third-year volleyball players in your first year and from them you were able to peer more and more into the life of Shirabu Kenjirō.

“Why do you want to know, (F/N)-chan?” Tendou instigated, “You have a crush on him?”

“Please, Salami calm down.” He raised his hands and gasped, “Come on. There isn’t a single person in this school who I don’t know and suddenly nobody knows anything about him?”

“He is smart and adaptable.” Ushijima chimed in.

“And a little shit, that’s for sure.” Tendou stated. You rolled your eyes and returned your attention back to the statistics teacher. Sure, you wanted to learn more. But this class was hella hard and you still needed good grades. Eventually, you were able to gradually acquire more information and Kenjirō. You learned that he was the only player from the boys’ volleyball team to not get into Shiratorizawa with a sports scholarship. Instead, he got in on his own accord through the arduous exams and good grades.

The more you discovered, the more you liked him.

Shirabu had a work ethic that you hadn't seen in a while. Being in this particular school-system for so long ruined your perception of it. You perceived most of your classmates to have a truly pretentious or judgmental personality, but showing to be as sweet as honey to your face. Of course they wanted to be your friend, who wouldn't with your last name?

He hadn't.

Shirabu was straight-forward with a tongue laced with salt. Sign you the fuck up!

He had no qualms about talking back to you and you looked forward to your daily banter with an odd smile. It was strange. You could get any nice, sweet boy in the whole school. But what was the point if they didn't mean it? Shirabu was honest - a trait that should never be given up, even if it offended others. You would rather have someone give you genuine advice - even if it was mostly mean - rather than an empty friendship.

You had majority of the same classes together for the second year in a row. And you were the only person who would had the immediate desire to sit next to Shirabu as a partner. You silently viewed him as a friend, but there was always this barrier that you could never get over for your friendship to deepen. His time was always dedicated to volleyball. And you did not play any sports anymore.

You watched the volleyball team's crushing defeat to Karasuno and the heartbreak it caused to so many people, Shirabu included. The women's team was resorted to tears and you could not even look at the men for too long. Reon and Semi were so sweet and you wished you could protect them for all the bad in the world. You had never seen Shirabu cry before.

Shirabu... He seemed to only display emotion around his team. And this made sense since those were the people that he was closest too. The rare occasion you had seen his smile was when you had watched a game. They had an overwhelming victory against Johzenji High and you spotted the small grin on Shirabu after he scored the winning point. Your heart could barely take it. You only wished that he showed that side more to you...

He was friendly, but distant enough for you to want more. Shirabu was not cold to you and his harsh chitchat did not hold any true malice behind his words. But he never opened up to you. You wanted to learn more about him personally and if you wanted to, you would have to pry and almost force him to speak. He would give curt answers and then be done with the conversation. But, on more than one occasion, you would spot him typing away on his phone. It was no secret that the boys’ and girls’ volleyball team were fairly close and had a groupchat shared amongst them. You silently wondered if he was texting a girl from the team.

That thought had you instantly deflated and made you wondering if you ever had a chance with Shirabu. You were not one to be easily defeated, but with every brief conversation and blank expression he gave you, you considered giving up altogether. This happened around Valentine’s Day of your first-year. Shirabu was abnormally delighted and even smiled in the classroom at someone’s joke. You figured that sure, it was the day of love and he probably had something lined up for himself and his significant other – that was why he was so happy. And it hurt your heart. He smiled, but it was never because of you.

From there forward, you tended to avoid him to evade the imminent heartache every time you saw him. This was hard since you literally sat next to each other in most classes, but something entirely doable. You would leave the classroom immediately after class, show up right before it started, and not initiate conversation. It was always you that had previously opened up discussion, so when you had stopped there was little to none at all.

Shirabu caught up to your change and silently questioned it. On multiple occasions, you would catch him observing you from the corner of your eye and you silently hoped he would not question you outloud. Within a week, he was ready to corner you.

You were at your locker right after class, ready to pack-up and head over to photography club. He was silently bounding towards you and when you closed the locker he was standing right-there before your eyes.

“Did I do something to offend you?” He asked the moment your locker closed.

“No…” You stated haphazardly, clutching your backpack.

“You’re never his quiet or shy.” He noted, “Did something else happen?”

“I have to get to photography club…” Shirabu put his arm on the locker and blocked your exit. He was tall and there was no way you could out-run him, you were trapped.

“Don’t lie. We know it starts in twenty-minutes. You might be on the executive board, but you have a lot of time.” He sighed out, locking to the ceiling and then back to you. “Why are you ignoring me?”

“… Am I your friend, Shirabu?”

“Of course.” He did not hesitate to answer. “And it’s Kenjirō.”

“What?”

“Call me by my first name.”

“Oh.” You paused and let the name roll of your tongue, “Then you should call me by my first name too, Kenjirō-kun.” His eyes widened at the added suffix and a rosy dust covered his cheeks.

“Was that it?” He asked, “Come on, (F/N). That’s an immature reason to ignore me.”

“How was I supposed to know?” You questioned, “It never seems like you actually want to talk to me.”

“I’m talking to you now.”

“Outside of this!” You were beyond frustrated, “Ugh I’m fine now go away.” You lightly pushed his arm, but he did not budge.

“As if that would convince me.”

“You are so annoying.” You commented, “You never initiated conversation. I thought I was just bothering you.”

His gaze on you softened and you could not break the eye-contact, “You’re an idiot.” He teased and then ruffled your hair. That was the first time he had ever done physical-contact with you and you almost exploded then and there.

“I’m an idiot?” You repeated before walking away mid-sentence, “I’m hoping you treat your girlfriend better.”

He paused and let us hand drop down to grab your elbow before you go away. “Girlfriend? Where did this come up?”

“I thought…” Shit, you let that thought slip out-loud, “The men and women volleyball teams are close. And I’ve only ever seen you hang-out outside of class with them and those girls. I just assume...”

“You assumed wrong.” He quickly cut-off, “Ugh. What am I going to do with you?” He asked as he grabbed you into a hug. You returned the affection and you knew that a blush must have stained your face! And what was that question?

Shirabu continued, “So was that the real problem? You were jealous of my supposed ‘girlfriend?’” He laughed at his question and you were going to die from his smile. God it was so rare and you wished he graced you with it more!

“No! Don’t get too ahead of yourself!” You yelled back, but it was muffled against his chest. He leaned back to see your face and teased you for your embarrassed expression.

“You’re an idiot.” He laughed again.

Since then, your friendship with Kenjirō was gradually improving. But it seemed that there was this silent barrier that you could not overcome. You could talk about your problems, but not about his. And since then, he had not initiated any physical contact. If you ever brushed hands or simply leaned against him, he should shift away and pretend it never happened! Did you really make any progress?

Finals were coming up and that was giving you one last chance to spend time with Shirabu before the end of the schoolyear. Sure, you could always ask your father and he had the power to put you two in the same class again next year - But! Did you want to waste your last year together pinning after him?

Your study group was comprised of yourself, Shirabu, Kawanishi, and two people from his class. Kawanishi was in Class 5, which was also advanced, but he was so damn lazy! You saw his potential and only wished that he tried harder and quit fucking around.

The three other members of the group were missing that night and the two of you were left alone to grovel over English. Your English was better than Shirabu’s but the opposite could be said about history. You paired each other well and aided the other's faults.

You commented on this once jokingly, saying, "You complete me!" He simply rolled his eyes and brushed it off before continuing to study.

Damn. This boy cannot take a hint.

You attempted to show the boy your advances. But it seemed Shirabu would shut you down at every try, almost like he knew what you were doing and was firmly against it. A part of you considered backing down. He had made his intentions clear for two straight-years, maybe you should not waste another year on someone who obviously does not want your attention?

That thought last for a second before you waved it off. There was no one else you were even remotely interested in. If he said no, that’s fine. But you were probably not going to peruse anyone else.

Both you and Shirabu were spacing out from over-reading the textbook and happened to make eye contact. "What's on your mind?" You asked.

"Things you cannot understand."

"You really think that low of me?"

"No. I'm going to be the captain of the volleyball team in a few weeks."

"Wow."

"There's no way your pampered ass would get it."

"You think about my ass?" You teased, but he pretended to ignore the question. You spent enough time with him to notice the minute narrowing of his eyes and the slight curve in the corner of his left lip.

Damn, this boy had you bad.

"I'm sure you'll do fine, Kenjirō." You comforted, "You're very smart and reliable. I believe that your training won't betray you."

"Reliable..." He murmured. "That's exactly what I'm talking about."

"What do you mean?"

He scoffed at your question, "Exactly. You won't understand."

"Then explain it to me!" You exclaimed.

"Why should I?" He seemed just as inflamed.

"Because I care about you! You big, dumb, idiot!"

Shirabu paused before fully looking at you, surprise evident. "Well, everyone expects this idiot to be reliable and lead the team. But..."

"But...?"

"That's all that people expect from me. To be the smart one. To live to everyone's expectations and shoulder the border of living up to the name ''powerhouse.'" He was getting more agitated and louder with each word.

"Woah, calm down."

"I can't calm down! In a few weeks, I'll lose the ace that I've admired for years and majority of our regular team! How am I supposed to fill in their shoes when we're losing one of the top 3 spikers in the country?"

You had no shame in grabbing his chin and turning his full attention to you. "Listen here you idiot. Don't interrupt me! I said don't! I stopped sports, but I know this is something entirely inevitable. Your senpai's are moving onto the next phase of their lives, but it's not something you can stop or change. You have to accept the future and make the most out of it and I know you will. Shiratorizawa is not the only school with graduation. Your rivals and others will lose their precious third-years and its then will you be able to analyze them and attack. But you need to calm the fuck down."

Shirabu was hanging onto every word. Nodding at some parts and fully taking in what you were trying to convey. At the end of your speech, he pushed your hands away from his face with a slight rosy dust on his cheeks. No woman, outside of his mother, had ever done that to him before.

"You're a real pain, (F/N)." he started, "But thanks. I needed that."

"No problem, I just want you to know that I can be here for you." You extended your hand to cover his own on the desk.

His eyes latched onto your hand before he averted his gaze and attempted to pull his hand away. You kept a tight enough grip to keep it in place, but not enough to hurt. "Must you touch me so much?"

"You are such a tsundere, oh my god." You commented, "Of course, I had to like you."

He stilled and looked directly into your eyes, as if that would confirm your previous statement. "Are you really that surprised?" You asked. "You're really handsome and you have the type of personality that I find most attractive."

"Tsundere?" He joked.

"No. You're honest." You admitted, "You're not like the rest of them, who only see dollar signs when they see me. You've roasted my ass multiple times in class and I wouldn't have it any other way. You say the truth and don't sugar-coat your words for anyone."

"I like you." You simply stated. You watched the words seem to finally reach something in his mind and at this point he seemed to panic. He pulled his hand away and you did not hide your outward hurt. Shirabu made a lame excuse and quickly packed up his stuff to leave.

You never felt more sad and alone.

XXXXX

Shirabu was freaking the fuck out. He wanted someone to notice him and it had to be you??? You were beautiful and nearly perfect in every way. Your beauty went beyond the physical level and you were blessed with intelligence and an even greater family tree.

None of this mattered to him before. You were his friend and classmate and probably the one person in class who did not endlessly irritate him. How could you possibly have feelings for him? He didn't deserve you, not a bit. He had an endless list of faults, including his knowingly sarcastic personality, and you were the friendliest person in school! No way. You could be happier with literally anyone else.

He could not deny all your positive traits, even though he made an effort to ridicule you. You were an overall amazing person and he could not deny his latent crush on you. But he had squashed it since your friendship was mostly comprised of friendly banter. You could never have feelings for him, he previously thought. So he would rather treasure your friendship and watch you from the sideline.

However, Shirabu had to admit that it was a dick move of him just to leave you there after your confession. He was usually the type to speak his mind and your feelings must have blinded his brain. He set-out to clear the air and admit why.

In class the next day, you were nowhere to be found and refused to respond to calls and texts. Seeing you so affected, Shirabu could not help but feel like a huge ass. He owed you big-time, but he had to start somewhere: an apology. Shirabu had to clear the air and make it known that he appreciated your affections, even if he had to deny them. He was not above annoying you and did such continually.

Knocking on your dorm room, he showed up right at your front door.

Shirabu heard movement inside, but not closer to the door. He called your phone again and heard the ringtone go off from within, just for you to mute it. He knocked about eleven more times before you opened the door.

"What do you want?!" You asked as you swung the door open with full force.

"To clear the misunderstanding, (F/N)."

"God, you are so annoying. Did you know that?"

"You are too. Now hear me out, you crazy."

"Excuse me?!"

"Please." You sighed and moved aside for him to enter and he did such. He uncharacteristically took your hand and guided you to sit-down on your bed.

He paused, as if to fully think about his words, before sitting next to you. "You need someone who has time for you."

"What?"

"I'll be the captain soon and I do not want to disappoint anyone. I'll be busy and unable to be the proper boyfriend."

"Is that your only complaint to this relationship?"

"No."

"What else?"

"You deserve someone who can make you happy."

You gave a small laughed and asked, "Who says you don't already make me happy?"

He stared at your for a moment before asking, "What?"

"I don't want someone who you think will make me happier with kind words or bullshit. I want someone honest." You candidly admitted, "And we are friends already. I know you're dedicated to volleyball and I don't want that to change. I already know how you are and that’s why I like you more than anyone else. You alone can make me happy. For someone smart, why is this so hard for you to understand?"

He sputtered, unable to give a cohesive reply and for once you saw be great Shirabu struggle over his usually articulate words.

"Wait." You realized that he had multiple complaints about this relationship before you interrupted him. "Just be straight with me. Do you have feelings for me?"

It was at this moment that Shirabu had the clearest view of you. You were in the closest proximity than ever before, sharing a seat on your bed! He could gaze clearly into your eyes and sense the distress and vulnerability from your previous words. He stretched the silence and you took that as a rejection. He immediately rectified the situation by grabbing your hand and placing a light kiss at the top.

"I never thought you were interested in me." He admitted, "I thought I was deep in the friend zone. So I would have rather kept your friendship than risked ruining it."

"You're an idiot." You smiled grabbing his wrist to pull him closer. He obliged and allowed you to place a light kiss on his cheek.

"Now will you be my boyfriend or will I have to convince you?" You whispered in his ear to tease him and could literally see the shiver go down his back as he stiffened.

When you pulled away, his eyes were half-lidded and you silently wondered if his dominant attitude translated romantically.

You didn't have to wonder long since he returned the favor and went even further, nibbling your ear lightly before placing butterfly kisses around your neck. "Maybe you'll have to convince me."

You laughed before wrapping your arms around his neck, quickly taking command and enveloping his lips against your's. However, you did not have it for long and the setter was quick to flip the positions and hover over you. He gave one his rare smiles and you felt one breaking out across you'rs, stretching from ear to ear. Shirabu, who was in no rush, descended back down to your silky lips - noses bumping and hands fisting into each other's hair. His grip was firm, but not tight enough to hurt. You moaned, unintentionally, and he took that as an invitation to lick the entrance to your cavern. You parted your lips quickly, eager to feel his tongue against yours. The rest of the day went by ignored, the two of you enveloped in each other's affection with not a single care in the world.

300 notes · View notes

rainii-reads · 3 years

Text

Chateau

DESCRIPTION: After a fateful encounter, you and Yoongi have finally decided to go public with your relationship.

This was inspired by the song Chateau by Tokio Hotel. Bolded dialogue are direct lyrics.

WORD COUNT: 1, 903 PAIRING: Idol!Yoongi x Reader GENRE: Fluff and comfort

Warnings: Implied slut shamming; analogies referencing cuts (there is no self-harming, only references to words hurting.)

Author’s note: This is my first fanfiction for BTS, and my first story in a long, long time. Hope it’s not too bad! You can also read it on AO3.

🌸

Taking up Arms: ARMY Feuds Over SUGA and Y/N

As news of BTS’s SUGA sweeps the kPop world, fans are divided. Many ARMYs citing Y/N as a clout seeker - stealing their Min SUGA. ARMY’s on the offense challenge the perceived ownership of the Bangtan rapper. This brings to question, however, do these fans approve of the relationship or are they simply defending SUGA?

The Next Yoko Ono: Will Y/N be the end of Bangtan Sonyeondan

Silence rings clearer than the stroke of the keyboard. Three weeks have passed since word broke of the famous rapper’s new relationship. The onslaught of hatred continues to poor out in droves, yet silence remains from the musician’s fellow members. Is it possible the six comrades also dislike Y/N?

Anti-Y/N Accounts Take Twitter by Storm

In the last week Twitter has taken action and began removing dozens of accounts dedicated to canceling Y/N. While Twitter works to delete the insults and threats of harm, where is Big Hit? Will they take action to protect BTS’s SUGA and his new sweetheart?

“Sweetheart?” You snapped. “And what’s with the italics – we all know you’re being sarcastic. No need to lay it on thicker.” You fumed for a moment longer, at the snippy report, before you found your laptop being pulled from your grasp. You dared not look up at the sleepy gaze of the man in debate.

“Sweetheart, why are you reading the headlines again?”

It was the truth. Your streak of laziness was something Yoongi often appreciated about you. It resulted any many home dates and working side-by-side in the Genius Lab at all hours of the day. Shared moments you loved. However, you couldn’t handle any more inquires from that man, he had been unyielding for days, and you were slowly breaking.

“Excuse me, are their free refills on black coffee?”You had asked, trying to spare him from the one-sided conversation (if it could even be called that). Yoongi used the moment to escape and take a seat at the table nearest you, waiting for his iconic iced-americano. You remember the sweet smile he gave you as he mouthed ‘thank you’ – the start to your simple chitchat about the shop’s décor and more.

You often giggle as you remember the notes you passed on the plane ride home. The ones kept safe in your nightstand. Had you not looked up, the moment he walked down the cramped isle, Yoongi wouldn’t have shared a smile with you, before taking his seat in first-class.

Within an hour of the flight, a young, excited stewardess had come to your seat handing you a folded sheet of paper. Noticing she was waiting for you to read the note, you unfolded it and struggled to stifle the laugh that emerged. “So, who is your bias?” Yoongi wrote in memory of when your phone rang at the coffee shop, announcing your ARMY status as Converse High played. It was the rare time you had left your sound on.

From time to time, you wondered about the excited flight attendant. You wish you could see her again just so you could tell her thank you for putting up with Yoongi’s archaic flirting. Had she not been so kind and willing, your relationship may not have formed.

These and many more memories were what put you to ease when you sat in a conference room at HYBE Entertainment. It was there where plans were made for the announcement your relationship with the one and only Min Yoongi of BTS. Photos of your not-so-secret dates had progressively found their way onto Tumblr and Twitter, gaining the attention of gossip sites. However, it was more appropriate to call it an interrogation than a planning session.

“Y/N,” you remember the head of PR starting, “Are you sure there are no past scandals that will cause Min Yoongi any problems?” The intention behind ‘scandals’ had not been lost on.

Your usual demeanor was gone as you snipped back. “I’m pretty sure I was too lazy to have any scandals.”

Yoongi snorted as he held back his laugh.

It was the truth. Your streak of laziness was something Yoongi often appreciated about you. It resulted any many home dates and working side-by-side in the Genuis Lab at all hours of the day. Shared moments you loved. However, you couldn’t handle any more inquires from that man, he had been unyielding for days, and you were slowly breaking.

Your sarcasm hadn’t gone unnoticed. “Do you not understand what kind of position you are putting our artist and company in? We need to be prepared for whatever we will need to clean up after you. You need to take this seriously.” Intentions ringing clearly, again.

In your heart, you knew he trying to do right by Yoongi and the company, but the judgement that wove into his words cut. You also took offense to how he made you sound like a disease that clung to Yoongi, bringing him harm.

As you looked back, it was the first of many wounds that told you, you were unworthy of Min Yoongi.

“Y/N is very aware of what implications a public relationship will have.” The man in question spoke, his tone shifting as he said, “She is more than clear of any scandals. Worst we’ll see are malicious lies and rumors – no truth within them – and that is where this discussion will end.” As Yoongi spoke, his few words carried immense weight. For each previously inflicted cut, his words bandaged themselves around to ease the pain.

Heeding the warning, the interrogation ended, and the meeting regained its original focus: preparation for the announcement and aftermath.

Two weeks after the tense convening, the news was released through an official statement form HYBE, confirming the relationship of Min Yoongi and his new girlfriend. The media and social-media platforms were instantly in a frenzy and, as planned, everyone remained silent. It had been decided that everyone would keep silent for a month, to see what would earn a response.

That singular month had been the sharpest cut to your fragile skin.

_______________________

Breaking through your thoughts, Yoongi spoke again, “Y/N.”

You looked up at him, finally, and sighed. “I’m sick, okay? I can’t help but want to see what is being said about me, about us. Did you see they’re calling me Yoko Ono? Will the media ever cease with the constant Beetles comparisons? Don’t they see you guys are tired of responding to the accolades?”

He spared you a look, leaving you to end your rambles. The rambles he knew you were using to deflect from your current, unhealthy obsession.

“I really can’t help it Yoongi,” You sighed. “In less than a week we can finally speak out and I need to know what I’m defending myself against.”

In an almost languid fashion, he placed the laptop down and sat next to you. Pulling you closer as he organized his thoughts. “That’s not really for you to worry about. The company and I will handle that.”

“No, I need to do something. I can’t just hide behind you. People are talking about us and they’re going to watch and critique every little thing we do. I know that isn’t what we discussed, but this anxiety is unlike anything else.”

He reached out and gently ran the tips of his fingers down the sides of your face, smoothing out any traces of stress. The very hand that famously held a tight grasp on a black microphone, was now the source of your ease. The very hand that was adored by many, was saved for you.

“Here’s the thing,” he spoke slowly, “People are gonna talk. So, let them talk; let them talk about us. People are gonna watch. So, let 'em touch, let 'em see, let 'em feel what love is.”

They were simple words, yet, as the always did, they healed the damages from the last three weeks.

Tears overwhelmed your eyes, gliding down to touch the tips of his fingers. “Let it all go, since it finally happened.” He had worried about the brave face you had been parading. “I know they’re going to talk. I know they’re going to watch. Baby, I don’t mind as long as it’s you and I. We’ll just let them see what real love is.”

As you processed the abundance of emotions that had accumulated, Yoongi held you close. Occasionally whispering the right sentiments to soften the anxiety more. While you laid with him, you wondered: Exactly how much had to go right for you to be with him? The gossip columns may say that the two of you were different, too different in fact, but your time together showed you how alike you were. How right you were for each other.

Many more challenges awaited you, but with him you knew it would be fine. You were not coming down from your cloud.

_______________________

Later that evening, as the tears dried and the anxiety eased to rest, you proposed a trip. “Hey, the next time were in California we should stay at the Chateau Marmot.”

“Isn’t that place haunted?” His abundance of quirky knowledge never ceased to amaze you.

After a quick search to confirm, you scratched the plan. “I’ll find another chateau. One free of the paranormal.”

A short moment of silence passed before you asked your next thought, “What did you mean earlier when you said, “let them touch”?

Yoongi looked up from his phone and paused for affect. “Don’t know. It just sounded right in my head – I didn’t mean anything weird by it.” He laughed, exposing his renowned smile.

“Pervert.” You teased, tossing a pillow his way.

In an unexpected fashion, Yoongi lunged forward seeking retaliation. Having not anticipated it, you stumbled off the bed, in an attempt to run away, but he pulled you back before you could escape. In the most cliché of moments, he tickled your sides until the fits of laughter led to you sharing a loving gaze and slow kiss.

“You’re right,” you said as your lips separated, “Let ‘em talk – we’ll show them what real love it.”

_______________________

The Power Couple that is Y/SN

A year has since passed since news of Y/SN occupied our every thought. In celebration of our favorite power couple, we’ve broken down the Top 10 Reasons why we love Y/SN!

Goals: How do we land a relationship like SUGA and Y/N’s?

Recently, photos and videos of a not-so-secret date between SUGA and Y/N made their way onto the internet. As the young couple is seen leaving Chateau de Sureau, they’re hand-in-hand showing signs of laughter. The love between the two is so clear not even an anti-Y/SN could deny it. So, the question remains, how do we get our own fairytale romance?

We’ve been asking, but has SUGA?

The question all fans of Y/SN have been wanting to know: When will SUGA ask the big question? Our sources suggest it may be sooner than you might think. As BTS wraps up their latest world tour, preparing to go back to the studio, rumors of the young rapper ring shopping have bubbled up. Whether this is true or not remains to be seen, but we look forward to the exciting news for our favorite couple.

#min yoongi #yoongi fanfic #bts #song fic #fluff

25 notes · View notes

presumenothing · 3 years

Text

we’re doing it to ourselves (or so the saying goes)

(AO3)

Jiang Cheng swears up a storm and a half when he shoves open the investigation room door the next morning to find someone already there.

The red ribbon hanging long down Wei Wuxian’s back blends in so seamlessly with the red thread strung all over the murderboard that it takes slamming his hand against the wall switch to shatter the sudden imagination of his brother’s photo up there with the rest of the clues, just another person they’d failed to save from this case.

Wei Wuxian gives a hiss of half-startled annoyance, blinking from the abrupt brightness, but it frankly serves him right for standing in the dark like a burglar with only the corridor emergency lights filtering in. Had he even been able to see anything? Even demonic cultivation doesn’t give you night vision, last he checked. “Good damn morning to you too, Jiang Cheng.”

“I’m not even going to ask how you got in here,” he replies, because at least half of what he knows about breaking into places he’d learned after Wei Wuxian taught himself how to one boring rainy day in high school. “Tell me all this has nothing to do with you.”

He doesn’t specify what this is, because there’s no need to. Wei Wuxian hasn’t moved from his frozen stance in front of the board of clues, crimson lines running between the serial murders like a bloody taunt, a web Jiang Cheng has stared at long enough over the past week that the afterimage feels burned into his eyelids.

There’s nothing of Wei Wuxian’s usual brash overconfidence in the answering shake of his head. “No. I meant it when I said I’d never go vigilante again, Jiang Cheng. And I haven’t. I’ll swear it again on anything you ask.”

In a different time, Wei Wuxian would already have sworn up and down that the heavens should strike him down right then if he’d lied, but maybe that’s exactly the problem – he had already been struck down once, in almost every way that mattered, and worst of all is how it makes Jiang Cheng more inclined to believe him now.

It’s still not quite enough, though. “Swear it on Jin Ling’s life.”

He doesn’t need to see Wei Wuxian’s expression to know he’s not happy about that. Which doesn’t matter, because neither of them are; the space Jin Ling occupies among them has been almost sacred especially after they’d nearly lost Yanli-jie, but it’s also exactly why Jiang Cheng is asking him to swear on this. He can’t accept anything less.

Wei Wuxian has to know that, too, because he doesn’t argue, only says, “I swear on Jin Ling’s life that I don’t have any direct involvement with this case.”

Jiang Cheng raises an eyebrow and pointedly does not look relieved. “‘Direct’?”

“Duh.” Wei Wuxian gestures, wide and too-careless, at the grotesque web on the wall. “You’ve got a copycat killer, and a surprisingly thorough one at that. I’d be surprised if the original Yiling Patriarch isn’t tied to this somehow.”

“Careful, they might not be able to see your ego from space,” Jiang Cheng bites right back, even though he’s been thinking the same for probably about as long as Lan Wangji has, for all that they hadn’t acknowledged it aloud until the day before yesterday. “How the hell did you even find out about this?”

“Wen Qing did most of the autopsies, didn’t she?” Wei Wuxian answers, pretty much as he’d been expecting. “And before you think about going to yell at her, she didn’t actually reveal any case details to me, just that you and Lan Zhan were investigating something that I might be interested in. Also that she might snap and add one or both of you to the body count if she has to mediate even one more argument between you two.”

How Wei Wuxian’s presence could possibly do anything except exacerbate that, Jiang Cheng has no idea, but it’s not like he can afford to alienate the best medical examiner they have across all the districts. (And he doesn’t want to, either; Wen Qing’s clear expertise had single-handedly silenced all of the brass who’d had issues with hiring a Wen, but there’s never any telling what might get them started up again.)

Still. “I wouldn’t call that mediating,” Jiang Cheng mutters.

Wei Wuxian laughs, because he still doesn’t have even half an ounce of self-preservation, even against someone who could and would immobilise people with just three well-placed needles. “Speaking of which, how much longer are you gonna lurk there, Lan Zhan? I thought the Gusu bureau had a rule against eavesdropping and all.”

Jiang Cheng gets a crick in his neck from how fast he turns, and sure enough – there’s Lan Wangji stepping out of shadows that had hidden him far too well for someone in so much white. (Even after having no choice but to work this case together with him Jiang Cheng still has absolutely no fucking idea how Lan Wangji keeps his clothes spotless even at crime scenes; he’s starting to suspect it’s some kind of cultivation-related trick designed specifically for this purpose.)

“Eavesdropping would require neither of you to be aware of my presence,” he says, like that isn’t just some bit of pedantry, and inclines his head. “Wei Ying. Jiang Wanyin.”

And that’s definitely intentional, putting his name last like Jiang Cheng cares what order Lan Wangji addresses people in. Which he really, really doesn’t, especially not before inhaling at least half the thermos of coffee that always resides in his backpack in avoidance of the acidic slop from the pantry machine.

Wei Wuxian smiles at Lan Wangji, because of course he does, but it’s strangely gratifying to note that he hasn’t put any effort in making it look convincing at all. “Well, Lan Zhan – do I need to swear my innocence in this case to you too?”

“Unnecessary. I believe you,” Lan Wangji says, bearing regal like he’s some monarch issuing a decree, and Jiang Cheng snorts. How easy for him to say that when Wei Wuxian hadn’t cost his bureau and family almost everything they’d been.

It doesn’t make the back of his throat taste any less bitter when Wei Wuxian’s expression warms a little at that, but at this point Jiang Cheng doesn’t think anything ever will. “Enough chitchat,” he snaps. “The paperwork?”

Lan Wangji retrieves a folder from his briefcase and slides it over to the centre of the table wordlessly, while Jiang Cheng crosses his arms and scowls at Wei Wuxian until it sinks through his stupidly thick skull that the paperwork is for him.

The answering groan, at least, is entirely sincere. “What the hell is that for? You know I hate paperwork, Jiang Cheng, I didn’t quit over it but I very well could have.”

Yes, he’s very aware of that, seeing as their weekly paperwork grudge-match marathons from before everything had gone to hell had been held in his office. “Just read and sign the damn thing, Wei Wuxian, it’s the only bloody reason I haven’t already arrested you for breaking into bureau offices ten minutes ago.”

And that has to be enough for Wei Wuxian to already know, because bureau policy hasn’t changed that much in the years since his defection except to get more annoyingly onerous, but still he looks surprised at the contents of the contract. “A civilian consultant?”

“You have a skillset that could be invaluable to resolving this case. It would be highly remiss not to bring you on board.” Lan Wangji still looks perfectly neutral, as far as Jiang Cheng can tell, but that’s more sarcasm-free words in a row than he’s ever heard from him since the start of this investigation. Possibly since their first acquaintance with each other.

“I wouldn’t call ‘being the prime suspect’ a skillset, exactly,” Wei Wuxian mutters, which is something Jiang Cheng can definitely agree with at least. Though the only reason this is possible at all is because there’d never been an official conviction in the original Yiling case, for a whole chaos of reasons including the public uproar in support of whoever had taken down Wen Ruohan and his cronies for good, and because they already had reasonable evidence to suggest Wei Wuxian’s non-involvement in this spate of murders.

The non-suspect in question is still flicking his way through the clauses of the contract, which Jiang Cheng would feel insulted by except he’d also gone through each and every one just as closely, taken his concerns to Yanli-jie who’d taken them to Jin Zixuan until they could be sure this arrangement wouldn’t jeopardise Wei Wuxian in any way.

He reaches the last page, and from the skip of his gaze Jiang Cheng knows instinctively what Wei Wuxian has to be looking at – the grid of signatures starting with his own and Lan Wangji’s as primary investigators of the case, dated clearly to two days before this conversation had even occurred, followed by Lan Xichen’s confirmation both as Lan Wangji’s superior and because Jiang Cheng can’t very well second his own recommendation even as the Yunmeng bureau chief, and finally a space for Wei Wuxian’s chickenscratch initials.

(It’s frankly mystifying, why someone who can draw talismans that flow like the finest art has never bothered with a more elegant signature, but it’s not a mystery Jiang Cheng cares to solve. Better that than the unmistakable signatures the Yiling Patriarch had left at his scenes, at any rate; even he has had nightmares about that.)

Jiang Cheng tosses him a pen, anything to break the sudden silence, and Wei Wuxian catches it without looking but of course doesn’t get right to signing, because that would be sensible. “What is this for, then? There are easier ways to keep an eye on me. Cheaper, too.”

“The forensic evidence is scant, and the culprit has done something to keep the victims’ souls beyond my ability to communicate with,” Lan Wangji answers without further prompting, which is probably more information than they should be giving out to a not-yet-contracted civilian but Jiang Cheng’s not the one with a stick up his ass about protocol in this room and anyway Wei Wuxian had already broken in here. “An alternative method might help.”

“Last I checked, no one likes the alternative when it means resurrecting th– ah,” Wei Wuxian cuts himself off with a flick of his gaze between them, and has the gall to look amused. “So the old coots are desperate enough by now that anything goes?”

“Not anything,” Jiang Cheng grates out, just to be clear. Wei Wuxian hadn’t been wrong; the investigation methods favoured by each bureau differ even just among the four major ones, but the dislike of the way Wei Wuxian had done things since somehow escaping being taken hostage by Wen Chao had been almost universal.

(There’d been a brief period when it seemed like things might work out after all, when Wei Wuxian had demonstrated how undeniably efficient demonic cultivation could be in comparison to their regular methods – even the Gusu musical techniques couldn’t beat speaking to the victim in the flesh, as it were. But then everything had gone to hell in a massive speeding handbasket and Wei Wuxian had been most of the one who’d sent it there.

Possibly Jiang Cheng is being monumentally idiotic in not assuming this time will turn out exactly the same way, but annoyingly enough Wei Wuxian is also correct in that they need this case solved, or everything might just go to chaos anyway.)

“I’m pretty much the definition of anything, I think,” Wei Wuxian retorts, which Jiang Cheng ignores like the obvious nonsense it is. “Don’t blame me if you lot regret this.”

“Pretty sure it’s already too late for that,” Jiang Cheng grumbles, swiping the thermos out from where he’d set his backpack down.

Lan Wangji can deal with filing that paperwork, if he’s just going to stand there in stoic satisfaction. Jiang Cheng needs his damn coffee.

#mdzs #mdzs fic #fanfiction #mine #long post #once again i blatantly plagiarise richard siken for a fic title #yes this was supposed to be the sort-of-pushing daisies au but things happened #/elaborate and unbothered shrug emoji

16 notes · View notes

triggerhappyimagines · 4 years

Note

Could I get headcanons for Mondo, Kaito, and Gundham falling in love with someone and/or confessing? As long as it's not too much, that is ^^. ~🌻

of course, dear!! i absolutely *adore* writing anything involving pining for someone, and wondering if there’s a chance they might love you just as much as you love them,,, stuff like that never fails to make me soft aha~

also, i’m sorry if Kaito seems ooc, i don’t have very much experience writing for him, so i apologize if his part isn’t very good,,, regardless, i hope you enjoy this, darling

☆Mod Nagito☆

warnings: a few swear words

Mondo Owada

— he most definitely doesn’t recognize his feelings for you right away

— sure, he’s had crushes and stuff before, but what he feels for you is different - it’s deeper, stronger, and... more confusing

— poor bby doesn’t understand why you make him feel all fluttery inside :(

— he tries to ignore his feelings at first, but as soon as he sees you talking to another guy, the jealousy pops out

— what the hell does that guy have that he doesn’t? why the fuck would you want to talk to him, anyways? oh my god, do you even want to talk to him? is he bothering you? he’ll fucking beat him to a pulp for annoying you!

— it isn’t until he almost explodes on the poor guy (who was just asking you about that weeks homework, might i add) that Mondo realizes this is most definitely more than just a crush

— obviously, he turns to Chihiro and Taka for advice

— they suggest that he just try to spend a little more time with you, and maybe even flirt a little bit! just something low-key to hint that he likes you, y’know?

— turns out that’s easier said than done

— poor Mondo tries to compliment you and accidentally upsets you by raising his voice so much

— but c’mon, who wouldn’t want to have a big muscly guy like Mondo scream "YOU LOOK CUTE TODAY" right in their face?

— it’s after that unfortunate incident that he elects to try and text you instead of talking face to face. it seems like the safer option given he can’t get anxious and shout at you on accident, after all

— he pretends to just have questions about schoolwork at first, partially to justify getting your number from Chihiro, as well as to avoid accidentally making you uncomfy. the last thing he wants to do is creep you out by being too forward

— it doesn’t take long for the two of you to move past conversing about classwork every now and then to chatting about anything and everything as often as you can

— Mondo sort of can’t believe you’re so eager to talk to him, though he does feel a little bad for still avoiding you at school sometimes. he’s still worried about scaring you away, after all

— over time, it gets harder and harder for him to ignore his feelings for you

— he just can’t stand not being able to call you his s/o

— it takes him a while, but he eventually builds up the courage to tell you how he feels, even though he has no clue if you feel the same way

— Chihiro and Taka may or may not have started to pressure him into just asking you out already, too,,,

— Mondo types out his confession, but chickens out at the last second and can’t bring himself to send the goddamn text

— part of him feels like there’s no way you would want to be with a guy like him. he worries you think he’s too reckless, too intimidating, has too quick of a temper... the list could go on

— or even worse, what if you thought he was lame for spilling out his feelings through a text message instead of doing it in person like a decent man?

— poor Mondo stressed himself out so much he had to take a ride on his bike just to calm his nerves, otherwise he might have exploded from the pressure he put himself under

— so, after getting some fresh air and clearing his mind, Mondo finally sent the lengthy text that spilled out all of his feelings for you - everything he loves about you and more

— he may or may not have hurled his phone across the room like it was some sort of bomb after pressing ‘send’

— but now... all he could do was wait for you to reply

— will you tell him that you love him too?

Gundham Tanaka

— at first he thinks you must have put a curse on him

— why is he unable to take his eyes off you? how come he gets butterflies in his tummy every time you smile at him? surely it’s all the result of some form of dark magic, no?

— but some things can’t be written off as nothing more than a mere hex

— Gundham finds himself unable to focus on anything, his mind plagued with thoughts of you

— when he’s laying in bed at night, all he can think about is how he wishes you were beside him... and that scares him

— love is for mortals, isn’t it? he’s not supposed to have these feelings for you!

— the poor boy tries to force himself to stop loving you, desperately looking for some reason he shouldn’t want to be with you, though all his efforts are futile

— he feels weak, and so, so sad; he doesn’t think it would even be possible for someone like you to love him back. you’re too perfect for someone like him

— his Dark Devas of Destruction don't like seeing their master so upset, especially since they know his insecurities and anxieties are getting in the way of his happiness

— Gundham’s hamsters remind him that he has nothing to lose, and that he should just tell you how he feels! you already care about him, and accept him for who he is - there’s truly no harm in being honest about his feelings, right?

— Gundham decides to write you a love letter, positive he wouldn’t be able to say what he needs to say face to face without screwing something up, or getting too flustered to even speak

— actually, he ends up writing several letters before he ends up with one he deems acceptable for the object of his affections

— he’ll wait for you by your locker after school, the Dark Devas whispering words of encouragement in his ears

— he feels his cheeks heat up a bit when you approach him; his heart feels like it’s going to explode when you smile at him and ask him why he’s waiting for you

— he’ll hand you the eloquently written love letter with no further preamble, pulling his scarf up over his nose to cover up his bright red cheeks

— you also can’t help but blush as you read his romantic confession to you, taken aback by his amorous words

— when you’ve finished reading through his love letter, you meet his eyes, trying to think of the right words to say as he awaits the answer to the question that has burning in his mind for what feels like ages

— do you love him the same way he loves you?

Kaito Momota

— when it comes to pursuing someone he finds himself attracted to, Kaito is certainly more confident than Mondo and Gundham

— he’s a romantic at heart, and maybe a bit over-confident too, so the thought of having to face rejection doesn’t really worry him too much

— once he realizes he’s in love, however, the thought does plague his mind a bit more than he’d like,,, but he’s able to avoid fixating on it

— Kaito is... surprisingly smooth. he knows exactly the right way to flirt with you without making it weird, knows just how to compliment you without being too pushy, and even manages to make cheesy pick up lines seem sweet, rather than cringe-worthy

— when it comes to confessing, though... well, that’s a little harder

— while flirting may come easy to Kaito, confessing his true feelings to you is a little harder. there’s more at risk in that situation, and he can’t brush it off as a joke if you take things the wrong way, or if he screws up somehow

— but he wants to tell you how he feels. he needs to tell you how he feels! he wants to be able to do more than just flirt with you, and try to make you blush

— he wants to hold you, wants to kiss you, wants to have you by his side forever and ever. he loves you, goddammit! he doesn’t want to pretend his feelings towards you are less than that

— so he asks you out on a date - to go stargazing, obviously

— but... that was the easy part

— Kaito spends the days leading up to your date trying to figure out the best way to confess his feelings for you, ultimately deciding that the best option would be to get straight to the point and not beat around the bush, otherwise he might end up saying something dumb

— but that’s about as far his planning goes, really

— when the night of your stargazing date rolls around, he may seem cool and collected, but on the inside, he’s freaking out

— he won’t say what he wants to say straight away, though; he wants to wait for the right moment

— the two of you chitchat under the stars, and Kaito takes every opportunity he gets to point out the constellations visible that night to you

— when it gets late, and there’s a lull in your conversation, Kaito knows that it’s his chance to say what he needs to say

— he looks you in the eyes and tells you everything - how he thinks you’re stunning, and beautiful, and how he wants to have you by his side forever - he says it all, truly speaking his love for you into the world for the first time

— you can tell that he means every word he says; there’s no doubt that what he feels for you isn’t real

— but... will you let him call you his? do you love him, too?

126 notes · View notes

iscribble · 4 years

Text

the gist of change (m)

pairing: jeon wonwoo x fem!reader synopsis: you despise change and how it transforms him, how it turns him into a stranger and how it blights your relationship, but you are changing too, and only after accepting that, will you finally realise that change isn’t so bad after all. genre(s): angst, fluff, friends to lovers, contains smut (sex without condom), profanities word count: 5,734

There was an unfathomable piece of Wonwoo that had you addled for months. As a seven year old, you couldn’t comprehend how one could wallow in the unnumbered pages of a classical book and come out in fine fettle. You hated books, at least, when you were seven. You preferred building forts and frolicking on the earth and hence Wonwoo and his odd interests had you questioning about yours.

You thought it was an eight year old thing. Maybe they all favoured books like Mark Twain’s. Maybe they all preferred a long stretch of a week at home to enclose themselves from the frenzied reality. Maybe they all seemed ignorant and shy — disregarding strangers and delaying their footfalls, sometimes dragging one foot after another a little too sluggishly. And you thought you’d become the person Wonwoo had been when you turned eight.

But nothing proved you right. As you blew the candles on your cake, Wonwoo blew his and nothing happened. You were still you and you still despised books. Wonwoo was still that lukewarm, silent boy with an occasional smile you prayed would show more often.

As a child, you were unequivocally the contradictory of reticent. You were expansive, inclined to chitchatting, like a jukebox blaring music that impairs your hearing. Your teachers would call out your name no less than twice a day, you being the dynamic person you were never wanting to silence yourself for more than five ticks of the clock. Learning that Wonwoo was the opposite of you left you questioning the world why he would even pass his time with you.

Maybe it was because you had more than a similarity. His hair was a striking shade of darkened brown and so was yours. You both fancied the butter pecan ice cream that you would often get at the ice cream parlour just a few meters away from your neighbourhood. You went to the same kindergarten, elementary school, middle school, even high school.

Maybe it was because your parents were friends. Being the good neighbours they were, they never hesitated on dropping by each other’s homes and offer a cookie or two.

Maybe it was inevitable. You lived right across each other so it’d be weird not to become friends. This could only mean Wonwoo had been forcing himself to endure you and your persistent nagging, you and your toothless smiles, and that he did not like them. That was what you thought.

Maybe this, maybe that. The thing is, you never considered this possibility: maybe, just maybe, he was in love with you.

After Wonwoo graduated high school, things were no longer the same. You started seeing him less. He couldn’t walk you home like he used to as your schedule did not match his. His balcony window had become seldom open, you couldn’t interface with Wonwoo like you used to until the skies were virtually void of light.

What surprised you the most, though, was his change in personality.

You weren’t new to the general image of parties — which people seemed to greatly love — but you’ve never been to a real one before. Naturally, you were bewildered. You were a social butterfly and you loved hanging out with your friends, weren’t you supposed to fancy parties?

Wonwoo here, had been dealing with a case that wasn’t entirely different from yours. The only difference was that unlike you, he seemed to be enjoying his brand new character. There wasn’t a single hint of vexation from knowing he had long gone from his “self-effacing” epithet. Wonwoo attended parties, big or small. He loved to hang out with girls he barely knew and sneak them into his house at night, absolutely unknowing of your attention. He stopped reading. He no longer used glasses to observe minute letters, rather, he used it for fashion. He became hardly ever at home, nor at the ice cream parlour you used to go to together. You both acted like you didn’t know each other. Worse, like you never knew each other.

To put it simply, you had become who Wonwoo was and he had become who you were in your youthful days.

Which was why you were currently doing your utmost to have at least a little taste of fun amidst the blinding lights flaring at different places. You squinted at the streak of light that hit your eyes for a brief second before opening them to see Soonyoung making his way to you.

“So? Whaddya think?” The words that were easily slurred from the generous amount of alcohol Soonyoung had been consuming travelled to your ears like a soothing melody against a background of obnoxious jabber and raucous strains of techno music.

“Oh thank goodness you’re here,” you dragged Soonyoung toward the corner, ignoring the incoherent cavils spewing out of his mouth.

“The corners are reserved for people making out,” Soonyoung grumbled, “we shouldn’t be here, unless you wanna make out with me.” He wiggled his eyebrows and puckered his lips, enjoying his time teasing you and witnessing your ears go a prominent tinge of red and your face covered in disgust.

“Shut up, I wanna go home.” You removed the glass of whiskey hanging in his fingers and attempted to push him through the crowd of wasted folks drinking their night away.

“Hell no,” he resisted and turned to you, “if you’re going home this early, you’re going home alone lady.”

“I’m okay with that,” Soonyoung’s garbled utterance was more than music to your ears. You thought he would’ve had stopped you from leaving the place. You didn’t mind walking alone, especially if it meant escaping the unruly atmosphere you were desperate to get rid of. “See you around, Soonyoung.”

The quiet stroll to your house ameliorated the thoughts that contorted in your head like a flummoxed mess. You never wanted to go to any party again, ever. It sure did seem like a diverting idea when Soonyoung first asked to bring you with him to the party. You thought you still had that jaunty spirit in you that you could hopefully bring out once you met new people. But you’ve never been more wrong. You were no longer the person you used to be, and you knew you had to accept that. So you did.

The neighbourhood was as still as a dead city. The wall mounted lights on most of the houses were out, with only a few lampposts still dimly lit, incandescing across the bare street. If it hadn’t been for the sudden clacking of heels you heard around the corner, you wouldn’t have gotten out of your trance before you arrived home.

“Careful, we don’t wanna attract attention.”

The voice stung. It hit your ears and it stung so bad, you wanted to cover them. It stung how long you haven’t heard from him. It stung how his voice flooded you with memories you wanted to forget. It stung how his voice was not meant for you. It stung how much you missed him.

“You’re so naughty, you know that Wonwoo?”

He was with someone else. It was almost always a different girl every week. It had become a habit of his but you would be lying if you said you were nearly unfazed by his actions. You were far from unfazed.

However, tonight was different. You weren’t bordered by the large pane of glass in which you sat behind every night, wondering if he would bring a different girl, and locking your eyes close when he finally did. You weren’t observing the scant details from a distance, where it was safe enough for you to not be seen. But tonight was different, because little did you know, you weren’t going to go unnoticed.

Wonwoo and the girl arrived at his driveway, missing their footing while holding on to the kiss they shared. In the blink of an eye, you were homing in on your footsteps, making sure you would not make a sound. You didn’t, but that did not mean Wonwoo overlooked your presence.

Like every time he admired you when your eyes were concentrated on something else. Like every time he found you when you strayed in a crowd. Like every time he caught you when you wanted to surprise him for his birthday. He noticed you as long as your breaths mingled in the same air, whether or not you wanted him to.

His eyes were still as you remembered. His dark orbs shone through the murk of the night, tinted with lust. They met yours, but they grew shy. They grew so timid and then there was this look on his face that reminded you both that you knew each other. You still do.

“Y/n,” he spoke in a raspy voice. You forced a smile and inclined your head. Availing yourself of formalities made it much easier to submerge the uncertainty of your relationship with Wonwoo, making it seem like you didn’t know each other that well.

“Hey, don’t mind me,” You buried your covetous tone beneath a layer of pretend ignorance. You didn’t want to ruin the moment for them. “I’m just heading home.”

“Why are you walking alone?” Wonwoo’s voice felt so unfeigned, you wanted to believe he still cared about you, but you couldn’t. At least, not for the girl he was with.

“Oh,” you shrugged, “my friend wasn’t gonna leave the party yet, so I just decided on going back alone. It’s nothing.” You lied. You knew it was something to him.

The faint ire in his eyes reminded you of the time he scolded you for walking on your own one night. He completely hated it. You thought he was just being a big brother to you. But that was years ago. Now, Wonwoo had to conceal his concern, because at this short-lived moment, you weren’t the same to each other anymore.

“Oh, well,” Wonwoo swallowed his regard. He didn’t know what to say. He would always leak out profound phrases like I’ll see you tomorrow! but knowing the circumstances, you doubt the words were even on the tip of his tongue.

Instead, he decided on an I’ll see you around, y/n.

You laughed inwardly. Wonwoo was a coward, and both of you knew that well.

At this time on most nights, you’d be propped against the large window, heaving a desolate sigh of longing as your eyes fixated on Wonwoo across your home.

His house used to be a place of frequent jollity. His parents would throw big birthday parties for you and him during your childhood days, although you and Wonwoo didn’t enjoy it as much and preferred to kill time in his vest-pocket bedroom. When he dropped you off at your house after school, Wonwoo’s mother would sometimes clap her eyes on you and insisted you had snacks and a glass of milk at his, in which you would gleefully accept every time, with sweat running down your temple from the soaring heat. You would stay there until your parents came knocking at his door, and even before you left, Wonwoo would always steal a chance to settle a wet kiss on your cheek.

Then, you were both finally grown enough to realise that kisses weren’t always meant to be platonic. Little by little, he stopped furnishing you with affection, and little by little, your visits to his house drew up.

Now, as you wishfully stared at his window, eyes brimming with sentimentality, you could only make out the nebulous sight of bodies rubbing against each other, the memories of your childhood and adolescence completely casted away.

The snugness from your bed sheets latched onto your rundown, delicate bones, providing just the right amount of warmth to keep you in bed. You could definitely do that, with barely anything to do today. As if that wasn't unusual enough, the doorbell quite abruptly rang its way to the solace of your bedroom so early in the morning. Mere minutes later, a subtle knock came on your door.

“Hey, Wonwoo’s here, said he wants to talk to you.” Your mother primed you before you could walk out with your hair sticking out in all directions. “Go get changed. You can’t see an awfully handsome boy like that.”

“Oh shut up mom.” You threw a pillow at her. More than you were confused, you were relieved you didn’t have anything to do today. Seeing Wonwoo right now was one hell of a job to you.

Wonwoo’s back was facing you as you descended down the stairs. His tousled hair appeared on your vision, softly sitting on his head like a plate of velvety marshmallows. Running your fingers through his strands would be pleasing, you thought. Then again, you’ve done it several times. Just not the way it would feel like if you were to do it now.

“There she is.”

He turned to look at you. Now that the sun was up and the lights were on, you could finally take a good look at him. You were surprised at how he still managed to look decent after a rough night. His lips were a tad bruised and patent dark circles were surfacing under his eyes, but it only made him look even more approachable. Wonwoo gave you a smile that conveyed so much more than you’ve ever asked for. It was evocative. You hated the feeling.

“Hey,” you replied to his smile.

“Pumpkin,” he grinned. Pumpkin. It was a nickname he had for you back in the days. He might have called you that on most occasions but the immense time gap from then made hearing him say that now seem so offbeat.

“What’s up?” you skipped to him and threw your arms around his torso in a quick hug, sighing in ease when his arms wrapped around your shoulders.

“Have you not been growing taller or am I just too tall?” He noted the height difference you had now. There was a period of time in your life when you were taller than Wonwoo. You took advantage of that, teasing him for the books he couldn’t reach, and always dropping the infamous rhetorical question of how’s the weather down there? Though, when puberty hit him, your stilettos couldn't even level your heights.

“Shut up, doofus.” you playfully slapped his arm. “Anyway, what is it that you want to talk to me about?”

“Oh,” he scratched his nape, “I was hoping I could talk to you in private.”

“Oh, no worries.” You tried to keep your tone as calm as you could but your nerves were bugging you to ask him why. “let me just get my toast real quick.”

You scrambled for your toast on the kitchen counter and took a bite with a loud crunch that you swore would have had your mouth watering if someone else had done that. You quickly headed upstairs after shouting a we’ll be back! to your parents, with wonwoo treading on your heels.

As soon as you got to your room, you closed the door behind you, trying to make some sense out of the situation and wondering what he might want to talk to you about, although you had an idea already.

“Hey,” he started, “what you saw yesterday..” You were right. He was going to talk about that. “It’s not what you think it is.”

“Okay, but why are you telling me this?” Although you cared, you didn’t know why he thought he was obliged to explain it to you. You weren’t in a relationship, and you knew well he gets to make decisions on his own although not any of them ever made you genuinely satisfied. "I mean, it’s not like we’re dating or something.”

“Yeah,” he uttered under his breath, “but I just figured you should know. I mean, we’re friends aren’t we?”

The word sent you chills. Of course you were friends. But would a friend abandon the other just to hook up with some random girl? Would a friend leave you for years and then just come back like nothing happened?

“I don’t know Wonwoo,” you sat on the windowsill, your fingers tracing the remnants of rain lingering on the external surface, “we haven’t talked for, I don’t know, two years? It's weird enough cause our houses are right in front of each other’s.”

“It’s not like you cared. If you were bothered by it so much why didn’t you just come to mine?”

You were appalled. You spent every month looking outside your window, contemplating if you should approach him and start rekindling you relationship. But every time you convinced yourself you would, he walks into view with a different girl, shattering your hope of reviving what you had. It’s not like you cared, he said.

“You bring a girl to your room, fuck her and leave her in the morning. Every time I thought it was over and I could finally talk to you, you bring a different girl and fuck her again.” You conveyed your anger through gritted teeth. “Oh, you thought I hadn’t noticed all this time? Well guess what, I spend my nights staring at your window hoping that you could see me but all I can see is the mere sight of you fucking. So fuck you, Wonwoo.”

Horror was smeared all over his face. You knew you gave away too much, leaving him no time to even process it all. Blood started to collect in your ears, the sudden surge making you feel uneasy. Maybe you had gone too far? But truth be told, you didn’t care. You had to let it out.

There wasn’t a single word that withdrew from his lips before you finally couldn’t stand holding back your tears.

“Just, go, Wonwoo.” You croaked. “You’re right, I don’t care.” You lied again.

For a moment, no sound ricocheted off the walls, leaving both of you in a deafening stillness. When you were about to tell him to leave once more, you felt his hand snake around your neck, pulling you close for a kiss on your forehead. He stroked your hair for a bit and then left your room, the sudden emptiness overflowing in you when you could no longer feel his tender fingers.

Well, what could you expect? That was Wonwoo. The quintessence of making you feel whole and then leaving you, just like that.

Change.

You had accepted change. You had accepted that you weren’t the person you used to be, and so have you accepted that Wonwoo wasn’t too. Although it quite immensely saddened you, you have accepted the girls he had sex with, the parties he’d attended, places he’d gone to without you. You had accepted that you and him were never going to be the same anymore, let alone be more than that.

A week has passed since Wonwoo had snuck a girl into his bedroom. Maybe he felt guilty and self-conscious now that he knew you were always looking out of your window. Still, you had not exchanged apologies. Your relationship had been fragmented and as much as it wounded every part of you, you didn't want to think about it for too long.

“Pick me up in an hour.” You told Soonyoung through the phone as your toothbrush dangled between your teeth. You hung up before he could say anything.

You may have accepted everything, but there was still bleakness left in you that needed to be drowned in a round of drinks and ludicrous dancing.

“So, you’re really gonna do this again huh?” Soonyoung laughed at you as took a seat beside him in his car. “Just don’t ask me to leave early if you’re going to.”

You snorted and heaved a weighty breath. You didn’t want to think about Wonwoo anymore and if anyone in the world could do that, it was Soonyoung. Taking you to a party. You didn’t know where the night would take you but at least your mind would be barren of Wonwoo, only the very taste of alcohol lingering in your tongue. “Promise, Soon.”

Seungcheol’s house was fairly remote from yours. He was a high school friend of yours and Wonwoo’s. Although you made no intention of keeping in touch with him, Soonyoung did, which was why he knew about the party at his place.

“We’re here.” Soonyoung beamed with vim. The house was teeming with people you didn’t know. You came in with Soonyoung by your side, tugging on his sleeve lightly when you felt like he was going to dash off without you.

As the night progressed, you unsurprisingly found yourself bored. You had managed to talk to the people you knew from high school, always noting the stunned look on their faces when they noticed you were here, as if questioning if you had finally plucked up the courage to leave your books.

The first time You noticed that Wonwoo had changed — and that you had too — was when you artlessly refused to go to a party Wonwoo had asked you to come to in high school. You were nonplussed at the fact that you didn’t wanna exchange studying for socialising, while Wonwoo was the one who did. Back during middle school, you were always the one to plead him to go to the ice cream shop, while he insisted on indulging in his books. It was then you had realised you’d changed, for the better or the worst you still didn’t know.

You took one last sip of your tequila and left the house just a little drowsy. You texted Soonyoung that you had left a little earlier and took a cab.

Your brow was pressed to the cold surface of the window, eyes darting anywhere between the walls of your vision. The skies had gone ill-lit, the only source of light being the silver celestial body that dwarfed all the tiny fragments of luster that surrounded it. As the taxi slowed to a stop before the traffic lights, you narrowed your eyes at the figure sitting on the bench near the lights. His head was buried in the palm of his hands, his dark locks swaying to the unhesitating stirring of the wind.

“Wonwoo..” you whispered to yourself.

Stepping out of the cab, you sighed. The solitary air that besieged him made your heart pang. You couldn’t tell if he had just gotten out of a party like you did, that he had drunk too much alcohol, or if he was just taking a walk around, but you doubted the latter. When high school came, he started failing to resist company from his friends, always uncovering things to do besides studying, always trying so hard to not be alone. Yet there he was, accepting the company of nothingness inundating his body.

You continued staring at him from a distance, pondering over whether you should approach him. But you were here now, out of the cab that was about to take you straight home. So maybe that was your decision after all.

And like every other time, he noticed you. Because as long as your breaths mingled in the same air, he would always know you were there.

The puff of wind that hugged your frame was bitterly cold, but as soon as you sat next to him, his warmth raced to you.

You could have looked at each other, taking in the sight full of substance and value, yet both of your gazes were locked at the fatuous view of the wet pavement.

A minute or two was spent without any of you saying anything. For one moment you just wanted silence to consume the both of you. You wanted to forget everything that happened between the two of you.

“I’m sorry,” Wonwoo cried faintly, “I know I messed us up.” You could feel everything. The unfriendly breeze stinging your fingertips, the brush of your hair against your cheek, the material of your dress getting too tight around your waist, and the sincerity in his voice. Especially, the sincerity in his voice.

“I’m sorry too,” you replied with a hint of sadness, “I had no right telling you those things. You make your own choices, not me, and it’s not like I couldn’t find any friend besides you.”

Wonwoo chuckled in his deep-toned voice.

“I guess it did suck,” you continued, still not satisfied with what you said, “it really sucked to see you bring other girls to your house. I missed hanging out with you, but I’d like to remind myself that I’ve changed too.”

You sat in silence. You hoped you made yourself clear. You wanted to convey how much it saddened you that he took advantage of his clubbable side to shatter your heart without even realising it.

When the subtle rise and fall of the wind was the only thing you could hear, you looked at Wonwoo, only to find him already staring at you. You were so close that you could feel his breath fanning your skin. The dark circles beneath his eyes stood clearer now, the bruises that formed on his lips were yet to fade.

Wonwoo was a clumsy child. He had tripped on nothing several times, spilled milk all over him, accidentally got punched by a friend for not watching where he was going. And every time bruises would form on his face, you would caress it so delicately, all the while admiring how he still managed to look good.

So tonight, you found yourself doing just that. Your hand unconsciously lifted to brush against his dry lips. And just like the old days, he leaned into your touch, never realising how much he missed you until this moment. Wonwoo's lips were so cracked and dry that even he felt he needed moisture, and what better moisture could he get in the middle of nowhere other than your plump lips?

Wonwoo leaned in to kiss your lips, slowly moving against them while you remained still. After a while you got used to his warmth and started adjusting your lips to capture his perfectly. Wonwoo pulled you closer by your cheek and gave your lips a swift taste of his tongue, before starting to kiss you amorously.

Surprised by his eagerness, you pulled away. “Wonwoo, you can't just kiss me like that. I'm not like the girls you bring to your bedroom every night.”

Wonwoo leaned in for another kiss but you avoided his lips. “Wonwoo, I'm serious.”

Wonwoo plainly huffed and continued to stroke your cheek that had begun to turn pink. “I've always loved you, y/n. I always have. But we were so different and I was almost so sure you wouldn't return my feelings. So I tried to change, for you. I wouldn’t have known I would actually enjoy the new me, but you didn’t seem to. So ultimately I just opted to forget you.”

You felt tears accumulate in your eyes. You were relieved, to say the least, that he had done all of that not because he didn’t care, but because he cared too much and tried not to anymore. “By screwing everyone except me?”

Wonwoo released a chortle and you shyly smiled. “Pumpkin, you never even accepted when I invited you to Seungcheol's parties, how would I even have sex with you?”

You laughed heartily.

“Besides, I would never want to ruin my little girl like that. I'd only do it if you wanted to.”

He took the curving of your lips into a smile as his cue to resume kissing you, so he did. With every little taste you get of his tongue, your kisses grew sloppier and even more passionate. Frankly, neither of you cared if people were watching.

“Do you want to?” He asked in between your kisses.

“Want to what?” You pulled back and looked at him, confused.

He slipped a strand of hair behind your ear. “Make love to me, pumpkin.”

“What, like right here?”

“Answer me.” Wonwoo insisted, a slight smirk creeping up to his face.

Wonwoo understood the look of ecstasy on your face without you having to say anything. He picked you up, locking your legs behind his torso while you continued to deepen the kiss.

Wonwoo's legs were quick to carry you to the dark alleyway, eyes never leaving yours as he relied on his senses. He put you down slowly while cornering you to the wall, finally breaking the kiss.

“Is this gonna be your first time?” He spoke in a low voice, one that made you crazy, while securing his hands on your waist.

You nodded in embarrassment. “Be gentle, please.”

He made sure you saw his smirk before whispering to you that you had nothing to worry about.

Wonwoo's hands made their way under your sundress and slipped off the panties you had on. You shuddered at the cold pressing against your folds. His dangerous eyes were still on you as he rubbed your folds with his colder fingers. His smirk grew wider as he realised you were already wet. You started breathing heavily.

Wonwoo locked your lips together, his tongue moving against yours to distract you. He slid in one digit inside you that made you whine during the kiss. You were foreign to the feeling but Wonwoo made it so easy for you to adjust, hushing your quick whimpers with his own hot breath against yours.

As soon as he felt you were warmed up enough, he slid one more finger inside you, scissoring you open. You retreated from the kiss, leaning your head back against the wall as you released a solid gasp. Wonwoo caressed your cheek with his free hand, assuring you it's going to be alright. You looked at him, still panting. You believed him.

He started rubbing on your clit in slow circles. You squeezed his shoulder and moaned a little louder this time which earned a chuckle from Wonwoo. His thumb started going faster as he sucked on your neck, planting darkened purple marks all over.

The more you felt you were close, the slower Wonwoo got which absolutely irritated you. Just as you were about to complain, he pulled his fingers out of you, leaving you clenching around nothing.

“What the hell Wonw-” He forced you around and lifted your sundress, revealing your bare ass. He pulled your hips roughly against him, releasing a groan when you made contact with his crotch. He quickly unzipped his pants and let it slide down. Wonwoo lowered his boxers, setting his already hard member free.

He placed his hand over yours on the wall, while his other hand held your waist.

“Don't be vocal, or you'll attract attention.” Even without looking at him you could tell he had a simper on his face. Without warning he slid into you, slowly but fulfillingly, as you discarded your intention of not making any sound.

“Oh fuck.” you breathed out. You continued to moan out loud as he slipped in and out of you at a steady pace, every time perfectly hitting your sweet spot.

Wonwoo too, could not resist his moans. He groaned as he felt your walls clench tighter around him, tugging your waist closer to him as he fucked you harder and faster than before.

“I'm c-close,” you stuttered, panting heavily.

“Me too.” Wonwoo threw his head back as he controlled your hips, pushing into you as fast as he could as both of you chased your highs.

Wonwoo came first, his cum leaking all over and running down your leg. You came seconds after him, trying to control your breathing. Wonwoo made sure you took in all of his cum with a little rough thrust inside you that made you cry. You'd become so sensitive.

“Fuck, you feel so good baby.” He pulled out of you and fixed his pants. You were still overwhelmed by the feeling. You had yet to straighten your body because you were so focused on getting your breathing back to normal.

“Pumpkin, you okay?” He held your waist, slowly turning you around to face him. He admired your face that had gone crimson, your eyes still watery. He pulled you in for a momentary kiss. “You look so beautiful.”

You smiled at him while still gasping for air. He kissed you again and again and again.

“You had better come up with a realistic explanation as to why I suddenly cannot walk, Wonwoo,” you said jokingly, “and don't leave me like you left those other girls now that you're done fucking me.”

Wonwoo raised an eyebrow. “Who said I was done making love to you sweetheart?”

Your mouth hung open as you stared at him in incredulity. "I cannot believe you, Jeon Wonwoo.” You said as he lifted your chin up, planting a kiss on your lips that had started to bleed.

Getting your parents’ permit for Wonwoo to stay the night at your place was considerably easy as you basically grew up together.

The lustful night filled with dangerous moans that coalesced into love advanced with your hips locked together, his body grinding against yours, making love to you sensually but most importantly sincerely. You were the girl that he loved, always have been and always will be.

The tenderness of his hand that kept rubbing circles on your stomach woke you up, the rays of the sun almost instantly blinding you as your eyes inched open. You turned around to face him. He was smiling at you, subtly at first, but after you noticed him, his pearly whites became manifest.

“You're still here?” You let out a quip with a big yawn.

“What do you mean I'm still here?” He scoffed and proceeded to pepper the violet bruises on your collarbones with his warm, slow kisses. “I'll never leave you pumpkin.”

“Good,” you sighed contently. “I thought you'd treat me like those gir-”

He hushed you with a sweet kiss on your lips.

“I love you, pumpkin. As much as you change or as much as I change, one thing that has survived the turmoil in our lives and one thing that would never change, is my love for you.”

Maybe, just maybe, change isn't so bad after all.

377 notes · View notes

marvelousell · 4 years

Text

The Agreement (Part 4.)

Pairing(s): frat boy!fwb!Tom x reader, frat boy!Harrison x reader

Summary: Tom is a typical frat boy, his love for partying, drinks and girls are bigger than his ego. Y/N is a whole different dimension, she keeps her circle small, and even though she knows her best friend Tom is a total douche, she can’t say no to the little deal that was sealed between the two of them.

Word count: 2.2k

A/N: Hereee it is babes! I’m absolutely in love with Harrison in this chapter and in the next parts also believe me. Buy me a Haz asap y’all🥺. I would reallyy appreciate it if you leave a comment, reblog or send a feedback, means the world to me!❤️

My tag list is open for this series!

Warnings: mentions of smut, swearing, mentions of alcohol

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3.

Masterlist

“Well, well, look what we have here.”

The familiar, sweet voice spoke behind you.

Anna sure knew when to show up.

Please don’t embarrass me.

“I was looking for you everywhere!” She sat next you, smiling widely.

“And you too! But I guess you met each other without my help.”

Without her help?

Oh so that’s the guy she wanted to introduce me to.

At least she finally found someone who is decent and really my type.

You were confused, from where do they know each other? You’re always with her how come you never saw him?

Well most of the time.

“You found us Ann, however she already swept me off my feet, so I guess your job tonight to be the cupid fell in the water.” Harrison laughed along with Anna who rolled her eyes at his statement.

“But I’m thankful that you wanted me to meet such a dreamy girl.” He said, locking his eyes with yours.

Could he be more mesmerizing than this?

You were so lost. Flirting wasn’t something that happened to you on a daily basis, and now you were speechless.

Harrison knew you were bashful, but he found that attractive. He didn’t see or meet much girls that were modest and pleasant as you.

Anna loves to talk, and Harrison loves to listen.

He always listened to Anna’s rambling, how great you are, how your company was like a breath of fresh air, how you loved books and silent nights with your friends more than any giant frat party. She loved you so much. You were someone who was there for her since day one.

She would regularly come with Amelia to Harry’s house, and Harrison would spend most of his time there.

They clicked immediately the day they met. But strictly in a friendly way.

Anna saw how kind-hearted and easygoing Harrison was. She knew she could tell him everything without him judging or spreading it around. And that’s how she got the idea in her head.

“Why not? That would be a great match.” She thought.

She knew about your crush on Tom since you were little kids.

You always tried to impress him back then, and you’re still trying nowadays.

You would always share your lunch and sweets with him, you tried to play football every day just to enjoy his company even though you didn’t like it.

You were always around him, following him like a lost puppy.

Anna was hundred percent sure that you liked him at that moment when you blushed and laughed with her together behind the swings when he gave you a silly peck on the cheek after you gave him a muffin that you baked with your mother the previous day.

However she didn’t like it now.

Anna loved Tom with her whole heart without a doubt.

The three of you were like a dream team, still kind of are.

He was her best friend, but the things he did and still does were something she didn’t approve at all.

That’s why she didn’t want you to fall for his charm or to be his foolish one night adventure.

You deserved much more.

So she was sure that Harrison would be a fantastic boy for you. Someone who would show you the world and shower you with endless love every second.

She also made sure to tell nothing but wonderful things about you when she would come around.

“You’re thanking me? Please, thank you for making her all mushy and jolly. She didn’t blush and smile at someone like this for years!” Anna screeched with happiness.

“ANNA!” You spoke back embarrassed.

“Oh I can’t wait to show this to Harry!” She continued, waving her hands in the air excitedly.

“I’m sorry! I’m ruining your moment here! I’m going to find Amelia and the others. You two enjoy the rest of the evening and feel free to join us whenever!” She stood up, hugging you both, giving you a thumbs up before leaving.

Christ Anna.

“She really cares about you.” Harrison spoke.

“She really does. Remind me to say thanks to her for wanting to set me up with a lovely guy like you.” You flirted back. Finally.

“Good Y/N, just continue like that. You need to show some interest.”

“Thank you gorgeous, the pleasure is all mine, believe me.”

“I’m sorry if I’m a bit to quiet for your liking. I just get to nervous around guys like you. You’re absolutely attractive and have a breathtaking personality.” You stated, looking at his smile that was growing bigger after every word you said.

It wasn’t enough to say that Harrison was enjoying himself. Sure he loved going out with his friends, attending various parties every week with bunch of girls and everything. This however was something he craved for a long time.

A girl that possessed a pretty nature, a laugh that made his stomach turn upside down, and a girl that wanted to talk to him, and enjoy his presence. Not a girl that wanted to jump him straight away and take him to the bedroom.

He loved how shy you got around him, how you played with the edges of your pink pastel dress as the two of you talked, and how your cheeks would turn into a pinkish tone every time he would compliment you.

“For my liking? I prefer not just girls but people in general that are down to earth that don’t scream or fake laugh just to get someone’s attention. Anna was absolutely right when she said that you’re like a breath of fresh air.” Harrison spoke slowly, his voice like a melody.

“Anna..” You laughed, closing your eyes at the thought of her.

“Never asked you how’d you met this lovely company?” You questioned, curios for more.

“Well..Harry and Tom are my best friends since we were in diapers basically.”

Tom? Best friend?

This is going to be interesting.

“I’ve lived near Tom, but me and my mom moved a block away eventually. My mom got remarried, I got a younger sister and all that. I didn’t went to your school that’s why we probably didn’t met from a young age. But me and Tom were still pretty close, and still are. Like brothers if you ask me.”

Oh Harrison if only I’ve met you before.

“Then I met Ann and Mel through Harry. I mean they practically moved to his house so not meeting them would be impossible.” He joked.

“And now I finally met you.” He added, his body coming close to yours.

“And I’m glad I’ve met you too.” You said back, flashing him a smile.

“Did you do your work there?” Harry asked, pointing at you and Harrison.

“Didn’t need to actually. He found her himself.” Anna smiled, happy to see his two friends hitting it off.

“How do you mean himself?”

“Don’t know really I just found them all lovey-dovey in the garden. I’m going to ask her later.” She laughed.

“He really needs someone like her.” Harry spoke, happy to see his friend beaming after a long time.

“Absolutely, and so does she.”

“Anna you need to see the boys back there they are fucking hot.” Amelia interrupted the small conversation between the two of them.

“What are you guys looking at?” She was curious what was that interesting.

“WOAH. Did you finally set them up?! WHY didn’t you call me to see it!” She yelled, excited to see where would this go by the end of the night.

“He found her himself, it looks like she caught his eye. I hope he asks her out tonight.” Anna answered.

“He better or I’m setting her up with the brunette back there!” Amelia fired back, making them all laugh.

“Thank God I finally found you guys! The atmosphere inside is hectic can’t wait to freshen up a little in the pool soon.” Tom’s voice grabbed the attention of his friends.

Tom still didn’t see the scene that was happening in front of him.

He was still hot and messy from the make out that him and the blonde were having a minute ago.

“Already found a poor girl for the night?” Anna questioned, although she already knew the answer.

“You know me love, should I find you someone too? My boy Ian is straight fire if you ask me.” He crossed his arms, elbowing Anna only to make her laugh and shake her head.

“When will you settle down Holland? Don’t you feel the need for some love and affection?” Anna asked.

“Why so bitter sweetheart? Try to live a little.”

“If you weren’t my best friend I would break your nose in no time.” She chuckled, punching him playfully.

“Hey wait..Where is Y/N? Didn’t she come with you?” Tom spoke looking around, furrowing his brows.

“She did.”

“So, where is she?”

“She’s having a chitchat with our Romeo for a while now.” Harry added, making Tom now thoroughly confused.

What the fuck is he talking right now?

“What? Who is Romeo?”

“Chill it’s just Harrison. He looks really interested in our little Y/N here.”

Harrison? Y/N? When did this happen? How the fuck did he miss all of this?

Tom’s eyes were now fixed on your and his best friend’s back.

You two were sitting next to each other. Your head falling back from the laughter while Harrison tried his best to end something what he started to tell.

You were truly enjoying his company.

Tom didn’t mind if you had someone, he couldn’t care less honestly. The only important thing was that the guy wasn’t a jerk towards you. It was your choice who you dated, but his best friend?

How will the deal fit in all of this if something happens between the two of you?

He couldn’t do this to his friend, his brother.

Or could he?

“Wait, wait.. Can someone explain how did this occur?” His voice was stony, clearly not as happy as he should be.

“We don’t know either, but it seems like Y/N blew our Haz away.” Anna answered, still looking at them.

“Why? Are you jealous that you can’t have a girl for more than an hour?” She continued to joke, but Tom didn’t find that funny anymore.

“Not in the mood for the jokes Ann. I’m angry because I’m always the last to get informed about things.”

Bullshit.

He was worried because the thought of you breaking the deal made him exasperated.

“Looks like I need to remind you how good I can make you feel Y/N, so that breaking the deal doesn’t even cross your mind.” He spoke inside of his head.

The memories from last night flashed in his head.

The whining, heavy breathing, your face and voice begging for more.

God he needed you more than ever, he couldn’t lose you.

And he would definitely make sure he doesn’t.

His dirty mind and thoughts were stopped by Amelia’s voice and panicking.

“Oh shit, oh they’re coming. Just don’t tease them immediately guys! They’re so cute look!”

You and Harrison could go on and on with the chat, you were so similar. The chemistry was unquestionably there.

“Should we go see our host and others a little bit?” You asked, running your fingers through your hair.

“Already got bored with me?” He joked, pouting at you.

“You know I gotta show you off to everyone sweetie!” You commented jokingly, placing your hand on his knee.

“Wow, I just hope they didn’t watch us like that the whole time.” You stated, looking at your friends that were having a huge grin on their faces.

Except Tom.

Oh he is here as well? What a wonderful surprise.

You didn’t know if you’re heart was thumping that fast because of Harrison’s arm resting on your back or because Tom is there and his presence would make everything super awkward.

“You finally came!” Anna practically yelled, throwing her hands around you to hug you.

“You need to tell me every detail.” She whispered in your ear making you both giggle.

“And so do you cupid.”

Tom and Harrison were next to you, hugging like they haven’t seen each other in a while.

Tom could see how his friend was thrilled to bits.

He was happy for him, I mean how could he not be? He would be a total ass if he wasn’t.

But he also wanted you.

“You enjoying yourself I see?” Tom asked, patting his back.

“She’s lovely mate. I never met such a great person. She is stunning, hilarious and I would love to get to know more of her.” He replied, grinning from ear to ear.

“I’m glad you’re feeling this way. She is really amiable and caring.” Tom spoke, glancing at you.

“How did I never met her, I mean until now?” Harrison asked giving Tom a puzzled look.

“Don’t know mate. Probably because she isn’t a regular guest on parties, and when you were hanging out with us she wasn’t there. I really don’t know how that happened, but hey you met her at least.” Tom saw him staring at you. And so was he, but in another way. Full of lust.

He just couldn’t wait to feel you again.

Tag List

@averyfosterthoughts

@i-cant-hangout-im-drumming

@timey-wimey-lovi

@rachaeldonnaspiteri1

@peterparker-rickybowen-mybabies

@sweetestscape

@quacksonhq

@stuckyyrogers

@kaylinfayezink

@tomhollandthing

@stardustom

@hannahholland1811

@yoinkyourheart

@magicwithaknife

@thurstyforholland

@quaksonhehe

@fanficscuziranout

@runway-to-my-aid

@definitely-not-black-cat

@got-to-get-away

@littlebookbengal

@primadonnasdream

@readheadwriter

@ifntelyinspirit

@juliebean247

@hes-amarillo

377 notes · View notes

strikearose · 3 years

Text

Uncovering Passione's Underside (1/1) GIOMIS

What one can learn by listening to what the secretive Passione's staff have to say about their Don... One-shot, GioMis, Post-canon, Humor, G+ You can also read it on ao3 here!

For as long as many Passione members could recall, Agnese Bianchi had always been there, grumbling as she would mop the hall floor and nagging at fellow cleaning employees and ruthless gang members all alike. It didn't matter how long their felonious resumes were, she simply couldn't stand slackers. Years of working within that specific industry had forged her strong character - she was honest, hardworking, and probably a tad too outspoken too about her aversion for mobsters, but she still knew better than to ask silly questions like some other people did.

The housekeeper glared at the man who'd been chatting up the new cleaner (and therefore, preventing her from mopping up the floor as she had explicitly urged her to) for the last half hour. His name was Trado, Trattore, or something that sounded way too much like Tradittore anyway: he was one of the Don's many henchmen. Ever since he had started working there, he had taken that annoying habit of snooping everywhere, making idle chitchat with the household staff during rush hour.

The old maid cleared her throat, grabbed her cleaning cart handles, and pushed it unceremoniously between the pair. "Is that what you call cleaning the reception room? Signore Giovanna wants it sparkling clean: go fix it now or apply for another job already!"

Her harsh tone worked just fine: the young employee, caught red-handed slacking work, gasped in surprise and mumbled a brief apology before leaving in a hurry. The man, however, didn't seem the least concerned about her admonition. He simply smiled and raised his hands in self-defense - and lord if there was a way he could possibly piss her off even more.

Agnese chose to simply disregard his presence and rummaged through her pockets to find the key she needed.

Click.

As it opened, she began to push her cleaning cart over the door sill with some difficulty.

"Need some help?"

Agnese sighed when she realized he was still there. Who the hell was he taking her for?

"I don't. As always, I'm doing just fine on my own."

To her dismay, it seemed that her sharp answer didn't manage to get rid of the gangster. For God's sake, couldn't he just go bother someone else, literally anyone but her? There was nothing Agnese hated more than to have someone watch her every move.

...

Or perhaps slackers.

Slackers who intended on watching her every move.

"So, for how long have you been working there? They say you'll bury us all..."

Agnese rolled her eyes as she finally managed to get her cart through the doorway.

"Long enough to have seen my fair share of slackers come and go..." The cleaning lady truly wished he'd get the memo this time. She had seen it all: louts in suits with fake good manners and scarred faces, but also men that seemed to be way too nice and curious for their own good. To her, that last species was the worst: they were wolves in sheep's clothing.

But of course, Trado (or Trattore or whatever was his name) didn't appreciate the subtlety of her response, and he continued his questioning: "You've been there long enough to have known the former boss, right? The one before Don Giovanna, a real freak apparently... "

Agnese tensed at that: she didn't like where the conversation was heading. She was unfortunately all too familiar with those office gossips. A little over five years ago now, Passione had gone from having no official face, to Giorno Giovanna's gracing every streets' corners. Rumors had it that the young, brilliant, man had brutally murdered the Original Don in the span of a week. Others thought that Giovanna's was his son and that the boss had simply granted himself a well-deserved retirement.

She couldn't care less about what had truly happened: Don Giovanna gave her a monthly salary as well as direct, concrete instructions. And those were the two things that mattered to her. He was good at that, giving clear orders to the people to his service. And it was nicer to serve him than to obey blindly the weird requests she'd receive by mail like before.

"Don't you really have anywhere else to go?", the cleaning lady suddenly turned to the man she had heard approaching but was relieved to see that he had not dared to enter the Don's office. He was looking at her, peering at what she was doing, from the door's threshold. "If you want a piece of advice, stop being so damn noisy."

The gangster laughed and at that, Agnese wished she could just sweep him out of the room.

"Relax! I'm new here, I'm just curious. Don Giovanna's pretty nice, he won't murder us over some harmless chitchat."

The Boss of a criminal organization, a nice man?

It was Agnese's turn to snort.

Yeah, she guessed it was the kind of public image he was adamantly working on And some people seemed to believe it: newspapers were reporting less traffic, a decline in thugs harming citizens' and tourists' safety. The astounding sums of money he was giving to local shelters, hospitals, and public schools were also common knowledge: rumors had it that the city council was even thinking of naming the brand-new biological museum, founded thanks to his many donations, after him.

As a boss, Agnese considered him to be pretty decent - well, as decent as being the Don of a criminal organization could possibly allow him to be considered. After all, he was well-educated enough not to leave clothes and magazines scattered everywhere like the previous boss and some of his most favored underlings did.

But as a man, there was no way she could possibly tell if he was nice. Agnese was just an old, tired cleaning lady: she never pried into the Don's private life even though she guessed there were things that couldn't escape her lack of malicious curiosity. Details such as notes and silly doodles scribbled on his desk, scraps of paper (of extremely dubious content) discarded in the garbage can she needed to empty or sweaters which were at least two sizes too big for him lying on the normally spotless ground of his room...

Sighing, the old maid was about to close the door behind her when she noticed it: the stupid smirk on the gangster's face. The stupid knowing smirk they always had whenever they would bring up the one topic she had no desire to discuss.

How she wished she could just spray him with a window cleaner to wipe it out of his face.

"You know people say 'bout them, right? I'm sure it's complete bullshit but..."

The answer Agnese gave him was the same she would lecture her own underlings with: "One thing I know for sure is that the Underboss always carries his gun on him... And the Don sure doesn't need one to silence people. So just drop it and mind your own business."

With a last sigh, she finally shut the door closed and started her heavy work. However, even though the noisy snoop had left, Agnese felt her mind drift to her first encounter with the Don as she was dusting the ancient bookcase.

It had happened about four years ago, on a late December afternoon - was it because she had arrived too early or because he had stayed in his office later than usual, but the door had been left open so she had loudly pushed her cart inside. The old cleaning lady had instantly understood her mistake - after all, there was little mystery about whom that man was... Who else would dare to enter the big boss's office in his absence?

Golden locks, emerald eyes looking right at her with mild surprise: he obviously had not been expecting her.

"Oh, it's already that time of the day," his chin tilted high and proud, the mafia boss had flatly made that statement.

Not knowing what to say, Agnese had simply nodded and taken a discreet look at the massive clock behind him. 8:17 pm. He was definitely the one behind schedule, not her: she was just on time.

Not that she could say it aloud anyway.

"I didn't know you were still in there, Signore Giovanna," while her head was slightly bowed as a sign of respect, she had not apologized for her intrusion. She had nothing to apologize for: boss or not, he was the one messing with the established schedule. "I'll come back to clean your office later."

Don Giovanna had however soon dismissed her concern with a motion of his hand.

"It's fine, you can start working now. I was about to leave anyway."

The old housemaid nodded and was about to approach the bookcase when she had stopped right on her track, seeing the state of the ancient Victorian carpet. The boss had a rather keen hearing as he almost instantly turned his attention away from his papers to peer at Agnese, understanding what the problem was right away.

The blood hadn't just spattered on the carpet - there were traces of it on the sofa. And on the cushions. As well as on the desk's marble border.

And of course, the Don had to insist on furnishing his office with pristine white furnitures - even the smallest stain could be spotted from miles away.

Well, at least to look at the bright sight, Agnese realized that she wasn't the one who had to take care of the body, to each, his own mess: scrubbing out the carpet was already going to be a real nightmare.

"I apologize for that," the voice of her employer was surprisingly gentle, and it had taken her off guard. "I'll make sure the floor is covered properly next time."

As unbelievable as it might sound, the Don had kept true to his word: she hadn't been able to find a single drop of blood in his office ever since.

And she had even gotten a raise in the following week.

Rumors had it that Don Giovanna was capable of prodigious deeds that a rational mind could not possibly explain: that dazzling smile of his could enchant things and bend them to his will. Some prominent figures from all parts of the world, whose identities shall remain hidden, had apparently come out of his office miraculously cured. But rumors also had it that the reason why his public appearances were becoming more and more scarce was because of a growing sensitivity to daylight.

So Agnese paid very little to no regard to them. Most of the time, like Tradutti had stated, it was indeed complete bullshit.

However, later that night, as she undid her bandages to observe the state of the burn on a forearm (a stupid domestic accident involving a boiling teapot), Agnese was amazed to find her epidermis completely smooth. There was no more blistering or dead skin: her forearm was of a softness that contrasted with the rest of her body:the astronomical amount of tiger balm and aloe vera used could not possibly explain that. So as much of a skeptic as she was, the cleaning lady was forced to admit that it had to be somehow related to her earlier encounter with the Don.

As soon as she had stepped outside his office after tidying it, she had spotted the mafia boss in the hallway. He was accompanied by five or six men dressed in equally expensive suits. Among them was a face quite familiar to her: the city mayor who was making it to the news because of yet another corruption scandal.

The last thing she needed was to get involved in this ugly mess, so the cleaning lady kept her head high and bravely pushed her cart forwards. What she wasn't expecting however was for the Don to stop her.

"Did you injure yourself?"

She had had no choice but to peer down too at her bandage and lie through her teeth: "It's nothing, Signore."

His face showed no emotion, but he took a step towards her and delicately grabbed the injured arm before she could protest. His grip was somehow gentle but tight: there was no way she could escape from it. It was a literal iron fist in a velvet glove.

Agnese could still recall feeling the gazes of the Mayor and his bodyguards on her, they had also stopped walking to stare at her. Her heart rate had momentarily quickened when the Don's hands had brushed over her wound, his emerald eyes never leaving her confused expression. A sharp pain had set her wrist on fire... And then nothing.

She no longer felt a thing - it was as if it had never happened: Don Giovanna had taken a step back and addressed his subordinates, and they all had resumed their walk, any concern about the poor old maid definitely forgotten. The only one who had graced her with something (a strangely amused smile) before leaving was Guido Mista.

The Underboss truly was something. He often reminded Agnese of her own son: way too careless and untidy. His room was a literal nightmare to clean: most of his cashmere sweaters (which he had no problem leaving on the floor for all that mattered) needed to be hand-washed, and he also had the specificity of returning several times a month completely riddled with bullets.

The fact that he was somehow still alive despite his many injuries was as much a real blessing to him that it was a curse for her.

After all, Agnese was the one who had to clean up after him: and there was nothing easier than to track him because with Underboss Mista came blood everywhere.

Everywhere.

From the pavement outside to the sheets of a certain person whose name shall remain unknown.

...

The kitchen timer rang and Agnese was brought back to reality.

She couldn't say for sure if the Don was responsible for this miracle, but she still wished he could have also helped with her rheumatism too.

━━━━━ ༻🌱༺ ━━━━━

Unlike Agnese, Rolfo Giardino was still fairly new at that whole managing-not-to-get-mixed-up-in-mafia-mess-while-working-for-them dilemma. This gardener may have had twenty years of experience, nothing could have possibly prepared him for what was about to come.

The headquarters' gardens themselves were very pleasant - they were spacious and ideally located. Starting from scratch, that is to say from an austere backyard where some pathetic trees were beginning to wither to this authentic example of Giardino all'italiana, adorned with classical sculptures, flowering shrubs, fountains and ornamental parterres, had not been easy at first but Signore Giovanna had agreed to pay the price without thinking twice and the result was worth it.

Now that it was done, now that Rolfo and his team only had to maintain the garden (meaning watering the flowers and cutting the hedges one or two times a week), he guessed the job would be pretty nice if it weren't for all those mobsters who, for some reason he still couldn't gather, enjoyed watching him work. That, as well as those dreadful echoes of gunfire and screams which would shatter from time to time the peaceful atmosphere of the garden.

The rustling of water, the birds' chirping, a loud explosion from within the building... A nice sunny day overall.

Some of his employees were still refusing to work there despite his best attempts to reassure them: for as long as they would stay away from the actual building, it was not like something could happen to them, right? Still, they were places where even Rolfo himself did not like to approach, near the window overlooking what he thought was the Big Boss's office for instance. He had been forced to come close (way too close) to it because of his client's special request to have ivy and white roses gambling along this wall.

He had started working on it on a day when the weather was so mild that the window had apparently been cracked open for once - and the uncanny noises and groans that had escaped through it had scared the gardener to death. He hadn't dared to peer inside to find out what was really happening: the last thing he needed to know was what the Don of Passione's private torture sessions consisted of. Ever since that unfortunate incident, Rolfo had not ventured any closer to the damn white rosebushes. The branches were becoming too long, they were clearly starting to block the path of light, but as long as the Don didn't make any complaint, Rolfo would leave them be.

But on that day, however, the poor gardener saw red as his eyes fell on the figure loitering near that damn window: who was that son of a bitch was stepping on his flower beds!

"Hey you fucking moron: Move! Can't you see you're ruinin' my work?" Rolfo's shout managed to hit the bull's eye. The criminal was startled by it and half a dozen of armed men (probably criminals too) suddenly burst out the building to see what the hell was happening. He sprinted in the direction of the jerk and threw his pair of pruning shears at him. The gardening tool narrowly missed him - it crashed against the window instead (which, thank lord, did not shatter after the impact), but still made him leave. The stern face of Giorno Giovanna soon appeared, his head comically peaking out the building.

The Big Boss frowned when he realized that five of his men were gathered outside, frantically looking for someone, and took a deep breath: "Did one of you just threw a rock at my window?" He sounded confused, and to his credit, that was quite understandable.

Rolfo felt all adrenaline leave him abruptly - he could feel on him the murderous glares of literal murderers, who would have probably murdered him on the spot were it not for the presence of their Big Boss. He had no choice but to come clean: "Uhh, I do believe it was my pruners, Signore. I apologize, I swear they weren't aimed at you. It was for that damn...- uhh, I mean, that employee of yours!"

The Don didn't seem the slightest taken aback by the choice of weapon. He ran a hand through his braided locked and motioned for the others to go.

"You're saying that someone was eavesdropping on me just now?"

Rolfo looked down for a moment before answering: "Uhh, probably? I mean, he was stomping on my rosebushes near your window, that's for sure. They're Blanche Moreau's you know? They took weeks to arrive from France, weeks to finally blossom in Italy's sunlight!"

The mafia boss frowned at that, and Rolfo just knew he understood how valuable these roses were. After all, the Don seemed to be pretty knowledgeable about plants and lots of stuff: rumors had it that they were going to name that new museum after him so...

Signore Giovanna looked behind him and seemed to be addressing someone in the room: "Make sure to find him."

Curiosity overcame his initial reserve: standing on tiptoe, the gardener finally peered at the window to see what was happening inside. The office seemed incredibly spacious and clean: a dark-haired man, behind the desk, was adjusting the position of his cap on his head.

"Kay, I'll climb down the window to catch him faster! The fucker must be hiding somewhere close!," as soon as the man finished speaking, Rolfo couldn't help but react straight away.

"No, you can't do that! You'll ruin the other bushes!"

Both mafiosi looked at him for a moment and the old gardener realized he might have spoken out of turn, but the Don settled the matter for them anyway:

"He's right, I do like these Blanche Moreau's: go around my office Mista. And please, your zipper." That last part had been uttered quietly, but Rolfo had still managed to pick up on it. His devout Catholic mind would probably have been offended by it were it not for the sudden realization which left him quivering.

How on earth was he able to peak so clearly at the window now...?

"That fucking son of a bitch!", at that the mafia boss frowned and looked at him quizzically, but Rolfo couldn't halt the stream of profanities coming out of his mouth. It was too late. "He chopped it off! The whole branch!! It's all gone!"

Rolfo had promised his wife he would never get too close to the mafia, even though those paychecks sure were quite weighty. And yet as he was now, comfortably sitting in a well-made leather seat, a cup of coffee in his hand, he thought that for a first time within the shady building he had tried to avoid entering for so long, things were actually looking pretty normal. A week had passed since the unfortunate roses incident, and he had been surprised to receive after a subsequent sick leave a call from the Don's office. He didn't really have much choice, so he had shown up on time and was now patiently waiting in the lobby.

"Don Giovanna will now receive you."

Rolfo followed without a word the pretty secretary - she too looked way too customarily pretty to be involved in that kind of business. It was only when he passed under the massive arch of the door that he became fully aware of what was happening: the head of the Italian mafia had summoned him here.

As expected, it was the Don's spacious office, the one he had managed to catch a glimpse of through the window free of rose branches. The room appeared to be spotlessly clean - hell, it even smelled like a mixture of disinfectant and fresh lemon. Definitely not what he was expecting it to look like. Oddly enough, the very first thing he noticed was the tarp on the floor: that gaudy blue plastic was seriously clashing with the rest of the pristine white furnishings.

"Good afternoon, Signore Giardino. Is that the man you spotted by my window the other day?," Rolfo met the gaze of the mafia boss who was calmly standing to what soon turned out to be a man in bad shape, feet and fists bound onto the chair.

On the other side of the suspect, nonchalantly propped against the desk, was the gangster who had wanted to hop out the window.

All three of them were looking at the gardener expectantly, and he heard behind him the sound of the door closing. Of course, the pretty secretary couldn't stay.

"I can't say for sure Signore. See, I was so focused on the combat boots trampling my bushes that I didn't pay too much attention to his face..."

He hated the bastard who had wrecked his work, sure, but to rush him to such a tragic fate...

"Cool, then check it out!," the underboss had spoken with a casualness contrasting with the cruelty of the angle in which he twisted the poor man's leg. Rolfo had no choice but to look at the sole of his boot.

...

The fucking bastard.

There were still manure and rose petals stuck to it. And those were no common rose petals - they were large, fluffy and creamy white. They had been violently snatched away from a Blanche Moreau's sepal.

The gardener hardly needed to speak up to convince the mafia boss - the lethal look he was giving the tied-up man was already enough evidence.

Umberto Tradduto's fate had just been sealed.

Rolfo couldn't say what prompted him to look outside, but after that he only overheard bits of the conversation whispered in front of him: what was he was seeing right now was far more chocking anyway:

"I leave it to you for now Mista. I'll dispose of him later."

"Another donation to the museum?"

"Not this time. I think he'll make a fine aphid instead, that way our gardener will be able to settle his score with him."

Rolfo wasn't even pretending to be listening to what was being said anymore. He couldn't believe his eyes. He took a step towards the window and the two mafiosi, deep in their discussion, didn't notice it immediately.

"Keep your evening free, we'll be paying a visit to the mayor tonight. I'm getting tired of the spies he keeps sending here."

"Tonight? Hey, do you know how much it cost me to book the entire restaurant?"

The Don cleared his throat as if suddenly reminded of the other two's presence: "The sooner the better. I'm sure she won't mind. You'll reschedule your date later."

Mista was about to protest, but he fell silent as he realized where the gardener was standing: "Hey man, what the...-"

But Rolfo overstepped his role again to cut him off. His eyes shining with emotion, he turned towards the mighty Giorno Giovanna and addressed him as if he was a true deity.

"How...- How did you...? This is prodigious Signore!"

Behind him, blocking the light from the window, were proudly standing three beautiful unscathed roses branches.

━━━━━ ༻ 🚗 ༺ ━━━━━

Alfredo waked up completely startled as he heard someone bang on his window: dozing off at the wheel was a rookie mistake, he was well aware of that - but still.

"Hey open up!"

The underboss' voice was agitated - something very rare for such an easy-going man, so Alfredo immediately unlocked the doors and got out of the vehicle to assist him. Mista was backing up the big boss, a hand wrapped under his shoulders to help him stand.

The driver shot a panicked look at the small cottage they had just come from: what the hell had just happened in there?

Alfredo glanced at the Don's patent leather shoes - he was dressed as reverently as usual - and then at the underboss' worn-out leather jacket: even though they were clothed as if they were going to very different events, they had asked him to drop them at the same address: the mayor's private country hous. He had followed the itinerary scribbled on the paper an informer had given him a few hours before. It was the driver's special talent: being resourceful. Even without a precise address, he always knew how to bring his customers to the desired place.

His clients never asked him how it worked, and in return, he never made any remark on the state they would return to the car in. Or to question why they seemed so keen to surprise the mayor at such a late hour of the evening.

Alfredo was even willing to give an extra hand if needed, occasionally overstepping his role of a simple driver if the client was likely to be a good tipper.

He opened the passenger door for the mafia boss, but to his great surprise the latter stopped him right there:

"I'm fine. Just open the trunk instead."

Alfredo tensed up but said nothing as he went back to his seat to retrieve his leather gloves.

It was another kind of extra service: helping them to get rid of incriminating clues. Well, it wouldn't be the first body dumped in the back of his precious vehicle, and certainly not the last. As long as they would pay for the subsequential cleanup, he didn't mind.

"How many bottles have you stolen?," The underboss had ushered that question to the boss not discreetly enough, and the driver allowed himself a relieved sigh.

No bodies on the horizon, then?

No scandal of the mayor's disappearance making the headlines on the next day?

Great, he'd be able to go back to bed sooner.

As he passed next to the two mafiosi to open the trunk, Alfredo noticed the two bottles of prestigious champagne that the Don was clutching tightly against his. chest. Oh wow. The underboss, on the other hand, was eyeing Giorno with a bewildered look, as if it had just occurred to him that the mysterious gigantic box he had been forced to carry from the cottage contained more bottles.

"Guido please, go fetch me a last one," the Don was less assertive than usual - you could hear the exhaustion in his voice.

Alfredo awkwardly stood next to them in silence as he waited for his next instructions. Charcoal and emerald eyes were engaged in a long, fierce battle of dominance, neither of them breaking contact. Hell, it even seemed to Alfredo at some point that the Don fluttered his lashes - but that could also be exhaustion talking.

Years of working within that specific industry had taught Alfredo how they would inevitably settle that growing tension between them.

Once again, for as long as they would pay for the subsequential seats cleaning, he didn't care. It wouldn't be the first indecent make-out session to happen at the back of his precious vehicle, and probably not the last.

A partition wall was always between Alfredo and his clients. Until now, he had never managed to catch them red-handed, but he had heard of those rumors. And he, better than anyone else certainly, knew for a fact that the Don had never sought to have good company brought to him. He'd always travel to his secondary residence alone while the underboss was the kind of man who preferred to drive there by himself.

Apart from the occasional names slips, he had never witnessed any tender gesture, he had never overheard anything remotely ambiguous. The details that had tipped him off were more subtle, or well usually at least they were. They would simply sit a little too close to one another, with no free seat between them - the pair was never five feet apart so that to speak. But right now, unless he would turn off the parking lights, there was no way Alfredo could pretend he wasn't seeing the Don's right hand slowly lowering far too low along the other's back. It was clearly no longer a question of keeping his balance.

"Fine," the Don let out a dramatic sigh and the driver nearly said hallelujah - now that he had admitted defeat, they would be able to leave at last! "If you won't do it, then fine I'll ask our driver instead."

Holy shit, what the hell was going on that night?

Alfredo quietly took a step back to exit the scene but it was too late - both mafiosi were already looking at him. If they were seriously intending on making him break into the mayor's house, he sure hoped they were ready to give a real good tip.

Fortunately, the underboss shook his head and rolled his eyes (had they just swapped personalities?), before reluctantly talking: "'kay you win I'll go. But then, we're outta here." Mista put the box inside the trunk and headed back to the cottage, leaving the driver in the company of the big boss who didn't seem quite inclined to enter the car yet. So Alfredo had no choice but to stay with him outside, on the chilly night and very awkward silence.

It was only after the third hiccup of the Don that the realization came down to him: he wasn't injured by any means, he was just completely drunk.

"Umm," Alfredo knew he wasn't supposed to question his boss, but the silence between them was becoming seriously uncomfortable. "So were you celebrating something Signore?"

The mafia boss looked at him for a long moment - god, the poor driver sure hoped he hadn't made a mistake, before shrugging: "Not really. I simply like Champagne, especially when I'm not the one paying for it."

Who could have thought that someone who spent so much on luxury clothes could be stingy?

Alfredo decided to politely answer. "Yes, I've heard you own several vineyards in Europe Signore. It's clever, I'm sure you never run out it..."

At that, the mighty Giorno Giovanna ungraciously hiccuped again, and the driver had the decency to pretend not to notice it.

"Mhhh.. You don't get it," had the mafia boss just snorted in contempt? "It's not so much about the Champagne itself as it is about the pure satisfaction of having taken possession of it... The mere contentment in knowing that the stupid mayor will never be able to savor it now that it's mine, you know?"

No, of course, not. There was no way Alfredo could possibly relate to that: it must be one of those crazy rich people whims.

Not that he could say it out loud, of course. The night was getting colder and colder, so he hoped the underboss wouldn't take long to be back.

"Would you like a bottle?," the Don's question took him by surprise so the driver, out of reflex, shook his head.

"Good, or you would have had to convince Mista to go back."

The stingy rich bastard.

Alfredo couldn't believe he was thinking that of him, in any other situation he would never have allowed himself to think that of Giorno Giovanna, but there were at least eight bottles in the trunk, he had seen them. And the Don knew that.

Fortunately, the underboss chose that exact moment to reappear and slam the trunk door shut after charging it with two other bottles.

Discreet much?

But whatever, the Don seemed rather pleased with that and finally agreed to go inside the car - his customers' satisfaction was what mattered the most to Alfredo.

After all, with good service came good tippers.

And that night, in exchange for the obvious promise to keep his mouth shut about what he had witnessed, the underboss sure went overboard with the tip.

━━━━━ ༻ 🧹 ༺ ━━━━━

It was now 8:20 a.m.: even though the day had started way earlier for Agnese, she had had to wait for the mobsters living upstairs to rise and shine, so she could proceed to clean their rooms. It was by far the task she hated the most: grabbing her heavy cleaning cart, she pushed it towards what had to be the cleanest place of them all. The Don's private quarters, starting with his excessively large bathroom: since the fancy tiles there took the longest to dry, she would then continue with his connected bedroom.

However, as soon as she stepped foot inside, Agnese almost fainted at the horrible sight that met her eyes.

Clothes, confetti and popped balloons were scattered everywhere, pieces of glass were covering the soaked floor, and an astronomical amount of what furiously smelled like Champagne had been dumped into the bathtub, splattering the walls and the carpet- hell, it even seemed like some of it was still fizzing inside.

Up until now, she had thought that she had seen it all, that nothing that the most wicked mind was capable of, could possibly surprise her. But that was a whole new level of a mess.

Thankfully, the inscription on a balloon (the survivor, the only one that had not exploded yet) was what prompted her not to hand the culprit her immediate resignation letter.

The Don's birthday would only happen once a year.

And with some sheer luck, she'd be able to negotiate her well-deserved retirement before the next one.

That morning, Guido woke up because of a cuss word that reminded him very much of his native Italian countryside. He had no idea what time it was: Giorno's expensive alarm clock having been inadvertently smashed the night before. He yawned gleefully and stretched out his arms before turning to face the lumpy shape beside him.

The mighty Giorno Giovanna, drool on his chin, was muffled in his blanket, and it didn't seem from the look of it that he'd be getting up any time soon.

He was probably dealing with a hell of a hangover right now - served him right for the astronomical quantity of Champagne in which he had literally bathed and drowned. Giorno would decidedly never learn from his past mistakes. Well, he was very much looking forward to taunting his lover for years about that unfortunate late birthday episode.

There was no way the mafia boss would be able to conduct his meetings of the day - changing the planning wasn't something to worry about even though it would piss the hell out of Fugo for sure. Feeling compassionate about what was awaiting Giorno, he gently patted what he thought was his head (?) and smiled as he heard him grumble in return. How cute.

Guido finally stood up to start his day, he would smuggle him some Ibuproben later but first thing first, his much-awaited morning tinkle. And a long hot shower. Yeah, that way he would perhaps find a ploy to avoid dealing with Giorno's responsibilities instead of him. While he was not hungover, the late night's events had completely drained him of his energy.

Giorno's bathroom truly was something: it was way more spacious and tidier than his own. To him, it was a literal spa: cool extra-powerful water jets, a gigantic glass shower cabin AND a massive marble bathtub, a myriad of bottles of heavenly-smelling shampoo, conditioners, shower gels and body lotions everywhere - hell, there was even a housekeeper politely handing him a towel.

...

Holy shit.

Trying his best to cover his naked glory, Guido Mista could only stutter pitifully:

"Uhh.. Yeah, so about that new raise of yours we were discussin' the other day..."

This would only be the fourth time of the year, so at this point...

#giomis #misgio #misgio fanfic #giomis fanfic #misgio fic #giomis fic #giomis fanfiction #misgio fanfiction #giorno x mista #mista x giorno #one shot #giomis oneshot

15 notes · View notes

lailannajacobs · 4 years

Text

Girl Going Nowhere

Pairing: Bucky x fem!reader

Request: Aaaanyways I had a small request about a Bucky x reader fanfic that I was wondering if you could do sometime if you get a break in your busy schedule. Maybe something along the lines of them both being in the avengers and reader has like a huge crush on Bucky but he sees her as a "kid" until boom they have some sorta fancy event where reader turns up lookin like a snacc and Bucky is like o.O when he sees her AND THEN THEY GET TOGETHER AND LIVE HAPPILY EVER AFTER ...

Word Count: 5.1k

Warnings: Little violence, pinch of angst but 99% fluff

A/N: thank you so much @winkwonk123456 I had a blast with this request! This is probably much longer than it had to be, but I couldn’t resist adding in some 2012 avengers type moments! Hope you enjoy, I’d love to know what you think! P.s Italics are flashbacks, all else is present <3

Girl Going Nowhere

“You know, I think you’re getting better at this,” Nat stared down at you, her smirk the only thing you could see.

A groan escaped your lips and you sunk further into the sparring mat. You’d done this enough times to know that you’d find a few new bruises tomorrow but that the worst part was right here, right now, trying to catch your breath.

“No, really,” She continued, “That was a whole minute longer than last time. Anyone else and you would have had them down.”

“Doesn’t feel like it,” You muttered, taking her extended hand.

Straightening you out, she laughed, “You’ve got your first mission in a couple days. Just making sure you’re ready. The more pain-”

“I know, I know,” You interrupted, stretching your neck from side to side, “The more pain I feel here, the less likely I am to be dead out there. Doesn’t make getting pounded into the ground any easier though.”

“But then it would ruin the fun for me,” She grinned, the kind that usually meant you’d be flat on your back within seconds.

The gym doors opened and you both looked up. Bucky and Sam walked in, gym bags slung over their shoulders, already dressed for a workout. They both smiled when they saw the two of you.

“Hey kid, ready for your first mission?” Bucky asked with a pleasant smile.

“Always,” You snapped.

It was a wonder you’d heard anything passed the word ‘kid’. The one syllable, three letter word made you want to punch something. Mainly him. Though half the time you weren’t sure which part of your body you wanted to connect with his. And that was the problem. He saw you as the new recruit, as nothing more than a… than a…you swore internally: a kid. It didn’t matter that you looked the same age or that you were a fully functioning adult, in his eyes, you were just a kid who’d shown up on the compound a year ago - SHIELD’s newest asset. That old fart could go to hell for all you cared.

“You boys had better not be late for dinner,” Nat shot them both a pointed look, “It’s Tony’s idea of a big family dinner while most of us are around and he’s expecting you.”

“Tony’s cooking?” Sam asked incredulously. Nat laughed, steering you toward the door. He grinned, “Yeah, didn’t think so.”

“Just be there!” She called over her shoulder. Then she turned her action to you, winced and then shrugged, “If you need it, come see me, I’ve got concealer that works for that kind of thing.”

And with that cryptic bit, she walked off with a joyful wave. You touched your cheek and winced. Shower first and then you’d deal with the damage done.

“I’m pretty sure I don’t need to tell you this,” Sam stepped onto the treadmill, a devilish smirk on his lips, “But every time you call her that, I’m sure it’s the time she throws a punch at you.”

Bucky started at a slow jog and shot him a grin in response. He didn’t need to explain to Sam that the reason he did it was to make sure she stayed far away from him and all his baggage. They’d gotten too close the first couple weeks after she’d arrived at the compound, and the moment he realized there might be something between them he’d quickly dismissed the thought, starting the whole ‘kid’ charade. He was an old man, out of his time, who’d done far too many terrible things to even consider anything even remotely romantic. Even if it was with another agent who’d seen her fair share of shit and was living the same lifestyle as he was. One who knew who and what he was. One who…

He punched the speed on his treadmill, pumping his legs to keep up with the gruelling increase in pace. He was doing it again. Making excuses for himself - for the future he caught himself imagining from time to time. Calling her ‘kid’ as often as he could was barely working to remind himself that he was better off alone. Not that it mattered all that much. Nowadays, half the time she looked like she wanted to kill him, so even if he did change his mind - which he wouldn’t - he was pretty sure she wasn’t interested.

“She’s going with you on her first mission. Did you ever figure out why Fury recruited her?” Sam asked between puffs of breath.

Bucky stared straight ahead, annoyed that he couldn’t push the treadmill further, “No idea. All I know if that if they waited a year to deem her mission ready, then they would have waited longer if she wasn’t.Though whatever the reason is, it must have something to do with the reason Wanda avoids her like the plague.”

“Well, she’s not me, but I’m sure you’ll be fine with her as your back up,” Sam laughed, though he was fighting so hard for breath it sounded more like a wheeze.

Bucky chuckled, “I can’t get used to having you at my back 24-7. You have to sleep at some point.”

“Unlike you people. All you supers are making me dizzy,” Sam huffed with mock seriousness, “Look at you. Are you even sweating?”

“I’m still waiting on Tony’s new treadmills,” Bucky laughed, slowing the machine, Nat’s warning fresh in his mind.

They kept on in silence for another ten minutes until deciding to call it. Dinner with all the Avengers and their families. Oddly enough, Bucky found that he no longer dreaded this kind of thing.

“What’s going on?” You demanded, looking up at the numbers above the doors that were no longer glowing.

Bucky’s eyes widened a bit as if he’d forgotten you were there but recovered quickly, “Even elevators in a place like this jam from time to time.”

You nodded slowly, silently wishing it would start moving again. You weren’t ready to be stuck in an elevator with a complete stranger - well, a person you’d only spoken to for about a minute. You’d arrived on the compound less than two weeks ago and you’d barely said a word to anyone and that was including Natasha Romanoff who’d been assigned to teach you how to fight and defend yourself. You were not ready for close proximity chitchat.

“You okay in enclosed spaces?” He asked, settling down on the floor and extending his feet.

He looked like he was settling in for a long wait, not one bit bothered by the fact that he was stuck in a hanging box hundreds of feet in the air. Of course, if you were as resilient as he was, you’d be completely at ease as well.

Thankfully, apart from your anxiety at being trapped with someone else, you were pretty calm, and crouched down until your butt was on the floor, your knees tucked tight against your chest. You stared at your knees, half hoping he wouldn’t talk to you and half hoping he would. Although you did it on purpose to keep to yourself, it was undeniably lonely. Maybe you could use a friend…you couldn’t remember the last time you’d had one.

“Just a little warning,” He began, his tone causing you to worry. You hadn’t thought there was anything to worry about, but the way he spoke made you wonder if you maybe there was, “If you ever get trapped in here with Peter, he will most definitely tell you about the time his classmates were stuck in an elevator. Every time.”

You looked up at him, relieved and surprised, “So this kind of thing happens often?”

“Weirdly enough, yeah,” He shrugged, a small smile on his face, “It’s the one elevator in the whole place that never seems to work properly, no matter what they do to it.”

“Would you be able to get us out if this thing goes down?” You were surprised by the question, but you didn’t know much about the others who lived here and the question had come out on its own.

He shrugged again, “I’d like to think so. What about you? Got any skills that’ll get us out of here?”

You clenched your fists, thinking of the pain on the redhead’s face when she had walked into that Hydra base. Controlling your powers wasn’t something you were good at yet and you were avoiding anyone else with the mutant gene until you knew for sure that you wouldn’t hurt anyone else. You’d been relieved to learn that secret serums and alien lifeforms weren’t affected - even though Dr. Banner thought that maybe your abilities could extend to even inanimate objects one day. You weren’t sure you wanted them to. Too many people had gotten hurt. It didn’t matter that they had promised you that you’d only be doing good from now on.

“Forget I asked the question,” Bucky said after your elongated silence. You were about to apologize, but it was as if he knew exactly what you were going to do and he wasn’t having any of it, “Whatever reason you’re here for, I’m sure it’s a good one. It doesn’t matter where you were before this…trust me.”

And by the way he said it, you did. If ghosts were real, you had a feeling you could have seen them hovering around him weights.

“I’ve actually got a more important question to ask you,” He continued.

“What’s that?” You were glad your voice wasn’t shaky.

“You know about Thor’s hammer, right?” Your nod was all he needed to continue, “We’ve got a debate going; if you put it in an elevator and it goes up, is the elevator worthy?”

You raised a brow, not sure if he was being serious or not, and when he smiled, you did too, starting to feel yourself relax for the first time since you got here.

There were three things you knew were about to happen in the next minute and a half. The first was that Clint wouldn’t miss; he never missed. The second was that, immediately afterwards, you’d find a small smirk on Wanda’s face despite her claims that she was not involved and was not paying attention. The third was the the commotion would get the rest of the Avengers, who were still in the kitchen, into the massive living space.

Thor’s booming laughter filled the room, shaking the apple balanced precariously on his head. Lightening crackled at his finger tips, his eyes bright and his stance wide. Loki was in the corner, looking extremely bored as he picked at the grime under his nails, but occasionally he’d glance up, a slight quirk to his lips. Bruce stood quietly on the far end of the room, taking in everything with a slightly worried look on his face. Despite the number of adults in the room, he was the only one who looked relatively responsible. Your eyes kept searching the room for the same person they always did. Sam had his brow raised, arms crossed over his chest as he watched in amusement, and Scott stood by his side, a wide grin on his face. Bucky was nowhere to be seen.

Thor lifted his hand, index finger and thumb touching to create a small circle just above his head, right in front of the apple. No one was worried for anyone’s safety, especially that Dum-E stood nearby, fire extinguisher on hand.

“I thought I was done with parlour tricks,” Clint shook his head as he lined up his shot.

“Come on dad!” His daughter Lila begged, “I told Cassie that you could hit anything!”

Clint couldn’t hold back a smile, “Thanks for the vote of confidence, honey.”

“Are we ready?” Thor laughed, “Because I’m starving!”

“Here we go,” Clint muttered.

Then he released the shot. The moment it flew between Thor’s fingers, lightening cackled, setting the arrow aflame. The arrow split the apple, and still burning, lodged into the wall behind him. The kids burst cheers and Thor’s face split into a a wide grin. Dum - E moved into action. Everyone else, including Wanda, couldn’t help but smile and applaud along with the kids. You relaxed into the wall behind you, days like this making you so thankful that Fury had found you.

“Are you trying to burn the place down before dinner?” Tony asked, strolling into the room, “Because I’m pretty sure a flaming arrow will do it. The kinds of things I have to put up-”

You wanted to follow the rest of what Tony was saying, but all you could see was Bucky who had come in behind with Steve at his side. He smiled and mouthed the words ‘hey kid’ before going off to see Sam. Tearing your gaze away, you managed to catch the end of what Tony was saying, telling everyone that dinner was ready. Everyone else began filing out of the room, but you stayed seated, wondering why you couldn’t seem to behave like a normal person whenever Bucky was around. You knew you’d have to get your act together before the mission or else you’d compromise the whole thing and put everyone in danger.

Bursts of laughter exploded from the dining room and you decided it was time you joined. However, you let Wanda go first, making sure to give her a wide birth as she passed. She’d forgiven you, but you couldn’t say there was anything friendly between the two of you; not that you blamed her. Sam, Steve and Bucky were talking in hushed tones, lagging behind, but you walked away as if you couldn’t care less about him. You had dinner to get to and you were going to enjoy yourself.

“Are you in position?” Bucky asked into the coms.

He looked around the main floor, watching the rich party goers mingle and observe the artefacts at the silent auction. From his position at the top of the staircase, he could see everything except for the one person he was supposed to be on this mission with. Bucky was used to missions where he barely had any information to go on, but he wasn’t used to rely on a person whose abilities were classified - even to him. Fury had told him that it was safer this way. Bucky had had no choice but to believe him. The only consolation was that by the end of the night, he’d know that much more about YN.

He scanned the room for her, but couldn’t find her usual workout attire. Of course, this being a black tie event, she was probably - surely - wearing something completely different, but it was hard to picture her wearing anything else.

“I’m following the target,” Her clipped voice came in through the coms, “He’s alone.”

“Don’t engage. Stand down,” Bucky ordered, taking off in a sprint.

This wasn’t the plan - at least not the plan he’d been given. His heart rate picked up as he made his way to the target’s office. The target - Jackson Cure - was deadly, an inhuman with mind manipulation and telepathy and YN was about to walk in there, alone. He swore and picked up the pace, ignoring the pointed glares in his direction.

He raced up the stairs, going so fast that he almost came face to face with the target himself. Before Bucky could even get a punch in, he lost control of his body. Fear crashed over him. He struggled to regain control, refusing to let something like this happen to him again, but his hand was reaching for his gun and he knew it wasn’t because he was about to shoot the target.

“You’re a strong one,” Cure purred, eyes lighting up at the challenge.

Bucky grit his teeth, fighting a loosing battle. From the corner of his eye, he noticed YN creep up from behind. He tried to warn her, get her to leave before anything happened to her, but his mouth wouldn’t work. He only succeeded in making Cure notice that something was up.

Cure turned and practically laughed when he saw her, “Come to join the fun then?”

She lifted her gun, pointing it at his head.

“I don’t think so, darling,” He grinned, “Why don’t you kill him instead?”

Bucky felt his body still despite his futile attempts to move. The only thing he could do was look at her and try to convey a million different things before she pulled the trigger.

But she didn’t.

“Lie down on the ground and put your hands behind your head,” She snarled, eyes flaring with hatred, “Do it now.”

Cure’s brows furrowed in what seemed like a mix between confusion and concentration.

She clicked the gun, “I said, do it now.”

“Your friend,” He started.

“You won’t do a damned thing to my friend,” She took a step forward, looking like she really would shoot him.

Before Bucky knew what was happening, Cure doubled over, howling in pain. Suddenly, he could move again, sucking in deep breaths of relief. But all he could do was stare dumbfounded at YN, who stood coldly a few feet away from Cure, watching. No, not watching. She was the reason he was in pain.

She stepped forward and his howls turned to groans. He watched as Cure tightened in a ball on the ground, looking like he was about to pass out.

“Sergeant Barnes,” He barely recognized her voice, but somehow it was enough it pull him out of his stupor, “Are you all right?”

He nodded.

“Then I need you to cuff him. Romanoff is waiting on the roof,” She spoke clinically, but her eyes kept darting toward him as if she was worried.

He followed her order, still out of breath and trying to piece his mind back together again. Cure was still in pain, but he couldn’t risk telling her to ease whatever it was that she was doing. Not right now.

When they made it to the roof, Bucky had regained most of his composure, but he noticed YN had sweat dripping down her temple. Cure was cuffed, but they didn’t know if it was safe for her to let go of her hold on him.

Nat slid open the helicopter door, “You can let him go,” She shouted over the sound o the blades, “His abilities won’t work with the cuffs on.”

YN looked skeptical but did as she was told, Cure sucking in a deep breath despite the fact that he was still powerless. She swayed and Bucky shot out his hand to steady her. She only stared at him, a look in her eyes he didn’t think he’d ever begin to understand.

“The limo will be here in a half an hour,” Nat continued, eyes darting between them, “Make sure you’re seen on the way out.”

They both nodded, watching util the helicopter was out of sight.

“Are you okay?” She asked.

He thought so. Though he knew he wouldn’t be is she hadn’t been there. Hell, she’d practically taken care of this whole thing singlehandedly. She may have been the new recruit, but there was no way he could get away with calling her kid anymore. Bucky didn’t know what would have happened if Cure had had the chance to poke around in his head longer than he had. He shuddered at the thought, trying to push it far away.

“I was supposed to have him subdued before you got there,” She continued when he said nothing, “That’s on me.”

Stunned, her realized she was trying to apologize to him. After everything she’d just done for him, she was trying to apologize.

“You saved my life. That’s on you,” He stated firmly, “I can never thank you enough for that, so please don’t apologize.”

She sighed, “Are you sure you’re all right?”

“I’m fine,” He said, turning to face her, “Thanks to you - holy shit.”

He stared at her, at a loss for words. Amidst all the action, he’d never really taken a good look at her. He’d known she was there, but hadn’t needed to know more than that.

“What?” She demanded, voice panicked as she whirled around to find the threat, “Bucky, what?”

He couldn’t help but stare at her in her gown. It was as if every feeling he’d pushed down since the day they’d met came rushing back to the surface, only to mix with the leftover adrenaline to hit him like a tidal wave. YN had always been beautiful, but tonight she was something else, coming through for him with confidence and kindness like he’d never seen at the compound. Bucky also had to admit that he’d always had a soft spot for a woman in a pretty dress.

Yet, all that managed to come out of his mouth was, “You look beautiful,” Which felt kind of lame and very much an understatement.

She stared back at him, an expression on her face he couldn’t read, then looked down at the dress she was wearing.

Finally, she shrugged, “You have Nat to thank for that. She picked it out.”

He extended his arm, trying to sort through all his emotions while not being able to help himself, “A dress is only as beautiful as the woman wearing it.”

His words caught him by surprise, the familiarity of them like a long lost friend he hadn’t seen since the forties. He knew he would never be the person he was before the war, but maybe he could find away to be something else; something different, but just as good.

You were dreading working with SHIELD and living on Tony Stark’s compound. It wasn’t that you wanted to keep being blackmailed by Hydra - working for them against your will - but you were pretty sure these people wouldn’t accept you. They were all heroes. You were…you were a coward who couldn’t fight her way out of a shitty problem.

Fury didn’t say a word. You weren’t sure if it was because small talk wasn’t his thing, if he was ignoring you, or if he was being nice and giving you you space. Either way, you were glad for it. You weren’t sure what to say. After almost killing one of his team members the night they’d raided the Hydra compound you were on, the only thing you’d been able to say had been a string of apologies. The only break in your profuse apologies had been the moment you’d agreed to work for him, both a penance for your actions and a freedom from the situation you’d been stuck in.

When you followed him through a set of clear, double doors, you were hit with the bustle of what felt like a small city. Not only were there soldiers smiling about, but there were women dressed in suits - both regular and some like you’d never seen before - men in jumpsuits, people with clipboards, screens above-head with flashing lights and what appeared to be a mechanical bird swooping precariously in and out of the crowds.

“You can’t be a bazaar half your flock is gone loose!” A laughing voice shouted, “You’re going to have to catch that thing before it pokes someone’s eye out!”

“Shut up and start helping me!” A different, much less amused, shouted back.

You searched for the voices, but couldn’t find the men they belonged to amid the crowd.

Fury muttered beside you, “They’ll both lose an eye if that thing takes out mine.”

You smirked, the action taking you by surprise.

Two men then stumbled into the room, shooing the bystanders out of the way. The crowd parted with little more than an eye-roll . The long haired one raised a gun but didn’t get to fire off a shot.

The man with wings strapped to his back gripped his friend’s arm and glared at him, “You kill that thing, the guys in tech are going to kill you.”

“How do you want to get it then? Because last I checked, you weren’t able to fly this model,” He retorted, shaking him off and taking aim again.

“If one of you fires a damn shot,” Fury warned, his voice no louder than it was before but easily carrying across the room, “I don’t care how accurate it was, you’re going to wish you didn’t.”

In unison, they turned their heads, noticing Fury for the first time. The bird swooped toward them and you almost cried out to warn them, watching as it aimed for the long haired one’s head but his hard shot out, the clang of metal on metal ringing out through the room. You blinked, not sure you’d seen correctly, but knowing in a place like this there was no way you were imagining things.

Wings grinned, noticing you, “See you’ve brought a new recruit.”

They wandered over, blue and brown eyes trained unnervingly on you.

You looked down instinctively at the bracelet they’d given you only a week ago. Judging by the pain free looks on their faces, it was working fine.

“No need to look worried,” Wings shot you another grin, this one more welcoming, “There are only idiots here who sometimes manage to save the world from time to time.”

What little good mood you’d found at watching them chase after that metal bird vanished quickly. None of the work you’d done for Hydra had anything to do with saving lives…And that was the big problem, wasn’t it?

“Maybe she should be worried,” Blue eyes said, and you stopped breathing thinking that he knew who you were and what you’d done, “She’s going to have to work with you and your unruly birds from time to time.”

Wings rolled his eyes, “Wait until she sees the Spiderkid or Lang.

“You’ll be fine here. Trust me," Long-hair shot you a small, knowing smile, that eased the pressure off your chest as he extended his hand, “I’m James and this is Sam. But you can call me Bucky.”

You didn’t know what to think about Bucky’s reaction. You were part worried, part thrilled, and also riding the high that came from finally being able to loosen the cap that you kept on your powers. You didn’t know what the hell to think.

So, arm in arm, you followed him back down to the auction. He was silent the whole way, almost contemplative, so you said nothing. The fury you’d felt at seeing that man get inside Bucky’s head and then try to kill him…It had been so blinding you were surprised you’d managed to keep hold of your powers long enough to keep him alive. You could still feel it simmering beneath the surface, threatening your hard earned control over your ability. The bracelet was in your clutch, but you’d promised yourself you wouldn’t ever need to use it. You never knew who could be in the vicinity and you couldn’t risk what you’d done to Wanda happen tonight.

“Bucky,” You whispered when you walked out onto the quiet sidewalk. You weren’t sure what you wanted to say, his name having slipped out as if on its own.

His gaze found yours, searching as if to make sure you were all right. The look wasn’t the same as the one he’d had on his face earlier, but it still sent shivers down your spine anyways, “YN? Are you cold?”

You shook your head, not sure what to do or say.

He dipped his head, trying to get a better look at your face.

“Are you hurt?” The words were a deep growl, surprising you.

After the way he’d looked at you when you’d saved his life - as if he was truly seeing you for the first time - you were taken back to that moment in the elevator when you’d thought there was something between you. But you pushed the thought away. You were just a kid in his eyes, SHIELD’s newest recruit. Whatever you’d thought you’d seen was only what you were hoping to see there. Nothing more.

“No. No I’m fine,” You muttered, forcing a smile, “The limo’s here.”

Something flickered across his face, but you ignored it, shoving out of his grip to get into the car. You melted into the seat and closed your eyes, leaning your head back against the headrest. You heard him get in and felt the limo take off.

“YN?” He murmured.

You opened your eyes and slide a glance his way, “Yeah?”

“I never did thank you for saving my life.”

You shrugged, “You would have done the same for me.”

“I would have,” He said forcefully, “Every damn time.”

There was something in his voice that made your breath catch in your throat, and you turned so that you were fully facing him. He leaned in closer.

“I mean it,” He whispered.

You felt yourself getting sucked in, but pulled back just in time, “Good thing for you that this kid can take care of herself.”

His brow furrowed, “What I saw out there was the work of a powerful woman who looked absolutely beautiful while being completely badass. You’re no kid, trust me.”

You stared at him, confused. He was telling you the exact opposite of what he’d been telling you for the past several month. It was hard to believe that doing your job could have changed his mind unless…he’d always believed the same thing? You were so confused. You didn’t know if you were simply imagining things or if this was real.

“Exactly,” You said, opting for humour to try and avoid your feelings, “I’m no kid. You’re just old.”

The corner of his mouth lifted and you found yourself being drawn in again.

“Good thing then, that that’s only technically. I’m pretty sure we’re actually the same age,” He whispered.

You were having trouble tearing your attention away from his eyes and murmured, “Why’s that a good thing?”

He answered by sliding his hand around to the nape of your neck and closing the distance so that his lips were on yours.

“You could always wear that dress around the compound, you know,” He joked when he pulled away, fingers trailing over the edge of the material until they rested on your thigh, “Practice fighting while dressed undercover.”

You laughed though the sound was cut off by the feeling of his lips on your neck, “How considerate of you, but I’m going to stick to my usual clothes.”

You felt his smile on your skin, “I’m not good at keeping my eyes off you either way.”

#bucky #Bucky Barnes #james buchanan barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky fluff #bucky fanfiction #marvel fic #MCU fic #fan fiction #fanfic

44 notes · View notes

p4nkow · 4 years

Text

Maybe someday

A few days ago I rewatched this movie I grew up with which is called “Life as we know it” (I highly recommend you to watch it if you haven’t) and it gave me the inspiration to write this one shot.

Summary: as Lucy and Rami finally leave for their late honeymoon, they ask Y/N and Ben a huge favour — they have to watch over their daughter, Sophie, for one whole week as they’re away. The only problem is that Y/N and Ben can barely stand each other.

Let me know what you think, I’d love to read your comments!

Anxious. Organised. Schematic. Hater of surprises.

If you had to describe yourself with simple, concise words, those’d have been your choices. Everyone who knew you was well aware of the fact that you tended to plan everything. It wasn’t something you liked to do — plan your life in its very details. You just couldn’t help it. Moreover, it helped you to make your schedule clear as well as your mind.

So when Lucy and Rami told you they had to talk to you, the level that your anxiety had reached could’ve been easily imagined. Their party had been awesome — it had given you the chance to meet old friends and to have a little chitchat with those you hadn’t seen in forever.

It’d have been perfect if it wasn’t for Ben.

Oh man, saying that you didn’t get along was not enough. One of the most important things that’d influenced your relationship was the fact that he’d screwed up your first blind date. First and last date, of course. It didn’t take a genius to understand that he had no wish to be there.

Since that day you’d met him quite often — it was impossible not to when your best friends were married and with a one-year-old child. That’s right. Rami had finally summoned the courage to propose to Lucy and now, almost a year and a half later, they had the most beautiful child you’d ever seen.

Sophie Malek was a feast for the eyes and you loved her. Before her you never understood the endless love people showed towards babies, but damn. It was impossible not to love her.

Ben did love her, too. That’s one of the few things that you appreciated about him.

He was just perfect when around her — always caring and careful about her needs. He’d always play with her and the sight of a grown-up Ben playing with duckies and princesses was quite funny. Funny, yes, but cute. Those were the only times when you were in a cease fire. You just couldn’t bring the little Sophie in your war of jabs.

“What’d you guys need to tell me?”

Rami and Lucy exchanged a look and you didn’t like the little smiles painted in their faces. They were pulling a scam on something and Lucy’s words did nothing but increase your suspicions. “Just wait a bit longer.”

Now that the party was over, it was only you, Lucy, Rami and the little Sophie sprawled in the couches of their living room. “How old are you, Soph? Huh?” The little girl had just learned to show her age with her fingers, raising the index finger at her mom’s question.

Lucy was your best friend, your wingman, your partner in crime, the sister you never had. Your friendship had been going on since high school and now she was a mom. God knows you cried your eyes out the day she gave birth.

The unlocking of the door brought you back from your thoughts and you sighed deeply at the sight of Ben. Even though there was resentment between the two of you, you couldn’t deny that he was good-looking. Extremely good-looking. The leather jacket he was wearing on top of his black shirt made him look even more attractive and you hoped he didn’t catch you staring at his black trousers which fit him perfectly. But why the hell did he always wear black?

“I put the garbage out. I hope I guessed right your can.” He didn’t seem to notice your presence as he closed the door behind him, so you just ignored him.

Then he spotted you sitting on the couch right in front of the couple and gave you just a simple nod. Unfortunately there was no room for him on their couch, so he was forced to sit on yours. He made sure to sit as far from you as possible, though.

“You smell so much of feminine scent that I’m about to throw up.”

Ben gave you one of his smirks and you truly wished you could punch him in the face. “You’re just jealous that it isn’t yours.”

“I pity those girls”, replied in kind. Your words did nothing but amuse him and you rolled your eyes.

“Guys.” Thank God Rami saved the situation as Lucy tried to hide her giggles in Sophie’s neck.

“You wanted to talk to us?”

Rami nodded at Ben’s question, surrounding Lucy’s shoulder with his arm. “Yeah, uhm...”

“Do you remember how we never got to leave for our honeymoon, right?”, Lucy came in his help.

“I remember your complaints about it, yeah.”

Lucy’s smile grew even bigger at your words. “We’d organised this big trip to Europe but then...”

“Sophie happened”, Rami concluded.

You remember it clearly, but still you didn’t understand what was their point. When you turned towards Ben for a quick look, you were glad to see that he was just as confused as you. “And?”

Lucy and Rami exchanged another look as Sophie squeezed her duck. “We’d love to do that trip. As a gift for our first anniversary.” Oh no. Now you knew exactly where this was going.

“’f course you understand that we can’t take such a trip with a one-year-old child.” Ben widened his eyes at Rami’s words. He was starting to understand too.

“So we wanna ask you”, Lucy started saying but she was interrupted by Rami. “We beg you.”

“Yeah”, Lucy nodded. “We beg you to take care of Sophie as we’re away. You guys are the only ones we trust.”

“Shit, man”, Ben murmured as he slipped his fingers through his hair. It was something he did when he was nervous. Right now he was extremely nervous and you just couldn’t believe what’d you just heard.

“I’m sorry, what?”

Lucy narrowed her brows in worry. “Y/N, please. You know we cant trust our parents.”

“And we can’t trust Joe”, Rami added. Sophie limited herself to follow your conversation with a curious look.

You, on the other hand, still had to process their request. So you turned towards Ben only to find himself staring at you, horrified. “I’m sorry”, he said by picking his tongue out, licking his lower lip. “I’d love to do that. Really, I’d love to. But with her?”

“Oh so you don’t believe I’d be able to take care of a child?”

“I highly doubt it, yes. Let’s face the truth, ‘kay? We can barely stand each other.”

“And so what? It’s Sophie we are talking about.” You forced yourself to keep your tone low not to scare the child.

Ben exhaled deeply and quietly murmured something, so you moved your gaze back to the couple. “I’ll do it.” Now it was personal — you had to show that prick that you could take care of a baby, differently than he thought. With or without him.

Lucy’s smile was still uncertain as she looked at Ben. He seemed conflicted as he rubbed his hands, looking at you first and then at Sophie. His shoulders rise and lower as he sighed deeply, starting to nod his head ‘yes’. “Yeah, I’ll do it, too.”

Rami let out a relief laugh and he placed a kiss on Sophie’s head. Trying to ignore Ben, you stood up from the couch and leaned towards the baby. “Come to auntie, Soph.”

The baby reached up to you and you gladly picked her up, meeting Lucy’s eyes while doing so. “I owe you one.”

She surely did.

“Auntie Y/N will take care of you as mommy and daddy are away”, you whispered as you smiled back at her.

Sophie’s attention was caught by something behind you, her eyes widening in excitement. You knew who she was looking at even before turning around. It was crystal clear that Sophie loved Ben almost as much as he did. He gently caressed her cheek with a sweet smile on his face. “Hi, love.”

“Don’t make me regret it.” Your words were nothing but a whisper as you talked to Ben.

His jaw clenched as he fixed his green eyes on yours. “Sophie’s our priority now.”

“Yeah, exactly”, you said quietly. “So work your shit out.”

“Hey, Soph. What a bad aunt is auntie Y/N, right? She even swears in front of you.”

You rolled your eyes at Ben’s words and, making sure that Sophie wasn’t looking at you, you mouthed “Fuck off.”

Day One - Monday

Part of the deal was to move at Lucy and Rami’s place for the entire duration of their trip. It was mostly because you didn’t want Sophie to feel completely disoriented as her parents were away.

You murmured a series of “Huh-huh”, “‘kay” and “Yeah” as Lucy showed you were to find the diapers, the baby bath tub, the meals and the toys. She even revealed you a tip on how to calm her down when she was nervous.

Turns out that Sophie loved the noise of the kitchen hood.

For the whole time Ben chatted with Rami in the dining room, giving a look at Sophie sleeping in the playpen every now and then, and you truly hoped that he’d have given you some help in this. Things presaged nothing good.

“I’ll FaceTime you every night”, Lucy promised.

“You already said that.”

“The emergency numbers are on the kitchen peninsula.”

“I know, Luce. You showed me.” Your words came muffled at her ears as you hugged her. “Do I have your permission to kick Ben in the balls if he misbehaves?”

“You behave.” Lucy wiggled her nose as she giggled and turned towards Rami, who was standing right next to her.

He leaned towards you to give you a hug and he whispered to your hear “You have my permission.”

His words made you giggle and you gained a glaring from Ben. “What?”

“You smell of baby puke.”

You held back a middle finger as you waved at Lucy and Rami who were now walking away.

As their car disappeared from your sight, you silently closed the front door, trying not to wake Sophie up, and then turned towards Ben. “What?”, he asked by raising a brow in a questioning look.

“We need a schedule.”

Ben slowly blinked, giving you a confused look. “’m sorry?”

“Come with me.”

Five minutes later you were both sitting at the stools of the peninsula, one facing the other, with a beer on one hand and the awareness that it was going to be a very long week.

Ben took a sip of his drink as you twirled a marker between your fingers, looking at the blank white board. “Hopefully we’re gonna make it before Sophie turns two”, he commented with a smirk.

Half an hour. You’d been in his presence for half an hour and you already wanted to punch him. Nevertheless you ignored his comment, starting to write on the board as you said without looking at him “I work three days a week: Monday, Wednesday and Friday from eight to twelve. This means that you’ll have to take care of Sophie all by yourself.”

When you looked up at him, his brows were narrowed. “What now?”, you asked in annoyance.

“I want free days, too.”

“I don’t have free days.”

“Yeah, but you go to work. Those ones count as free days.”

Sighing deeply helped you to keep calm. “Okay, then. What do you suggest?”

“Sunday night.”

“I’m not spending a Sunday night all by myself, Ben.”

His smirk was a hint on what his next comment was going to be. “I’m pretty sure that you spent lots of Saturday nights all by yourself, love. When was the last time you got laid?”

“Mind your own business”, you immediately replied.

Ben giggled at your reply and you tried not to stare at his lips as he took another sip of his beer. “And what if I don’t take any other free days? Only this Saturday night.”

His suggestion was reasonable — you bit your lower lip as you thought about it, narrowing your eyes. Why’d he do something like that?

That’s what you asked him. “Why?”

He limited himself to shrug at your question. Not that you were expecting an answer from him. “Fine, then. You got this Saturday night.”

A few moments of silence passed as you wrote on the board and the marker made a shrill sound at every word. “We didn’t think this through.”

Here we go again.

You couldn’t help but throw at him an annoyed glance, sighing deeply as you placed your elbows on the counter and leaned towards him. “Ben.”

“Share the place, both sleep-deprived? ’t sounds like a compelling psych experiment.”

“We cannot draw back now, ‘kay? We’re pretty deep in this.”

His green eyes stared at you for a few moments, still processing your words. It wasn’t a problem of yours if he had an issue with you. Both of you had agreed to do that — how could you say no to Rami and Lucy?

Ben exhaled deeply and leaned towards the back of the chair, moving his gaze away from you. You’d won the argument for now.

There were lots of other things to plan and to write down on the whiteboard and you were about to say it when a little squeak, followed by a little crying caught both yours and Ben’s attention. He gave you a disoriented look and you hurried to stand up, leaving the board still unfinished as you moved in the other room.

“Hi, honey. Hey.” Sophie was standing on the playpen, her beautiful eyes a bit teary.

Ben’d followed you to the room. “Hey, look at the sleepyhead.”

His expression had completely changed — he seemed another person when talking to Sophie and you could barely believe he was the same man who’d earlier told you you smelled like baby puke. Sophie reached up to him and he was about to walk towards her, but you placed a hand on his shoulder and said “Wait, don’t pick her up.”

His brows narrowed in confusion. “Why?”

“Because she needs to learn how to self-soothe.” Ben looked at you like if you were mad.

“She needs to what?” His yes were narrowed and they seemed even darker than usual.

“Self-soothe”, you repeated. “Soothe herself.”

Ben stuck out his tongue and gestured towards you. “And why’d she do that?”

“I read it, Ben. It’s important. Let’s just give it a minute.”

The way he shook his head made you believe that he thought you were nuts; nevertheless, he did as you said. So you were both standing right in front of the playpen, waiting for Sophie to calm down all alone.

But she didn’t, so an idea came up to your mind. “Five little ducks went out one day, over the hill and far away”, you started to sing in an uncertain voice. You looked at Ben with the corner of your eye and he had an amused smile on his face. “Mother duck said, ‘Quack, quack, quack, quack’ but only four little ducks came back.”

“One, two, three, four. Four little ducks went out one day...” Ben’d started to sing along with you as you tried to impress Sophie with your dance moves. “I don’t remember it”, he whispered to you.

Sophie wasn’t particularly impressed by your singing skills, given that she was still softly crying. The sight of her teary eyes’d become unbearable so — unlike what you’d told Ben — you leaned towards her and picked her up. “I think she’s hungry. Yup, I’m gonna feed her. Let’s go eat, love.”

“I though we weren’t picking her up!”, you heard Ben saying as you walked away.

Day Two - Tuesday

Sophie’d fallen asleep in your arms. Her beautiful blonde hair made her seem angelic as she dreamed and you gently grazed her cheek. You didn’t want her to wake up because of you, but it was impossible not to caress her when se looked so peaceful.

Eventually you forced yourself to let her sleep in peace and you decided to get some work done. You’d been highlighting titles over titles for an hour when you heard the front door unlocking.

Shortly after Ben came into your view and you placed a finger on your lips, silently telling him not to wake Sophie up. His eyes immediately went to the baby sleeping in your arms and his features relaxed at that view. Then he looked up at you with an expression that you’d never seen in his face. Not when he looked at you.

But he quickly looked away, carrying the bags into the kitchen before joining you in the dining room.

He sat far from you, but on the same couch. You could feel his gaze following your movements as you tried to get your work done, and when you looked at him you noticed a strand of golden hair that had fallen on his forehead.

“What you up to?” His words were nothing but a whisper.

You gave a quick look at Sophie before turning your gaze to him. “Some paperwork.”

“Right, work.” His tone made you narrow your brows.

And even though the grey sweater that he was wearing made you feel things, you ignored those feelings and asked “Why did you say it with such irony?”

“You run a bookstore.” As if it was an explanation.

“And what with that?”

If Ben’d realised that his words might’ve hurt you, he didn’t show it. “It’s a bookstore.”

“I love my job, you asshole.”

Then you suddenly realised that Ben was just teasing you. The little smirk on his face couldn’t be misunderstood. “Language, love. Last thing we need is Sophie’s first word to be ‘asshole’.”

You shook your head in amusement and even though you were trying so hard not to, your gaze fell to his lips. It’d happened many times for you to think about his lips, how soft they seemed to be. Usually Ben’d dampen those moment with a jab of his or a perv comment just to drive you nuts. But not this time.

“Ben?”

By hearing your whispers Ben moved his gaze from your lips to your eyes. “Yeah?”

You didn’t want to ruin the moment, but you did it anyways. “Do you smell that?”

His brows narrowed in confusion. You nodded towards Sophie, who was still sleeping peacefully, and Ben leaned towards the baby to sniff on her. “Oh my God.” His face twitched in disgust and he quickly leaned back.

“Did she finally—“

“Oh yeah, yeah, yeah. I think she... She sure did.” The expression on his face was hilarious.

“Ben”, you said with an amused smile.

When he turned towards you, in his face there still was a disgusted expression. “What?”

“Don’t be a pussy. It’s just poop.” Ben sighed and you giggled.

But then it was time for you to change her diaper. Sophie laid in the changing table, looking at the two of you with a little smile on her face. The problem was, neither of you had the courage to face all that poop. “Remind me again why we agreed on this”, you whispered.

Ben gave you the typical ‘what’d I say?’ look but said “Because we are great friends and now Rami and Lucy owe us a big one.”

“And because we love Sophie”, you added.

Ben slowly nodded at your words, a tiny smile appearing on his face. “Yeah, we love this little one.”

“And because uncle Benny’s the best”, you started by taking a step away from him. “He’s gonna be the one to change your diaper. Right, Sophie? Isn’t he the best?”

“What?”

“Oh c’mon, Ben.”

Ben threw his hands in the air. “Why me?”

“Why me?”

Ben sighed again. “Let’s make a team effort, ‘kay?”

You just couldn’t say no when he showed you his puppy eyes. Bastard. “Fine”, you gave up. “I’ll undress her.”

As you unbuttoned her bodysuit, Sophie gave you a big smile. “You’re lucky I love you”, you whispered to her and you heard Ben giggle behind you.

When she was finally free from her leotard, you turned towards Ben. “Your turn.”

“Already?”

“Yeah, already. C’mon.”

He stood right next to you. “It’s a weird smell, right?”

“Why do you always complain? Go ahead.”

“Fine, fine. It can’t be that hard, can it?” He gave you a hopeful look and you giggled.

“It’s something you can take off the checklist”, you said as you tried to hold back a laugh.

“Yeah.” He carefully approached his hands on the diaper but it was crystal clear the fact that he had no idea how to do it.

“What are you doing?”

“I don’t know. It’s not a bra that I’m taking off a girl, it’s a diaper.” The way he underlined the last words made you laugh.

“It’s not a surgery, just undo the tabs.”

Ben’s hands, so big compared to the little Sophie, were now following your instructions. As soon as the tabs were undone and Sophie was finally free from the dirty diaper, the smell came to you even stronger than before. “Oh my God.”

“What’d I tell you?”, Ben asked with a disgusted expression.

“It’s burning my eyes.”

“We have to clean her up.”

“Yeah, I know.” Trying not to throw up, you quickly took Ben’s place. “Can you please me hand me the baby wipes?”

As you gently held Sophie’s feet up not to dirty her and to clean her better, you hurried to get rid of all that smelling poop. “She didn’t eat enough to produce that”, Ben commented as he watched you.

“Stop it or I’ll throw up.” You gave him a quick look from above your shoulder and Ben smiled back at you. “Another one, please.”

Wiper after wiper, you finally managed to get her clean. Yours and Ben’s reaction did nothing but amuse Sophie, who was giggling with the biggest smile on her face. “Are you having fun, huh?”

“She’s as wit as her mother”, Ben whispered.

After getting rid of the dirty diaper and having Sophie clean and fragrant, you picked her up from the changing table. “What do you say, Sophie? You want uncle Ben?”

“Didn’t hear that”, Ben tried to cut himself off.

“I did hear it, though. Go to uncle Ben, my love.” Sophie reached up to him and Ben grabbed her, giving her the biggest smile you’d ever seen. As you tried to tidy up the room, you heard Ben saying as he walked away “Say Uncle Ben. It’s easy, love. B-e-n.”

Day three - Wednesday

The house was silent. Too silent. That’s why you tried to close the front door as quietly as possible — maybe Sophie was sleeping. Or maybe Ben was. All the bags and books you took home from work were long forgotten on the table as you checked every room of the ground floor to find them.

As you walked upstairs the theme song of Peppa Pig came crystal clear to your ears. It was the hint you needed to know exactly where they were.

“Wow, that was a really good episode.” Who was Ben talking to?

But, more importantly, was he really talking about Peppa Pig?

“Y’know, what I really love about Peppa is that even when everything seems to go wrong and they scr— blow, they blow things up, this funny man keeps saying ‘Oh dear’ or ‘Look out’.” His words made you giggle but you tried not to make any noise. “Auntie Y/N should follow my example, don’t you think? I’m such a good uncle, right Soph?”

You were now standing against the doorframe, watching Ben sprawled on the soft ottoman as he talked to Sophie in a very serious tone, gesturing towards her. The little girl seemed to follow his conversation, letting out little squeaks of excitement every now and then.

“Too bad that aunt Y/N is way better than you.”

Ben turned towards you by hearing your words and gave you a lazy smile. “How long have you been there?”

“Long enough to hear you talking about Peppa Pig. Oh dear!”

You loved to tease him.

“Oh, shut up.” Despite his words, Ben was smiling in amusement.

You took a few steps towards the baby, kneeling in front of her. “Hi, love. How did uncle Ben treat you, uh? Was he good?”

“I’m the best. Look at her, she’s ecstatic.” Sophie squeaked in excitement, trying to say something as she proved Ben’s point.

“What do you think of a bath? Would you like that?”

Once again, Sophie mumbled some incomprehensible words. They made sense to her, though. “Is that a yes?”, you asked Ben, who limited himself to shake his head as if saying ‘I really have no idea.’

Not being able to decipher Sophie’s words, you took them as a yes. Sophie was now in Ben’s arms as you prepared everything to bath her. Every now and then you threw them a few looks from above your shoulder only to find Ben being completely focused on her, trying to make her giggle by tickling her.

“How was work?”, he asked you as you both waited for the tub to fill up.

You bit your lower lip and gave him an amused look. “Oh, now you care?”

“I was just trying to make conversation”, he quickly replied and shrugged.

His words made you sigh deeply, shutting the faucet and checking the water temperature. “’t was fine, I guess. A bit exhausting. Thanks for asking.”

Sophie loved water. Literally, she loved it. She got all excited when taking a bath and started to spray the water everywhere. Needless to say that both you and Ben were soaking wert as you tried to clean her up. “C’mon, Soph. Just wait for a second”, you almost begged.

“Where the hell is the bloody duck she loves so much”, Ben murmured as he looked for the toy everywhere in the bathroom.

“Language, Ben.”

Ben laughed. Hard. It was probably the first time you heard him laughing like that and you loved that sound. “That’s rich coming from you.”

You mimicked him and gave him a look as you held Sophie. He was sticking out his tongue like he used to do, a proud smile on his face as he held Sophie’s duck. “Look what uncle Ben found, love.”

Sophie became even more excited at the sight of her toy, trying to take it from Ben’s hands when he came closer to you. “Would you hold her? I need to remove all the foam with the shower head.”

He didn’t hesitate to answer “Yeah, sure.” So he gently grabbed her and lifted her, holding her far from his body as he waited for you to wash her.

“Look, Sophie. Uncle Ben’s afraid of getting wet.” If Sophie protested when Ben got her out of the tub, now she was relaxing under the jet of the water.

“I’m already wet.” Dangerous choice of words.

“Then”, you started in an angelic tone. “You wouldn’t mind if I did this, right?” You splashed a bit of water in his face.

Ben was tempted to retract from the jet but Sophie needed to be cleaned. So he bit his lower lip and said in an amused tone “You’re lucky I’m holding the baby.”

“Or what?”

You giggled at the look he gave you and you wrapped Sophie in her bathrobe, taking her from Ben’s arms and holding her close to your chest. “You can’t revenge now. I’m holding the baby.”

“I will have my vengeance, in this life or the next.”

You gently rubbed Sophie’s back, leaving a few kisses on her cheeks as you told Ben “Nice movie quote.”

Day Four - Thursday

“Okay, Sophie. I’m almost done, hold on.” The baby food you’d lovingly prepared for the little girl looked nothing like Lucy’s. It tasted good, though. You made sure of it before taking a seat in front of her, ready to feed her.

“She’s not a food critic, she’s a one-year-old”, Ben commented as he watched you. He was leaning against the stool, his arms crossed in his chest as he gave you a sceptic look. Each passing day did nothing but confirm you that he only wore black. The dark hoodie he was wearing was a proof of that.

“She might not be a food critic but sure as hell she doesn’t like my cooking.” And it was true — no matter how much you tried to make her open her mouth and eat her food, she just wouldn’t. “C’mon, Soph. It tastes so good, you’ll love it.”

Ben loudly giggled from where he was standing. “She had the guts to tell you that your cooking sucks.”

“My cooking is amazing. You ate almost half of the roast beef that day at the party”, you protested.

Ben raised a brow. “Did you cook it?”

“’f course I did.” You tried again to feed Sophie but all you managed to do was to get her dirty. You groaned in frustration and sighed deeply.

Five seconds later your attention was caught by the ringing of Ben’s phone. He took it from his pocket and gave a look at the screen before moving his green eyes on you. You raised your brow in a silent question and he bit his lips, walking out of the room and getting the phone out in the backyard.

Sophie finally ate the first spoonful of her meal and as you slowly fed her, your mind started to run wild. Who was he talking to? Was it one of his dates? But then you convinced yourself that it was none of your business.

“Good girl, Soph. Do you like it? Is it good?”, you whispered as you wiped her mouth. Sophie clapped her hands in excitement and it made you genuinely smiled. “Where’s mommy? Say mommy. Mommy”, you repeated slowly for her to understand.

A few minutes had passed before Ben came back into the room. “Did she eat?”

“Just a little bit”, you replied without looking at him.

“She doesn’t like your cooking for real, huh?” Ben was just teasing you but, for a reason that you didn’t know yet, you were pissed at him.

So as you put away the plate on the sink you limited to say “Huh-huh.”

“Y/N?” As you heard him calling you by your name you gave him a quick look. His brows were narrowed in a frown.

“What?”

“What’s wrong?” It was probably the first time that Ben was concerned about you.

You sighed and you turned towards him, drying your hands. “Let’s establish a rule.”

“What rule?” He gave you a confused look.

“The week’s almost over. Let’s spend it peacefully.”

He gestured with his hand while saying “Is that the rule?”

You were starting to get used to the tiny lines forming around his eyes whenever he narrowed them in a confused expression. “No. The rule is that we don’t get to bring dates here in this house. Not around Sophie. I know it’s hard for you to hold on for a whole week, but you’ve got this Saturday night off.”

It was for Sophie’s sake, right?

“Wha— is it because of the phone call?”

You shrugged. “Maybe.”

Ben quickly rubbed his eyes, taking a step towards you. “It was Joe.”

Oh.

You stuttered before saying “It’s the principle that matters.”

“Fine. No dates here.”

A nod is all you gave him as a confirmation before turning towards Sophie. Giving her a better look you said “Ben.”

“Hum?” He followed your gaze to the kid and his eyes widened. “She’s making the look.”

“Yeah, that’s the look”, you confirmed. Not shortly after Sophie started to cry. Loudly and uncontrollably. “Your turn”, you told Ben as you stepped aside.

You heard him sighing as he picked her up, rocking her gently on his chest as he tried to soothe her. “C’mon, be good for uncle Ben”, he whispered as he started to walk around the room.

Your gaze ran over the kitchen and it fell on the hood. “I’ve got an idea.”

Ben limited himself to give you a questioning look and you gestured towards the hood. Still, he didn’t understand. Right, he wasn’t with you when Lucy told you that Sophie loved the noise of the hood. “C’mere”, you whispered as you turned on the extractor fan.

“What are you doing?”, he asked, but he did as you told him.

Now Sophie was softly crying and you tapped Ben on his shoulder, making him sign to lean closer to the hood. The kid’s attention was immediately caught by the noise. Even though she’d stopped crying, her eyes were still a bit teary. It was working.

“Rock her”, you whispered.

Ben looked at you. His green eyes were fixed on yours and you suddenly realised that you were close. Maybe too close. Your chest was touching his arm and his face was just a few inches away from yours. Once again your gaze fell to his lips and for the first time you didn’t care if you were staring at him.

But then Ben cleared his voice and moved his gaze to Sophie. As he gently rocked her he started to sing in a soft voice, trying to get her to sleep “But I’m a creep, I’m a weirdo.”

You had to cover your mouth not to burst out into laughter. “What are you doing?”

“Everybody loves Radiohead.”

Day Five - Friday

“You went groceries literally three days ago. I can’t believe you forgot all this stuff”, you complained as looked at the shelves.

The three of you had gotten in the supermarket not even fifteen minutes ago and your shopping cart was already full. “’s not like I know what’s on Lucy and Rami’s pantry.”

Ben was pushing the cart without paying attention to what you put in it — his eyes were for Sophie only. She was in a good mood and Ben did nothing but improve the situation by playing with her.

“Does she like peaches?” You gave him a quick look from above your shoulder.

Ben was in a good mood, too, given that he gave you a big smile. Maybe you should go often together to the grocery store.

“Why don’t you ask her?”, he proposed.

Opening a jar of peach jelly, you made her smell it. She wiggled her nose in a disgusted expression and she shook her head. “You don’t like it, huh?”

“Huh-huh”, she replied and her expression made you giggle.

“Told you”, Ben said. “She’s as wit as her mother.”

Sophie smelled at least other three other flavours before picking her favorite — apricot. “Really? Apricot?”

“Apricots are a gift from God.” Ben’s words surprised you.

You had a stupid smile on your face as you said “D’ya like them?”

“I love them.” He underlined the word ‘love’ and you shook your head in amusement.

“Y/N?” Hearing that someone was calling you by your name, you turned your back to Ben to face the stranger.

“Nick?” One of your friends from college — whom you hadn’t seen in forever — was standing right in front of you.

“Wow, I thought I was wrong”, you heard him saying as he hugged you.

You couldn’t tell why, but you felt uncomfortable.

“It’s me”, you said with a nervous smile.

Nick’s gaze moved behind you and you followed him. “Is she—?”

“Huh?”

Nick cleared his voice. “Is she your daughter?”

“Wha— no! No, no. Ehm, she’s Lucy’s. And he’s Ben.”

“His husband”, Ben added with a polite smile.

You parted your lips in a confused expression as he shook Nick’s hand. “He’s not—”

You couldn’t even finish your sentence that Ben asked him “College mates, right?”

Nick nodded. “Yeah. Haven’t seen each other in forever, though.”

“Yeah”, you confirmed. The truth was that you were still trying to process Ben’s lie.

“How long have you guys been married? I didn’t know anything about it.”

Ben smirked at Nick’s question. He moved next to you and put his arm around your shoulders, giving you the biggest smile you’d ever seen on his face. His cologne smelled so good that it almost made you forget his lie.

Did he want to play that game? Fine by you.

As he held you close to him, your arm surrounded his hips and you faked a smile. “Oh, just for a few months. It was a small ceremony”, Ben said with a fake smile and you pinched him. A low, deep groan came from his throat but your actions had the opposite effect you wanted to provoke.

Ben was amused.

Even though Nick was still there, you’d almost forgotten about him. “Oh, it sounds so cool. I’m so happy about you guys.”

Thankfully you both didn’t get the chance to answer him because Sophie started to squeak in excitement at the sight of a dog. You took the chance to slip away from Ben’s grip and you approached the kid as you said to Nick with an apologetic smile “’m sorry, Nick. We’re kinda in a hurry. It was nice seeing you again.”

As Nick walked away you nudged Ben. “Idiot. C’mon, push the cart.”

“Don’t be such a bossy, wifey.”

You playfully pushed him away when he tried to come closer to you and then you asked “What was that?”

Ben smirked. “I was just making sure you wouldn’t bring any dates home.”

Since when Lucy and Rami’s place had become home?

Even though you’d spent the last week together, the grocery store gave you the opportunity to fin out new things about him. Like the fact that he likes cereal with no milk or thwart he would gladly mop the floor a hundred times rather than loading the dishwasher.

Once gotten home, you also found out that he hated making two trips while carrying the bags. And he made it very clear by complaining the whole time.

“What do you want for dinner?”, you asked as you hoped you were guessing right where to put all the food you’d bought.

Ben was taking care of Sophie as you tidied the pantry. His voice came muffled as he proposed from the other room “How about we order a pizza?”

“Yeah, fine.”

Where the hell did Lucy put the mayonnaise?

You were still trying to unload the groceries in the kitchen when you heard Ben’s voice. “Y/N?”

The tone of his voice made you worry. “Yeah?”

“She’s walking.” Maybe you misheard him.

“What?”

“She’s walking!”

The bags forgotten right in the middle of the kitchen almost made you stumble as you hurried to move to the dining room. Ben had his back to you, his arms arms stretched out towards the baby.

Sophie was standing on her own feet and a big smile was printed on her face. “Oh my God she’s walking.”

Ben gave you a quick look by hearing your whispers and you noticed a big, enthusiastic smile on his face. He was genuinely happy and for the first time ever the idea of Ben as a dad didn’t seem too abstract.

“Come to auntie, Soph. Come.” Her attention was caught by you and Ben quickly moved behind her, ready to catch her if she fell.

Step by step, Sophie came to you and hugged you with so much love that you almost cried. You couldn’t help but kiss her and as you still held her in your arms you told Ben “FaceTime Lucy. She’ll kill us if she misses it.”

Five minutes later, the three of you sat on the carpet and Lucy was waving at you with a toothy smile on her face. “Hi my love! Hi Sophie!”

“Where’s Rami?”, Ben asked her. He didn’t want his friend to miss it.

“Ugh”, Lucy gave a quick look behind her, probably looking for his husband. “He’s probably taking a shower. How are you guys? How’s my baby?”

“We’re fine. But you gotta take a look at this.” You just couldn’t hold the excitement in your tone. Lucy was beyond excited at your words — you could see it from her eyes. “Just wait a sec.”

Ben stood up as you gave him a pat on the shoulder and he moved right in front of you, far enough for Sophie to take a few steps on her own. The camera was now turned towards him, showing his arms stretched out towards the baby. “Come to uncle Ben, Sophie. C’mere”, he encouraged her.

Lucy narrowed her brows. “Y/N what—”

“Just wait”, you cut her off. “C’mon, Soph. Go to uncle Ben.”

Sophie’s eyes gave you an excited look and she clapped her hands. She slowly leaned towards the sofa, holding on it as she struggled to get on her own feet. When she finally did, Lucy’s eyes were widened and her lips were forming a perfect ‘O’ before whispering “Oh my God.”

When Sophie started to take little steps towards Ben — who’d the biggest smile on his face as he made sure Sophie wouldn’t fall — Lucy said out loud “Rami! For the love of God, Rami! Come here!”

Her excited tone made you chuckle and you heard a loud thud from the other side of the call. Ben heard it too and gave you a quick, confused look before moving his gaze back to the baby.

Rami was now standing right next to Lucy, his hair wet and his eyes widened in confusion. But then he saw his daughter walking on her own feet and he looked at Lucy with so much love that it almost made you cry.

Inevitably your gaze fell to Ben, who was now hugging Sophie and whispering “You did really good, love. You did great.”

The sight of a sweet, soft Ben made you think about your situation. Maybe, after all, spending all that time together had improved your relationship. Or maybe you were just fantasising.

Day Six - Saturday

It’d been a hell of a night. Sophie cried for most of it and it was impossible for you to understand why, given that she still couldn’t talk. Both you and Ben tried to calm her down with anything, but not even the hood kicked in.

Eventually she fell asleep at 8AM and as she rested peacefully in her bedroom, you realised you might as well stay awake. As you were about to make you a coffee, you heard footsteps approaching you.

Ben was rubbing his sleepy eyes, trying to force himself to stay awake. His hair was messier than usual and the shirt he used as pjs was wrinkled.

“Did you check on her?”, you asked in a low tone. To be honest, you felt like shit.

He cleared his voice and nodded his head ‘yes’, taking a seat on the stool of the peninsula. “She’s sleeping.” His tone was just as low as yours.

Sophie had worn you both out.

“Would you like a coffe?”

By giving him a look from above his shoulder, you noticed he was nodding. “Yeah, thanks.”

Five minutes later you were sitting one right in front of the other, just like the very first day. This time he hadn’t the strength to throw jabs at you, though.

“Thank god it’s Saturday.” His sea-glass eyes stared at you for a few seconds.

The hotness of the cup of coffee was warming you cold hands. “Yeah. We did it, right?”

“Yeah... but I’m never doing it again.”

You narrowed your brows at his tone. “Why?”

Ben gave you a condescending look. “If you haven’t noticed, running a baby’s not like running a bookstore.”

“Are we back at it again?”, you asked in an annoyed tone.

Ben started to gesture. “They’re a mess. They pee on things. They bite and they poop a lot.”

“They’re babies.”

And then Ben snapped. You knew that sooner or later he would’ve, because it was Ben we’re talking about. “I had plans this week. Business meetings. I gave up everything to give you a hand with it and play this part.”

“I never asked you to do it! I never asked for your help. And ‘play this part’? Are you serious, Ben? That’s what this is to you?” Hopefully Sophie wouldn’t wake up. As much as you were both trying to keep your tone low, you were in the middle of an argument.

“We’re living in the same house, watching over a kid that isn’t ours and we’re acting like we’re married but we are not.”

“So you’ve been pretending, huh. Have you been pretending with Sophie?” Bet stuck his tongue out, slipping his fingers through his hair as he usually did when he was nervous or upset. And right now he was both. “No, I love Sophie.”

“So just me, then.” It was destroying you the fact that your words sounded like a whine, but you were hurt.

Ben narrowed his brows in a confused expression and his lips parted. “Y/N—“

“You know what, Ben? I shouldn’t have said yes. I should’ve known that you and I aren’t the ideal pairing to take care of a baby. I knew we weren’t a good pairing at all when you left me alone in my fucking car two years ago.” You finally had the chance to tell him how much he hurt you when he screwed up your first blind date. He had to know how much it had influenced your relationship.

“It’s been two years ago!” He threw his arms in the air.

“Yeah, and look at us now. You could’ve just told me you didn’t feel like it, but no. You had to be a dick.”

“’m sorry if I didn’t feel like going to a blind date a month after I broke up with my long-term girlfriend.” Now he was being sarcastic.

And now you were really mad. “How the fuck was I supposed to know!” Your tone was higher than you expected so you took a deep breath to calm down, not wanting to wake Sophie up. “It was my first date in a year. I never let Lucy set me up for dates but for the first time I did. I did and I regret it. Look how it ended up.”

“I told Rami not to do it.”

“I don’t care, Ben. You could’ve managed it better. All you did instead was calling another girl as you were with me, because all you care about is getting laid.” Even though your tone was low, your words were ice cold.

Ben slowly shook his head, his hurt expression quickly replaced by the one you knew so well. “You shouId get Iaid yourself. Except to have sex, you gotta find somebody who can stand you first.”

“Fuck you.”

“Yeah”, he muttered as he stood up.

“You know what? Take all the fucking Saturday as your free day because I can’t even stand looking at you right now.”

And he did. The day went by and Ben hadn’t come back yet. You were trying to convince yourself that you could do it on your own for another day. Sophie seemed to understand that your mood wasn’t one of the best and she behaved like she never did before. She even ate all her meal, which was new to you.

Lucy called at some stage in the evening and she showed you the amazing architecture of Florence. It seemed like they were having a good time and there was no point in making them worry, so you didn’t even mention Ben.

But she did. “Where’s Ben?”

You rubbed your nose, trying to find a believable excuse for his absence. “He went to the grocery’s.”

“How many groceries are you guys buying? It looks like you spend whole days at the mall.”

“No, uh — we ran out of ketchup. We’re having burgers tonight, ketchup is essential.”

She seemed to notice that something was wrong — here brows were narrowed and her eyes were giving you a condescending look. Yet, she didn’t say anything and you closed the call a few minutes after.

It was night by now and Sophie was finally sleeping. You, on the other hand, just couldn’t fall asleep. That’s why you spent almost half an hour channel surfing, ending up watching Love Island. In extremis...

But then the click of the look caught your attention and even though you hadn’t yet turned towards the front door, you knew it was Ben. His cologne couldn’t have been mistaken.

You gave him a quick look from above your shoulder only to meet his beautiful, puppy eyes. Even though you were still pissed at him, you couldn’t keep ignoring your feelings.

He sat right next to you, remaining quiet for the first few seconds. It was him who broke the silence. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t have said those things” you whispered as you turned towards him.

His elbows were resting on his thighs as he rubbed his hands together. “You were right, I’ve been a prick. I should’ve talked to you back then. You would’ve understood the situation.”

“Yeah...”

“And I’m sorry I’ve been distant all this time. I knew I fucked things up that day in your car and when I realised it I... it was too late. I just wanted you to like me back, but you wouldn’t have. Not after how I treated you.”

“But I did! I still do, Ben.”

And it was the truth. No matter how many times you’ve tried to convince yourself that you despised him and that you just didn’t get along. You liked him.

His green eyes were staring at your lips for the umpteenth time that week, but this time was different because Ben placed his own on yours. His hand was resting on your neck and the softness of his touch gave you the goosebumps. When you leaned towards him to deepen the kiss, his touch became even more secure as he come closer to you.

You’d fantasised many times on how it’d feel to kiss Ben, but now that you were really doing it, it exceeded all expectations.

When you leaned back from his lips, a big smile appeared on his face. One of the smiles he reserved for Sophie only. You snuggled against him, his arm surrounding your waist as he kept your body close to yours.

There were tons of situations yet to be clarified, but you both stood quiet for the rest of the night, bodies close but hearts even closer.

Day Seven — Sunday

Last day. On one hand you were sorry to leave Sophie — you’d gotten used to her habits and rhythms, but on the other hand you couldn’t wait to go back to your old life.

Scratch that.

You couldn’t wait to go back to your new life with Ben.

“You done? They’re almost here”, Ben told you as he held Sophie.

As you put the duck away, the one that Sophie loved so much and that drove you insane, you nodded your head ‘yes’. “Yeah. The house should be okay.”

And now the three of you were waiting on the porch for Lucy and Rami to come home. Sophie was beyond excited to meet her parents again and she showed it by walking around the house. Ben had to follow her everywhere, given that she wasn’t still 100% steady on her feet.

“Here they are!”, you told Sophie who was walking around the dining room. “Mom and daddy are here, Soph!”

She clapped her hands, making Ben chuckle as he accompanied her to the front door where you were standing. His green eyes met yours as a loud thud came from Lucy and Rami’s car, who were now shutting the doors and hurrying inside.

Lucy’s eyes immediately went to her daughter, who was standing on her own feet right in front of you. She hugged her, kissed her and held her close to her chest as she whispered lovely words. Rami left a soft kiss on her head before looking up to you and Ben.

When he noticed that you were standing right next to each other with bigs smiles on your faces, he narrowed his eyes and smirked. “What did I miss?”

“Uhm — nothing, really.” But the look Ben gave you made you chuckle. Rami was more than sure that he missed a lot, especially when Ben’s arm surrounded your waist.

“Oh wow”, Lucy whispered as she stood up, holding her baby in her arms. “You guys need to fill me in on what happened between you two.”

“Sophie happened”, you said with a sweet smile, looking at the baby who was in awe for her mother.

”Y’know”, Rami started saying. “You’d make great parents. Sophie loves you guys.”

“Yeah”, Ben murmured. “Maybe someday.”

#ben hardy #ben hardy x reader #ben hardy fic #bohemian rhapsody #Bo Rhap #borhap imagine #BoRhap #roger taylor #roger taylor fic #roger taylor x reader

410 notes · View notes

oikawas-fav-alien · 4 years

Text

Distance | Shirabu Kenjiro x Reader

-> warnings: none — maybe language cause it’s shirabu; fluff and slight angst :)

But the road to triumph was… rather lonely.

Couples were disgusting.

Maybe it was his rough personality? Pft. He would never change that for a person, no matter how special.

Why was no one interested?

Enter you.

“Why do you want to know, (F/N)-chan?” Tendou instigated, “You have a crush on him?”

“Please, Salami calm down.” He raised his hands and gasped, “Come on. There isn’t a single person in this school who I don’t know and suddenly nobody knows anything about him?”

“He is smart and adaptable.” Ushijima chimed in.

The more you discovered, the more you liked him.

He hadn't.

Shirabu was straight-forward with a tongue laced with salt. Sign you the fuck up!

“Did I do something to offend you?” He asked the moment your locker closed.

“No…” You stated haphazardly, clutching your backpack.

“You’re never his quiet or shy.” He noted, “Did something else happen?”

“I have to get to photography club…” Shirabu put his arm on the locker and blocked your exit. He was tall and there was no way you could out-run him, you were trapped.

“… Am I your friend, Shirabu?”

“Of course.” He did not hesitate to answer. “And it’s Kenjirō.”

“What?”

“Call me by my first name.”

“Oh.” You paused and let the name roll of your tongue, “Then you should call me by my first name too, Kenjirō-kun.” His eyes widened at the added suffix and a rosy dust covered his cheeks.

“Was that it?” He asked, “Come on, (F/N). That’s an immature reason to ignore me.”

“How was I supposed to know?” You questioned, “It never seems like you actually want to talk to me.”

“I’m talking to you now.”

“Outside of this!” You were beyond frustrated, “Ugh I’m fine now go away.” You lightly pushed his arm, but he did not budge.

“As if that would convince me.”

“You are so annoying.” You commented, “You never initiated conversation. I thought I was just bothering you.”

“I’m an idiot?” You repeated before walking away mid-sentence, “I’m hoping you treat your girlfriend better.”

He paused and let us hand drop down to grab your elbow before you go away. “Girlfriend? Where did this come up?”

“No! Don’t get too ahead of yourself!” You yelled back, but it was muffled against his chest. He leaned back to see your face and teased you for your embarrassed expression.

“You’re an idiot.” He laughed again.

You commented on this once jokingly, saying, "You complete me!" He simply rolled his eyes and brushed it off before continuing to study.

Damn. This boy cannot take a hint.

Both you and Shirabu were spacing out from over-reading the textbook and happened to make eye contact. "What's on your mind?" You asked.

"Things you cannot understand."

"You really think that low of me?"

"No. I'm going to be the captain of the volleyball team in a few weeks."

"Wow."

"There's no way your pampered ass would get it."

Damn, this boy had you bad.

"I'm sure you'll do fine, Kenjirō." You comforted, "You're very smart and reliable. I believe that your training won't betray you."

"Reliable..." He murmured. "That's exactly what I'm talking about."

"What do you mean?"

He scoffed at your question, "Exactly. You won't understand."

"Then explain it to me!" You exclaimed.

"Why should I?" He seemed just as inflamed.

"Because I care about you! You big, dumb, idiot!"

Shirabu paused before fully looking at you, surprise evident. "Well, everyone expects this idiot to be reliable and lead the team. But..."

"But...?"

"Woah, calm down."

"You're a real pain, (F/N)." he started, "But thanks. I needed that."

"No problem, I just want you to know that I can be here for you." You extended your hand to cover his own on the desk.

His eyes latched onto your hand before he averted his gaze and attempted to pull his hand away. You kept a tight enough grip to keep it in place, but not enough to hurt. "Must you touch me so much?"

"You are such a tsundere, oh my god." You commented, "Of course, I had to like you."

"Tsundere?" He joked.

You never felt more sad and alone.

XXXXX

Knocking on your dorm room, he showed up right at your front door.

"What do you want?!" You asked as you swung the door open with full force.

"To clear the misunderstanding, (F/N)."

"God, you are so annoying. Did you know that?"

"You are too. Now hear me out, you crazy."

"Excuse me?!"

"Please." You sighed and moved aside for him to enter and he did such. He uncharacteristically took your hand and guided you to sit-down on your bed.

He paused, as if to fully think about his words, before sitting next to you. "You need someone who has time for you."

"What?"

"I'll be the captain soon and I do not want to disappoint anyone. I'll be busy and unable to be the proper boyfriend."

"Is that your only complaint to this relationship?"

"No."

"What else?"

"You deserve someone who can make you happy."

You gave a small laughed and asked, "Who says you don't already make me happy?"

He stared at your for a moment before asking, "What?"

He sputtered, unable to give a cohesive reply and for once you saw be great Shirabu struggle over his usually articulate words.

"Wait." You realized that he had multiple complaints about this relationship before you interrupted him. "Just be straight with me. Do you have feelings for me?"

"I never thought you were interested in me." He admitted, "I thought I was deep in the friend zone. So I would have rather kept your friendship than risked ruining it."

"You're an idiot." You smiled grabbing his wrist to pull him closer. He obliged and allowed you to place a light kiss on his cheek.

"Now will you be my boyfriend or will I have to convince you?" You whispered in his ear to tease him and could literally see the shiver go down his back as he stiffened.

When you pulled away, his eyes were half-lidded and you silently wondered if his dominant attitude translated romantically.

You didn't have to wonder long since he returned the favor and went even further, nibbling your ear lightly before placing butterfly kisses around your neck. "Maybe you'll have to convince me."

#shirabu kenjirou #shiratorizawa x reader #shiratorizawa #hq ushijima #ushijima wakatoshi #kawanishi taichi #semi eita #reon ohira #haikyuu au #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!!#haikyuu smau #hq smau #hq #spoilers #shirabu kenjiro

113 notes · View notes

missbugaboo · 4 years

Text

Soulmate Scam (2)

Adrien knew who his soulmate was. Period. Ever since he’d first met her, ever since his heart had made that cheerful dance of recognition in hist chest, he’d had no doubt that she was the one – the only one – destined for him. If only said destiny didn’t have other plans for him.

All sides of the love-square, though mostly Adrienette, SOULMATE AU.

fanfiction.net / AO3

Previous chapter | Next chapter

tagging @magnitude101999, because they asked me too ^^

Chapter 2: The Look in Your Eyes

Marinette Dupain-Cheng was months away from her sixteenth birthday and yet, she was hardly calmer than her blond friend that night.

Or on any other night in the preceding week, to be frank.

Now, if one knew Marinette a little bit, they were not at all surprised by the situation or the reasons behind it. Each and every one of her classmates – all except one – could easily notice her nervousness as well as answer the question of why she was like this in the first place. They didn't judge her or tease her (not too much, anyway); they just smiled a little pityingly and shook their heads at her, though again, most of them cheered for her silently with all their might at the same time.

Marinette knew it and even though the thought still made her blush, she couldn't feel anything but grateful for that.

Now however, was not the time to think of her friends, or her best friends, or even about the one most important boy in the whole world that had been the direct cause of her distress in these past few days; and the reason for it was simple.

She was, once again, horribly late to school.

"Come on, come on, come on!" she cried out with despair as she ran around her room, looking for the small parcel she had prepared last night but which for some reason could no longer be found in the morning. "It has to be here, somewhere! I made sure to get everything ready last evening so that this wouldn't happen. Ugh! For once I absolutely can't be late and of course, this happens!"

"Well, it's not like you can be late on other occasions, really," she heard Tikki's sweet, though slightly teasing voice coming from behind. "And it's not like it's the first time you are, either."

"Very funny," Marinette replied wryly. "But it's really not a good time for jokes. I need to find that gift, Tikki, or it's all ruined! Again!"

"Don't you think that 'ruined' is a rather strong word?"

"It's the only fitting one! It's Adrien's sixteenth birthday and you know how important it is for everyone, and especially for him, even though I know he's done all in his might to seem indifferent in front of us and... And if I fail to give him his present properly this year, I may never have another chance! For all I know, he will be spending all of his next birthdays with his perfect other half and it will be just weird for me to gift him with anything then, and even if he doesn't I will sure have lost all faith in myself by that time. I mean, if I can't do it for three years in a row, why should I expect it to happen on the fourth. And this is my third attempt, so -"

"Okay, okay, calm down silly," Tikki cut her off with a small laugh. "First of all, you gave him wonderful little gifts both on his last birthday and the one before that. The first time there was a misunderstanding you chose not to correct; on the second there was one of the toughest akuma attacks we've seen so far, so as much as I wish you hadn't forgotten to sign the gift, I'm not at all surprised that you did. And unlike last year, you'll actually have a chance to see him at school today."

"Yeah, unless Hawkmoth decides to use today for yet another ploy of his," Marinette mumbled angrily as she bent down to search for the lost package under her desk. "I don't know what it is he's got against Adrien, sending an akuma on his birthday each time. Or mine, for that matter."

"It's probably just a coincidence. Everything will be alright today, you'll see!"

"I'll believe it when I see it. Besides, it doesn't matter if Hawkmoth strikes today or not if I can't even find the gift in the first place!"

Tikki let out a long sigh. "Have you checked your backpack?"

Marinette straightened up abruptly at the question – or she would have, if not for the desk that happened to be right above her head.

"Ouch!" she groaned, annoyed, before turning towards Tikki again. "My backpack? Of course I have. It's the first place I looked into!"

"And you're sure it's not hidden in one of the many pockets it's got?" the kwami insisted. "Or maybe hidden under your sketchbook or tablet... Or that fabric sample you shove inside for Alya to see? That parcel really was tiny, it wouldn't have been difficult for you to miss it; especially in such a frantic search."

"I -"

"Marinette!" she was once again interrupted, this time by her mother calling from downstairs.

Still massaging her head, the girl sighed impatiently.

"I'm coming!" she called back; then she turned towards Tikki once more and said, "Fine, I'll check the backpack. Can you please pass me my phone while I do?"

Too much in a hurry to wait for the confirmation, Marinette took her backpack in her hands and rummaged through it, hoping against hope that Tikki's advice wouldn't prove as useless as it had seemed to her at first. To her surprise, her quiet prayer was answered, as her fingers soon brushed against the slick wrapping paper. She grabbed the item and pulled it out, just to make sure it was what she was looking for – and sighed again, relieved, when her assumption turned out to be correct.

"Okay, you win this time," she grumbled playfully and put both the package and her phone into her backpack before reaching out to scratch Tikki under her chin. "Though I am a little suspicious. Are you sure you didn't put it inside when I wasn't looking?"

"I wouldn't dare," Tikki responded with mock seriousness, but chuckled right after. Marinette joined her readily...

...and then she remembered how late it really was.

She was out of her room and house in no time, sprinting towards her school as if her life had depended on it. Not for the first time, she thanked the fate for living so close to the old building; and as she looked at her phone now, her gratitude grew even more.

"Five full minutes before the class? Now that's something I did not see coming today!"

Marinette turned around abruptly and saw her best friend of three years laughing good-heartedly at her. She rolled her eyes at the display but smiled fondly all the same.

"I see I'm going to be an object of jokes all day today," she replied with a feigned offence. "Now that's exactly what I need to keep me going."

"Oh, come on, you know I'm kidding," Alya responded with a playful nudge. "Also, you know my assumption was well-grounded at least. After all..."

"It wouldn't have been the first time I was late. Yeah, I know."

"And today is important."

"Yeah. I guess."

"You guess?" Alya's warm smile turned derisive. "Girl, it's Adrien's birthday. Don't even try to pretend that you're anywhere close to being cool about this. I know that you're not."

She was shoved away by her blushing friend before she'd finished talking, but only laughed at the display, making her companion roll her eyes at her. Although unable to restrain from smiling herself, Marinette could do nothing but roll her eyes at Alya's childishness while simultaneously wishing to respond with a just as childish gesture of sticking out her tongue on her part.

Tempting as it was, she limited herself to the former.

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, you traitor," she replied, feigning offence. "At least I won't feel obliged to tell you anything about how it went when I have talked to Adrien and given him what I have prepared. Which is really good, as it's one thing fewer to worry about today..."

With a smug expression reflecting on her face she turned away from the other girl and began to ascend the wide stairs the led towards the entrance of her school. She had not made two steps however, when she was pulled back by the arm again and swirled around to face her friend, who had somehow managed to get herself more pumped about all this than Marinette was.

Or at least, more than Marinette seemed to be, anyway.

Heavens knew how much of a mess Marinette really was inside.

She needed to keep appearances up, however, or all of her hard work would go down the drain, again. It wasn't because it would change the way Adrien perceived her when she finally did talk to him – she knew for a fact that no matter how much of a crazy, stuttering disaster she was, he was still going to act with the same kind understanding towards her.

Here was the thing though: she didn't want to be a disaster anymore. She was perfectly aware that it was hardly possible for her to act all cool and confident around him of course, and certainly not at the time so critical as this; but that was something she was okay with. Still, she hoped she could find her place somewhere in between those two extremes, and since keeping up a slightly fake image seemed to be working just fine, she certainly wasn't going to change her strategy in that regard.

And if it meant seeing Alya freak out in her stead, then it was not an unwelcome benefit.

"Oh, no, you won't," she heard Alya shout a moment after, her friend’s hand still grasping her arms tightly. "I'm not letting you out of my sight today, not for one darn second. And surely not until you explain you current behaviour, Miss Suddenly-I'm-confident-for-no-reason-at-all!"

"Right, because having you hover over me while I talk to Adrien is exactly what I was hoping for today," Marinette retorted with a grin. "Now, wouldn't that be romantic. Also, I believe you can let go of me now. I'm not going to run away, you know."

Alya snorted and shook her head at this.

"I've known you long enough not to be at all sure about that," she parried easily." As for your chitchat, I'd rather have you talk to him unromantically than not talk to him at all. Come on, Mari: we both know that my being there is the only guarantee that you won't flee as soon as your eyes meet."

"I won't. I promise," Marinette responded with as much ease as she could muster. "Now, can you please stop squeezing my arm? You're gonna give me bruises."

Albeit unwillingly, Alya submitted to her request.

"Thanks a lot," Marinette said, smilingly. "Now let's go before all of that extra time I've got melts away, shall we? The last thing I want is to start the day with yet another walk of shame as I enter Miss Mendeleyev's class. I do not wish to get on her bad side today."

"Even if it's because of a very romantic, very life-changing and very undisturbed soulmate-birthday conversation with your the love of your life?"

"What does that even mean?"

"On your left, honey."

Refraining from another roll of her bluebell eyes, Marinette followed her best friend's advice and shifted her gaze towards were Alya was nodding. Her eyes widened in panic when she saw the all too familiar silver car pulling up and the blonde-haired boy of her dreams stepping out of it a moment later – and suddenly saw all of her plans go right out of the window, regardless of the thought and care she'd put into it before.

Gosh, it really was getting worse by the year.

"I think I gotta... go," she stammered, her eyes still fixed on Adrien who, for some strange reason, had not raised his own eyes at them yet. "Yeah, I definitely gotta go. Miss Mendeleyev is waiting and we sure don't want to get on her nerves so early in the morning, right? I can always talk to Adrien during lunch break, so we'd better -"

"Oh, for Pete's sake," Alya exclaimed wearily, successfully making her feel even more at loss. Next she knew, Marinette was being grabbed by both of her shoulders and then pushed down the stairs by who was supposed to be her most loyal friend...

...and right into the arms of the poor and unsuspecting Adrien.

One of these days, I'm gonna do something to her, Marinette thought automatically, while at the same time she tried not to think too much about how close Adrien was to her. His long neck right about the level of her eyes; his collarbones millimetres away from her nose and cheeks; his fingers, tightened around her arms as he steadied her after he'd saved her from her fall.

In any other circumstances, she might think of it as romantic, their bodies close and their breaths intermingling; instead, she felt nothing but utter, infinite embarrassment.

She could swear she could feel her blood run cold and then boil simultaneously, her knees buckling while her feet itched to run as far away as she could.

Damn, could it really not have gone well this one, freaking time?

"I'm – I'm sorry," she choked out when she had finally – miraculously – found her balance and managed to stand up straight again. "I didn't see you coming – I mean, I did, I just didn't think you were this close – and then I fell for – ON you! - and sweet macaron, I'm rambling, so basically I just -"

She trailed off upon meeting his eyes, taken aback by the hollowness and uncertainty she spotted in them. It was not a look she was used to; not the bright, cheerful gaze he usually welcomed her with. There was no sign of amusement or shock or even concern – nothing she might expect after her undoubtedly unexpected (albeit unintentional) assault.

For the first time in forever the look he was giving her was bleak.

"I just wanted to say hi," she concluded in a much quieter, yet also much less faltering tone, and then added. "It's good to see you again."

He gave her the tiniest of smiles but said nothing, his green eyes still boring into her face as if he'd been searching for answers hidden in it. Marinette felt her cheeks flush under his stare and gulped nervously, her agitation only growing as she remembered that, most likely, Alya was still standing right behind her – however, Adrien didn't seem to care.

Then again, he didn't appear to care much about anything at all.

"Um... You can let go of me now, you know. I'm not going to collapse if you do," she tried again, forcing herself to smile lopsidedly at him.

She saw his eyes widen in realisation and felt his grip on her loosen immediately after. It was Adrien who was sheepish now, taking a step back and letting his arms drop down as if he'd been burnt, or perhaps feared that it was him who might burn her. He raised his hand to rub his neck next and then let it fall again, hesitant, perturbed, confused.

It was as someone had decided to swap their personalities for the day, or maybe just allowed her usual awkwardness to infect him as well.

It was so unlike him that Marinette nearly forgot about her own massive turbulence.

"Adrien? Are you alright?" she asked almost automatically. "You seem rather... pale. Have you got enough sleep tonight?"

The flash of pain reflected in his eyes, taking her completely by surprise. She had no idea why such an innocent question should have caused such a violent and very unpleasant reaction on his part, however, before she'd managed to inquire about it, Adrien shook his head decidedly and summoned his own constrained smile.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," he assured her hastily; Marinette heard the false notes ringing in his voice easily, but decided to ignore them and just let him speak this time. "Don't worry about me. And it's good to see you, too."

"Oh. Yes. I mean, if you say so," she replied a little too quickly and immediately wished to slap herself. "It's good to see you – oh, wait, I've already said that. I'm sorry, I hoped it would be a little better today, but it looks like I'm my own usual mess. Not that it's anything new."

Adrien's smile grew a little warmer at that. "Well, that makes the two of us. Being a mess, that is."

"Does it?"

"Yeah."

"You're not just saying that to make me feel better?"

"Marinette, I think you're too smart to fall for something like that."

"I beg to differ," she murmured under her breath. "Hold on, but that would mean..."

"What?"

"That you lied!" she exclaimed before she could think better of it. "You're not fine at all. That's what being a mess means – it's like the opposite of alright. Unless it's me I guess, since that's a natural state for me so it would make no sense to complain about it, but that is not the point!"

She was staring him straight in the eye, waiting for a response to her unexpected little speech. Her sudden confidence dissolved into nothing as soon as she'd realised what she'd just done, of course, and yet, something in her just kept her from giving in to her usual instincts that were currently screaming at her to spin on her heel and disappear from the scene.

She might've been bad at acting around him; but she would not let her cowardice stop him from helping him if he needed it.

"I... I suppose you've caught me then," she heard him speak at last, his hand once again raised to rub the back of his neck. "So yes, I am a mess. It's... it's been a pretty tough night for me, plus it looks like I've skipped breakfast today as well, so I'm hardly in my best shape."

His eyes were cast down now and the longer he spoke, the more certain Marinette was that whatever he was dealing with was much bigger than he was willing to admit.

She fought the urge to turn around and check if Alya was, in fact, still observing her and was rewarded when she heard her being dragged away by Nino a moment later. She couldn't help the grin that sprung onto her lips at the sound of his suggestions and then some protests on Alya's part, all concluded by Alix's (when had she got there?) loud exclamation about giving 'that hopeless girl of theirs' some privacy. Subconsciously, Marinette held her breath for as long as she could hear their voices behind her back – and sighed with relief when they'd finally faded away.

Her eyes were back to Adrien next and suddenly, all of her worries were there again.

It's not the time for you to feel sorry for yourself, though, she chided herself in her thoughts. For whatever reason, Adrien is looking miserable at best and as his friend – you are friends – it's your duty to think of that first.

She took a deep breath.

Here comes nothing, I guess.

"Hey, look at me, will you?" she encouraged him gently and was pleasantly surprised to see that the simple words were enough. "It's okay not to be okay. And I'm here if you need – or just want – to talk. But if you don't... that's fine, too. I sure don't want to bother you even more if you are feeling bad."

"You're not bothering me," Adrien replied immediately and with confidence that nearly made Marinette blush again. "You couldn't be. Not ever."

She chuckled nervously. "Well, that's good to know."

"Come on, it's not like you could really think -"

He was cut off by the sound of the school bell going off. Focused on their little conversation, they both jumped, startled and just this time, Marinette was not at all convinced that she had been the one more taken aback. In a natural reflex, she turned towards the school door; now, slightly calmer, she turned back to Adrien with a chuckle, ready to comment on their shared inattentiveness and then suggest going inside after all, before Miss Mendeleyev saw they were missing.

As she did, however, she was met with a pair of big green eyes so full of anxiety that it made her stupid giggles die away instantly.

"Adrien...?"

"I do need to talk to you," he announced unexpectedly. "As soon as possible."

Marinette eyed him carefully, once again amazed by the change in his attitude. "Of course. We can find a spot after this class or if it's a longer talk you need, we can go somewhere during the lunch break and -"

She stopped abruptly when she saw the plea in his gaze, soft, wounded and helpless. He didn't say a word and yet, she understood it all.

"Alright," she agreed. "Is the library good enough for you?"

#my writing #miraculous ladybug #soulmate au #adrienette #ladynoir #marichat #ladrien #adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng

49 notes · View notes

bourbonboredom · 4 years

Text

A Reason To Believe Chapter 14

Being an undercover officer is a perilous job and Flip Zimmerman knows this far too well. He keeps his romantic life limited to one-night stands, never letting anyone get too close. That all starts to change when he meets a vivacious Jewish woman named Elle just as he’s about to take on a seriously dangerous undercover job; infiltrating the KKK. Elle and his undercover work make him question things he’d never thought to before and challenge him to see the world, and himself, in a whole new light.

A Flip x OC Fic

Word Count: 3,817

Warnings: none

The night is gone

The light has come

A new day has begun

The weather is clear

And people are here

And morning's here

Calling everyone

(x)

The office is always a little quieter after an undercover mission is completed. Usually because the mountains of paperwork leave little time for chitchat. There was less of a busy feeling in the air though in the weeks after the explosion, it was more of simmering tension.

The case had been declared shut just a few days after the attack, but not because Ron or Flip felt it was done. Chief Bridges had made the declaration, finding the klan no longer posing a threat after the death of three members. It was bullshit and everyone knew it. To make things more outrageous, Bridges said he wanted everything to do with the case destroyed.

Flip was furious. He'd wound up walking out of the office before Bridges had stopped talking. This wasn't fair, this wasn't over. Just because three died doesn't mean there wasn't still a whole chapter in Colorado Springs left. Or that Duke wasn't still running hundreds of other chapters. No one was safer from anything happening.

Him and Ron barely looked at each other the rest of the day, both to angry to even talk about with with one another. The boxes that contained evidence were now siting next to his trash can, they weren't of any use to the case if there wasn't even going to be a case of record. The second he was off is shift he'd stormed out of the building, racing to get home.

He'd packed up some essentials from his house; clothes, documents, his photos and army memorabilia, and put it in the trunk of his car. With the organization knowing his residence, he couldn't live there anymore. He'd find a new place to live in the next few days, there were bound to be apartments with vacancies. In the meantime, he could rent a motel room or crash on Jimmy's couch, or something.

As he sat in his car, his mind wandered to Elle. At least this would give him more time to be with her. Maybe she'd let him spend the night more often, let him hold her close and tell him that things would work out.

He started his car and headed in the direction of her apartment. He'd probably get to her place before she got off work, but she didn't mind him hanging around there now. She gave him a key after all. He unlocked her front door, pulled a Coors from the fridge and sat on the couch, processing the days events.

Elle got home a half hour later. She was dressed in her shirt and pants with her necklace secured back around her neck with a new chain. She looked happy to see him, but her face feel after she saw his expression.

"Hey, is everything okay?" She pried off her shoes and sat beside him, laying a hand on his shoulder.

"The chief closed the case even though he knows the organization is still a threat. He wants us to erase it from record. Everything about the klan must go," He mumbled. He knows he shouldn't tell her, but he doesn't give a fuck.

"What?" Her voice was full of shock, partially from the news and partially because he'd actually told her what was going on. "Why would he do that?"

"Who knows. But it's over, I gotta cut ties with the organization. And probably move because they know where I live now,"

"One, fuck your boss. He's an idiot and I'd give him a piece of my mind if you'd let me," She started.

"My boss can't know that you know about all this," He interjected.

"I know. But he's an idiot for shutting that down. You and Ron were doing great things." She rested her head on his shoulder and looked up at him. "And two, move in with me,"

"What?" He wasn't sure he heard her correctly.

"Move in with me, you practically live here anyways. There's enough room for two people, and I'm ready for it if you are,"

"Aren't you worried about what people are gonna say? What your landlord could say? Most people around here don't live together until they're married,"

"It's my apartment and there's nothing in my lease that says anything about it. I don't care what people will have to say, it's our life not theirs," She broke into a sly smile after her statement. "Besides, what are they gonna do? Call the cops?"

He cracked a smile and swooped her into a kiss.

"I love you," He murmured against her lips

"Is that a yes?"

"It's a yes,"

He heart felt full. The abrupt ending for the case was awful, and he knew he'd feel that way for a long time. But now he knew he'd be coming home to her every night. He held her against his chest, his heart beat feeling even as he calmed down. He was going to be able to get through this, get through anything, with Elle next to him.

----------

Weeks later, the office was starting to get back to normal. The holiday season was starting up, putting everyone in a better mood despite the air growing colder and snow starting to fall.

It was the end of November, and staying true to his promise, Flip was ready to celebrate the first night of Hanukkah with Elle. He noticed more than usual this year how Christmas completely dominated the season. He could count the number of menorahs he saw around town on one hand, and nothing was marketed in stores for the holiday.

He picked Elle up at the hospital that night, the two of them were going grocery shopping to pick up ingredients to make latkes. He remembered his grandparents making them when him and his parents stayed over for a few days. His mother refused to make them for him when he asked for them after.

Elle had told him that Hanukah wasn't a huge deal for her family either. It was a quiet holiday for her parents in Germany, especially right before the Second World War broke out.

"It wasn't until they got to America that Hanukkah became a big thing," She had explained to him a couple of days ago. "The rabbi at temple wanted the community to be involved and have something to look forward to in the winter, like how Christians had Christmas. So we'd give little gifts to one another and play dreidel and stuff."

He was kind of excited to celebrate with her. After turning down Yom Kippur and Sukkot, he'd felt a little guilty. At the time, he didn't think much of it. But after being faced with hate day in and day out, he wanted to learn more about his culture.

And so here he was, pulling his car up to the curb so that Elle could jump in from the snow currently falling around them. She greeted him with a kiss, her cold nose touching his cheek as she did, and they drove out to the store.

It was late afternoon and the store was quiet. It was only a week or so after thanksgiving, and a month until Christmas, so the shelves were well-stocked during the holiday lull. They strolled down the aisles, Elle reading from list she'd pulled from her jacket pocket.

Sour cream

Applesauce

Onion

Potato

It was simple enough, but that didn't stop them from messing around. When Elle sent him to get a tub of Daisy sour cream, he came back to her trying to reach a jar of applesauce on the top shelf.

He could have easily grabbed it for her, but instead opted to come up behind her and left her in the air. She let out a yelp and nearly elbowed him in the face until she saw it was just her boyfriend. She rolled her eyes, laughed, and grabbed the glass jar, asking to be put back in solid ground.

He set her back down and spun her around to give her a kiss. Normally he hated watching other people's PDA, but he could barely keep his hands off her. She broke the kiss and rubbed her nose against his.

"Come on Romeo, we've gotta get cooking by sundown, let's finish up here,” She hooked a finger on his belt, drawing him closer as she continued in a hushed voice. "We've got the night to ourselves, be patient and you might get a reward later,"

"Oh? What kind of reward?" He rested his hand on the small of her back, subtly drifting lower.

"It's something small. And lacy. You'll have to unwrap me to find out," He let out a short breath as she spoke, looking around to make sure no one heard that.

"Trouble," He gave her a light smack on her ass as she started walking toward the produce section.

"Only for you," She called back to him.

Only for him. All for him.

She had him grab onions while she looked for the best bag of potatoes. He put the newly-filled paper bag into their basket and started to head back over. He'd come up behind Elle, resting his hand on the small of her back to let her know he was there. He looked around the store as he waited, watching as a few people went by with their own groceries.

Suddenly, something caught his attention out of the corner of his eye. He turned his head to see a familiar face looking at him from down the aisle.

A brunette was watching the two of them, her cart stationary as though she stopped to stare. It took a second to place her, but he remembered. She was from the klan bar out in the country. She was the one who wanted him to dance.

He stared back, waiting to see if she knew who he was. He couldn't quite place her expression. Elle didn't notice the interaction. She had turned to face him, tugging his sleeve to let him know she was finished. The woman's gaze shifted from their faces to their necks.

After the case was over, Flip had retrieved his necklace from his desk, returning it to its rightful place around his throat. The top buttons of his shirt were undone and Elle's uniform showed off her own Star of David. The woman's mouth drew tight and she walked off, not giving them a second look.

He thought about it all through the check out line and on the car ride home. That woman, who had spent nights on end checking him out at the bar, had just turned her nose up at him because of a necklace. Of course, he didn't want or need her attention, spending most of those nights purposefully avoiding her. What was bothering him was that without knowing a single thing about it besides his heritage, the woman had gone from pursuing him to being repulsed by him. The case was over, people had died or gone to jail, but the hatred still persisted. Had anything really changed?

He helped Elle unpack everything onto the counter, and she set him to work peeling and grating the potatoes as she diced an onion. The radio played in the background, thankfully the Christmas music hadn't started yet so it was just the regular rotation of pop music. Some pop group belted out their ballad as they worked in silence.

He handed over the peeled and grated potatoes to Elle, who was wiping her eyes with the corner of a towel, the onions proving to be potent. She mixed the two together with an egg. She instructed him to set a pan on the stove and turn on the heat. She formed patties with her hands and put oil in the pan, letting the latke crackle as it met the heat.

"You've been quiet, you got something on your mind?" She asked as she turned one over. Perfect golden brown.

"It's probably nothing. But I saw someone from the investigation at the grocery store this afternoon. A woman who frequented a bar the klan hung out at," He divulged.

"Do you think she recognized you?"

"I don't know, I couldn't tell honestly. But I think she saw my necklace. She was friendly before, when she thought I was Ron Stallworth, a brother. But she took one look at the necklace and suddenly it was like I was a piece of gum on the street,"

She turned the heat off and moved the pan to a different burner. She hopped on the counter, extending her arms to motion for him to come closer. He obliged, wrapping his arms around her frame, resting his head on her shoulder. Her arms reached up, embracing him. One hand ran through his hair in a soothing motion.

"People suck. She sucks," She said

"I just don't know if the case was even worth it. Sure, we got some good intel and some suffered consequences. But most of them are still out there, just living life. Ron told me he saw a cross burning from his apartment the other night. It's like nothing has really changed,"

"You changed,"

Her words confused him. He look at her, brows furrowed.

"When I met you, before this whole case started, you didn't seem to care too much. About who you were, where you came from, what others were doing in the world. This case changed you. I don't know what went on most of the time, or what you heard or saw but you'd come home angry and tired. But you also started forming opinions, taking interest in your culture and really thinking about what's happening around you,"

"So yeah, they might not have changed. They're gonna be full of hate and ignorance probably for the rest of their lives. They don't want to actually be better, they want to think they're better than everyone else. You, Flip Zimmerman came out of this a better person,"

He thought about her words. It wasn't something he really considered, but he supposed she was right. Things had changed for him. New place, new girlfriend, new perspective on life.

He kissed her forehead, a silent thank you.

"I love you,"

"I love you too. Do you wanna put some plates our for me so I can serve these up?"

"Sure thing babe," He let her get off the counter and start cooking again. He grabbed two plates from the cabinet, letting her alternate finished latkes between them.

The sun was just setting when they finished. They placed the food on the table and brought a bottle of wine out to share. Her menorah, one her family bought her before she'd gone off to college and had been with her ever since, was sitting proudly in the window.

A tiny part of him thought about how visible it was, the shiny silver with the white candles could easily be seen from the street. Thoughts of someone from the klan spotting it, someone seeing it as a bullseye for who to target their hate against. He knew what people were capable of.

"Do you know the story of Hanukkah?" She asked him.

He realized he'd begun to space out, and she had seen him staring at the menorah in the window. He had a feeling that she knew what he'd been thinking.

"Not really," He admitted.

A Syrian king named Antiochus IV sent his soldiers to enforce his rule. He had outlawed Judaism and any holiday or custom that had to do with it. Jews were expected to convert to following the Greek gods or die.

After the Temple of Jerusalem had been declared to be for the Greek god Zeus, a Jewish resistance movement led by the Maccabees began in defiance of this ruling. They fought against the Syrians in several battles and though severely outnumbered, won.

According to the legend, when the Maccabees entered the temple and began to reclaim it, they quickly went to relit their eternal flame on the menorah. In the temple, they found a single jar of oil, which would only light the menorah for one day. It would take eight days for a messenger to bring them more oil. But miraculously that one jar of oil burned for the full eight days, keeping the flame alive until more oil could be brought. Those eight days became the miracle of Hanukkah.

"It's about perseverance of our religion and culture. Hanukah means dedication in Hebrew. The menorah is displayed publicly on purpose, it's a way of asserting your faith for all to see,"

He understood what she was saying. This was an opportunity for him.

“I'd like to light the candle for the first night," He said after some thought. "If that's okay,"

"Of course babe," Elle responded. She brought over a candle she'd lit previously, handing him the shamash.

As she used her flame to light his, he thought about how the last time he held a candle was during the klan initiation. He had to stand up in front of a room and swear he was of pure blood. He had to lie, mask an entire aspect of his existence. The entire time he'd found himself thinking of Rosh Hashanah with Elle, the ritual and meaning behind the candles, how they were to usher in a new year and positivity. Holding the shamash, now lit, felt cleansing. The flame once again holding a uplifting meaning.

"Do you need me to guide you through the prayer?" She asked. He nodded. She spoke slowly, letting him take his time to recite.

Baruch atah, Adonai

Eloheinu, Melech haolam,

“Hah-oh-lahm” she enunciated, letting him correct himself.

asher kid’shanu

b’mitzvotav v’tsivanu

l’hadlik ner shel Hanukkah.

The first candle was lit, the flame dancing steadily upon the wick. He set the shamash back down in its holder and stepped back to look at it.

He felt Elle wrap her arms around his waist. He curled his arm around her, hugging her to him. They looked at the menorah, watching how the light reflected on the icy window pane, creating dancing shadows on the wall.

"How do you feel?" She asked.

A few months ago, he was in a completely different place, mentally more so than physically. He looked down at Elle, her big brown eyes staring back up at him. She looked at him with love, a feeling he eagerly returned. He felt at peace, he felt accepted and in turn, more accepting of himself.

"I feel like I'm home," He responded.

He was unsure at first, if she'd understand what he meant by that. But she just smiled up at him before resting her head on his chest. She understood, he was home.

______

Welp, that’s all folks! Thanks for reading this story, I had fun writing it! It was cathartic to write a Jewish-driven story, you dont get to see those often.

Shalom aleichem

7 notes · View notes