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#hey yeah so DAILY reminder that i love this group more than i love most other things
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18. DRESS SHOPPING
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ALANA WAS RIGHT ABOUT THE WEATHER THE NEXT DAY. IT WAS POURING OF RAIN. I found it comforting against my cold skin; no feelings from the rain whatsoever. There was more rain in London than there was in Forks.
We travelled to the London City Centre in the Mercedes with the girls. That was odd to me. I didn't have many friends to go out with. I mean, Bella was my friend. I could tolerate Angela and then there was Jessica. I would say that she was the most annoying one out of the group and easily gets jealous of Edward and Bella being together twenty-four-seven.
Yet I still remember my last night as a human with Bella.
We were hanging out in her bedroom while her dad, Charlie, was out doing his daily shift as chief police.
"I'm not a university sort of person," I said and Bella looked out through the window. She turned around and began walking to me. "I have been told to just get a job, pay your bills and take care of yourself."
She sat down on her chair close to her bed which I laid on. She was looking conflicted. We sat in silence until I spoke. "Something's wrong?"
"No," Bella said, shaking her head. "Why?"
"Well, one, Edward is always with you and two, you keep looking at that window like you're hoping he'll show up in a Mercedes or something." I chuckled.
"I don't think he has a Mercedes," she sighed.
We resumed in silence for a brief moment.
"That's fine," I sighed. "You don't have to talk about it."
"It's nothing," Bella replied. "I mean, it is, but... Okay, you remember Jacob Black?"
I leaned my head back and looked at her. "Oh, okay. Edward's jealous."
"You said it as if it's obvious."
"Well, it is." I rose from her bed and looked at her. "Edward's in love with you and so does Jacob. You love them for different reasons but they don't see it. They don't understand each other. You're in a love triangle, Bella, and they want to be yours forever."
Bella chuckled at the word 'forever'.
"They want to be your number one," I continued. "But in their mind, they want to be the winner. At the end of the day, they're still human."
She sighed when I finished. "You sound like a relationship guru," she said to me. "Yet you've never been in one."
"I watch a lot of daytime television," I replied and we laughed about it.
I could see the irony in that conversation with Bella that last night. Edward was a vampire, not human. And she will spend her life with him forever, in a way. I wondered how Jacob would be during the wedding. Was he even invited? If he was, this would be a lot awkward for him. Watching the girl you love getting married to someone else. It would tear his heart apart. I wouldn't be surprised if he wasn't invited.
I watched and heard the rain thumping down on the car as Helena drove. Rhona sat on the passenger seat beside Helena and Alana sat next to me at the back. Kind of reminded me of when the men were when they picked me up from the airport.
"You're getting this deja-vu feeling?" Rhona asked me.
"What?" I turned away from the car window and looked at her.
"Deja-vu?" she repeated. "I was watching your memories and I saw our specific guys in the same sitting positions as we are." Rhona laughed at the end.
"Yeah, exactly," I replied. Then, I wondered about their ages. "How old were you all when you got turned?"
"I was twenty-seven," Helena answered me. "Now I'm two hundred and eighty-two
"Twenty-five," Rhona said next. "Real age, eighty-two."
"And I was twenty-four," Alana replied. "Just turned eighty-three."
I didn't realise how close Alana and Rhona were when it comes to the age and time of the vampiric transformation.
"I'm the baby," I commented. "I'm seventeen and have been a newborn for... how long?"
"Eight months," Helena replied. "You were five months old when you arrived."
"Hey, remembering is my thing," said Rhona and we laughed.
We arrived at the city centre twenty minutes later and Helena parked in the shopping centre car park. We got out of the Mercedes and headed to the shopping centre. There were many shops to choose from: Dress 2 Party, Phase Eight, Suzannah, and more.
The rain wasn't as bad as I thought. It was light showers and the clouds blocked the sun.
"What is it with dresses nowadays?" Helena said.
"I know," Alana replied. "The styling is so confusing."
"What's wrong with it?" I asked.
"Dresses way above the knees," Helena continued. "What has become of women's clothes? I missed my style. Shoulders covered, skirts that touched the floors, the chest that is not too distracting, the fan that I would hold to wave to the men and give them signals."
I completely forgot that we were from different generations.
"How far do you want us to go?" Rhona said. "Do you still want all of us to vote and have equality?"
"She does have a fair point," Alana commented and I couldn't help but laugh.
We had been in the city centre for the past three hours when the sun decided to show up in the sky. We did manage to get the dresses that we like to wear for the wedding.
Helena picked out a red lace dress with a skirt just past her knees with a V-line on her chest and sleeves down to her elbows. She bought herself a pair of red high-heels to go with the dress.
Alana got herself a navy blue dress with a silver cuff on the side. The skirt was above her knees and the sleeves were barely past her elbows. She also got a pair of blue heels for the dress.
Rhona bought a beige dress with puffy sleeves to her wrist, a small opening at the chest and a skirt above her knees. She got a pair of beige heels to wear for the wedding.
And finally, for me, I got a fitted black dress with see-through black sleeves and the skirt was way above my knees. I bought a pair of black pump shoes for the wedding.
And I got to admit, I loved going shopping with them.
We got home before the sun could touch us.
Continue to 19. THE WEDDING
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chocolate-teapots · 2 years
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Little Miss Sunshine: Min Yoongi
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                               ●╭╮╭╮╭╮╭╮╭╮╭╮╭╮●
               Your poor father was accused of drug trafficking and 
              Min Yoongi takes it upon himself to remind you daily.
                                 ●╰╯╰╯╰╯╰╯╰╯╰╯╰╯●
Warnings: mentions of drugs, drug trafficking & alcohol, sexual tension, high school parties, cursing, it gets a little saucy towards the end, Jungkook touches his dick, very dirty filthy talk that begs for soap, slapping Min Yoongi across the face. 
It all started in 2019 when the police showed up at my door with a warrant for my dad. Perhaps the unluckiest man in history, my father became a suspect for a drug crime since he looked scarily like the man in the picture and had no solid alibi since the guy never left the house. It was so uncanny I thought he was pulling a fast one on us and I started to even doubt him.
It was funny really for everyone who knew him. Martin just the other day called me into the living room to get rid of a spider and he would happily drag anyone into a 4-hour conversation about why we should all go cordless.
It soon blew over and became a knee-slapping inside joke but my school soon caught wind of it and of course it had to be true...
And I had to be part of it.
"Hey Y/N I'm running on empty, hook me up?"
Jungkook smirks walking backwards so he can watch me squirm. He was a little shit that one, the youngest of the most popular group of guys in our school, most of them playing a significant role in the slow downfall of my high school career.
"Fuck off Jungkook, aren't you like 12?" I spit back to the infant, continuing to walk.
"I'm a whole lotta man sweetheart, you wanna take a look you give me a call," he teases, grabbing himself, biting his lip with a wink making a couple of girls fall into their lockers at the sight.
"Sure thing, I'll bring my telescope!"
And, when you'd outsmart them:
"Fucking bitch," Jungkook mutters in defeat, shaking his head and walking away.
Then it would be my turn to smirk.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
The library is meant to be a quiet place, a place of solitude, comfort, knowledge and ambition. It soon became my hideout since no one could disturb me here or even if they did, it would just be a whisper and I'd laugh because of how stupid someone whispering aggressively looks.
"There's my ray of sunshine."
Then Min Yoongi found me here. My soul falls further into my body as the blonde steps right in front of the book I was about to grab, quickly stepping back in fear of bumping noses or touching him in any way at all.
"Get out of the way, you're covering the book I need," I mutter impatiently, looking past him to see if I could maybe snatch it through his armpit or something.
Min Yoongi was the person I spent the most time with and that was concerning since he too made it his mission to make me as miserable as possible. Unlike the rest, I found myself thinking about what he said to me that day on the walk home and again just before I went to bed. I think it was because him pretending to actually enjoy my company hurt more than just throwing insults on the way to class.
He leans his blonde head on the shelf, hands tucked in his grey trouser pockets, looking down at me through his lashes like I was nothing.
"Yeah, that's kind of the whole point," he smiles warmly.
"What?"
"Well, I know you love looking at me so I thought I'd indulge you," Yoongi teases, leaving room for me to remember that one moment he caught me looking at him in class that he would never let me live down.
"It was literally 5 seconds, you had a booger," I continue mumbling showing how insignificant he was while browsing some other books of the same genre since his body was covering the one I actually need.
"Then why were you looking at my lips?"
I stop for a moment, struggling to defend myself when for once he was right. The hardest part about hating Min Yoongi was the fact that he was extremely attractive and he was my type- in fact, I was sure that the moment I first laid eyes on him was the moment my type was established.
Good looking smart asses with fluffy hair.
"Hard to tell what you're looking at when you're that ugly. Move it min," I warn him for the last time, grabbing a book and holding it up defensively to get my point across.
"Not until you treat me nicely," his voice is deeper and patronising, his accent coming through as he leans on the shelf right next to my head "I love these conversations of ours sweetheart but not so much when you look like you're gonna bite my dick off any second."
"I'd be doing society a favour ending your genetic line."
"You're a real charmer, you know?"
"So I've been told."
"By who? Your imaginary boyfriend?"
I finally manage to reach my arm behind him, making sure to take my time as my nose and eyelashes brush his and grab that goddamn book. I send him a tight smile in confirmation, turning away to leave.
But Min Yoongi wasn't done with me yet.
"You coming to my party tonight?"
A laugh shot out of you before you could stop it after looking at his hand gripping the life out of my wrist.
"What you have something better to do on a Friday night?" he laughs in disbelief, how could a drug dealer like me actually have plans?
"Yeah like genocide, eating myself alive, buying non-popping bubble wrap or I might even do a live stream completely naked on porn hub and send it to all my relatives."
"Well if you don't mind, I'd love a copy," Yoongi flirts, stepping forward and ripping me to shreds with his dangerous gaze.
"You're a piece of shit."
"And you're hot. Sue me," he shrugs, stopping me once more from walking away by pulling my wrist again. By the time he was done my wrist would look like Vermicelli.
He looks around before leaning in as if checking no one could hear what he was about to say.
"If you don't come tonight, I'll tell Mrs Broadshore you sold me this."
My eyes explode out of their sockets as the blonde dangles a small bag of white powder in front of my face. I slap it away quickly in a white-hot rage, looking around the room with paranoia.
"Are you fucking crazy? Has that cheap peroxide finally gone to your brain?" I exclaim, poking him harshly in the forehead leaving a silly white dot but I quickly simmered to that stupid whisper-yelling once a few heads began to turn.
He just smirked.
He's enjoying this.
"I can make your life hell Y/N. Just come to the party, pretty please with a cherry on top?"
Expulsion was actually starting to sound pretty nice.
I often wonder if this school has roof access and now seemed like the perfect moment to use it.
"Fine," I huff and put on a sinister smile "But hear me now, if something happens or you try anything, it's your party so I'll know where you live."
"I promise I won't do anything to you," he holds up his hand in innocence, the other covering his heart. Gosh, he was adorably childish.
There was a moment of silence. He was waiting for something, maybe for me to say something else. There was a point in time where I actually considered the possibility that Min Yoongi might actually like me, or at least like spending time with me but I soon remembered his friends and how they made a teacher quit teaching altogether once.
"Yoongi?"
"What?"
"You can let go of my arm now."
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
The day had flown by unfortunately quick since the universe knew how I wanted anything but this evening to come. Before I knew it, it was lunchtime and I was spending it in the company of a ferocious headache that only Min Yoongi could conjure.
I open my bag, popping two painkillers into my hand and knocking them back like my life depended on it.
Then I noticed the staring and how the noisy cafeteria has dulled to just a few murmurs.
"It's Ibuprofen!" I exclaim, shaking the packet in their faces.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
I had to give it to the guy, Hoseok knew how to throw a party. I didn't mind the school's No. 1 party planner since he was on the nicer side and tended to nudge the guys who were insulting me until they stopped and thew me apologetic smiles. Still, he had some pretty shitty friends.
It was weird walking into a room outside of school where every face at one point had made fun of me or said something rude. It wasn't a nice feeling.
And, Yoongi definitely knew this. That's why this invite was the ultimate form of torment.
I was a goldfish in a sea of sharks.
"Now don't you look killer!"
I look down at my leather trousers and plain top again and shrugged. It wasn't anything special but I mumble something close to a 'thanks.'
"You want a drink?"
"Look who's playing good host," I step back smiling teasingly at him but really it was just one of my many excuses to check him out. He was wearing dark jeans, a white t-shirt and a thick colourful cardigan. Of course, he looked good. He always did.
That's what made it worse.
"Sure I'll have a drink as long as you don't spit in it."
He nods, fluffy blonde hair bouncing with him, telling me to follow him but his hand lands on the small of my back anyway.
"You can supervise," he whispers down the side of my neck. There was a good chance he could feel my trembling and goosebumps through my thin top but he didn't say anything either too busy greeting people on the way to the kitchen or he was genuinely trying to be nice.
Hmm, probably the first one.
The kitchen was annoyingly gorgeous just like the rest of his home and the fact that there weren't as many people in here meant that I could take it all in better. It was expensive, huge but still homely.
"What's your poison?" Yoongi asks, grabbing two clean plastic cups from the kitchen island.
"I'll have whatever," I mumble lost in the beauty of his house "Nice place."
"Thanks," he looks up to watch my awe while simultaneously pouring rum and coke into the cups "My parents are architects."
He hands me mine with his beautiful hands full of silver rings and I nod in a kind-of 'thank you.' I don't think I've ever sincerely thanked Yoongi for anything, it was weird interacting with him without wanting to shout at him.
"What do your pare-"
"Hey, Yoongles!"
Saved by the bellends. The famously handsome Taehyung and Jungkook stumble arm in arm up to the two of us with great big smiles but their cheer and buzz flatten when they see me.
"What the hell is she-"
"Milady," Jungkook does a weird curtsey while Taehyung rudely points to me in confusion "I hope you didn't come empty-handed!"
I was stiff. I didn't know what to say.
"Of course, she didn't, bon voyage gentlemen," Yoongi shoos them away, handing them a small bag similar to the one he danged in front of my face just a few hours ago to bribe me into coming here.
My eyes widen again, still not used to seeing drugs in person only on tv. They looked less scary in person, that was the scary thing.
"Pleasure doing business with you sweetheart," Jungkook salutes me with heavy-lidded eyes and he stumbles away with a still-confused and staring Kim Taehyung.
"Check it's not baking powder, I know how these mafia types work," he nudges the black-haired kid, looking over his shoulder with caution half expecting me to be standing there with a gun pointed to his head.
"You want some?" Yoongi asks calmly and casually, getting rid of any positive thoughts I might have managed to gather in the entire 5 minutes that I'd been here.
My blood boils and bubbles. I put down my drink harshly so it sloshes around like an ocean storm in the cup and grip the counter, trying to calm down a little before facing him.
"I don't do drugs asshole!"
It's quiet. I'm quiet when I turn to see him holding a red bowl of crisps out to me, munching away with a little fear.
"Sorry," I sigh, shaking my head and running a hand through my hair to wipe away the stupidity.
I take a crisp but bite slowly just in cas-
"I haven't poisoned them."
"I know," I mock him, speeding up my bites just to prove a point.
"You can't poison crisps, I was trying for ages. I got the lab coat, the gloves and everything," he mumbles a joke, digging through the bowl for the perfect crisp.
A heavy and breathy laugh escapes me like he punched it out, my back to the counter. Was I crazy or was this actually a decent conversation?
"Are you actually laughing at my jokes? Wow."
And, then he ruins it.
"At you actually attempting sciene, not your jokes."
Another sip and he watches my every gulp from my hand to my lips, to the liquid travelling down my throat thickly with a slight burn.
"Drink up y/n you're gonna need it."
"Why's that?" I ask cautiously, looking between him and the drink.
Has he drugged me?
"Oh, you didn't think I was letting you leave did you?"
"What!"
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
Thankfully after another hour of being uncomfortable under Yoongi's gaze, he was dragged away by Hoseok to go dance.
Relief wasn't the word.
I took the opportunity to be a little bit nosy and wandered around. It was that big that I could possibly keep exploring until the end of the party and still not have covered half the grounds. If I had to be here then at least I could do it alone.
But did I really have to do anything for him? Everyone already thought I was some kind of drug dealer anyway and surely if I had some massive drug lord for a father, the school would be too shit-scared to expel me.
Min Yoongi might actually be doing me a favour here.  
"Hey everyone spin the bottle get in a circle!" Hoseok's loud voice echoed up the stairs and the thought of this social interaction immediately shot me into panic mode. I escaped through the first door I could touch, closing it softly and leaning against it on the other side with an enormous sigh of relief.
I was still holding the handle when the toilet flushes in the room and through the door frame in walks Yoongi.
Of course.
He just smiles as soon as he spots me frozen in place like I was naked and afraid or something.
"Hello, sunshine. I never thought I'd get you in here," he shakes his head happily, leaning against the frame with his hands in his pockets.
I say nothing and just sort of glare.
"Hoseok's started spin-the-bottle already huh?"
"Yeah, had to escape somehow. Your carpet is too soft for me to throw myself down the stairs," I finally mutter and it was the first thing I had said in at least an hour.
He laughs then notices my hands still behind my back, gripping onto the door handle for dear life.
"Well, aren't you gonna come in?" he demands more than asks, convincing me like he always does with his seductive voice. He just sits on his bed all casual as he walked me walk in.
"Why are you in here?" I ask, distracting him from looking at me since it was very uncomfortable as I head over to his desk.
Comic books. Every slam dunk there was. He's watching me touch them, not in the way where he's on edge that I'm gonna mess them up, he's just watching.
"I don't like dancing, people or loud places."
The faint thumping of the music below made that funnier.
"So you don't like parties?" I asked slowly, trying to figure out if I was being stupid or if he was just an idiot.
"I don't like parties."
He's an idiot.
"So, you don't like parties and you have an unhealthy comic book obsession," I point out, memorising the very few interesting things there are to learn about Min Yoongi.
"You didn't think I'd like comic books?"
I mean it made sense. I at least knew he liked basketball since he was on the team and I'd see him practise on the way to the library. But every single copy? Some of them signed?
"I didn't think you could read."
He laughs getting up walking over to me, joining me in looking at his stuff and watching me pick things up. It's strange but not uncomfortable, no.
"I can read you."
I face him with an eyebrow raised up as far North as it could go.
"Like a book."
"Oh yeah?" I challenge him, crossing my arms and leaning against his desk "What am I thinking?"
I put something random in my mind to distract my mind gravitating towards his lips at this close proximity, like Polish pickles.
"My lips."
I'm stunned but I have to keep up appearances so I scoff.
"You're so conceited."
"You're in denial."
"Of what? What am I in denial of? In fact, what am I doing here?" the frustration starts pouring out of me and I'd lost the lid to reseal it again. I raise my arms to gesture to his house and let them fall down again with a harsh slap against my thighs.
"Because I asked you to," Yoongi shrugs, stating simply that I do as I'm told.
"You know that's not what I mean."
"I asked you to come, you're here sure there was some persuasion-"
"Some persuasion? You blackmailed me into coming to your party to keep you company while you sulk in your room? What the hell is the matter with you!" I exclaimed, no longer relaxed against the desk and pointing at his chest like an angry relative.
"Isn't it obvious?"
The kiss takes me completely by surprise. He wastes absolutely none of his surprisingly powerful energy in his movements by pressing me into the desk begging me to sit on it, lips attacking mine with everything they have as if making up for lost time. His fingers start to hook in my belt loops to bring me even closer, the rest of his hand cupping my hips.
That is until a hard slap empties all the other noise and movement in the room.
My chest heaves, eyes narrowed in a state of that dreadful breathless adrenaline. I looked angry but that was the best thing that has ever happened to me. I knew he was just trying to pick on my completely obvious feelings for him, that's when I no longer had to fake my rage.
But the way he held his chiselled cheek with a large smirk failing to hide on his face was intoxicating. The large red mark almost makes you feel guilty.
Almost.
How dare he?
"Where did that come from?" he beams, stepping forward as if I'd just revealed a hidden talent or something.
"You take one more step and I promise you, you won't be smirking," I alert him, holding my hand out to his chest to stop him from coming any closer.
"I love it when you treat me rough," Yoongi continues to walk, hypnotising me by taking my hand, crawling up my wrist to intertwine our fingers with his signature shit-eating grin. He's just so annoyingly and sexily casual!
"You're a pig. How could you do this?" I push him away again, ready to leave every single part of my life that contained him behind.
When Yoongi noticed I was genuinely upset with his actions he dropped the act and chased me the short distance to his bedroom door.
"W-what have I done?"
Does he have no short term memory or is my wrist stronger than I thought it was?
I just had to get out. It was everything it was the still burning red mark on his cheek, the tingling of my lips, the ghost of his fingertips on my hips as he reached for my belt loops. I was beyond embarrassed that I had kissed back.
His stupid face. I turn around.
"I really thought that maybe tonight you were taking a break from hurting me or making me feel like an idiot. That maybe you felt bad and wanted to make up for being an asshole but no, of course, that's just who you are."
"Y/N-"
"No don't even waste your energy," I hold my hand up still choosing not to face him since I could feel my voice starting to break already "I already feel like an idiot most of the time anyway, get a hobby."
I look to his desk again.
"A real one."
I open the door the fresh air on the other side teasing me until he closes it.
He turns me around, holding my shoulders and keeping me pinned against his bedroom wall like the poster of Tupac he had.
"Can't you just consider the possibility for one second that I might actually want to spend time with you?" He fumes, eyes and voice eating me alive as he shows he's actually frustrated. His voice had actual emotion other than arrogance or teasing or mischief.
I was trembling- in fear or excitement, I didn't know.
"I'm a simple guy Y/N. When I want something I make myself clear. I asked you to come here, you said no. I told you you looked sexy, which you really do, by the way, you think I'm manipulating you. I offer you snacks and a drink, you jump down my throat. I kiss you, you slap me in the face."
I'm quiet.
"I'm not trying to ruin your life, you get enough of that from those idiots," he nods to the other side of that door and the loud laughter that still managed to push through the thick ambience of this room "I know I make you nervous but, believe it or not, you make me nervous too. So what's the problem here?"
Yoongi was drawing you in, engulfing me whole with his dark eyes waiting for me to say something sexy and impressive. I could feel my legs starting to give way in his shadow.
"I'm scared."
He leans in whispering softly, voice humming through us both as his lips tickle the trembles in my throat.
"I scare you?"
It was hard not to say yes. His arms were either side of my head and I should feel trapped, I should feel suffocated, claustrophobic. But secretly there was nothing I wanted more than for him to crush me at this moment.
"I'm scared of what you're doing to me and if it's just some big joke," I finally admit my truth, allowing my worries to leave me along with a small whimper as his lips start to kiss my jaw.
"I'm going to kiss you again and you tell me if it seems like I'm joking."
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Oldie Squad Appreciation
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adorerdraco · 4 years
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Not My Type (Like You) ✧ Draco x Reader
Request: you should like do a one shot or even another mini series about amortentia/love potions in general. i’d soooo read that
AU SEVENTH YEAR WHERE VOLDY NEVER CAME BACK <3 f**k that mf !
italics are for flashbacks <3 i love them if you couldn’t tell 
Warnings: mean!draco, cursing, more mature themes/ideas, little bit of spice towards the end teehee but not too much bc idk how to write smut to save my life
Words: 4.5K
A/N: I saw a tiktok that kinda inspired this and i couldn’t get the idea out of my heaaaad if anyone knows which one im talking ab send it my way so i can show !!!! ALSO I LOVE THIS ONESHOT I LOVE DRACO AND I AM IN MY FEELINGS this might be my new favoriteeeee
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Draco Malfoy was insufferable.
The Prince of Slytherin was unbearable for many reasons, things you've been taking notice of since your first year at Hogwarts when you accidentally had the ”pleasure” of interacting with him when he called you stupid in a class for reciting a spell incorrectly. That day, a hostility blossomed. A hostility that ensued nothing but teasing, mocking, and criticizing that would sometimes go too far and you'd both have to be pulled away from each other by your friends’ before either of you said anything excessively harsh that had no return.
You often felt like Malfoy sought you out to bother you and only for that. You could be sitting in the Quad with friends, conversing and laughing like nothing in the world mattered, and a few minutes later you'd be hurling insults towards the blond across the courtyard after he would yell something infuriating to you with that smug smirk on his face and his goons laughing wildly beside him as if he just said the most hilarious thing they've ever heard. 
On the days you’d ignore him, not having the patience or the energy to deal with him, he would still somehow find a way to push your buttons. Little things here and there like passing you in the corridors and tugging at the ends of your hair gingerly like a child but enough to tick you off or sending you notes from across the class in the form a small fluttering bird with a lousy drawing of you usually with a message along the lines of, “Y/L/N, hopefully, this note finds itself in the nest of hair you have today xx DM.”
In all honesty, there wasn’t a day you didn’t encounter Draco and it’s been that way for seven long years. Neither of you ever gotten tired of mildly or spitefully bullying each other and neither of you ever dreamed of stopping. He was one of the few constants in your daily life, and you in his. It was like you both lived on annoying the other, and in the midst of all the chaos that you brought to one another; there was a small, teeny, tiny acquaintance - not that either of you would ever admit it. You may have noticed it the time you bet each other ten galleons for who would win in the Triwizard Tournament your fourth year and he bet on Viktor Krum while you on Cedric Diggory. (he’s very much alive i refuse to think otherwise.)
“So you’re telling me, your mother is the reason why you’re not at Durmstrang,” you scoffed. “This whole time I could have been saved four years of headaches.”
“You’re just jealous some of us have more opportunities than others,” he snarks back pompously. “Unlike you, I hardly believe you would be graceful enough to even be considered admission into Beauxbatons.”
You had gone to see the last task of the competition just like the rest of the schools, all packed tightly onto the stands and watching carefully the exit of the maze. Naturally, you had arrived with your own friend groups, but somewhere during the time of sitting there and even being a few rows behind the blond and his minions, the two of you had met in the middle bench after he was trying to prove something wrong to you. 
When Cedric appeared back in front of the stands with the glowing Triwizard cup held high over his head in victory and every Hogwarts student loudly celebrating, you had jumped up from your seat and shook wildly an irked Draco beside you. He roughly shrugged your hands off his stiff shoulder, looking up at you with a sneer that you met with a bright beaming smile.
“Pay up, Malfoy!” You held out your hand towards him, opening and closing your fingers to receive the bet money. “I believe it was ten galleons you owe me.”
He begrudgingly reached into his coat pocket and fished out the coins, counting them defeatedly before tossing them into your palm. “What a waste of galleons.”
“Hey, you made the bet,” you reminded him with a still very bright smile. You shoved the money into your pockets, keeping one of the gold coins in between your fingers, and gave him a small hair ruffle that he harshly recoiled from before you turned to jump back up towards the level of stands your friends were originally sitting at.
“Were you really sitting with Malfoy this whole time?” One of your friends questioned when you reached them, a goading smirk on his face.
“Ooooh, she definitely was,” another friend piped up, wiggling her eyebrows. “They’re obsessed with each other.”
“Shut up,” you smack her arm casually, showing the pair the one gold galleon you were holding. “We are not. I was only sitting with him to get my bet money.”
“Sure,” they drawled in unison, sniggering when you threw your head back in annoyance.
You looked down the rows to see the mop of white hair you just sent into disarray. He was slowly descending the stairs of the stands with Crabbe and Goyle following closely behind him. Almost as if he felt your eyes on his back, he turned back to look at you, his cold gray eyes gazing into yours. It was like everything around you went quiet, the only thing in your focus was him and all you could do was stare back. It wasn’t until your friends started stifling laughter and whispering “aww’s” that you snapped out of the short-lived and odd few second trance you were in. He waited for you to do something before he turned back around, and you did - by holding up both hands; the one golden galleon on your left and your middle finger on your right, grinning to yourself when he rolled his eyes throwing you the finger right back before he finally disappeared into the mob of people below.
You were briskly walking down the corridors, books held tightly to your chest with your friend at your side while you made your way to Advanced Potions with Slughorn after Snape finally made his way into the DADA position. It was an easy class, potions being something you had a knack for and it gave you enough leisure to mess with your “favorite” Slytherin who shared it with you. 
“Look there goes your boyfriend,” your friend teases, elbowing your upper arm roughly and nodding her head down towards the hall to the tall blond appearing around the corner and entering swiftly into the class.
“He’s not my boyfriend,” you hiss. “I’m tired of everyone saying that. I hate him and he hates me, end of story.”
“You know when you say you hate him, it just sounds like the opposite,” she says tauntingly. “Besides, hate is a strong word and very misplaced. Maybe, it’s just years of built-up tension that both of you have been too nervous to do anything about.”
“Tension? Yeah, I want to strangle him,” you laugh to yourself at the thought.
“Not that tension, idiot,” she shakes her head, “I mean sexual tension...clearly.”
You gave her a horrified look mixed between being disgusted and being offended. You held your hand over your mouth and pretended to gag as dramatically as you could. “I am appalled that you would even say that. I would rather be locked in a room with Filch and Peeves and hear them argue and fight all day than to be with Malfoy like that.”
“Come on, think about it,” she encourages, stopping the two of you a little ways away from the classroom. “You guys 'hate' each other?” She finger quotes the hate, looking at you with a raised eyebrow. “When you hate someone, you don’t go out of your way to talk to them every day.”
“It’s not like that,” you wave a hand dismissively. “Also, this isn’t a cliche, this is real life. We hate each other, that is all there is to it.”
You picked up the walk again, your friend to following behind you while letting out a deep and exhausted sigh. You couldn’t help but think about what she said, sure, perhaps at one point you thought Draco was attractive with his bright silver hair, his glittering gray eyes, his little button nose that he would crinkle up every other word he spoke in his charming haughty voice, or the way he’d tower over you in the middle of a conversation gone wrong and he’d be talking lowly to you but all you’d be able to focus on was the sweet scent of apples and cologne that radiated off of him.
“No,” you whispered almost silently to yourself, forcing yourself out of your thoughts and shaking your head from side to side as if it was going to get the image out of your head. He was mean, disrespectful, arrogant, and insulted you daily - even if you both laughed about it or gave props for the perfect jabs.
The first thing your eyes landed on when you walked into the dingy Potions classroom was Draco, his focus trained on the ceiling as if he was deep in thought. Just as his eyes were about to flicker down towards you, and sensing that he was about to, you quickly avoided his gaze and concentrated onto Slughorn who was waiting patiently by his desk with a bubbling cauldron for you and your friend to join the crowd in front of him.
“Great! Now that we’re all here,” Slughorn began excitedly, fixing the sleeves of his robes as he grabbed the ladle in the cauldron and began stirring it while continuing his lecture. 
You were trying to listen, capturing only the professor’s last sentence as he called on someone who raised their hand. All attention was thrown out the window when you realized Draco was standing near said classmate, a look of annoyance suddenly clouding his features when his pale eyes met yours.
“What?” He mouthed. You ignored him, trying to turn your concentration back onto Slughorn but nothing he was saying made sense, and right as you caught a word you did understand, a shuffling and an abrupt arm knocking into yours threw you right back out of the loop.
“Watch it,” you snap hushedly when you notice who it is. “Why are you over here?”
“I can’t say hello to my number one fan?” He whispers back, snickering slightly when you scoffed quietly.
“Fan? Says the one who shoved his way through the crowd to come over here,” you grumble, crossing your arms. 
“I hardly shoved,” he mutters. “I only moved because I couldn’t see Slughorn from where I was standing. Not everything’s about you.”
“Really? Because to me, it seemed like you came over here for my attention.”
He let out a breathy chuckle, a patronizing smile making its way onto his face. The type of typical boy smile where his mouth is half agape with his tongue smoothing over his teeth as he stared off across the room with his fingertips rubbing thoughtfully against his jawline as he thought of what to say. You stood still as he bent down, nearing his mouth towards your ear and whispering hotly, “you wish, darling.”
Slughorn sent everyone to their paired tables, and as everyone began moving and Draco sauntered off away from you, you stood stuck there, shocked with the lingering chills that were sent down your spine from your archnemesis’ comment.
“I told you, you’re into each other,” your friend sang expectantly from behind you, grabbing onto your sleeve and directing the two of you towards your table. 
You were working peacefully at your workspace, cutting up, peeling, and crushing the ingredients that your friend was sliding across the surface to you. In the table behind you was where Draco was working annoyingly quiet, tossing the stripped stems of the roses at you that you had to peel, tiny thorns pricking at your ankles through your socks since the bigger thorns had been taken off for the potion. As payback, you would throw back loose extra pearl dust you ground up, giggling tauntingly when he would frown at you for getting the coarse white powder all over his Italian leather shoes and most definitely inside of them as well.
When you, and seemingly the rest of the class, had finally thrown in all the ingredients and the potion promptly finished brewing, beautiful clouds of white and pink smoke began rising from the cauldrons, each one having a lovely scent of first; freshly pressed high-priced linens, then a faint smell of a brand new racing broom out of a box with a freshly polished wood handle that then quickly transformed into a sweet harvest of apples, green specifically, and finally...
“Ugh, gross,” you pinched your nostrils closed, turning your body around and sending a scowl towards Draco’s way. “Malfoy, we get it, your cologne is expensive, now stop spraying it. I was smelling all these wonderful things and you ruined it.”
He arched an eyebrow at you, looking at you as if you were crazy. “Are you mad? I didn’t spray anything, I think you’ve finally lost it.”
“Well you laid it on too heavy this morning then, it reeks in here.”
“You’re one to talk, Y/L/N. Did you bathe yourself in that dreadful perfume you wear just now? And that ghastly lip shiner thing you use,” He sneers, crinkling up his nose. “I can’t even think straight, I might vomit.”
“Lip shiner? It’s called lip balm, you prat,” you retort, crossing your arms angrily. “Either way, I haven’t used or sprayed anything either so-”
“For Merlin’s sake!” Your friend suddenly exasperated loudly from beside you making you briskly whirl around to look at her, a look of pure annoyance etched onto her face. “Are you two really that daft? Honestly? Have you been paying attention to anything other than each other? For instance, the potion we just made?”
This gained the attention of your classmates around you in the surrounding tables, turning their heads slightly but not obviously with small knowing smirks on their faces while they snickered quietly and listened. It was soundless as you reached towards the book in front of your friend, pulling it painstakingly slow towards you in fear of the words that were written on the open page.
“Amortentia,” you muttered glumly as you read the page, pushing it away from you dejectedly as everything began to click.
“The reason you’re both smelling each other is because you’re what the other desires and is attracted to. Wow, what a revelation! As if the whole school didn’t already know.”
You were afraid to turn around. You could feel the cold and hard pair of eyes burning holes onto your back and the immediate amount of whispers and giggles of the people around you. Luckily, Slughorn was busy at the other end of the room, working diligently with another pair of students who managed to mess up their potion. 
“That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard,” Draco announces finally.
“What’s so ridiculous about it?” You questioned, your heart falling to the pit of your stomach when you turned again and took notice of the way his lips were curling upwards as if it was the most disgusting thing he could have ever heard.
“Think about it, Y/L/N,” he deadpans. “Why would I ever desire someone like you?”
There had been occasions over the years when you were in this situation. None as drastic and as revealing, but there would be times when friends and others would poke fun and say the exact same thing your friend told you earlier. The usual, “they got the hots for each other!” and you would always brush it off and joke about how you could never, and he’d do the same. It was always amongst laughs and jokes, but as you looked at the Slytherin in front of you - there wasn’t a hint of amusement on his hardened face.
“Piss off, Malfoy,” you seethed, biting down hard on your lip to refrain from lashing out either in tears or in insults, you couldn’t decide. “If I’m so revolting, leave me alone from now on, I mean it.”
“I never said that,” he argues. “You’re just simply not my type.”
For some eerie, awful reason, the words tore into you like a sharpened knife going easily through butter. You were used to his insults, his mocking, his comments about your appearances - but this hurt, and you couldn’t explain why. You thought, for a second, possibly, that maybe your friend was right. Maybe there was a hidden attraction you had for the platinum blond that you buried deep away and one that he had for you. There was no way that was the case now, not at all. 
And for the first time in your life, you couldn’t be more sure of a simple little fact.
You hated him.
✧・゚: *✧・゚:* 
You don’t know how long you spent sitting in Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom, back against the cold tiled wall with your knees brought up to your chest. Your friends had tried to console you after the public rejection and humiliation, but their words only made you feel worse. You felt silly for being so bothered about being rejected by Malfoy, he wasn’t exactly someone you fancied, to begin with.
After dinner, you went off the grid and found yourself where you’re now sitting. The ghostly girl flew restlessly around you, popping out of her stall now and then to chat but then going back into her abyss of nothing when she learned you were still upset. You noticed it made her a little too pleased, considering the fact it was always her who was miserably wailing about her problems in the bathroom. She tried to hide it and let you talk to her about how you felt, but she gave terrible advice most of the time. 
“Well, if it was me, I would have never started fancying someone who was mean to me,” she mumbled. “Like when Paul Wighorn made fun of my hair for a whole year and laughed when I cried. I hated his guts then and I still do now.”
She had a point, but she was also Myrtle. Nothing about the overly dramatic ghost made sense.
“I don’t fancy him, It’s just weird,” you trail off. “I can’t imagine a day without him, even if he is a complete arse. We always joked about how we hated each other, but I didn’t think he actually meant it, I guess.”
“I think you do fancy him, though,” she whispers knowingly in your ear, making you flinch from her cold draft. “Stop denying it, it’ll only keep making you feel worse. Amortentia doesn’t lie, silly. Maybe when you drink it, but before that, all real feelings are there, whether you know it or not.”
You sat quietly, taking in her words before something came crashing down onto you like a wall of bricks.
“I suppose that means he’ll have to stop denying it too,” she adds thoughtfully. 
“Myrtle,” you rush to get up, smoothing your hair down profusely and fixing the wrinkles in your clothes. “You’re a genius.”
“I am?” She asks excitedly. “What did I say?”
You waved her off, giving her another thank you before rushing out of the bathroom and into the empty corridors. You were trying to go back to your dorm to sleep, hoping that when tomorrow came you would be bold enough to confront the Slytherin Prince but it was thirty minutes past curfew, something you didn’t notice until you were bustling down the steps in a rush and came face to face with the man of the hour himself doing his Prefect patrolling duties.
“Go to your dorm, Y/L/N,” he sneers. “I’ll take away house points, don’t test me,”
“I don’t believe you.”
“That I’ll take away house points? Watch me. Five-”
“No, you twat,” you groan, swatting his arm with your hand. “I don’t believe that I’m not your type.”
He stayed wordless for a moment, biting the inside of his cheeks and clenching his jaw as he peered down at you from his lanky height. “Why not?”
“Because I didn’t think you were my type until the amortentia made me aware of it,” you answer quietly. “Actually, my friend had a hand in it, but it was mostly the potion.”
Silence, again. Still and deadly. You could hear the large clocks around the school tick and tock, the hundreds of paintings snoring peacefully or chattering quietly. You avoided looking up at the boy in front of you, all of a sudden feeling small under his gaze until you felt cold fingers brush against your cheekbone and then softly through your hair causing you to finally look up into the soft wandering almost blue eyes. 
“I didn’t find out with the amortentia,” he muttered almost reluctantly as if it was the most difficult thing he had to reveal. “I’ve known I’ve liked you for a while.”
“How long is a while?” You curiously wonder aloud.
“I’m not telling,” he smirks. “Perhaps you’ll figure it out one day.”
Both hands came up to rest on your cheeks, slightly cold but soft and tender. It sent chills throughout your body as he took a step closer to you and then closer, backing you carefully into the diagonally ascending stone wall that went in the direction of the stairs. Your breathing was getting uneven, you noticed the way you accidentally switched to manually forcing yourself to inhale and exhale normally when he leaned down with his face now being mere centimeters from yours. It was torture, having your eyes closed and feeling the way his nose was brushing against yours, minty breath warm against your lips as he ghosted over them with his. He was so close, you smelt everything that was in the damn potion that got you here. It sent flutters of warmth down your body, trickling down and seeping deeply into every bone in your body as if this is was the remedy its been needing. This is what you’ve been missing.
When you finally felt a soft pair of lips being pressed into yours, it felt almost unreal that you were there. It was awkward the first couple of seconds, both of you wondering how in the world had you gotten yourselves in this position, but after you relaxed and he found his Prince of Slytherin confidence - it was magic. His lips moved languidly against yours, affectionately and full of longing. He kept his hands on your cheeks, still timid to move anywhere else while you kept yours resting lightly on his sides. It scared you a little, how fast and how easily you melted into each other, like if this was something you’ve been doing with him for years rather than torment the other for laughs. 
You hated the feeling when he pulled away, a gust of freezing castle air passing through the space between you and cooling your lips and face from his contact. His hands dropped down to his sides and he looked down at you with a small smile, a teeny bit smug, but happy. You wanted to feel the same way, but a question still loomed over your head, overpowering the giddiness you were vividly feeling.
“Why did you lie earlier?” You question softly, directing your gaze to the floor. “In class, I mean.”
He thought about his answer for a second, sighing deeply when he realized he had to uncover more truths about himself to you. You took a mental observation at that, he didn’t like to talk about feelings. “You didn’t say anything. Didn’t even look at me. I thought I’d beat you to it and reject you before you could reject me.”
“What made you think I’d reject you?” You coaxed. “Other than the fact that I made you a sworn enemy at eleven.”
“Exactly that,” he laughed lightly. “You’re unpredictable, Y/N.”
You smiled to yourself at the realization that he finally used your first name. “So are you, Draco.”
“Not really,” he grins. “Like in just a few moments, for example, I’m going to start snogging you.”
You opened your mouth to encourage him but shut it quickly when he closed the space between the two of you again, this time much closer than he was before. He was flush against you, and when you say you could feel everything; you could feel everything. You were almost begging for him to lean down and kiss you again by the time you felt his hands on you again, running delicately around the exposed skin of your hips when your shirt hiked up an inch on accident. He leaned down again, and with the advantage of his lowered height, you let your hands slide up his arms, biceps, and ultimately the nape of his neck where your fingers continued up into his hair. The breathiest gasp escaped his throat as you tugged at the ends gently, smirking to yourself when he closed his eyes in delight at the touch.
His lips came down onto your fast this time and hastily, pressing himself impossibly closer into you. You could feel his grip tighten against your hips, his hold moving upwards onto your waist as he continued to kiss you fervently. His teeth bit down softly on your bottom lip and you wasted no time in parting them slightly for his tongue to meet yours. You tugged at the platinum strands of hair again, feeling triumphant when a low groaning sound emitted from his throat at the sensation as he tilted his head to deepen the kiss further.
You knew you were done for when one of his hands slowly slid up your upper body, stopping first at your collarbones with warm fingertips fluttering over the skin, before he moved it upwards completely and he now had his large hand wrapped comfortably around your neck. You gasped in delight into the kiss, a swarm of butterflies going directly to your lower stomach as he squeezed against the artery in your neck meticulously, the coldness from his Malfoy family crest ring only adding fuel to the fire. He tore his mouth away from yours with his hand still clutched firmly around your throat and you were almost sent into orbit with the look he was giving you. A look filled with desire, adoration, and intensity - his pale gray eyes were much darker, almost a dark blue that resembled the starry night sky on a summer night.
Lips reattached themselves roughly and feverishly against your jawline, peppering long and tender kisses all the way towards your ear and then down towards your collarbones where he was beginning to undo the rest of the top buttons of your school dress shirt. You felt him smile against your hot skin when you’d writhe underneath him, emitting weak whimpers that you couldn’t hold back that he ended up having to clasp a free hand over your mouth as he whispered into your ear to stay quiet.
It didn’t matter that you were in the middle of a poorly lit corridor where anyone could walk past and see the frenzy that was unfolding, nor did it matter to Draco that his Prefect duties were long forgotten. Your friend was right, and everyone else for that matter; it wasn’t hate you felt for the blond at all, it was years and years of a craving and a hidden yearning packed with displaced tension.
And now, you were both exactly where you wanted to be; together.
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helnjk · 3 years
Text
Stitching Together - G.W.
George Weasley x fem!reader 
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Requested: yes !! by my lovely bean marissa @lumos-barnes
please accept my humble request for a george x reader where the reader owns a shop in diagon alley and one day they walk into WWW and george knocks over a whole display, he is a complete SIMP & cannot compose himself. complete buffoonery when the reader is near. they become friends & do all these nice things for each other and the reader is oblivious like "george, i'm so lucky to be your friend" (even though the reader is secretly simping) and he's like "um what, i'm literally in love with you"
Word count: 3.1k
Warnings: mentions of meals and drinks (coffee), but other than that it’s just pure fluff & Dumb Idiots In Love
A/N: somehow i always end up writing george knitting? idk how it happened, but it happened. i hope you like it marissa 🥺💕
You took a step back to admire your handiwork. 
After what seemed like neverending hours, the layout of your shop was finally perfect. From where you stood, you had a view of the streets of Diagon Alley, several passersby coming and goings from your sight. The display of charmed knit work by the window was already moving, demonstrating simple stitches that formed into a scarf. 
It had always been your dream to open up your own shop in the most prominent wizarding area of Britain, with your passion for knitting and crafting, but the timing had always been off. Now, about a year or so since the war had ended, your grandmother surprised you with the capital to make your dreams come true. 
The gesture was extra special because she was the one who first taught you how to knit. Many summers were spent in her cottage, sitting side by side and working on personal projects together. 
Outside, your sign read ‘Stitching Together: Grand Opening’. There were a few flyers posted right on the door and on the window advertising the different classes and crafting groups you were offering, as well as the different products that could be found in your store. 
It was as if your heart could burst at the sight of your fully furnished shop and you could wait no longer. With a flick of your wand, the sign on the door flipped to say open and that was that. 
“Hey Freddie, have you seen that new shop that’s opened down the street?” George yelled from the bottom of the stairs once the last customer of the day made their leave. 
“Haven’t gone in, but it’s gotten a lot of customers from what I can tell!” the disembodied voice of his twin replied from somewhere above. 
As he began the process of cleaning up and reshelving, products floating in midair or zooming towards their proper shelves, he called out once more, “What type of store is it d’you reckon?” 
“Arts and crafts? Something like that.” 
George’s eyes drifted towards the shop window, where he could just barely see the outline of the new store. Dusk had begun to set in London, so the sky was filled with brilliant hues of purple and orange. His curiosity getting the better of him, he decided that he would go welcome the new shop owner to Diagon Alley. 
With a shout to let his twin know where he was off to, George strode out of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes and into the brisk weather. Luckily for him, Stitching Together was still open. He could see you bustling around inside, fixing displays and swishing your wand to tidy everything up.
It had only been around a month since your shop had opened, but the local wizard folk of London seemed to be very keen on buying the different things you sold. Many came around to purchase the instructional books and the different kinds of wool and yarn, and some of your regulars had even taken an interest in the classes you held weekly. It was a great way for you to get to know the community and to establish friendships. 
You had always taken note of the joke shop a few shops down from you, but with the hustle and bustle of just opening, you hadn’t had a chance to visit or introduce yourself to the owners. It was just your luck that one half of them pushed open the door to your shop, the little bell at the top of it ringing to indicate his presence. 
“Oh, hello!” you smiled, turning to face the redheaded man, “Welcome to Stitching Together, what could I help you with?” 
Unbeknownst to George, your heart began to beat rapidly in your chest. How could a man be so positively handsome you didn’t know, but at the sight of him standing by the door, all you could think about was how gorgeous he was. And he hadn’t even uttered a single word yet! 
The charming smile he sent your way did not help the heat you could feel creeping up your neck. “Just popping by to say hello and welcome to Diagon Alley! My twin and I run Wheezes just down the street,” he said. 
Your smile grew as he stuck his hand out for you to shake, “Oh I was just thinking about how I’ve been wanting to pay your shop a visit! I’m Y/N, by the way.”
“George Weasley at your service,” his hand was firm and warm as he shook yours, eyes sparkling with something you couldn’t quite name. “Nice to meet you!” 
“So tell me about your shop!” 
Somehow, after that evening, George Weasley snuck his way into becoming a part of your daily routine.
Every morning he would show up with two cups of coffee in hand right before your shop was set to open. After realizing that you depended on caffeine to function throughout your day, he made it a point to bring you one everyday. As you sipped on your coffees, the two of you would spend a few minutes chatting about your plans for the day before going to work. 
Whenever you would offer to pay for your own cup or even try to insinuate that you could get your own coffee in the morning, just so that he wouldn’t have to go through the trouble, he would stop you in your tracks.
“But George–”
“Nope!” he would say in a voice louder than yours. “I’m doing this out of the kindness of my heart. I really feel for your customers who have to deal with a Y/N that hasn’t had her coffee fix. Could you imagine the grumpiness? Not on my watch!” 
You would roll your eyes, but secretly it warmed your heart how sweet this boy could be. He was slowly inching his way into your life and becoming a great friend. 
“So,” said Fred one day as George had gotten back from delivering your daily coffee, “The bird from the knitting shop, huh?” 
His twin only rolled his eyes in response, used to the teasing that came with being brothers (and twins) with Fred Weasley. Instead of engaging, George went instead to do the routine last check over their store before they officially opened their doors. Still, Fred couldn’t resist the temptation to continue provoking him. 
“Oi! C’mon, you bring her coffee everyday even if you don’t like the stuff. If I don’t remind you that you have a store to run, you would spend the whole day staring out the window just to catch a glimpse of the girl! Tell me you’re not whipped for her,” he teased, following George through the shop.
From their position at the till and on the second floor, both Verity and Lee tried to hide their smirks. This was too good a story to not eavesdrop on. 
“Come off it, Fred.” George rolled his eyes. “I’m just being a good friend, that’s all!” 
“Yeah but you wouldn’t mind being more than friends.” 
The cheeky wink Fred sent George was not appreciated, as the prior soon found out, having to duck away from a stinging hex. Still, Fred’s laugh rang through the semi-empty store as he ran away from his brother. 
Later in the day, as the lunch crowd tapered off, the four of them were left to mull around a bit. Lee and Verity were off taking stock in the back room, Fred was doing some accounting (because his twin couldn’t be trusted with any sort of math), and George was reshelving some Skiving Snackboxes. 
The bell above the door to the shop rang, but he couldn’t quite tell who came in from his position towards the back of the shop. 
“Welcome to Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes!” he yelled, rushing to get all the boxes in order before he could help the new customer, “I’ll be with you in just a second!” 
Just as he admired his handiwork, eyes scanning the display to make sure nothing was out of place, a familiar voice called from behind him, “It’s alright, take your time. I’m not looking for anything in particular.” 
George almost jumped out of his skin as he heard your voice. He was so surprised that as he turned to meet you, his elbow caught on the edge of one of the Snackboxes and the whole thing toppled over. 
You watched as the tower of boxes crumbled around him, and your hand automatically covered your mouth as you tried to contain your laughter. It didn’t work, though, and soon the whole store could hear your guffaws. 
Thankfully, George was a wizard, and what would’ve taken a muggle quite some time to fix, only took a quick flick of his wand. 
“Oops,” you smiled at him bashfully as he finished, “Didn’t mean to startle you, Weasley.”
“Erm, it-it’s alright,” he blushed, “I just didn’t expect you to come ‘round today.” 
In truth, the reason why George was so flustered at your appearance at his shop was because he had just spent most of the afternoon thinking about you. He often did that, getting lost in his thoughts about the many little things that made you, well, you. The deep breath you took before that first sip of coffee in the morning, revelling in the aroma. How your face lit up when you spoke about the different people you met in your classes. Your hands and how skillfully they worked whatever project you were creating at the moment. 
He wouldn’t admit it to Fred, but what his twin had said earlier in the day was accurate. He was absolutely smitten over you. 
“Well you’ve been a regular over at mine for the last couple of weeks, I’m just returning the favor and visiting my favorite redhead at his place of work!” 
“I-I,” he stuttered, his brain refusing to acknowledge the fact that he was your favorite anything. 
Fred, who had heard the commotion and had gone down to check if everything was okay, nearly face palmed as he watched George fumble through his words. The man was whipped for you, no doubt about it, and as a good twin, he decided to save his brother from further humiliation. 
“I think what my lovely twin here is trying to say, is that you just haven’t met enough redheads to make your decision about your favorite one,” he said, smoothly inserting himself into the conversation. “Fred Weasley, at your service!” 
Your smile immediately brightened at the sight of George’s twin holding out his hand for you to shake, “Nice to meet you! I’m Y/N, George’s told me loads about you!” 
“Has he?” Fred raised his eyebrow, turning to look at George who was still a little dumbstruck at the sight of you in his shop. “Well, that just means it’s my turn to spend some time with such a lovely lady. C’mon, I’ll give you a tour of the shop!”
“Oh I’d love that.” 
With a small glance and wave at George, you took the arm that Fred was holding out for you, and so began his (largely amusing) tour of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes. 
“What in Merlin’s name was that!” yelled Fred the moment you left the shop. 
George groaned into his hands, embarrassment creeping back into him. He had acted a fool, unable to even mutter a single sentence to you the whole time you were around. 
“Mate, I have never seen you so flustered around a girl,” his twin muttered, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder, “Just tell her you’ve got feelings for her! Ask her on a date, do something! From what I could tell, you’re not the only one who’s caught feelings.” 
“It’s not like that between us,” he said, “I doubt she even notices how much I fancy her.” 
Somehow, George wound up taking Fred’s advice. Though, in typical-George fashion, he never explicitly mentioned to you anything about the way he felt. 
Instead, he would stay around your shop longer in the mornings, taking slower than usual sips of his coffee (which he still couldn’t say he preferred over a good cup of tea). Other days, he would come around closing time and help put everything back in order and if he was lucky, the two of you would go out to dinner. Of course, he would also never let you pay a sickle for your meal, no matter how much you insisted. 
Weekends were usually spent together as well. 
Saturdays were for brunch and muggle films on the telly. It was one of the rare occasions he would drink a beverage in front of you that wasn’t that (god forsaken) coffee. 
Sundays were more for crafting together. He would floo into your flat after having lunch with his family and the two of you would continue working on his little project. 
“My mum loves to knit,” he mentioned one day, while he observed your quick hands skillfully moving the thread through your needles. “She knits us all sweaters for Christmas. It’s become a tradition of sorts.” 
“That’s lovely,” you smiled up at him.
“Yeah, anyone who’s practically family gets one too. Like Harry and Hermione,” he mused.
“I could teach you how to knit her something, if you wanted,” you offered. “It’d be something pretty simple though, especially if you’ve never knitted anything before.”
The smile he sent you was so dazzling, you had to take a moment. You were practically melting under his tender gaze and you swallowed thickly, trying to gain your composure. 
 “That’d be bloody brilliant, Y/N!” 
You only hoped he didn’t notice how your face got hot and how your hands couldn’t move the needles to do what you wanted, too flustered to be precise with your movements.
Since then, the two of you spent most of Sunday afternoons making sure George had the correct strings of yarn on the correct needle. You would keep a close eye on him and his progress, but most of the time he was alright on his own. Sometimes, he would purposely sit closer to you on your couch and you could practically feel the warmth radiating from him. 
In between knits, your eyes would drift towards his focused face and you would smile. George had a habit of poking the tip of his tongue out when he was knitting. Something about the gesture helped him concentrate, and you found it absolutely adorable.
The more time you spent together, though, the more confused George got. It was getting to a point where in his head, it was impossible to miss what he was trying to say with his actions. You had to have caught on by now. And, since you hadn’t acknowledged what was going on between the two of you, he had assumed that this was your polite way of rejecting him.  
On a chilly morning, he clutched the warm cups of coffee in his hands as he pushed the door to Stitching Together open with his back. 
“Morning, Y/N!” he greeted.
You grinned in his direction as he made his way towards you. The moment he placed the warm drink in your hands and you took your first sip, a small moan of gratefulness escaped your lips.
“Merlin, I don’t deserve you,” you mumbled to your cup. 
“Sorry?” George asked, brows furrowed slightly. 
“Oh nothing!” you quickly said, “I’m just really glad you’re my friend, Georgie.” 
Friend. 
The word seemed to make his heart sink down to his stomach and ignite something in him at the same time. It was time that he told you how he felt, no matter what would happen afterwards. He couldn’t keep going on pretending he wasn’t head over heels in love with you. 
“Erm, about that Y/N,” he began, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his work uniform, “I’ve got to tell you something.” 
It was now or never. 
You smiled up at him encouragingly, almost oblivious to the bundle of nerves that were most definitely visible in his expression. 
“I-I don’t want to be just friends, Y/N,” he said, lips pursed in anticipation.
“What do you want then?” you still didn’t understand what he was trying to say. 
In a burst of confidence, George took your hands in his and gripped them tightly, “I want to be with you. I fancy you loads, I think I might even be in love with you, Y/N. Honestly, I might’ve been in love with you from the moment I first walked into your shop.” 
Your lack of an immediate response left him to back track, “But I understand completely if you don’t feel the same way, I just wanted to get it out there.” 
For a moment, the two of you were silent. George eyed you nervously, wondering what was going on through your head, bracing himself for the rejection that he thought was on the tip of your tongue. 
Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore, “Y/N? Do you want me to go?” 
Instead of answering, you flung your arms around his neck. He was so startled at your sudden gesture that he almost didn’t notice your lips on his. Almost. 
As suddenly as you had kissed him, all of his apprehensions melted away. Almost automatically, his arms found themselves wrapped around your waist and he pulled you closer to him. Your lips melted together seamlessly. It was as if this was where the two of you were meant to be, and you couldn’t help but smile into the kiss. 
Sooner than you had liked, George pulled away from you slightly. Despite his best efforts, he couldn’t help but dip his head down to peck your lips again. Once, twice, three times. This left you a giggly mess, your nose scrunching up in a way that was practically begging him to kiss it as well. 
“Does that mean you fancy me too?” he murmured against your lips. 
“Absolutely, head over heels,” you smiled in return. 
The pair of you spent a brief moment with your foreheads pressed together, giddy smiles on your faces. That was until a knock on the door of your shop sounded. Immediately, you sprung apart, a blush coating tip of George’s ears and cheeks. 
A few people stood outside, eyeing you amusedly. 
“Oh shit,” you said, hurrying to flip the sign on the door to say ‘open’ and to unlock the door with a flick of your wand. “I completely forgot I had a class today.” 
As the small group of people began to file inside, they sent knowing glances your way to which you only groaned softly and looked up at George.
“I’ll see you tonight?” you asked hopefully. 
With a kiss to your cheek and a mischievous grin he said, “You can count on it, love.” 
General taglist: @expectoevans @george-fabian-weasley @gxthsanrio @slytherinscribbles @harpyloon @nuttytani @mesmerisedangel @amourtentiaa @sarcasticallywitty15 @lumos-barnes
Weasley twins taglist: @whizboingies @pineapplesandpinas @papapapadumb @Mrs-g-weasley @a-castle-of--glass @hey-there-angels @leovaldez37 @pinkypurplemagic @werewolfslut @surprizeshawtyy
crossed out means i couldn’t tag you for some reason, sorry!
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xxdragonwriterxx · 3 years
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🔥You Are Human, And Damn It, You Are An Important One!🔥
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A/N: Hey everyone! I’m back! It looks like my tags finally decided to sort themselves out so I wanted to (finally) post a new story! I’m still working on requests though, so don’t worry, those are coming soon! I just wanted to post this in the mean time while I edit those and test if my tags are really fixed on one of my originals so that any requested fics will actually be seen later should an error occur. Thank you so much for your continued support and patience, you guys are so amazing! I hope this makes up for my temporary hiatus! This one actually has a bit of a heavier tone to it but I think I’m finally happy with it! Thanks again for the support, and don’t be afraid to talk to me! Shoot me a message or just spew random bullshit and I’ll still respond 😂. Enjoy!
(Warning: themes of non-con & abuse. This is set in a brothel, but there’s nothing explicit, it’s just mentioned or implied. Just wanted to put it out there! Viewer discretion advised!)
🐉Song Recommendation: “The Gardener” By: Sarah Sparks 🐉
Word Count: ~7k
~~~
It was that time of year. The time of year that Levi hated the most. The Underground Market Festival. It was the time of year in which merchants from all around would come down to the Underground City, away from the prying eyes of the Military Police, and sell anything and everything to the nobles who weren’t exactly looking for orthodox materials. The normally filthy, mostly empty streets would be filled with members of the wealthy, dripping in jewelry, cash, and lavish clothing as they paraded around the sorry excuse for a city, boasting of their wealth and privilege as they bought enough food and luxurious goods to feed three times the number of people in the Underground while sharing none of it.
The days were starting to blur together. Levi honestly couldn’t tell if it had been a day, a week, or a month as the drugs in his system continued to work just like the brothel owners wanted them to, rendering him practically inoperative and perfect for use. His head pounded, swimming with confused thoughts. His gaze was unfocused, warped, and his whole body felt suffocatingly hot despite his lack of cover, his legs shifting as his body instinctively searched for a relief he didn’t even want. But that was exactly how they wanted him.
The sound of his door being unlocked made him look up slowly, his eyes taking a few seconds to fully focus on the man standing in the entrance of his room, a wide, malicious grin on his face. Levi couldn’t help but wrinkle his nose in disgust. The man smelled of sweat and stale alcohol, and his unkempt appearance made Levi itch, even when drugged out of his mind.
“Oh, Levi…” the man cooed, making Levi shudder. “I have another customer for you.”
Even though Levi had been through this time and time again, even though he had been trapped in his filthy room since he was caught stealing from a merchant friend of the brothel owner at age twenty, even though the drugs in his system were making his body scream for what this new customer could give him, he still couldn’t help the wave of dread that washed through him, the fear. Levi didn’t fear much, having grown up on the streets of the Underground alone since he was abandoned by Kenny at the age of ten, but this? This he was scared of.
He thought back to the wretched old man that had abandoned him as a small child and wondered what he would think of him now. Would he be disgusted? Unsurprised? Angry? Not that it mattered. Levi knew he would never see him again. But even so, his brain couldn’t help itself from going down those roads, asking questions of “what if?” no matter how many times he reminded himself that it didn’t matter. He was just some bastard thug turned whore in the Underground. Nobody was going to even remember him, let alone care about who he was or who he may be in the future.
Levi was once again brought out of his daze when the pig in the doorway moved to the side, letting a noble woman saunter into the room. She had a wicked grin on her face as she approached him, ignoring the brothel owner as he slammed the door shut behind her, giving them some privacy. She was covered in glittering jewelry, and although the dress she wore was extravagant, it was very tight fitting and low cut, barely considered decent, her large breasts one breath away from spilling out over the top. Her hair was pinned up in a lavish braided style, twisting and coiling tightly, and held together with real gold pins that Levi knew must’ve cost a fortune.
“~Well, hello sexy,” the woman purred as she approached the raven-haired man.
Levi had to force himself not to grimace, even with the effect of the drugs, when she slithered her way over his thighs, her hands reaching up to cup his face. The smell of whatever custard perfume she had on was overwhelming, making his eyes water and his throat close up. Her hands felt clammy from all of the lotions and creams she had slathered over her skin to make it look shinier, making them feel like dead fish rubbing against his cheeks.
“Well? Aren’t you going to ask my name?” The woman demanded in a sickly sweet voice, making Levi close his eyes in barely suppressed agony.
“What is your name?” Levi asked in a low voice. He felt the woman preen above him at the sound of his voice, knowing she thought his deep tone was for setting the mood rather than the effect of his despair.
“My name is Lady Clarissa! What’s your name, hmmm?”
“Levi,” He said quietly.
“Oooh, Leevviiii, I like that,” Lady Clarissa practically moaned. “Say, Levi, you were quite expensive. That must mean you're really good at what you do. I can already tell that you fulfill my personal tastes in terms of appearance, so why don’t you convince me of the rest and give me a good time. Don’t make me regret spending my good money on you. Don’t make me punish you.”
Levi gritted his teeth when she ground her hips into him, trying his hardest not to fight back. He knew it would be difficult, the drugs making his movements and mental processes much slower, but at that moment, all he wanted to do was shove her off of him. Swallowing the bile in his throat, Levi reached for her as she leaned down to force her tongue into his mouth.
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It was that time of year. The time of year that (Y/N) hated the most. The Underground Market Festival. It took everything in her to avoid groaning in annoyance as the people she was expected to call her friends dragged her down into the filthy Underground City for a day of “fun”. (Y/N) would much rather be back at home, reading a book in the library, or relaxing with the horses in the barn, or secretly practicing her sword fighting skills with the guards of their estate. But her father had forced her to go when her friends had shown up at the house, begging for her to come with them. He claimed she needed to get her priorities straight and actually present herself, show the honor and pride that came with being part of the (L/N) family. (Y/N) thought there was very little honor and pride in parading their wealth around like they owned the world, especially in front of people who constantly struggled to survive on a daily basis.
(Y/N) walked slowly down the worn cobblestone streets, suppressing the urge to gag at the sight of other nobles walking around, looking and acting as if they were rulers of the walls. She barely looked at anything, only stopping to occasionally buy food when she noticed the hungry children hanging around, looking for a scrap to steal. She could tell they were wary of her, but she never stopped trying, always offering them the food in some way, even if it meant leaving it in a secluded space for them to find later.
Her friends constantly tried to get her to engage, running up to her with crystal jewelry, silk clothing, and delectable foods, attempting to entice her, only to get pushed away. (Y/N) wanted no part in any of it. Even her attire spoke volumes about how little she wanted to be there. She knew that to the people of the Underground, the dress she wore would be considered something of utmost value, but when compared to the nobles around her, she looked underdressed and plain. She wore nothing more than a subtle red dress covered with a black leather jacket, paired with black combat boots and matching gloves, no jewelry to be found except for the simple white earrings she wore in her lobes.
Her father had been less than pleased with her appearance, but stopped arguing when she announced she was leaving, the lord just happy she had at least agreed to go to the festival. She knew he was disappointed in her, annoyed that she wasn’t like the other noble ladies who loved to flaunt their luxurious lifestyles and bend to the every whim of the lords around them, looking to marry early for money and power. (Y/N) wouldn’t be surprised if the entire reason her father wanted her here was so she could possibly win over the affections of a single lord milling about, one that was rich and influential. It was for that possibility alone that (Y/N) had originally thought to wear something that made her look underdressed, having to swallow the bile that rose in her throat at the prospect of catching some snobby noble’s attention.
“Yeah, her name is (Y/N)! She’s the one right over there, I think she could use a good time.”
(Y/N)’s head snapped up when she heard her name, her eyes shooting over to where her friends were standing in a group in front of a large building. All of them were looking at her, covering their faces with their hands to hide their giggles. Dread filled her to the brim when she saw the sign in front of the building, her face paling in horror.
“That one, eh? I think we can arrange something like that,” the brothel owner said, a smug smile on his lips as he stared at her, his grin only widening as her cheeks flushed a brilliant red. “Don’t worry, I’ve got one in particular that could give you a good ride. He’s expensive since he’s my most popular, but he’s worth it.”
(Y/N) opened her mouth to argue, her cheeks on fire as her brain fought to think of something, anything to get her out of this situation. She didn’t want to fuck some random stranger for no reason, but she especially didn’t want to have sex in a brothel. She found them vulgar, repulsive, and horrible. The way they treated their “workers” was appalling. Just as the words finally reached the tip of her tongue, one of the girls she had come to the festival with cut off her impending argument.
“Damn, I’m jealous! If he’s that good I’m almost tempted to take him myself. But she needs this. She hasn’t loosened up the entire time we’ve been here and I think this might help. She’ll take him.”
The greasy man smiled and wrote her name down, happily accepting the roll of cash her friend handed him before getting up, supposedly to let the man know that he had another customer on the way. (Y/N) tried to escape when she could, but her friends rushed up and caught her before she could slip into the shadows, dragging her over to the brothel and shoving her towards an open door where the brothel owner stood, a creepy smile still plastered on his face.
“Guys! I don’t want this!” (Y/N) whispered frantically as she was dragged towards her doom.
“It doesn’t matter if you want it or not, you need it!” One of her friends said with a laugh. “Besides, you’re going to have a fun time. Don’t make us regret spending that money for you!”
(Y/N) was practically thrown into the room, stumbling as she fought to catch her balance, before the door was slammed shut behind her, the loud sound of the lock being latched reverberating around the room with the finality of a death toll. Huffing in anger, (Y/N) stood and brushed herself off, smoothing out her dress and straightening back up to her full height, fighting off the panic slithering up her spine.
A low groan of pain coming from behind her made her whirl around in surprise, her eyes landing on a shorter, pale skinned man with stunning silver eyes and raven black hair. Gods he looked pathetic. She could definitely tell he was attractive, it made sense now as to why he was a popular choice, but he looked sickly, his cheeks hollowed out, dark circles under his eyes, and a muscled yet neglected body starting to wear thin from years of hunger and constant overuse. The sight made her want to be sick. How could anybody be cruel enough to force themselves onto this obviously abused man? How could anyone willingly pay money to fuck him rather than help him?
“Um, hello,” (Y/N) said quietly. “W-What’s your name?”
The man raised an eyebrow, not used to the soft, kind, almost shy way she asked for his name. The women and occasional men he dealt with most of the time were demanding, controlling, and sadistic, knowing they paid for a man they could use, and their voices usually projected that. Yet, this woman looked as if she had been forced to do this, further supported by the way she had been nearly thrown into the room by whom he assumed was her friends.
“Levi,” he said quietly, waiting for the usual routine to start, no matter how much his gut twisted in disgust at the thought.
“Hi, Levi, I’m (Y/N).”
“(Y/N)...” Levi murmured softly, training himself to memorize it despite his swimming brain, knowing she would want him to scream it out later. Whether in pain or in pleasure, he wasn’t sure yet.
“Um…” (Y/N) was about to speak, her mind scrambling for something to say when her eye caught sight of a large bruise on his neck. Her eyes widened and suddenly started scanning his entire body, her stomach roiling more and more the longer she stared. Now that she was really paying attention, (Y/N) could see painful bites, hickeys, and splotchy bruises littering his neck, jaw, chest, and thighs. Her eyes narrowed on the long, bloody scratches running down the length of his chest and back, and she noticed blooming red patches of skin all over him that were raw and aching from being slapped hard and rough over and over again. 
He was wearing a loose pair of worn boxers as his only cover, and (Y/N) could only imagine what other horrors the thin cloth was hiding. Glancing down, she saw him shift uncomfortably, his boxers tented by his arousal. The sight made her growl in anger, knowing that to keep him going after he had already had so many customers for the day, a drug was being used to make him insatiable, forcing him past the point of pain and probably clouding his judgement and mental process as well. It made her want to go cut up the brothel owner and serve him to a pig.
Without thinking, (Y/N) rushed to him, reaching out to him, only to freeze when he flinched. She heard him curse at the involuntary movement, knowing it was his job to appear as unaffected and sexually appealing as possible, and it made her heart clench even harder, her hatred for this place and the people who ran it increasing tenfold.
Taking a deep breath, (Y/N) immediately slowed her movements, trying to appear as calm and unhurried as possible. Her gaze softened and glazed with unshed tears when he closed his eyes, his arms reaching out as he prepared for her to sit on his lap and have her way with him like she knew every other man and woman who used him did. Gritting her teeth against the fury she felt, she carefully slid her way across his thighs. She felt him force himself to relax under her as he leaned forward to let her kiss him.
When he felt nothing, and heard something click, Levi cracked open his eyes in curiosity, only to have them fly open all the way when he felt something cool and wet against his neck. Looking down at the woman in his arms, his lips parted in shock, watching in confused awe as she leaned back and soaked a small cloth in some water from a bottle, rinsing the fresh blood from the fabric. Looking to the side, he saw a small first aid kit by her feet, the container open to reveal a variety of medical tools inside.
(Y/N) leaned forward again, raising the towel to his neck to dab at his abrasions, washing them carefully, reverently, almost... lovingly. Levi opened and closed his mouth but no words came out as she continued to work on him, delicately cleaning his jaw and neck before carefully moving on to his chest. Was this some kind of strange ritual she always performed during sex? Did she just find him dirty and want to clean him up before putting her lips or her pussy on his skin? His mind was running a million miles a minute as she worked on him in silence, only pausing when he hissed quietly at the feeling of his gashes being washed.
(Y/N) frowned as she gently swiped the cloth along the red gouges in his skin. They were deep, most likely caused by the long, sharp nail extensions some ladies liked to wear, or the dull blade of a man with violent tendencies. It didn’t surprise her, a lot of the men and women who used people like this did have sadistic qualities, but it didn’t help to quell the now roaring fire in her blood, wanting nothing more than to fight against the injustice of this man.
“W-What are you doing?” Levi finally managed to ask.
“Cleaning your wounds.”
“Why? Is this some kind of-”
“Preparation? No. We aren’t going to do anything. I just want to help your injuries heal.”
Levi felt like his brain was full of static, like his mouth was stuffed with cotton. He wasn’t complaining, far from it, but he couldn’t get a reading on this woman. Why would she, a noble from the surface, want to help him, a hopeless whore from the Underground?
“Wha-”
“Before you ask what my intentions are, I’m just going to tell you that I didn’t even want to do this. I was forced to come to this festival because my father wants me to become more of a proper noble woman. But since I wasn’t too thrilled about having to be here, the people I came with thought I could use an opportunity to loosen up, and paid for me to do this with you in the hopes that I’d start having fun with them afterwards. But I have no intention of doing any of that. I hate how everyone in the Underground is treated like shit, and the last thing I want to do is take advantage of someone who obviously isn’t in control of his situation. I just want to help.”
Levi closed his mouth, all of his protests dying on his tongue. He still had questions, a lot of them, but he decided those could wait, her explanation making him feel surprisingly relaxed for someone who had trained himself to never take the word of a noble at face value. He had never met anyone like her. Even before he was forced to whore himself out, all he had ever known of nobles was their complete lack of humility and egotistical sense of self-importance. 
It was silent for a moment, but this time, the silence was more comfortable, both of them starting to relax a little as (Y/N) continued to patch him up. Levi felt himself loosen up a bit, his muscles unwinding as his hands settled on her waist, keeping her securely balanced on his lap as she worked. Pride swirled in (Y/N)’s chest as she felt his tense muscles soften, her eyes sparkling as she started to work her way towards earning his trust.
“What’s your happiest memory?” (Y/N) asked suddenly.
Levi quirked an eyebrow in suspicion, “Why should I tell you, brat?”
“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” (Y/N) said, shaking her head and stifling a giggle at the nickname. “I only asked because I figured we may as well talk while we do this. Not only that, I feel like you could use some happiness right now. But I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, so if you don’t want to talk to me, you don’t have to.”
Levi was silent for a minute, the cogs in his mind turning as he tried to make what he believed to be the right decision despite the fog clouding his judgement. Just as she had promised, (Y/N) waited patiently, not pressuring him to answer, or even bringing up another question. She merely sat in silence, her clear (e/c) eyes narrowed on his injuries as she worked to make him feel better.
“There was a time when I was with my friend Farlan, a few years back. We were doing a job, trying to get rid of a troublesome merchant for a client of ours when we found out the merchant had a cat. We were hiding around the corner, waiting to strike when that damn cat jumped up onto Farlan’s lap. I’m fine with cats, but that was the day we found out Farlan had some kind of allergy to them. He was trying to hold back his sneezes but finally lost control right when the merchant came around the corner, and Farlan ended up sneezing really violently in his face. That merchant got so scared he must’ve jumped at least three feet in the air, and even managed to piss himself before he took off. We still had to finish him off later, but in that moment, when Farlan was mortified and our target was running for the hills because of a cat induced sneeze, I couldn’t help but laugh a little.”
(Y/N) had paused in her work to listen to him, and couldn’t help but smile when he finished his story. Going back to work, (Y/N) didn’t ask what happened to Farlan, not wanting to drag him back down after she had finally gotten him to talk to her, about something so personal no less.
“What about you?” Levi asked.
“Hmm, I think I’d have to say when I got my horse for my birthday,” (Y/N) said. “I was never around the horses, wasn’t allowed to be in the barn because it wasn’t “proper for a lady”. But I loved them, loved seeing them on the streets when other nobles would come visit my father or when the soldiers from the Survey Corps would come back from a mission. I couldn’t stay away, so no matter how much my father tried to squash my love of them, it just wouldn’t happen. My mother eventually convinced him to let it go, and surprised me with a little chestnut filly that I named Sashay when I was about sixteen years old. Now, she’s my best friend. We’ve been through everything together, and she’s the only one who doesn’t try to force me to be something I’m not. Aside from the royal guards, I guess. They learned a long time ago to stop trying to get me to sit still and look pretty when I beat all of them in the sword fighting ring.”
Levi’s brows shot up into his hair at that, his lips parting in surprise. “You know how to sword fight?”
(Y/N) chuckled. “Yeah, not what you were expecting, huh?”
“No,” Levi said. “I’ve never heard of a noble woman who could fight, let alone with a blade. Are you any good?”
“I tend to think so, but that all depends on who I’m up against,” (Y/N) said with a cheeky smile.
For some reason, Levi couldn’t help but smile back for the first time in years. His lips felt chapped and strained from disuse, but it felt good, a light feeling flooding his chest with warmth. “You said earlier that your horse’s name is Sashay,” Levi said, suddenly changing the topic.
“Mm hm.”
“That’s weird.”
(Y/N) giggled at his bluntness, making another fluttering feeling swirl in his chest. He had never met anyone other than Farlan who saw his language as something other than rude.
“Yeah, I suppose so,” (Y/N) said. “But I named her that because she is a sassy chestnut mare. I like to imagine that if she were human, she’d be someone you wouldn’t want to mess with, someone who wouldn’t take shit from anyone, but would do so with a spicy attitude. So I named her accordingly.”
Levi huffed a laugh at her response but almost immediately regretted it when the movement of his chest caused the rough gauze at her fingertips to brush against his injuries a little harder than before, the stinging sensation making him hiss in pain.
“Sorry!” (Y/N) said, quickly retracting her hands and holding them up, waiting for him to give her the signal to continue.
“Not your fault,” Levi mumbled, motioning that it was alright for her to get back to work. “Thank you, by the way. I don’t think I said that before.”
(Y/N) shook her head. “You don’t have to thank me. I want to do this.”
Levi wanted to ask her why but remembered what she had told him at the start of this and decided to trust her word, swallowing the question and instead changing topics. “Why do you even have this? Do you always just carry a first aid kit around?”
“Only when I come to the Underground. I want to have it available for those who really need it.”
“You do know that at least half of the people down here would kill you without a second thought to get to that medicine. Or they’d kill you if they thought you were pitying them.”
“I know, but I’d like to think I can handle myself a bit more than the average person. Even so, I usually keep it hidden unless I really want or need to use it on someone, and it’s only for quick patch-ups anyway. I can’t really fix anything major.”
(Y/N) finally finished with his front and carefully slid off of his thighs, moving slowly to begin working on his back. She made sure he was okay with everything she was doing before settling herself down onto the edge of the bed behind him, her hands reaching up to start her work once more.
Levi wanted to know more about her. He felt as if he could talk to her for hours, as if he had known her for years. He wanted to know what made her laugh, what made her cry, what her vision was for the future. It was insane, so much so that Levi idly wondered if he’d fallen off the deep end. But he couldn’t deny it. She was just too intriguing, so surprisingly kind, so genuine.
What was your childhood like? What are your favorite things to do? Do you come down here often? When will I see you again?
The questions continued to rattle around in Levi’s head as they once again lapsed into a comfortable silence but he forced all of them back, not wanting to seem either too desperate to get to know her, or be seen as coming on too strong.
After debating with himself for a while, Levi finally settled on, “You’ve mentioned your father a lot, and how he doesn’t want you to be yourself.”
(Y/N) tensed a little, her face twisted in a grimace behind Levi’s back. “Yeah… he used to be better about it, but ever since my mother died, he’s been like a tyrant. He’s upset he didn’t get a son in the first place, but now that he’s stuck with me for a daughter, he’s even more disappointed that I’m not someone he can easily make profits off of by marrying me off to someone. Not only have I been adamant about not allowing it, but no nobleman wants a woman who can think for herself. A woman who can ride a horse, go toe to toe with her soldiers, has an opinion, and is knowledgeable about current conflicts. They want someone who will dress up all pretty for them and be in bed, ready to satisfy them when they get home from gambling and drinking all day while sitting on their parents’ money.”
Levi scoffed and (Y/N) huffed in agreement. “I’m just not that kind of person. Every suitor that has ever met me has run away from my casual attire and sailor’s mouth.”
“Your father wasn’t like this when your mother was alive?” Levi asked.
“He was, but he wasn’t as bad. My parents were in an arranged marriage, but they got along alright. At least my father loved my mother enough to listen to her most of the time when she told him to lay off of me. I honestly think she’s the reason why I have such a strong fighting spirit.”
“I’m sorry she’s gone,” Levi said awkwardly, not used to providing words of comfort.
“Thanks,” (Y/N) said genuinely, a warm smile gracing her beautiful features.
“I didn’t know my mother that well,” Levi said haltingly, still unsure why he felt comfortable telling her about things he hadn’t even talked to Farlan about. “She died of a disease when I was four years old. She was a prostitute, like me, so I never knew my father. When she died, I was picked up by a man named Kenny, who I thought might’ve been my father for a short while, but as I grew older, I realized he wasn’t. I don’t have any proof, I just know. When he abandoned me at ten, I was alone for a few years before I met Farlan.”
“So… you didn’t get stuck doing this because of your mother?” (Y/N) asked carefully, almost afraid to ask in case it made him shy away from her.
“No,” Levi said slowly. “I was twenty years old when I was caught stealing from a rich friend of this brothel owner. I had made a mistake and there was no way out. He figured out who I was, a thug who was known at the time for carrying out favors for people, whether that meant stealing or killing depended on how much they were willing to pay. Unfortunately, this led them to Farlan, and he gave me a choice. Me, or my best and only friend.”
“And you chose to save your friend at the expense of yourself,” (Y/N) finished for him in a hoarse whisper, filled with horror and unbridled fury at what this man had been through. She figured she should’ve been alarmed, he had just admitted that he had blood on his hands. He was a thief, a thug, a criminal, a murderer. But (Y/N) knew those things were nearly requirements for living in the Underground and no matter how she thought about it, she couldn’t think of anything that would make this man deserve what he was going through.
(Y/N) opened her mouth to say something just as she put the last bandage in place when a loud pounding on the door startled them both. “Time’s up, you two!” The brothel owner shouted through the door.
(Y/N) shot up from the bed and rushed around to where the water and first aid kit sat, quickly packing up the little box of supplies and splashing her face with water, trying to make herself look sweaty enough to look convincing. Once everything had been packed away, (Y/N) stood and shrugged off her leather jacket, throwing it to him.
“Here, take this, it’ll keep your boss from seeing the bandages and trying to get rid of them. It’ll also give your injuries a little more protection from the bacteria in this room.”
Levi wanted to refuse, tell her he couldn’t accept a gift like this, even if it was temporary, but no words would come out as he watched the beautiful woman in front of him mess up her hair and swipe her fingers across her lips, trying to make herself look as wrecked as possible. When she finally looked the part enough to seem convincing, (Y/N) made her way to the door, turning one last time before she opened it to throw him a wink and a sweet smile.
“~Goodbye Levi, I hope we can see each other again soon.”
The lilt in her voice was fake, an act for anyone who may be listening on the other side of the door, meant to be taken as a sickly promise of more sexual endeavors to come, but he could feel the genuine emotion in her statement.
“I hope so too,” Levi said quietly after she had already left, the once comforting quiet of his room now making him feel lonely and empty.
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The sound of pounding on his door woke Levi abruptly, making the raven-haired man growl in anger and annoyance. It was rare that the poor man got to sleep, not only because customers could come in at almost any time, day or night, but also because of the horrible insomnia that often plagued him. It made him even more irritable to be woken up, his body sore and his mind groggy as another round of pounding roused him further and prompted him to swing his legs over the side of the small cot he was provided when not busy fucking, and make his way to the door.
“What?” Levi snapped when he swung open the door, genuinely surprised that the pig who owned him hadn’t just burst into his room like he always did, raving about yet another customer for Levi.
“Get your shit, you’re going to the surface.”
Levi blinked. This had to be some kind of joke. The brothel owner never let anyone under his foot leave the brothel, let alone the Underground. Even the highest class noble women couldn’t request for him to come to them, the old man not trusting his prostitutes to be sent back. Especially Levi.
“Oi, your ears gone to shit now? Grab your pathetic bullshit and get out of my sight,” the man snarled, his small, watery eyes narrowed on Levi like he was the scum of the world.
Shaking himself out of it, Levi didn’t hesitate for another moment, rushing back into his room to grab the pitifully few things he had with him, including the leather jacket he had gotten from (Y/N), draping it over his shoulders to hide his healing injuries just in case it was a trick. The festival was still going on afterall, this could just be some ruse the old man set up to make the experience more interesting for the men and women who paid for him.
When Levi returned, the man pulled a gun from his jacket pocket and jerked his head, signaling Levi to follow him. Levi knew better than to risk running. In his full health he could’ve easily escaped from the man’s clutches, but with little more than a half hour of rest, his injured body, weak muscles, and the remnants of the drugs still working through his system, Levi didn’t trust himself to outrun a bullet, and knew the pig wouldn’t hesitate to fire, no matter how valuable Levi was to him. 
Even though Levi kept expecting the brothel owner to turn down a secluded street and lead him right into an ambush or trick of some sort, he never did, leading Levi right to the stairs exiting the Underground. When they reached the guards at the base of the stairs, the man took two slips of paper from the inner pocket of his worn brown coat and showed it to the guard. When he was cleared to continue on, the brothel owner turned and motioned for Levi to stay close as he stomped his way up the stairs, grumbling incoherently to himself all the while.
Breaching the surface, Levi brought an arm to his face, shielding his eyes from the intensity of the sun as it attacked his face with warm, bright light. He eventually got used to it, slowly lowering his arm and rushing to catch up with his boss, who was impatiently grunting for him to hurry up.
Passing through what appeared to be a busy market square, Levi followed the brothel owner along the lively cobblestone streets until they reached a quieter part of the town, stopping along the edge of a beautiful flower field, the grassy meadow filled with colorful blossoms that secretly took Levi’s breath away.
The sound of horse hooves caught his attention, and Levi looked up only to have the air fly from his lungs when (Y/N)’s bright face came into view, the stunning woman seated astride whom he assumed to be Sashay and flanked by two armed men.
“Right on time,” the brothel owner grumbled, his little pig eyes narrowing when he saw her passive aggressive smile.
“Of course I’m on time, this is my deal, remember?”
“Yeah, yeah,” the man growled. “Are you sure you want this one? He’s my most popular, I’d hate to lose him.”
“Yes, he’s the one I want. Besides, I believe the money I’ve paid you has far exceeded the profit you have earned from having him around. I’m sure you will be able to manage.”
The man sneered at her but didn’t respond, using the muzzle of the gun to push Levi forward and digging in his pocket to fish out the same pieces of paper he had shown the guards on the stairs, handing them to (Y/N).
“Thank you, sir. I believe we are done here.”
The brothel owner slunk off, casting dark looks at her but refusing to argue as he hunkered off to head back down to the Underground, where he would continue to rot like the rat he was. Levi watched him go before turning to (Y/N), surprised by the bright smile she flashed him when he met her gaze.
“(Y/N)? What’s going on?”
(Y/N) smiled even wider and held up the pieces of paper she had been handed. One of them was the file labeling him as a slave to the brothel owner, keeping him from escaping, and the other was a bill of sale. His eyes widened when he saw her signature on the bottom of both pages, officially registering her as his new owner. He opened his mouth, about to speak when she took both pages in her hands and ripped them in half, letting the torn pages float onto the street below, forgotten, useless.
“There, you’re free now.”
Levi was at a loss for words, his mouth gaping open. “(Y/N)? What-”
“Before you ask me what my intentions are, I’m just going to tell you that I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I couldn’t stop thinking about your life, your sacrifice, your pain, and I decided I could do something about it. You are human, and damn it, you are an important one! I couldn’t just leave you there. Now, you won’t have to work for anyone but yourself. You won’t have to cater to anyone else’s needs and you can fulfill whatever dreams you have.”
“But, that must’ve cost you a fortune, to cover more than the amount of money he’s made off of using me? What about-”
“You don’t have to worry about me, Levi. I want to use my funds for good, put them towards the people who need it the most. That includes you. Especially you. I couldn’t bear the thought of you having to stay in that shit hole for even a second longer than necessary.”
“What do I do now, then?” Levi asked, trying to focus on keeping his voice steady.
“Well, you can do whatever you want now. You’re a free man, you can find a house and settle down somewhere, or you can go back to the Underground and pick up your life where you left off. You can join the military, or you can start a small business here in the square. It’s anything you want. You get to choose your life now.”
“And what if I don’t want to do any of those things?”
(Y/N) couldn’t help the smile that flashed across her face then, her heart filling with warmth. “Like I said, it’s your choice, you can do whatever you want, carve your own path, but if you want to come with me, you’re always welcome to.”
Levi’s lip twitched and he took a step forward, reaching up to pat Sashay’s muzzle as he got closer. “Alright, I’ll follow you.”
(Y/N) beamed before turning around to nod at each one of her guards, dismissing them. When they had left, presumably returning to (Y/N)’s family estate, she reached down for him, her hand extended for him to take. Placing his rough palm into her warm hand, he allowed her to help him up into the saddle behind her, his arms wrapping around her waist to keep himself secure as (Y/N) kicked Sashay into an easy canter. Sighing blissfully, Levi let himself relax, his chin coming down to rest on (Y/N)’s shoulder as they made their way home, together.
Levi had never expected to see the day when he would willingly go with a noble, but then again, he never thought he’d ever meet a noble like (Y/N). Now, as he felt her warmth soak into his chest, he knew he’d made the right decision.
Levi finally felt the remnant effects of the drugs in his system fade away as the sun beams broke through the fluffy clouds in the sky, leaving his mind clear. He was making this decision all on his own, nothing left to impair his judgement, and no matter what, he knew he would never regret the path he chose to take just so long as (Y/N) stayed by his side.
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yanderemommabean · 3 years
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Okay but consider! Hawks was the lead in a band. He was the lead for years, from early teens into adulthood and then he just...burned out. It wasn't drugs or sex (or maybe it was, up to you), but just how fake it was. He couldn't do anything without approval from corporate, and all these fans, they didn't like him, they liked the persona they made for him. And it got to him, bit by bit. He's a shell of himself when he meets his darling, and suddenly it's like looking into the face of a muse.
Another concert, another ten hours on his feet as he has to do make up, practice, make sure the instruments work with the crew, and of course make the fans nearly wet themselves with his appearance and voice alone. Every day it’s “OH MY GOD IT’S HAWKS” or “IT’S HIM IT’S HIM IT’S HIM!”.
They don’t even really care about how he feel about being smooshed into selfies and made into clout fuel for people who only want the most likes. Which to be fair, he’s apart of that group sometimes, he might have wings but he’s far from a saint, but even to him it gets a bit much with how much they only want to gain attention.
It’s not nearly as luxurious as people assume. He has a contract, has to make an album every few months otherwise his fame and band are dropped like a bag of trash into a junkyard. He’s stressed an unable to make any new songs, and the fact he has to preform while trying to perfect his newest works drains him considerably.
He doesn’t have time to be himself. He doesn’t have time or luxury to just be Keigo. No. He has to keep up this act and be the flirtatious, rebelling bad boy all the fans masturbate too and fantasize about. (Kudos to the fic writers by the way! He’s seen some good shit!).
Hawks vs Keigo. No one knows the real him. They all go for the media showered, Instagram famous persona with his band mates tagging alongside. Keigo is a more laid back, needing personal space, wanting time alone to think kind of person. He doesn’t mind doing things and going out, he just gets his daily quota of social interaction in a matter of minutes.
So when you have millions of fans wanting your attention and grabbing onto you all the fucking time, you can imagine how unwilling and uninterested he is in even preforming or socializing.
Tonight was no different, Keigo and the band sang and played their hearts out, got a few fans some autographs and let their ears ache from how loud the fans would squeal. Yeah yeah yeah same old phrases spout with new faces.
Remembering there was a bar nearby, Keigo decided it was time for a few drinks. Or a hundred. He fidgets for the sunglasses in his bag, and slides on a different shirt to head out in, trying to make his hair style different as well when he walks by a window and sees it’s still spiked. It wasn’t the most convincing disguise but it would do.
Sliding into a seat near the corner of the bar, Keigo slumps with a huff, letting his hands run down his face while he tries to let his mind slow down and soak in what’s been happening all day. The concert, the meet and greet, the signing, the interviews, the managers constant reminder that he needed new songs and soon.
“Need a breather?” Your voice mused, catching his attention for a second. Ah. Great. A fan. Time to put on the mask again. He gives a wry expression and nods his head “even party boys need a break. Care to help one out?”.
Ah. Weak flirting. That would never go by with the press. Where’s his skill?!
You noticed the tired expression in his eyes, how he forced a smile to keep your attention on his more well known persona. You didn’t buy it. You’ve seen that look in too many people to let it slide and go unnoticed. This man needed a beer and needed one pronto.
Rolling your eyes playfully, you sit in the seat next to him, drumming your fingers on the counter as you try to think of an answer that wasn’t too forward. “Listen...I can tell you’re super exhausted. You can drop the act, ya know?”. You cough, face turning a bit red as you realize that you’re talking to a celebrity. You keep telling yourself that it doesn’t matter, you’re both human and capable of communicating.
It shouldn’t be a big deal to speak your mind to the hottest, most sought after singer in the world. Who are you kidding? Of course it is.
Keigo arches an eyebrow at your statement, and sits closer to the counter. It’s odd having someone see through his act. Sure his disguise sucked and anyone within ten feet could tell he was Hawks, but to have someone see he wasn’t who the media said, it was a shocking but well welcomed breath of fresh air.
“You...heh you cut to the chase don’t ya, kid?” He said with mirth.
“Well I hate bullshit. I-I would rather be upfront and honest.” You admit sheepishly, looking away from his hazel eyes timidly. “Didnt mean to offend you or anything” you added, hands shaking.
Offend? He’s the exact opposite! Finally, someone who’s honest and not conceded! He’s only just met you and he’s felt more of a connection here than with his own band! “Nah nah! You’re fine! I love bluntness. It’s nice to have every now and again when you’re used to bullshit”.
You giggle at that, nodding in agreement. Soon you two break more of the ice, discussing the most random but humorous things, not noticing how Keigo’s eyes gloss over with awe and admiration. It’s been so long since he could let go and be himself, he never wants to leave your company. It’s an ache in his mind to think about since he’s got to be back on the tour bus in less than two hours.
“Hey-“ his hand snatches your phone from your hands as you were replying to a friend “-I’m giving you my number ok? I’m about to have to head out and I would rather die than miss talking to you”.
As he types the number into your contacts, you couldn’t help but freeze up. Was this actually happening? You just spent hours chatting away with Hawks, and are now getting his contact information?! Surely you were drugged. Had to be! No fucking way is this happening like some cheap hallmark Christmas plot!
“Y/N right?” He slides the phone back over to you, giving you his signature flirtatious grin “I better hear from you tonight. I’ll lose sleep if I think a new friend is hurt or ignoring me”.
You blush even harder, and nod, not being able to really speak. He stands, patting your shoudler as he slides his sunglasses back on “Oh! I almost forgot-“ he pulls out a wad of cash, slamming it on the counter “For the drinks. It’s the least I can do for someone as entertaining as you”.
You cover your face in your hands and try to stop the flurry of emotions bubbling up. You thank him, hearing him chuckle as he leaves the bar, not seeing the smile on his face as he walks back to where the tour bus was parked.
———————————————
Days go by, and every chance Keigo gets he’s messaging you, becoming antsy when you don’t respond within seconds. Sometimes he sends hundreds of messages a day, sometimes he’s on the phone with you for hours, or simply stalking your social media when you tell him you’re going to bed.
As long as he interacts with you, he’s sated and calm. Thinking up songs has never felt so easy, each day he makes a new hit, making the managers happy that he finally quit acting so down in the dumps. Months go by, and he’s still on the top charts, being the idol fanboys and girls pair themselves with.
But he doesn’t pay attention to that. He’s focused on you and only you. That shy encounter with you has changed his perspective, and all he wants to do is be with you. Flirting with you was easy enough but you always turned him down, saying things that didn’t make sense.
You’d say “Oh I don’t think we’d be compatible...you’d get tired of me” or “I think you’re just needing a hook up, but I’m flattered!”.
You’re crazy. He could never get tired of you. What will it take to get you to be with him and travel the world together?! Perhaps you just need more persuasion? A romantic gift? A gesture that proves he’s serious?
Well if that’s what you need then he’ll happily supply it. Just give him a few days, he’ll make sure you see how serious he is about being yours (and you being his. Only his). Should he make a song about what he loves about you the most? Maybe a song on how he fell for you?
A song on what he wants to do with you and your body? Or maybe you need a bit of danger, and need him to state what he’s willing to do to get you.
He’ll figure it out. Soon you’ll be his forever muse, he just needs to serenade you first.
(This was shit I know I know but I love this AU so much! -Mommabean )
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duuhrayliegh · 3 years
Text
Fuck Misogyny
request: Bucky uses his newly gained knowledge of feminism to squash misogynistic interview questions. @ptrs-prkrs
warnings: language, creepy men, feminist!bucky
a/n: hey babes!! i hope this lived up to what you wanted! i couldn’t find the exact video you were referencing but i know what you’re talking about, so i drew inspiration from a few others.
p.s.: my requests and tag lists are open!!
xoxo ray
full m.list
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The set up was simple. A long row of fold out tables covered in black fabric, microphones in front of each seat. Black papers were taped to the backs of the microphones with each team member's name. Bucky had told Evie that he wasn’t going to be able to work out with her today because of this so it better be worth it. The PR manager for the team, Amanda, had set everything up. Hired the mediator, notified the press, everything. Ever since they announced that they were going to be hosting an Avenger’s Q&A Panel, the internet quite literally broke.
Of course Bucky had been doing lives on TikTok with the group of five for the past couple of weeks now, so he was becoming quite comfortable in this format. He’s become increasingly active on his social media accounts, gaining more and more followers everyday. Granted, there were still haters, as Freddie called them, but Bucky ignored them for the most part.
Bucky was actually excited for this press meeting. He was finally gaining traction in the media and he knew how to correctly answer their questions. As Amanda had explained, there was going to be several questions from the mediator, tons from the press that they had invited, and then some fan questions as well. They apparently were going to be live streaming the conference on YouTube allowing them to read the comments and questions as it went on.
“Okay, everyone. You have two minutes until we start.” The team was in an empty board room in the Hilton hotel. Tony didn’t want everyone on the compound’s grass because he just had it fixed. Bucky scanned his fellow teammates. It was impossible for everyone to dress for the same event. Steve was wearing a shirt that was almost bursting at the seams with a pair of jeans and sneakers.
Tony was wearing a lovely Tom Ford, three piece, two-button, of course. Natasha and Wanda were wearing ripped jeans and casual tops. Vision was wearing a sweater vest and slacks, Bruce was clad in slacks as well a jacket covering his shoulders. Sam was wearing a button-up shirt and pressed jeans and he couldn’t find Clint anywhere, probably hiding in the rafters again.
Bucky had his iconic leather jacket donning his shoulders, a pair of slightly ripped jeans. His outfit was picked out by Cassie and Penny. “You need to look like you care but like you don’t at the same time.” Is what they said, the phrase made Bucky shake his head. His hair had finally started growing back and he wasn’t quite sure how he felt about it.
He had gotten help from Evie before he left Cassie’s apartment. She had pulled back the top half, braiding back two sections into the bun at the back of his head. There were pieces dangling in front of his eyes, “to accentuate the facial features, trust me they’ll love it.” Was Evie’s explanation as they pushed him out of the apartment, so he wouldn’t be late.
“Alright guys! They’re calling your names!” The team filed out of the board room and into a large ballroom. Bottles of water were placed beside each placemat. Tony went out first, followed by Steve, then Bruce, Natasha, Clint, Wanda, Vision, Sam and ending with Bucky. They all settled into their seats, Bucky peeled his jacket off himself, placing it on the back of his chair. His black short sleeved shirt highlighted the gold inlays of his vibranium arm.
“Oh, I see we’re showing some muscle today huh, Buck?” Sam teased as Bucky took his seat next to him. Bucky groaned in realization, covering his microphone so it didn’t pick up what he planned to say.
“Good God, is this what it’s going to be like the entire panel? You just bugging the shit outta me?” They shared a laugh making the rest of the members look at the pair. The audience clapped as they were introduced and continued clapping as they assembled before them.
“Thank you. We would like to welcome everyone to the first, of hopefully many, Avenger’s Q&A Panel.” The female mediator, Stacey, read the assigned lines off the sheet on her podium. “We are going to start with questions we curated for the team and then open it up to the members of the press. After that we will turn to our live stream and answer some viewer questions.” The press rustled in their seats, pulling out pens and journals as well as their phones to record. “Okay, starting off with a question directed at the Avengers in general. How are you feeling about coming before the media in this type of format?” Glances were exchanged between the members, not sure on who was going to start.
“I feel that this is a great way for the general public to learn a little bit more about each individual team member.” Vision was the first to respond and Steve added on.
“Yeah, I definitely think that there’s a common misconception that we don’t want to engage with the media or the general public. We do, unfortunately due to the amount of research and training that we are doing behind the scenes, it just goes to the back of our minds.”
“Right. So Tony and Bruce, we all know that you two are geniuses. What are your feelings on expanding the teachings of STEM courses to not only high school, but as far back as elementary school or even kindergarten?” The pair thought about the question before answering.
“Well, I definitely think that offering STEM-based classes at a younger age would be beneficial, especially if we were to allow the kids to continue to switch what they want to focus on.” Bruce started. “It’s incredibly anxiety-inducing for teenagers to have to decide what they’re going to do with their life right before they are thrust into an unforgiving world.”
“Yeah, I’ll never understand why we do that to our future leaders, it’s honestly baffling. Why do American schools wait until high school to require our children to learn foriegn languages, they aren’t going to retain that information. The same applies for such comprehensive courses like STEM-based ones. If you wait until their brains are already developed so far, then they’ve already decided what they think is interesting and if they don’t find those courses interesting then they aren’t going to pay attention.” Tony finished Bruce's thought before nodding to each other smugly, obviously proud of themselves for answering the question so well.
“Interesting that you see it that way. This last one goes out to everyone and then we’ll open it up to the reporters. How do you deal with the stress and anxiety that comes with being an Avenger? Do you feel a certain amount of pressure to always do the right thing?” Stacey shuffled her papers, tapping them twice on the podium.
“We all have our own routines and ways that we decompress after missions so that really just depends on the person. Like I think that Bruce listens to opera music, and Wanda mediatates, Tony tinkers. It depends on the person.” Natasha answered concisely, making Bucky nod his head. He could recall all of those things to be true.
“Oh definitely, and it doesn’t hurt that we have a former VA Trauma Counselor on board to help us work through the harder stuff.” Steve added a gesture of his head to Sam.
“Speaking of that Sam, just a quick question before we open it up. How difficult was it for you to transition from regular Air Force missions to Avenger level missions?” Sam made a face at Stacey before answering.
“Um, I mean, it’s not that different. You’re always fighting one of the Big Three-- aliens, androids, or wizards, no matter what department you’re working with. The only transition I had to deal with was the Tony Stark-erized suits. Now that I think of it, Tony, can we make it tighter?” Sam quipped making the room laugh with ease.
“Alright, well now we’re going to open it up to the reporters. Starting with this gentleman in the front and then if we could also give a microphone to someone on that side of the room. Okay, thank you.” The first reporter stood up, holding the microphone in one hand and his phone in the other.
“Hello. John from Huffington Post. The Avengers inspire almost everyone around the world, so we would like to know who inspires you? Who do you look up to in terms of your idols?” He sat back down as the team contemplated their answers.
“Gandhi.” Bruce said, Tony snapped his fingers and pointed at him then added. “Pepper, she’s so amazing.” Steve looked down to Bucky, who shrugged.
“I would probably have to say that my sister, Sarah, inspires me. She raised her two sons, Cas and AJ, by herself after the Blip and was able to keep the family business going.” Sam’s answer made Bucky smile. Sam had brought him to their house in Delacroix, he remembered waking up to Cas and AJ playing in the kitchen, happy giggles filtering through reminding him of his time in Wakanda. By the time that Bucky had refocused on the conversation they had moved on without his answer. Several different questions went by, all directed to the team at large, until Chad.
“Hi, I’m Chad for the Daily Mail. My question is for Wanda and Natasha.” The pair of women perked up, excited to have a specific question. “Do you find that your equipment hinders you in doing your job as well as your male counterparts?” Stunned expressions settled over the womens faces, then annoyance. Bucky’s brows shot up to his hairline, appalled that someone had the balls to ask that. Wanda and Natasha handled the question with grace and much more restraint than Bucky would have.
“Well for me, I am able to move things with my mind so I can throw things randomly at people even if I’m not in the room. I’ve been very fortunate to work with Natasha who has Widow training, so my hand to hand combat is improving immensely. And being able to work with Princess Shuri in Wakanda to learn how to fully control my powers. It’s an ever evolving process that I’m always excited to take on.” Bucky nodded and turned his attention to Natasha.
“My favorite thing is training with either Steve or Bucky because they push me to do my best. We all have our specialties here and it’s nice to learn new skills or improve old ones with people who support you.” Natasha sat back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest, throwing daggers with her eyes at Chad in the audience, waiting for him to say something else. Chad stood again, yelling so he could be heard over the crowd’s commotion.
“That’s great, ladies, but forgive me, you didn’t answer the question I asked.” Bucky pushed forward in his seat, leaning into his microphone.
“I’m sorry, I think I misunderstood what you asked them then. I would like for you to clarify what you mean by equipment.” Chad balked, not expecting a male’s voice to respond.
“You know what’s implied by equipment, sir.” Bucky’s jaw clenched at the man.
“Did you just ask two of the most capable women that I’ve ever known, if their equipment, which I’m assuming you’re referring their breasts, made it to where they couldn’t do their job as good as the rest of their male counterparts. Just to be clear, that’s what you’re asking?” Chad stuttered as he answered yes.
“Right, well first off that’s disgusting. Just a bit of background for you, Wanda is the strongest Avenger here, plain and simple. As for Natasha, she’s the smartest woman I’ve ever met and she can take down every single male here.” Bucky took a breath before continuing. “So, what I think you really want to know is how they encourage their teammates to keep up with them.” He dropped his head to look at the two women down the line.
“Don’t worry Chad, I’ll ask them the right question, since you can’t quite seem to understand how to respect women.” The team was holding back snickers at Chad’s reaction. “Wanda, Natasha. Chad wants to know how the hell you push your male teammates to be just as good as you are. What are your strategies to keep us on our toes while training?” Claps sounded from the women press members and Bucky awaited the pair's response. The next press member stood and asked a question.
“Hi, I’m Chloe from Vanity Fair. This question goes to everyone on the panel.” Bucky settled in for another question that didn’t matter. “How do you continue to be aware of things happening in our society today? Do you keep up-to-date through new channels, or social media?” The answers were rather generic from the team, all of them rather uncomfortable from the tension that Bucky and Chad had created. Stacey interrupted after Chloe’s question.
“Okay, we’re going to open it up to viewer questions from our live stream.” An iPad was placed on the podium in front of Stacey and her eyebrows rose. “Okay, there’s quite a variety here. Here’s one for Steve and Bucky.” Bucky perked up, nervous to answer because his adrenaline had worn off.
“One viewer asks, ‘Steve and Bucky, being from the 40’s, women were treated like second thoughts and were talked about like objects. Now, you’re in the 21st century, not much has changed. What have you been doing to support feminist causes?’”
“I just want to say that everyone should be answering this. It’s true that during the 40’s women were not treated the right way, and they still aren’t today. An 18 year old can’t walk down the street at nine o’clock at night without being catcalled. I am a proud feminist, as everyone should be. I think that as a team we are doing pretty well in that department. As far as what I’m doing to support feminist causes, I’m doing as much as I can. I actually recently enrolled in online classes to expand my knowledge on many subjects, seeing as how I am from the 40’s and all.” The crowd laughed along with Bucky.
“Almost all of my classes have to do with either psychology or gender studies, it’s a fascinatingly haunting subject. One book that I’m reading right now was suggested to me by my friend Cassie, it’s called Hood Feminism: Notes from the Women that a Movement Forgot. The author doesn’t let up and I’m only halfway through it. Look, I’m still educating myself, but I’m a strong believer in doing what is right for everyone, so I’m trying. Thankfully I have a few people keeping me in check as far as my actions.” Bucky thought his response was well thought out for being an on the fly question. He was new to the concept of feminism but that didn’t change the fact that it made total sense.
“I’m with Bucky on this. The 40’s were a rough time. I remember the first time I met Peggy Carter, I was astonished that a woman could be in such a powerful position. One of the first things she did after I met her was punch out someone who made a sexual comment to her. I’ve been supporting feminist causes ever since working with Peggy.” Steve added, a sad smile spreading on his face reminiscing Peggy.
“This one says, ‘As a total fan of all of you, I love seeing what you post on your social media accounts. When are the rest of the Avengers going to follow Bucky’s lead and download TikTok?’” Bucky’s head flew back into a full body laugh. Tony shifted forward in his seat, pointing his finger at the laughing man down the table.
“I would just like to say he didn’t get that approved before doing it. However, it did go over really well, so we’ll consider it.” Wanda’s mouth rolled inwards, stifling her laughter.
“We’ll consider it, you’re such an old man. Most of us have TikTok already, we just don’t make content on it like Barnes over here.” Sam said, tossing his head in Bucky’s direction.
“I’ve got like three videos on there!” Bucky and Sam began bantering back and forth.
“Yeah and one of them is dancing to a Cardi B song! Who even showed you that? I thought you only like 40’s music?” Bucky made a face at the man.
“Uh, just because I didn’t like your suggestions for music doesn’t mean I don’t have taste. My Spotify playlist is filling out quite nicely, Wilson.” Bucky and Sam didn’t quit fighting from then on, just little jabs at each other under the table.
“Here’s a good one,” Stacey had a smile on her face, “Are you allies of the LGBTQ+ community?” Bucky responded quickly with no hesitation.
“Yes, many of my friends are members of the Alphabet Mafia. Why wouldn’t we be?” Wanda nodded at his question, laughing at his use of the phrase Alphabet Mafia.
“Yeah, absolutely. I mean, I’m dating a fucking android, I’d be pretty hypocrictal if I wasn’t an ally. Nat, Clint what about you?” Clint bobbed his head in response.
“Oh yeah. We all are, even the Star Spangled Man with a Plan.” Steve’s shoulders shook with laughter at Clint’s nickname for him. The team broke out into laughter, joining Steve. Stacey cleared her throat, commanding the attention of the room again.
“Alright, everybody! That’s it for today.” She glanced down at her papers. “We would like to thank everyone for coming out today and joining the Avengers Q&A Panel. At this time we are unaware, if we will be conducting another one of these, but the odds look good based on the response.” The team filed out of the ballroom and into the empty boardroom. Bucky was the last to get into the room and he was approached by Natasha and Wanda immediately. Wanda wrapped her arms around him in a bear hug.
“That was so sick, Bucky!” She stepped back and Natasha offered him a side hug as well. “Where’d you learn all that? And since when are you taking online classes?”
“That guy was being an asshole, he needed to be put in his place. I hope you guys didn’t feel like I overstepped or anything.” Bucky hung his arm over Wanda’s shoulder, leaning his weight on her. “And I started about two months ago. They’re going really well, I’m learning a lot and enjoying it surprisingly. It’s a good thing to do in my free time since I’m not always on missions.”
“I’m proud of you James, that was impressive.” Natasha complimented him, she wasn’t usually a woman of many words so that was a lot. Bucky smiled at her, nodding his head. His phone began buzzing in his back pocket, so he excused himself from their conversation. His screen displayed one of Evie’s senior pictures, signalling that she was calling him. He pushed the green button and brought the phone to his ear to answer her call.
“Hello?” She ignored his greeting with a squeal.
“Check your Twitter! Bucky, you’re trending! Here I’m putting you on speaker, we’re all here Buck!” Shuffling noises were heard through the speaker as Evie began reading the tweets to Bucky. Laughs from Cassie, Freddie and Penny could be heard behind Evie’s voice.
“Oh my gosh Eve! Just let the man get back to what he was doing!” Freddie yelled at an excited Evie, who retaliated with a scoff.
“Okay, okay! Just remember we have a movie night tomorrow! It’s Penny’s turn to pick so we don’t know what to expect.” Evie mumbled the last part into her phone speaker. Bucky heard the impact of a pillow hit Evie, causing her to grunt in pain. “Okay! We’ll talk to you later, Buck! See you soon!” She hung up the phone before he could get a word in edgewise. Bucky shook his head as he shoved his phone back into his pocket. Amanda approached Bucky asking to speak with him privately.
“So we’re getting a flood of interview requests from networks and papers. We would like to start running with this. We’ll have to go over everything with our PR guy, Ryan, but it should work out. As long as you’re comfortable with all of this.” Bucky smiled and nodded, following after Amanda as she continued explaining what would happen going forward.
He was nervous, of course, but he could tell these nerves were coming from a place of excitement instead of fear, which was a new sensation for the man. It wasn’t unwelcome, it was the same as when he first started hanging out with Cassie, Penny, Freddie and Evie. It was the same when he went on his first mission with the team. Bucky was ready to tackle this next adventure, whatever it would entail.
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wanderinginksplot · 3 years
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Hello! Um, how about Wrecker with a s/o who has severe childhood trauma, and has a hard time opening up to people other than him?
Hello! First off, thank you so much for this request! It was a good challenge. Secondly, I am so sorry this took as long as it has. I had a pretty uneventful childhood, so I ended up doing a lot of research to write this right, and then I rewrote it about a dozen times... anyway, trauma is only minimally mentioned (at least directly), but I hope you like it!
Wrecker + Traumatized Reader
How did it go today, cyare?" Wrecker asked, dropping a kiss on your cheek. He had just gotten home from a shorter mission with his squad and began stripping off his armor while he waited for your answer.
You always felt silly complaining to him. The things that troopers saw and had to deal with on a daily basis were so much worse than you saw - especially since you were permanently stationed on Coruscant. Still, from the expectant look he sent over his shoulder, Wrecker was waiting for an answer.
"Well…" you started slowly, not sure how much information he wanted, "I think it went okay? The board seemed to like the presentation. The Head Commander said the lack of internal life support in the Phase II armor is an issue they've been looking at for some time. I’m supposed to work on a follow-up. I might throw together some preliminary schematics for a Phase III armor set…"
“Sounds like it went great!” Wrecker encouraged, interrupting you before you could get too lost in your engineering thoughts. You had been known not to emerge for days once you got started. “You've been practicing this presentation forever."
You grinned at him. "Thanks again for being my test audience. I know it isn't something you're really interested in. You guys don’t even wear the Phase II."
"No, but I like listening to you talk," Wrecker told you unabashedly. 
You shook your head a bit at that. "You're such a sweetheart. How did I get so lucky?"
"There's a group of Seppies in the Guard's cells who didn't think I was sweet at all," he told you, sounding mystified. "If it wasn't for Cross, I wouldn't have gotten outta there at all."
You tensed a bit at that, and not only from the reminder of how dangerous his job could be. You knew what was coming. It was only a matter of time… 
"Have you thought any more about it?" Kriff. There it was. You wanted to snap at him, remind him that he was pushing a very firm boundary, but Wrecker sounded so hopeful…
"I- I just don't know, Wreck," you admitted miserably. "I know they're your brothers and I want to meet them, but… it's a lot."
"That's okay," Wrecker said comfortingly. He was doing his best to reassure you, but you could hear the clear note of disappointment in his voice.
Your heart plummeted to your toes. Why couldn't you do this for him? Wrecker was the best, most considerate boyfriend in the galaxy. He was willing to sacrifice himself for the safety of the galaxy, for your safety.
"Okay, let's do it," you agreed abruptly. "When do you want to have me meet them?"
"Really?" Wrecker asked, a smile like dawn warming his face.
You nodded and forced an answering smile. You weren't sure how you would handle the pressure of meeting the other members of the Bad Batch, but for Wrecker? You would figure it out.
He ran off to contact the others and your smile faded instantly. From everything Wrecker had told you, Tech was nice and Hunter was quiet, but Crosshair was rarely anything other than abrasive and rude. And that was to his brothers.
You fought a shudder. Being snipped at always reminded you of growing up - and not in a good way. Sarcastic comments were always the first step, then objective-sounding remarks, and then… You didn’t want to think about what had always come next.
But still, this was important to Wrecker, and you were determined to try.
---
The next day, you were anxiously fiddling with your sleeve as you walked to the GAR with Wrecker beside you. The height difference between you always made you feel like a child being escorted around by an adult, but Wrecker normally took your teasing complaints as the jokes that they were. 
You weren’t saying anything at all that day.
“Hey,” Wrecker said gently, grabbing your hand and stilling the fingers that were slowly unraveling your sleeve. “Are you okay?”
You blinked up at him. “What if they don’t like me?”
Wrecker made a strangled sound, like he had started to laugh but thought better of it. “Of course they’re going to like you! Why wouldn’t they like you? And even if they hated you, I like you. And I’m the important one here.”
You wanted to laugh at his exaggerated pout, but the corners of your mouth felt like they were attached to weights as you gave a tight nod and refocused on walking. Wrecker, however, wasn’t having it. Using the light grip he still had on your hands, he tugged you to a stop, forcing the rest of the foot traffic to part around his broad figure as he bent to talk to you.
“Say the word, cyare, and we’ll go home right now.”
“What? No!” you denied immediately. “I said I would meet your brothers, and I meant it. Why? Have you decided you don’t want them to meet me?”
“Of course I want you to meet them!” Wrecker told you. He brushed a hand against your face, smoothing the frown line you could feel forming between your eyebrows. “But I don’t like seeing you this way. If it’s too much, we don’t have to do this. I meant what I said: we can go home right now.”
You searched his face and found only heartwarming sincerity. He meant it. If you said you weren't up for this, he wouldn't be upset or hurt. He wouldn't sulk or find ways to punish you. Nothing would change between you. 
"I wouldn't miss it for anything," you assured him.
Wrecker was your safe space - the exact opposite of everything you had dealt with growing up. He pushed your boundaries, but he made you stronger. As you tripped through the crowd by his side, the idea soothed you more and more until you couldn't stand it.
"Wrecker, wait," you pled, pulling on his arm. 
It was a surprise he had even felt the pull, honestly, but he was so attuned to you that he stopped immediately. He looked down at you with open concern. "What is it? What's wrong?"
"I love you," you blurted, and your face grew hot so quickly that you felt a little dizzy.
"You love me?" Wrecker asked, sounding stunned.
"…yeah…" you said slowly. You weren't really sure why you had needed to say it right that moment, but you knew that you meant it. Wrecker was everything to you, and it had been enough to prompt an admission of feelings that you had never thought you would be able to verbalize.
He was still staring at you and you were getting nervous. "Anyway, we should probably get to the GAR," you told him, striving for a casual tone.
"Forget the GAR! You love me!" The next thing you knew, Wrecker had lifted you up and spun in a quick circle that left you dizzy for sure this time. "I love you, too! We need to go celebrate!"
He set you down and had started down the street in the direction you had come from, dragging you along by your hand as you alternated between laughing and trying to get him to stop.
"Wreck, we can't just not show up to meet your brothers," you protested. "They're waiting for us!"
Wrecker paused, glanced back at you, and heaved a deep sigh. "Fine," he grumbled, walking back toward your original destination. "They get twenty minutes, then I need you all to myself."
The dark-eyed look he sent your way made your mouth go dry. "Fifteen minutes."
He laid a searing kiss on your lips. "Deal."
---
To your shock, the Bad Batch was less intimidating than you had thought they would be. Hunter even made an effort to talk to you.
“So, what is it you do for the GAR?” he asked, dark eyes startling in his half-tattooed face.
“I- uh, I’m an engineer,” you explained. “I helped design the updates implemented in the Phase II trooper armor. Joint Kamino-Coruscant effort and all of that. I didn’t have anything to do with commando armor, though.”
Hunter shrugged. “Still, I’ve heard good things about the Phase II. You did nice work.”
“Thanks!” you said, only slightly too loud. “There are a few things that got lost in translation due to budgetary issues. One of my ideas was to add in a new scope for the larger rifles, one that would acclimate to counter visual disruptions. Brightness, direct sunlight, reflections, and so on. It had a couple other features that were popular with the ARCs and commandos who tested it. Alpha-17 on Kamino said he was keeping his, even though it was just a prototype.”
“Wish I coulda seen that,” Crosshair muttered, his first contribution to the conversation.
“You kind of can,” you offered. “I have a few prototypes left. I brought one along in case you wanted to give me any feedback. I still have hopes for the Phase III…”
Crosshair eyed the scope you were holding out to him, face full of suspicion even as he accepted it from you. He examined it closely for several minutes, dialing in and out of various features as you watched. Eventually, he nodded and you breathed a sigh of relief. 
“Looks good,” he reluctantly praised, handing the scope back.
You didn’t take it from him. “Actually, that’s a tactical prototype. If you were interested, I would love for you to use it in the field as long as you let me know how it holds up.”
Crosshair’s eyebrows shot up and he chewed his toothpick thoughtfully as he stared at the scope. You weren’t above a little bribery, and had made a few tweaks based on Crosshair’s preferences. Granted, those preferences had been relayed by Wrecker, a man whose go-to weapon was bare hands… 
To distract yourself, you looked to Tech. He had been quiet, almost silent, for most of the meeting. From everything you had been told, that was unusual. 
“Tech, Wrecker tells me that you’ve been analyzing statistical data about your squad to maximize your effectiveness. What kind of variance are you looking at?”
Tech stared at you for a long moment. “A difficult question to answer, as the variance has increased significantly since you and Wrecker met.”
“Excuse me?” you asked politely, taken aback by his implication.
“The frequency at which Wrecker is injured has increased by roughly 2.7% since the two of you started your relationship.”
“Tech,” Hunter reprimanded sharply.
“Ease off,” Crosshair said, voice low.
You glanced at Wrecker, sitting tensely beside you. “You didn’t tell me you were getting hurt on your missions.”
“Just a little,” he admitted, glaring at Tech.
“By my calculations, this places his risk of a fatal accident at 9% and growing,” Tech finished, unbothered by Wrecker’s glare or his brothers’ words of warning. “Added to the fact that Wrecker wears less armor than a trooper of his size should, he is highly at risk.”
“What is this about your armor?” you asked Wrecker, pinching his side when he avoided looking your way.
“Hey! That hurt!” he complained, finally looking down at you.
“Not as bad as a piece of shrapnel would!” you lectured him. “As soon as we get home, I’m going to start working on a better set of armor for you. I have some leftover plates from the commando armor comparison. I can use that as a basis…”
“What about your Phase III?” Wrecker asked, a bit desperately.
“That doesn’t matter!” you snapped. “If I can’t keep you safe, none of it matters! I’m designing heavy-duty armor for you, you’ll participate in extra drills with your team until you get used to it, and I want a report on every injury, minor or not!”
“Told you,” Hunter said, sounding satisfied.
“Five credits,” Crosshair sighed.
“The deal was twenty,” Tech argued, then allowed himself a small smile. “I like them.”
“Yeah,” Hunter agreed.
Crosshair, studying his new scope, just nodded. You caught only bits of their conversation, though, since you were still semi-arguing with Wrecker.
“C’mon, let’s go back to your place,” Wrecker pled.
“So I can get started on your armor right away?” you asked. “Good idea!”
“But… you love me,” Wrecker pouted.
You softened and leaned up to plant a kiss on his lips, ignoring the scoffs and smothered chuckles from his brothers. “I do, Wrecker. I love you so much that I can’t stand the idea of you getting hurt. Now let’s go.”
Wrecker sighed heavily, but clambered to his feet and waved goodbye to his brothers as he followed you out.
---
A/N - I don’t actually know if the Bad Batch wears Phase II clone trooper armor or Katarn-class commando armor, so I just went with commando armor and modified helmets.
Thanks for reading! You can see other works like it here or feel free to request something of your own!
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lloydskywalkers · 3 years
Note
Heyo! Hope your doing exceptionally well, wonderful and ur staying safe! I was reading ur little oneshots for the movie! Verse and instantly fell in love! Think u have anymore for Kai and Lloyd? (But u don’t need to listen to this, obviously hehe) Have a splendid day!
ahhH thank you, I hope you’re doing well too!! :D oh man it’s been so long since i’ve written something for movie-verse, but I’ve had this little snippet in my head for a while so I guess it’s as good a time as any (and it is, of course, about kai and lloyd bc when is it noT)
it’s a little different than what i usually write, for movie-verse? but i hope it fits the bill! (takes place pre-movie, btw)
Of all his friends, Lloyd thinks Kai is most like the sun. Not just for his codename, and the enthusiasm with which he brings fire to the team, metaphorically and far too often literally, but for how bright he is. Kai reminds Lloyd of the sun at full force, strong and blazing and staunchly refusing to let anyone hide from his warmth. An endlessly combusting ball of stubbornness and passion.
Kai also reminds Lloyd of the sun in the way that he possesses about the same amount of brain cells the sun does, which is zero, because the sun has no brain — much like Kai.
“Hey, ru—de, ow, stop—”
Kai’s petulant response strangles off in cracked pain as Lloyd hushes him, simultaneously pulling the alcohol-soaked cloth from his arm with a sympathetic wince.
“Sorry, sorry,” Lloyd murmurs, wringing the edge of the cloth. “But I’ve gotta — it’ll get infected, if you don’t—”
“Nah, s’okay,” Kai says, breath hissing out through clenched teeth. He gives Lloyd a wavering smile that could almost be encouraging, were he not bleeding over Lloyd’s faded bedspread. “Just caught me off guard, I’m good now. ‘Sides, the — the stitches are gonna be worse, so—”
“It won’t be that bad,” Lloyd promises him, cleaning the rest of the deep slashes that run across Kai’s arm as quickly as he can. The lower ones aren’t so bad — he could get away without stitches, maybe. It’s the uppermost one that scares Lloyd, cutting deep enough into Kai’s skin to pose a threat. And Lloyd has no intention of leaving Kai anywhere near in danger, especially with the reason he’s hurt in the first place.
Lloyd swallows against the thick lump that suddenly forms in his throat, trying to banish the flood of emotions that have been rising since the battle against his father’s forces earlier. Surprise, shock, gratitude—? A swirling maelstrom of a deep-seated kind of aching warmth Lloyd is utterly unfamiliar with. It leaves him off-kilter, and words don’t come easily as they usually do.
Not that words ever come easily to Lloyd, but normally he isn’t quite this stuttering. Maybe. He hopes not. Maybe he’s just hyperaware right now, after everything, and he always sounds this embarrassing.
“I promise,” Lloyd continues, yanking himself from his thoughts as he busies with the needle. “I’ve got a lot of experience, and I’ll be gentle.”
Kai watches Lloyd threading the needle with a thinly-veiled fear, but he nods, the bravado Lloyd’s more familiar with making its way across his face. “Nice,” he says. “I trust you, Dr. Lloyd.”
Lloyd’s hands falter with the needle for a moment, before he resumes sterilizing it, ducking his head. Kai sounds like he means it — Kai sounds like he means everything he says, but the way he says trust hits differently, for Lloyd.
They’ve only been a team for few months, now. Not very long at all, to form any kind of trust in the son of your greatest enemy. Lloyd’s been going to school with some of the same people since kindergarten, and they’ve never looked at him with anything kinder than hatred, much less trust. And yet Kai is here, offering him his bleeding arm in Lloyd’s tiny room, trusting him to repair the damage he only took because he was protecting Lloyd.
Lloyd doesn’t understand. He doesn’t — people don’t — but his team—
They listened to him. Actually listened to him, to Lloyd. They actually listen to him in general, have since they were all thrown together in this odd little grouping, but it hasn’t quite hit home in the way it did tonight, when he’d snapped orders at them in barely-restrained panic, Kai’s blood staining his fingers as he’d staunched the knife wounds meant for him.
They hadn’t flinched back at his raised voice. Lloyd never raises his voice — he’s learned to keep it quiet, soft, unassuming. Even the slightest slip of frustration is enough to send anyone around him murmuring in suspicion, eyes narrowing and hissed whispers of just like his father filling the air.
Lloyd’s voice had been sharp and strained, barking across the rooftop, and they’d listened. No one flinched back, no eyes widened in fear — they’d just listened. They’re still listening, carrying out Lloyd’s orders without question, and it’s — it’s dizzying, if Lloyd had to put a word to it.
Cole and Zane are taking care of clean-up — something Lloyd will have to thank them for later, profusely. Neither were particularly happy about letting Kai out of their sights, but Cole and Zane are better at keeping each other steady than anyone else. It was the right call, Lloyd knows it was. Hopes it was.
But Lloyd hasn’t been having much faith in his calls, tonight. Not after Kai went down.
He swallows, focusing on the sounds reverberating from behind his closed door. Nya and Jay are talking with his mother, Nya’s louder tones easier to hear as she laughs. Lloyd knows her well enough to catch the strain in it, but he knows it’ll fool his mother. They’re distraction — Lloyd’s house was closest, and he’s got the best supplies stashed there. No one questions why he’s the one with the fully stocked medical kit, but Lloyd suspects they’ve all drawn their own conclusions.
He wishes they’d believe him, when he says it’s because he’s worried for them. He grew up with Wu as his uncle, who picks fights on a daily basis — with Morro as his cousin, who picks fights on an hourly basis. Lloyd knows the importance of having the good kind of medical supplies.
He finishes prepping the needle, squeezing Kai’s wrist briefly in warning. Lloyd’s not usually a tactile person — not that anyone would let him be — but he knows Kai soaks up touch like a starved sponge, and Lloyd’s desperate to give any kind of comfort he can before he starts with the needle.
Kai swallows, fixing his eyes firmly on the faded glow-in-the-dark stars plastered across Lloyd’s ceiling.
“Okay,” he says, his voice tight. “Bring it on.”
Lloyd swallows, steels himself, and sets the needle against his skin. Kai flinches at the first prick, eyes squeezing shut briefly, but otherwise he doesn’t move, jaw set stubbornly as Lloyd moves quickly. For his part, Lloyd keeps his eyes locked on the stitches, his hands steady. For all that Lloyd’s made up of bouncing nerves half the time, his hands rarely shake. Never when patching wounds up. He’s always been proud of how steady he can hold a needle, and tonight is no exception.
It’s the least he can do.
Kai suddenly tenses up, a broken-off noise strangling in his throat. Lloyd’s heart twists, but he stays steady, rallying himself. Conversation — Kai likes talking, right? Distraction, he can do that.
“So, um,” Lloyd stutters. On second thought, he’s awful at small talk. But — for Kai. “The way you took down that last guy was, it was really cool. Where’d you learn that?”
Kai bites his lip, exhaling shakily before he answers. “I train too, you know.”
Lloyd’s mouth quirks, despite himself. “Not like that.”
“What, a ninja can’t — can’t get creative,” Kai replies, through half-gritted teeth. Lloyd doesn’t say anything, but Kai rolls his eyes, continuing. “Fine. When I was younger, I ah…might’ve taken a few dance classes. For Nya! ‘Cause I couldn’t let her go alone, y’know, but they were — they were kinda fun, I guess, and maybe they slip into fighting, sometimes.” His cheeks darken, and Lloyd bites back a quiet laugh.
“Nothing like Cole, obviously, ‘cause he’s an actual dancer, but — that’s where I got it from.” He pins Lloyd with a glare, that’s somewhat dimmed by the scrunched expression of pain on his face. “Tell anyone and you’re dead though, okay?”
Lloyd hums his agreement, too focused on the stitches to reply immediately. After a moment, though, he speaks up again. “I did some ballet, when I was little.”
“No way,” Kai says, sounding delighted.
“Yeah, way,” Lloyd says. “I’ve heard from a very reliable source that dancing backgrounds are useful, with ninja stuff.”
“Very reliable meaning your uncle,” Kai grins.
Lloyd shrugs. “Maybe,” he half-smiles. Kai suddenly sucks in another pained breath, but to Lloyd’s relief, it’s likely the last one. He finishes off the stitches with a well-practiced hand, snapping the end of the thread and exhaling in relief.
“There. All done.”
Kai’s eyes widen. “Seriously, already?” He glances down at his arm, his other hand moving up to touch the stitches. Lloyd smacks it away, glaring at him.
“Don’t touch. You still have to watch out for infection. I’ll text you instructions for taking care of it, and everything. Just don’t do anything, ah…”
“No ninja-ing?” Kai finishes for him, crestfallen.
“Probably a good idea,” Lloyd says, apologetic. “But it’s not too bad. Shouldn’t take long, and you can be out, uh, ninja-ing again."
Kai is quiet for a moment, regarding his stitches. Then he turns to Lloyd, who is immediately staggered at the bright smile that stretches across his face.
“Cool. Thanks, Lloyd. You’re good at this.”
Lloyd can’t answer, his throat burning. He forces the welling moisture back, looking away. Kai’s only hurt for him, and that is layered with so much more meaning than Lloyd can comprehend right now.
“No problem,” Lloyd mutters, focusing instead on the voices outside his door in an attempt to find footing again. He can hear his mom laughing at something Nya’s said, open and relaxed in a way his mom rarely is. Lloyd’s heart twists into knots.
He doesn’t deserve them, any of them. Not really.
If Kai reminds Lloyd of the sun, then the rest of the team reminds him of stars. All bright and shining, bursting with warmth in their own way. Maybe not quite at the blazing heat that Kai does, but Nya is a north star if Lloyd’s ever needed one. Jay’s a blinking constellation, scattered stars that form a complex whole much larger than you’d thought. Cole’s the kind of star you see first pop up over the horizon, blending with the oranges and purples of the sunset, like a painting you’d see in soft watercolors. Zane’s the early-morning kind of star, the ones that stay stubbornly after the night’s left, dotting the pale morning with a calm steadiness.
Lloyd would be a planet, he supposes, caught in faithful orbit around the five people who have somehow, for some reason, given him a chance. It’d be generous, though. No, Lloyd is content just to be a moon — with no light of his own, reflecting only the brilliance others give him the best he can.
Kai’s finger taps the edge of his forehead, snapping Lloyd from his thoughts, and he blinks in confusion.
“Lost you there, again,” Kai asks, words mangled through a yawn. “Where’d you go?”
Lloyd shakes his head, turning his attention back to the bloodied thread leftover in his hands. His stomach turns, and he quickly sets it aside. “Just thinking.” He pauses, momentarily lost for words. He settles for jerking his head toward the window, where the smoke trailing from their hard-won battle is still visible against the dark sky, and gives Kai a wry smile. “How much do you wanna bet the cheerleading team comes up with a new song tomorrow?”
It’s been an inside joke for them, the ridiculous songs Chen and his gang keep coming up with to throw at Lloyd, and normally it gets a laugh from Kai. This time, though, Kai is silent, his eyes searching as he stares at Lloyd. Lloyd shifts under the attention, caught off-guard again. He doesn’t know what kind of look this is, that Kai’s giving him.
“They shouldn’t talk about you like that,” Kai finally says. His voice is quiet, but Lloyd can spot the brewing anger in it. Kai’s always got anger to spare.
“Sticks and stones, remember?” Lloyd shakes his head. He’s learned, after a while, that anger changes nothing. “Words will never hurt me.”
“Words hurt when people are throwing sticks and stones at you while they yell about your dad,” Kai grumbles.
“No one’s thrown rocks since second grade, actually.”
“Hm.” Kai’s tone is a mix of thinly withheld anger and mild amusement. Lloyd tilts his head, confused, and Kai gives a huff, anger tugging loose.
“Y’know, people say that if kids throw rocks at you in second grade, it means they’ve got a crush on you.”
Lloyd knows well enough it’s a joke, but he flushes red anyways, heat spreading across his cheeks. “Yeah, sure,” he stammers. Kai laughs at his reaction, though, the odd kind of anger departing, and Lloyd feels he’s found his footing again.
They’re quiet as Lloyd finishes cleaning up the medical supplies, Kai nodding sleepily on his bed while Lloyd carefully washes the needle in the bathroom sink. Maybe he can convince his mom to let Kai spend the night, he thinks. Jay and Nya , too — their apartment isn’t very big, but it’s awfully late to make them walk home, and Lloyd is fine with taking the floor, if he needs to.
Lloyd nods to himself, resolving to ask her once he’s finished hiding the evidence. His mom’s been so thrilled about him having people over at all, he can’t see her saying no. A smile pulls at his lips as he listens to the conversation outside his door again. Jay’s rambling on now, bright and excited without any of his usual reservation. He feels a pang, wondering if Jay’s the same as him — wondering if they’re all the same, playing at muted caricatures of themselves, too fearful to let whatever lies beneath shine through.
He wonders what it means, that they’re the ones with the city in their hands, that weight on their shoulders. Wonders what it means, that Lloyd feels safer with bullets strafing the air around him and his mask on, than he ever has with it off. That Green Ninja will always, always sound better than Lloyd in his ears.
“Hey, uh.”
Lloyd starts at Kai’s voice, twisting the sink off as he turns to face him. Kai looks half asleep, but the smile he gives him is bright as ever.
“Thanks, seriously. Not just for this, but for looking out for us. You’re a good friend.”
Lloyd’s heart skips a beat, his brain latching onto the word friend and holding on tightly, tucking it somewhere safe inside his chest.
“So thanks, Lloyd,” Kai yawns, barely awake at all now, but still stubbornly clinging to the threads of awareness.
Lloyd’s got his own thank you to give back, twisted and strangled behind whatever lump’s formed in his throat, but Kai’s snoring before he gets the chance to say it. So Lloyd tugs the edge of his comforter over his friend — his friend — instead, and runs the words over in his mind again and again, like a treasured line from a book.
On second thought. Maybe Lloyd isn’t so bad. He’s only ever liked his name the way his mom says it, without any of the snapping, harsh emphasis others give it. In others’ mouths, Lloyd’s name is a curse. In his mom’s, Lloyd’s name belongs to a person.
But he thinks, maybe, he likes the way it sounds when his teammates use it, too.
261 notes · View notes
lizbotw · 4 years
Text
Oikawa, Akaashi, Kuroo, Kenma, and Nishinoya With a S/O that Has a RBF and Can Be Moody
Anonymous said:
Hi! Can you do Oikawa, Akaashi, Kuroo, Kenma, and Noya with an S/o that has a resting bitch face and gives off a strong “dont talk to me” aura when moody or tired?
hey! these took me a while to finish so i hope you like them ♡
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Oikawa Tooru
He’s used to people praising his personality, all sweet words and thoughtful gifts. What he wasn’t used to was someone other than Iwaizumi blowing a fuse in response to his actions, especially if it was over something miniscule.
You had forgotten your water bottle in the gym after your daily P.E. class, but with your lunch period having already passed, you had no choice but to wait until the end of the school day to go pick it up, lest you get scolded by a teacher for “skipping class” and going to do something deemed “unnecessary” during their precious class time.
And so you impatiently waited out the last few classes of the afternoon before you hurried to the gym, hoping that no one had moved your bottle. (If you had to go run to the lost and found because someone had placed it there, you swore you would just about scream—you were tired and wanted to go home, plus the extra time spent going on a wild goose chase for the object meant you might actually miss your ride home if you didn’t hurry).
You shoved open the gym doors unceremoniously—after-school sports clubs were already gathering in the room for their pre-practice warmups—and you kept your eyes focused on the area in front of you, wanting to get in and out quickly.
You squinted a little at the familiar shape in your line of sight. Ah! There it is. In the distance you could make out your water bottle resting upon the same bench you had left it on, and you jogged over to it, swooping it up and slinging your backpack down and off of your shoulders in one movement. Your bag landed on the bench with a thump and the hiss of the zipper when you tugged the main compartment of the bag open were all you were focused on.
While you were shoving around a few books in your bag, trying to make room to squeeze the water bottle in, you failed to notice the intense stare you had earned from one of the very sports players you had ignored on your way in.
“Hey! Can I help you?” A chipper, smooth voice was the culprit.
You whirled around at the sound, water bottle half shoved into your already overcrowded bag.
Just your luck. The infamously chatty Oikawa Tooru had been the one to seek your company the one time you were actually in a rush. Resident pretty boy and captain of the volleyball team—of course you knew who he was.
His smile was charming and even in his normal workout clothes, you had to admit he still looked good.
And you also had to admit that while any other day this would have been a great conversation to have, right now you were so over it.
You ignored his attempt at conversation and focused on finishing up here and leaving, turning back to your bag and silently praying for the water bottle to just go in.
He was taken aback by your lack of response, but, never one to give up, he tried again.
Next to you on the bench, he gently placed down the small towel he had slung over one shoulder, along with his own water bottle, looking at you out of the corner of his eye as he set them down—he kept his grin on, although it was beginning to waver at your lack of reaction.
“This is the volleyball bench, so that’s why I was wondering if you needed something. We don’t usually let people stay and watch us practice, but you know, I’m feeling generous today so if you want to-”
You straightened up, backpack now firmly placed over your shoulders and water bottle secure inside. Your eyebrows had furrowed into an annoyed expression out of habit and thus an involuntarily glare was given to the captain. “Yeah, no thanks. I’ve got to go,” you mumbled, barely feeling like talking—seriously, how could someone have so much energy after school?
Oikawa watched as you left the same way you had come, confused and slightly appalled by your behavior. It took Iwaizumi giving him a firm punch to the arm and an order to “get back to stretching, dumbass, I’m not dealing with you pulling a muscle later and whining, I fucking swear,” to get him to go back to work.
Your interactions were minimal much of the time, but as though fate drew you together, you found yourself having many more similar interactions with the captain, much to your dismay. You didn’t hate him per say, but you definitely couldn’t stand his radiant, flirty personality when you already felt half-asleep after a long day.
First it was your friend leaving their water bottle in the same place you had and them begging you to go get it and give it to them first thing when you saw each other tomorrow because they had to go home right after school today for some reason.
Next it was someone forgetting their phone and you offering to go get it because they had done you a favor that one time a few weeks ago and you wanted to return it.
Then it was a whole textbook (what are you even doing with a textbook in the gym anyway?).
The cycle went on and on, and each and every time Oikawa was there, you used to his cliche conversation starters by now. It became a sort of routine, a game, and when your brain was clear from the throes of sleepiness later, you would mull over the interactions and realize that you actually enjoyed them.
It was quite the shock for Oikawa when he ran into you during lunch one day and you were bubblier than he had ever seen you (you were still filled with energy after a long night’s rest and school hadn’t sapped all of your vibrancy for the day just yet—plus you were excited that it was lunchtime), even being greeting him enthusiastically with a “Hey, Oikawa!” and waving to him when he had called out to you (he expected you to ignore him so he was frozen in shock for a moment at your display).
At some point, lunchtime hangouts between the two of you became the new routine, and from there the routines slowly continued to change and evolve until you two were miraculously dating. (The new routine was now stopping by the gym after school, even if you hadn’t forgotten anything there, to give him a goodbye kiss and a “Good luck with practice, babe!” before you headed home. The alternative routine was that you finally took up that offer he had made on that very first day about you staying to watch practice, and afterwards he would walk you home, you two stopping in a convenience store to buy ice cream before you got far. You both seemed the enjoy the latter a lot more.)
Oikawa, observant as he is, figured out that you become “pouty” when you were tired (you were sitting on his bed and doing homework with him when he announced that as though it was some sort of profound realization, and you hit him overhead with a pillow because why did you just described it like that, Tooru???).
He’s pretty good about giving you space when you need it, although most of the time, even if you’re sleepy or upset and don’t want to deal with anyone, he’s still liberal with the affection he gives you, knowing that you secretly love the attention. He just has to look past your sharp words to see what you really want and at this point you’re pretty sure he’s a mind reader.
When you’re not feeling tired and overworked, he knows you can actually be pretty sweet, so if he sees you staring off into the distance, your not-so-neutral resting face on, he’ll absolutely annoy the hell out of you because once you crack that million dollar smile? He’s done for (but he likes the pain of his heart beating wildly around you so it’s okay).
He’s just an absolute sucker for how angry you look most of the time but how you’re simultaneously the most supportive person he’s ever met underneath it all (in some ways it reminds him of Iwaizumi, although you’re less… prickly than Iwa seems to be much of the time; that and you don’t throw volleyballs at his head whenever he messes up a play during practice—most of the time that is).
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Akaashi Keiji
The literal calmest couple ever that simply likes to stick to themselves—that’s the initial impression many have of you two.
That couldn’t be further from the truth though. Despite your outward appearance, you were quick to crack smiles around just about anyone (you got along well with Bokuto for this very reason), and Akaashi had proven to be unexpectedly playful at times as well (it was mostly around you and his team though, so that side of him was relatively unknown).
Akaashi wasn’t put off by how you appeared at all—that sort of thing didn’t really matter to him—and the faithful pairing up of you two together for a group project finally gave you the opportunity to talk.
He’s generally good with dealing with just about anyone, so while he was surprised once you started talking his ear off about the project, outwardly he didn’t so much as bat an eye, simply listening to you ramble on and responding when appropriate.
Once you two are together, quiet evenings become common, you most likely laying on his chest and scrolling through your phone while he holds a book above his head, the only noise being the flipping of the pages. Evenings like those are exactly what you need when you’re feeling overworked and want to snap at just about everything, and Akaashi is quick to soothe you—with even just a few words from him you can already feel yourself feeling better.
He secretly takes pride in the fact that others may look at your moodiness and intimidating appearance and shy away, meanwhile he’s able to actually understand you (also he has experience with Bokuto so literally just hit him with all you’ve got).
Together you two can seem pretty intimidating and unapproachable, but you also look cool as hell walking through the hallways side by side so it’s a necessary sacrifice.
Akaashi picked up the habit of taking pictures of you when you’re not looking because you look amazing with your neutral face and fierce expression, but also when you’re joking freely with him, eyes screwed shut and mouth open as laughter spills out, you’re simply stunning. He likes the duality and sees something poetic in it because of course he does.
He loves looking through his camera roll sometimes and just scrolling and seeing you simply minding your own business and looking out the window in one picture, but then getting up to all sorts of trouble in the name of fun in the next.
He’d probably be embarrassed if you found out, although he quickly realized that he also likes to show you the pictures sometimes so you can see yourself exactly how he sees you, and you have to admit that some of the shots are breathtaking with how he seems to capture you in the perfect way (the lightning, background, and of course you all look amazing because he’s Akaashi and to him every detail should be just right, especially if it involves you) and when the pictures are paired together with the others, the contrast jumps out and you have to smile at that.
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Kuroo Tetsurou
A mostly empty hallway, the two of you being the only ones there, was where it all started. An entire open hallway and of course, he still managed to bump into you somehow. (To be fair, you were tapping away on your phone, complaining to your friend over text about how you just wanted to go home already and take a nap because the test last period had been exhausting, and not paying attention to where you were going at all).
To his credit, he was quick to apologize, turning over his shoulder so you would catch his words, seeing as you two were walking in opposite directions. “Ah… sorry, I guess I wasn’t paying attention.” A light chuckle on the end tied up the apology nicely by adding a charming casualness to it.
You looked up from your phone with an annoyed expression, eyes narrowed, and sighed to yourself before you turned around to reply to him. “Maybe work on that next time,” you snapped. You were clearly exasperated and Kuroo was left blinking in bewilderment at the interaction.
You two were in the same class and although you knew of each other, you weren’t exactly friends—more like acquaintances, although Kuroo was wondering if he had missed the memo on when that title had switched to sworn enemies.
He decided to test this theory and tentatively bid you “good morning” when he got to class the next day. He had almost chickened out because you looked absolutely terrifying, almost as though you were going to bite whoever so much as glanced in your general direction.
Although you seemed confused at first at the fact that he was even talking to you, you gave a small, “Good morning?” back. (It came out as more of a question, but you know what? He’ll take it.)
Okay, so… you didn’t hate him? Or at least not as much it seemed?
And so Kuroo kept this up, always the first one to say “good morning” to you each day—it was sort of like a science experiment, him trying to gauge what you thought about him and test out his hypothesis (the mystery of that interaction in the hallway is what kept him at it, even as silly as it seemed).
You asked him at one point why he suddenly started talking to you and he quickly deflected the question, afraid you would catch onto his little research experiment, even as outlandish the possibility of that happening was.
Those were the first few interactions you two had and even now when Kuroo looks back on it he has secondhand embarrassment for his past self—what was he even doing?
Nowadays, now that you’re finally dating, he doesn’t question your moodiness, knowing that everyone has off days. He has also finally figured out that you two were never sworn enemies in the first place (although he thinks that this love story would have been way more interesting if that had been the case).
Whenever you’re staring off and looking serious, Kuroo loves to pinch your cheeks to snap you back to reality and even as often as he does it, you fall for it every time and honestly he can deal with the death glare you give him because then the small smile you can’t conceal comes out right afterwards (what he can’t deal with though is you withholding kisses from him because you said he didn’t deserve them after pinching you three times in the span of two hours, so after that one time you learned that that punishment was horribly ineffective because so clingy throughout it).
If you’re looking tired, simply down on your luck and annoyed at life, he doesn’t let it affect him and knows not to take it personally, slipping you a cup of tea to help you calm down and clear your mind, and sitting across from you at the kitchen table and watching you as you sip at the drink, ready to talk whenever you want. His affection is quiet in those moments, but you welcome it as much as you do his grand gestures of love—he always brings each type of support out at just the right moment and you find it hilarious that he had ever thought that you could hate him (you could never, not when he was like this).
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Kenma Kozume
The fact that the first impression he had of you was that you weren’t in-his-face hyper was jarring enough—he was used to his teammates and their high energy shenanigans, so you were an anomaly in his eyes.
He wouldn’t exactly make a first move, or at least not for a while, but in class when he’s bored, head in his palm, elbow on the table, and drumming his pen against his desk absentmindedly, he would watch you out of the corner of his eye.
You confused him. You had tons of friends, Kenma knew that much about you, and he always overheard people talking about how much fun you were to talk to, yet here he saw none of that rumored playfulness. You were stone-faced as the teacher droned on, rigid in your movements as you copied down the notes from the board robotically.
Watching you write reminded him that he should probably do the same, but even as he went back to trying to focus on that day’s lesson and stared down at his notebook, you stayed on his mind.
He knew that not everyone always outwardly showed their entire personalities, but he had been watching you for what felt like forever and you never so much as cracked a smile. Surely that was unusual?
Kenma found himself itching to just walk up to you and say something—he hated not being in the know and… you seemed approachable enough. Even when he came to the conclusion to stir up a casual conversation with you to finally put his mind at rest, he was still surprised with himself when he actually did it.
He was even more surprised when you instantly brightened up when he talked to you, polite in your responses, yet not stiflingly so, the conversation flowing easily as you two jumped from one topic to another—he wasn’t even exactly sure what you two discussed, just that the words kept flowing out of him as he followed your lead, and for some reason he didn’t want it to end.
He’s not sure how it happened, but that one time conversation soon turned into multiple conversations and he found himself getting strangely attached to you, your excitable personality growing on him as time passed.
Kenma found it endearing how you could be upbeat and ready for an adventure most of the time, but that those times when you simply got tired or weren’t in the mood, you were the complete opposite, either wanting to talk to no one, or claiming that you wanted to talk to no one and secretly actually wanting someone to let you rest your head on their shoulder and just hold you (that’s what he was there for).
If he can tell you’re not in the mood to socialize, he won’t force you to do anything or talk about it if you don’t want to. He’s good at picking up the little cues you put out and you love him all the more for it.
Kenma knows what it feels like to just want some alone time, so it’s common for you two to just hang on in one of your bedrooms on weekends, each of you doing your own thing and not bothering one another. Sometimes one of you will just get up and move closer to the other person, cuddling up under their arm, and no words will be exchanged the entire time. (If you’re sitting between his legs while he plays a video game, he likes to lean down and give you a quick kiss on the forehead whenever he feels like it—come on, you’re right there, how could he possibly resist?)
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Nishinoya Yuu
He’s used to Kiyoko outright ignoring him, and even any harsh words from her have him running to go tell Tanaka the “good news” about their latest interaction, so he wouldn’t be put off by your seemingly cold demeanor at all. In fact, he may be even more intrigued. He likes the chase after all.
You were sitting in class one day during a break, spacing off and simply watching your other classmates mingle around the room, and Nishinoya saw this as the perfect opportunity to talk to you, bounding over to you with a spring in his step.
He leaned down close to you, a mischievous smirk matching the playful lilt in his voice. “Hey, (Y/N)-”
He stopped short though when you turned to him smiling and returned the greeting without missing a beat. Wait, what?
In class you always looked bored out of your mind, or just plain angry to be here, unamused look in your eyes and the corners of your mouth downturned. He hadn’t seen you out of the classroom that much, or if he had, you had never been with your friends (so he had missed all the times when you joked around with them), either standing in the hallway alone waiting for someone and on your phone, or walking out of the school after class to head home and looking like you would absolutely fight anyone who prevented you from doing so. Even during group work in class, you were closed off—you had spoken the bare minimum during the majority of that one time that he had been paired up with you.
But now? You were a literal ray of sunshine. Nishinoya blinked at the sight, eyes wide, like a deer caught in headlights—and then a giant grin spread across his face. He liked this.
His constant high energy is a great contrast to your sometimes “just done with everything” appearance (also school was absolutely tiring, so it was more likely to catch you in one of your sleepy, unenthusiastic phases than not during particularly high stress weeks).
He’s amazing at dealing with the times you just don’t want to interact with anyone besides him, never forcing you to speak if you’re tired and instead filling up the empty space in the air with his own words while you lean against his chest, you two on his couch and watching a movie during the weekend.
He thinks you’re absolutely badass and the fact that people are easily intimidated by you at first glance is just awesome to him like yes! That’s his baby right there! You should be scared! (But then, of course, people come to realize you’re actually a giant teddy bear inside.) He may or may not ask you to give Asahi some confidence pointers because you both can give off the same energy at times.
Even when you’re in a bad mood, Nishinoya is as vibrant as ever and has an infinite amount of energy and love to devote to you. Sit down with him and just vent all of your frustrations and he’ll make you feel better about everything, hyping you up if you display any sort of worries, and actually racking his brain for solutions to your problems if you ask for his opinion on what you should do (it’s adorable when he sits there with his thinking face on, going full on serious boyfriend mode).
505 notes · View notes
sevlgi · 3 years
Text
i think i love you
requested: no
group: red velvet
pairing: yeri x fem!reader (feat irene)
genre: fluff, angst
contents: unrequited love, sad christmases. 
warnings: none
synopsis: One time you said it to the wrong person, three times you couldn’t say it aloud, and the last time you ever needed to be sorry for loving someone.
a/n: i hope you enjoy, and have yourself a very merry christmas 💖i may or may not be projecting with this fic, so uh... ignore that.
word count: 4.2k
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“Oh come on, come on, come on!”
You panted harder than you ever had before as you ran through the train station, feet thudding against the ground in a way that wasn’t graceful in the slightest. Your knuckles where white with how you clutched your car keys in your hand, and your eyes scanned the station for the petite figure you were looking for.
To your dismay, not a single person had the dark waves cascading down their back, nor the peachy sweater and jeans that you remembered Joohyun to be wearing when she left the apartment. There wasn’t a white Chanel bag in sight, and certainly no unfairly beautiful face either.
But there-- a couple feet ahead of you, the same outfit you remembered, or at least a similar one. A white bag, a petite figure growing closer and closer as you ran closer at top speed.
And a collision, an unflattering “oof” escaping you as you hit the person you believed to be your crush of years. “I think I love you,” you blurted without even seeing Joohyun’s face, stumbling back when the girl who turned back was decidedly not her.
Had you not been so hung up on the older girl, you would’ve realized that the body you collided with was just as beautiful, that the smile on the stranger’s face was just as charming. “Uh. Wrong person?” she offered, cocking her head.
All of a sudden, you realized that her hair was too short, too straight to be Joohyun. She was probably a bit shorter, and her sweater wasn’t peach at all, more of a light pink color. “I-- I am so sorry,” you gasped, ducking down in a bow. “Oh my god, I wasn’t thinking straight.”
“I figured,” the stranger laughed. “Joohyun. That’s a girl’s name, isn’t it?”
When you hesitated to answer, apprehension about Korea’s conservative history obviously showing in your expression, she reassured you with her hands held up in the air, “I’m not homophobic, promise. Won’t jump you.”
“Yeah. She’s-- well. I love her.”
Rather than responding, she held her hand out to you to shake, fingers warm and surprisingly strong against yours. “Cool. I’m Yerim, but a lot of my friends just call me Yeri.”
“Yeri. Got it.” You attempted to smile back, still fearing that Yeri would hit you back or something. (Okay, unrealistic, but you had expected a K-drama moment with your crush in the train station. You were born unrealistic.) “Uh, I’m Y/N.”
Yeri nodded, checking her phone with a nonchalance that lead you to think that strangers hit her and confessed their love to her on the daily. “Right. Hey, could I ask you a favor? You can totally say no.”
There was no way you could refuse a chance to assuage your own guilt, and you didn’t really want to chase after Joohyun when her train was probably already gone, so you shrugged. “Sure, give it a shot.”
The girl smiled, nodding at the keys still fisted in your hand. “Could you drive me somewhere? I’d ask my friend, but I don’t really trust her to drive.”
“You’d rather go with a possible murderer than ask your friend to drive you?” you joked, face blanching when you realized what it implied. “I’m not-- that was a joke, by the way. I’m not a murderer.”
“If you knew Seulgi, you’d understand,” Yeri snickered, tugging her bag behind her in the direction that you came from. “So, is that a yes?”
It wasn’t smart-- that much was obvious. The smart thing to do would’ve been to call Joohyun before she left the station, to beg her to come back instead of letting her leave with a hatred for you permanently instilled into her heart. But smart was never your forte.
You jogged over to Yeri, pulling her in the actual direction of your car with a grin and an offer to pull her luggage for her. “It’s this way.”
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Driving a random stranger home from the only train station in town shouldn’t have resulted in anything. You should’ve just dropped her off at the house she was staying at for the rest of the year, then driven off to moan about your terrible luck in love to Sooyoung.
But instead, Yeri didn’t close the door of the car immediately, peering inside at you with the curious smile on her face that you’d come to like over the 30-minute car ride. “Well? Are you coming? Seulgi wants to vet you.”
“Uh. Sure.” You locked the car behind you, hefting up the girl’s remaining luggage as the front door swung open, another girl rushing out to hug Yeri fiercely.
“Yerim, you little shit! How could you just ask a stranger to drive you home instead of me?” she whined, pouting down at the grinning girl you’d driven home. Seulgi, you assumed, was pretty-- unique monolids, wispy bangs, and a full mouth setting her apart from most girls you tended to see in your hometown. 
“In my defense, you’re a horrible driver, unnie,” Yeri answered, prying herself out of Seulgi’s grip. She beckoned you over, taking the suitcase from your hands with a grunt. “Seulgi unnie, Y/N. Y/N, Seulgi unnie. Oh. I don’t know if she’s an unnie for you...” she frowned.
You half-expected Seulgi to maim you (again, unrealistic), but she tugged you into a hug that could’ve easily cracked a rib or two. “Thank you for driving Yeri home,” she smiled when she pulled away. “I’m offended on her comments about my driving skills, but that’s not your fault. Come in?”
Going inside for a cup of coffee ended up being about 5 hours of playing video games with the two girls, and laughing harder than you had for a good year or so. Indeed, it was the most you’d forgotten about Joohyun for a while, and it would be a lie to say that it wasn’t a relief.
You only came back to Earth when Sooyoung called you in a panic. “Y/N, Joohyun said that she’s already back in Daegu. You didn’t stop her?”
“Oh.” You glanced back to Seulgi and Yeri, hitting each other with the remote controls on the couch as Mario Kart’s winning page played triumphant music. “I... I didn’t get to her in time. I’m sorry.”
Sooyoung sighed over the line, voice tinny. “Don’t be sorry. Joohyun’s always been stubborn. Did you at least get to tell her? You know, that you lo--”
“I didn’t,” you cut your best friend off, lips thinning. You didn’t want to think about Joohyun or her rejection of your feelings, not when it had been the only thing on your mind for a good couple of years. “Sorry, Sooyoung. I gotta go, but I’ll be home soon.”
Without giving her a chance to speak, you hung up. It wasn’t her fault, of course, but it got annoying sometimes to be constantly reminded that you had to be honest sometime in your life. “I think I should go,” you smiled sheepishly at Yeri, tucking your phone away. “But thank you for today.”
“Hey, gimme that,” she suddenly called, reaching for your phone. Confused, you handed the unlocked device to her. “Okay, I’m saving myself as Yeri. You better not forget my name, because I’m texting you,” she warned, smiling wide when she handed it back.
A surprisingly genuine smile was directed at her as you accepted your phone, now with a cute selfie of Yeri as the profile picture of a brand new contact. Bowing to Seulgi, you grabbed your bag from the rack by the door. “See you soon, I guess?”
“Bye, Y/N!” the oldest girl called out, waving excitedly all the way until the front door locked behind you.
Taking a deep breath of cold night air, you pressed your fingers to your sternum to try and quell the beats of your heart. As you unlocked the door to your car and slid into an icy driver’s seat, you were hit with the longing to go back, back inside a warm living room filled with the laughter of two people who had no business being so welcoming towards you. 
But you turned the key and switched the radio to a loud song that echoed inside the vehicle when you drove away. There was no warmth in your life, as you had to remind yourself, and you couldn’t get used to any, in case it made you let go of the only person you held close.
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It seemed that Yeri existed purely to shock you, as you were pleasantly surprised by her call a week following the strangest occurrence of your life. 
For the first silent week, you were oddly disappointed that she didn’t contact you. Some lingering hope for friendship, you assumed, was behind it all, and you did your best to brush it aside at work. You didn’t tell Sooyoung about Yeri’s existence at all, for fear that it’d backfire on you when she ultimately left you alone.
Instead, she called you in the middle of grocery shopping. “Hello?” you frowned, holding the phone to your ear without checking the caller name.
“Y/N! Did I catch you at a bad time?” Yeri asked, voice just as cheery as you remembered it to be. It was odd how much just hearing her made you perk up.
“Oh, not at all.” You set a bag of chips down and switched ears, moving to a quieter section of the supermarket. “What’s up?”
Yeri hummed slightly, rustling around. “Well, I was going to ask if you’re up for a movie night. I’m bored today, and Seulgi’s off visiting her girlfriend. Do you have anything to do?”
Movie nights reminded you of being a teenager, watching dumb movies off the internet with your friends and shrieking at kiss scenes. Suffice to say, you missed it, and Yeri seemed like the perfect person to forget about all responsibilities with. “Nothing at all,” you grinned, heading towards the alcohol section. “By the way, what kind of wine do you like?”
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“I hate the Titanic,” Yeri sniffled, popping another handful of popcorn into her mouth. “Jack’s stupid. Rose should find a wife and live happily ever after.”
“A wife?” you laughed, rolling over just to shove the girl. “In that time period? Unrealistic, Yerim, settle for bondage like the rest of us.”
She pouted, tilting her head to face you as well. The slight smell of alcohol on her breath mingled spicy-sweet with sugared popcorn, her flawless skin flushed pink. “Come on, don’t deny you want Rose to get a pretty wife too.”
You rolled your eyes, looking up at Rose hanging onto her board again. “Yeah, you’re right.”
“If I were Rose and you were Jack, I’d save you,” Yeri promised with a laugh, grinning when you looked at her with an incredulous look on your face. “I’m serious! Come on, the both of us could easily fit on that stupid board.”
“It’d sink,” you protested. “Didn’t you say you were good at math and stuff?”
“Math,” she pointed at the screen, “has nothing to do with gay expectations of movies.”
When she laid her head back down, under the makeshift blanket fort you’d made together to ward against the night’s chilliness, her nose almost brushed up against yours, Yeri’s eyes sparkling with the light from Seulgi’s flatscreen TV. “You’re right again,” you admitted just to stop staring at the other girl, flipping onto your stomach to watch the movie. “You’re right.”
It should’ve been awkward, but the girl just grappled for her phone, earning a kick from you when the screen was too bright in a pitch black room. “I want takeout. Are you with me or against me, Y/N?”
You suffocated her with a pillow, snatching the phone to set your own order. “Depends. Are you going to steal my fried chicken?” you demanded, laughing when Yeri smacked you with the pillow herself. “Answer the question!”
“You pay, and I won’t,” she promised, holding her arms up to protect her head. “Oh, it’s on!”
When you collapsed under the half-collapsed blanket fort, sweaty with an order of fried chicken displayed on Yeri’s phone screen and the credits to Titanic rolling, you felt a phrase on your tongue that you hadn’t said since the train station. When Yeri smiled at you, you felt your lips parting to let the words out, and you felt your hand clamping over the 5 words you had already told her by mistake.
It was too fast, too intense to be real. Unlike the 5 years it had taken you to realize you loved Joohyun, it took two hangouts and one chaotic car ride for you to feel something that could burn you up from the inside if you weren’t careful.
I think I love you.
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“I hope you like kimbap, because I am the Kimbap Destroyer!”
You chuckled as you shut the door to the apartment you shared with Sooyoung, said roommate nowhere to be found as a crash sounded from your kitchen. “How’d you get in, Yeri? Picked the lock?”
The girl appeared with rice-sticky gloves still on, freshly dyed hair tied up in a ponytail for cleanliness. “Joy let me in on her way out. Is that her real name, by the way?” she asked, returning to the kimbap rolls laid out on your counter. “She’s really pretty.”
“Hey, no simping for my roommate,” you protested, something bubbling at the back of your throat despite Yeri’s joking tone. You hugged her from behind as you knew she liked it, reaching over to snack on some of the extra seaweed. “Besides, isn’t she too old for you?”
“Says you, in love with a girl years older,” Yeri protested. When you fell silent, though, she winced at her own insensitiveness. “I’m sorry. Shouldn’t have joked like that.”
You shrugged it off, peeling your work jacket off. “No problem. I should be over her by now anyway, she hasn’t talked to me or Sooyoung since the train station. Months. She obviously doesn’t give a shit about me.”
Yeri frowned at that, staring at the back of your head as you looked out the kitchen window. “Hey. You know that isn’t true. And if it was, I’ll have you know that plenty of people care about you. Me, Joy, Seulgi, and all of your friends.”
Turning around with a grin on your face that didn’t convince the other girl for a second, you slung your arm around her shoulders. “Wow, Kim Yerim, when did this turn into soft hours? Love you too~”
She let the subject go, throwing a leftover radish stick at you. “Is it time for love already? You’ve only known me for four months, do you always move this fast?”
No, you wanted to respond. No, I usually take years. But you’re an exception, a stupid exception that’s wormed your way into my heart.
Putting Yeri into a halfhearted headlock, you joked, “I’m basically a U-Haul lesbian. By this time, I expected us to already have kids, or at least a cat or two.”
Once she kicked you away, though, you felt the smile on your face falter, looking at this random girl who made you care about her so much making kimbap in your kitchen.
I think I love you.
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You swayed at a side to fend from the December wind, hands stuffed deep into your coat pockets as Seulgi hung onto Yeri. Standing just a few feet away, Wendy and Sooyoung talked quietly, smiling at the sight of their friends.
It shouldn’t have been a somber occasion in any way; all that was happening was Yeri flying back home to spend the winter holidays with her family. But somehow, it was like the end of the world, Seulgi still talking in Yeri’s ear as you waited for your own turn. 
“Go on, Y/N,” Seulgi urged, shivering in the windbreaker she wore. Her girlfriend enveloped her in a hug, Wendy’s petite frame making the sight almost comical. “Say goodbye.”
“She isn’t going off to the military,” you laughed, making your way over anyway. Yeri held her arms out for a hug, her hair whipping around like a tornado around her. Despite your words, you accepted the embrace, gloved hands lingering on the small of her back as you buried your nose into her shoulder. “I’m gonna miss you.”
Yeri giggled, twisting back and forth to make the hug a little less serious. “Like you said, I’m not going off to the military. I’ll be back before you know it, though I am sad that I don’t get to spend Christmas with you and our friends this year.”
“Mm.” You didn’t want to let go, and thankfully, Yeri didn’t mind, her humming vibrating through your body. “You have a good time with your sisters. Eat something nice, spend time with your family, and have fun.”
“Why do you sound sad?” she whispered in your ear, lips brushing against the sensitive skin. “I told you, I’ll be back before you know it.”
When you pulled away, you were struck with the sight of her, nose cherry red in the icy Seoul weather. The cloudy sky was a good lighting for her, though Yeri would look beautiful in any setting, and the look in her eyes stirred something sweet deep in your heart. “I know,” you sighed, bringing your hands up to your nose for warmth.
“Is there something you wanna say to me?” Yeri asked, wetting her lips slightly.
And of course, the answer was yes. After just a couple months of friendship, you already wanted to ruin it with that treacherous heart of yours, wanted to press your mouth to hers and thank her for all the unwarranted kindness she showed you. But you shook your head, stepping back to allow Seulgi to hug Yeri one more time before you had to leave.
She walked backwards into the airport just to wave to you, the grin on her face never fading. Sooyoung linked her arm in yours to tug you away when it was time, whispering, “Are you sure there isn’t something you wanted to say?”
I think I love you.
“I’m sure,” you sighed, breath forming a white dragon before your face. “I’m sure.”
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Christmas stopped being fun for you at age 10, from what you remembered.
As soon as you became aware that Santa Claus was a lie, the holiday changed from being the most magical time of year to a 2 week break from school, or work, or both. It became the time to miss your family, to miss the childhood that wasn’t great but was a million times better than your adult life.
Joohyun was the one to make the holidays better ever since you met her. She was always able to somehow lighten the mood with a ticket to Lotte World, or a freshly baked gingerbread house for you to decorate and then smash. She hated making snow angels but always participated, tossing snow at you just to see that bright smile on your face.
But last year, that all changed. Last year, as soon as Joohyun knew that you felt something for her other than friendship, everything you built together crumbled down.
It was nothing against the fact that you were both girls; Joohyun had had girlfriends before, and she was always the one pushing you to date and get out of your comfort zone. However, for some reason, she couldn’t even contemplate the thought of being with you romantically.
She ran away that year, too, left you alone in your tiny, cold apartment during what was once again the worst time of year. She went back to her sister’s restaurant in Daegu, and came back after New Year’s like nothing changed. But of course it did; your friendship was irreparable, torn to pieces just like your heart. As the awkwardness between you stretched both of you thin, she completely moved out, switching roommates with Sooyoung before declaring that she was moving back to Daegu for good.
Christmas was even more ruined for you than it ever had been, and the only reason you still put up a Christmas tree was for Sooyoung, who still enjoyed the holiday. Your roommate was the only reason that a tree twinkled in the corner of the room, right next to the TV that played a stupid Hallmark movie in the middle of the night.
You expected for her to never come back. Why would she, after all? With her beautiful face and perfect personality, she could easy find someone new. A girl who possessed all the good qualities you didn’t have, a girl who lacked all the bad qualities you did have.
Nevertheless, when you heard a familiar knocking pattern on your apartment door, you knew who it was. And you knew that you didn’t have to get up from the couch to unlock the door for the former owner of the apartment, knew that you didn’t have to see her face to start crying.
“Y/N?”
“Joohyun,” you responded listlessly, not bothering to turn around as you heard the front door shut softly. “You’re back.”
“I’m sorry,” she said softly, appearing just as beautiful in your peripheral vision. God, you hated how your lungs seized at the sound of her voice, how many memories you could recall. “I’m so sorry for leaving you behind, and for making you feel... like this.”
Spite fueled you to raise an eyebrow, turning back to face her in the hopes that it pained her as much as it did you. “Sooyoung told you?” At the older girl’s nod, you scoffed, “She had no right to do that.”
“I’m glad she did,” Joohyun persuaded, sitting closer to you on the couch and only stopping at your glare. “Y/N, it’s wrong that I led you on. And I regret every bit of it, especially now that I know how much you’ve hurt.”
“Hurt?” You brought a trembling hand up to rake through your hair, shaking your head. “That’s undermining it. Joohyun, I loved you. And I tried to tell you that, but you wouldn’t let me. It’s too late to-- you can’t just come back into my life like this. I won’t let you.”
She flinched back as if you had slapped her, her hand withdrawing from where it had been trying to touch you. “I-- Y/N. That’s not fair.”
“Isn’t it?” you shouted suddenly, springing up. “You’re the one who isn’t fair. You left in June, but you’ve been gone for a year. And I don’t love you anymore!”
“That’s a lie, and you know it,” Joohyun answered back, softer than she had ever spoken before. She searched your eyes for an answer, biting her lip when she found none. “Isn’t it?”
“No.” Your voice was stronger than hers, a firm wall in front of your heart that wouldn’t let her in no matter what. And when no lie rung in your ears, you repeated, “It’s not a lie. You left me, and you can’t expect me to still love you, Joohyun. I love someone else now, someone who-- someone who wouldn’t hurt me like you.”
And to your surprise, the girl smiled. Tearily, but she smiled nonetheless, gathering her jacket from the back of the couch. “I see. Well, I... I’m glad that you found someone to mend your heart. I never wanted to hurt you, and I hope you’ll see that someday.”
Just like that, she was gone again, a whisper of her perfume the last thing fueling the rage burning in your lungs. Just like that, it was like she was never in the apartment at all, the space once again cold and empty.
Snatching a framed picture of Yeri off the dresser, you sighed and sat down again, chin in your hand as you stared at the smile that had ingrained itself into your brain. “Yeri, I don’t know what to do anymore. I... I really don’t love Joohyun anymore, but it still hurts.”
She didn’t respond, of course, but you waited a second before continuing. “But I wasn’t lying when I told her I loved someone else. Is it wrong that I moved on so quickly? Is it wrong that I let you replace her?”
Biting down on your lip, you held the picture closer to your chest. It was ridiculous to be treating a picture frame as your sense of comfort, especially when said girl probably didn’t know about your feelings or care about them in the slightest. “I think I love you.”
“Reminiscing about the way we met?”
You spun around in the couch, spine creaking embarrassingly with your speed. And there, Yeri stood in the doorway, hand still lingering on the doorknob as she smiled. “Or is it something else?”
Tripping over your own two feet was embarrassing, but the other girl didn’t seem to mind when you ran to hug her, eyes stinging when you hugged her with all your might, whispering with your eyes squeezed shut, “I love you. I love you I love you I-”
The taste of bitter words on your tongue was replaced with the sugar of Christmas cookies, soft lips moving against yours and cold hands at your jaw. Yeri was the warmth that you had missed in your arms, and you could only grin as you kissed her back.
“Merry Christmas, Y/N,” she laughed when she pulled back slightly to breathe, lips as red as the cranberries Sooyoung hung on the Christmas tree. “Merry Christmas.”
222 notes · View notes
midoriyashotos · 3 years
Text
Unbreakable
Fandom: My Hero Academia
Rating: Teen and Up Audiences
Relationships: Kirishima Eijiro/Midoriya Izuku
Characters: Midoriya Izuku, Kirishima Eijiro, Bakugo Katsuki; MINOR ROLES - 1-A students
Summary: “Get out of the way, Kirishima,” Katsuki warns him. “I won’t hesitate to break your face in fucking pieces!”
“Then DO IT! I DON’T CARE!” Kirishima roars. He’s never sounded this angry. “I won’t let you break Midoriya EVER AGAIN!”
--
In which someone finally stands up for Izuku.
AO3 / Fanfiction
A/N: basically I wrote Kirishima being protective of Izuku, because it’s interesting how he hates bullies but never stands up to Bakugo...
I hope this isn’t too OOC. Enjoy!
TRIGGER WARNINGS - minor violence, bullying/abuse and injury.
*NOT BAKUGO/KIRIBAKU/BAKUDEKU FRIENDLY!
--
Izuku is happy, really.
Sure, it can be exhausting. It can be aggravating to live up to what comes with being the Symbol of Peace. And it’s also terrifying the reminder that Katsuki knows about his secret and has a lot more reason to hate him.
Not that Katsuki would ever quit hating Izuku, but still.
In the very least, the explosive boy doesn’t hit Izuku regularly anymore. People in their school don’t take Katsuki seriously like it happened in Middle School, so it’s a relief.
(They constantly call Katsuki and Izuku childhood friends, though.)
(Or rivals. Are they really rivals?)
Regardless, as long as Izuku stays away from Katsuki, he’ll be fine.
So, he’s happy.
--
When they can, 1-A has fun nights that may include eating cake and candies, playing games and watching movies – sometimes all in the same night. His classmates are very united in that sense.
Tonight, they’re sharing a big cake everyone helped Sato with; the teenagers are all separated in groups that fill the common room with life.
Izuku might subconsciously flinch every time a certain voice raises near him. Thankfully, it’s not directed at him – once he looks, he finds Katsuki and his friends messing with him. The greenette sighs in relief.
The boy spends most of the night alongside Uraraka, Iida, Tsuyu and Todoroki. At one point, though, Izuku rests alone on the green couch, honestly a little drained by all the energy today, given the yelling and cursing that persists in what should’ve been a good time.
As his head is stuck in his thoughts, Izuku jolts when someone reaches him in the almost untouched spot.
“Hey, Midoriya! What’s up, man?”
Kirishima grins at him. His usually spiky hair is down today (a detail Izuku strives not to stare at for too long, because that’s creepy).
“K-Kirishima-kun! Hi!” Izuku stammers.
“You partied a lot?”
Izuku laughs shyly, “Yeah, had plenty of cake.”
“That’s the spirit,” Kirishima smiles. “Mind if I take a break with you?”
“A-Ah, sure. I mean, you can sit! Feel free to!”
His red-haired friend sits close to him, maybe… a little too close, the other notes. Izuku holds his cup of now-warm soda, playing with it nervously. Kirishima’s enthusiasm and passion honestly still catch him off guard. At first, Izuku thought he’d be… different. Spiky hair, red eyes, sharp teeth…
Instead, Kirishima turned out to be one of the sweetest and brightest people Izuku has ever known. He brings a lot of spirit to their class.
(And now that Izuku knows, Kirishima does look a lot more friendly and… cute.)
“… Midoriya, you’re looking kind of red…”
Izuku’s green eyes enlarge comically, cheeks burning.
“GAH! I-It’s nothing, Kirishima-kun! It’s just- h-hot in here, isn’t it?” Izuku ignores the fact they’re all wearing sweaters in this chilly night; but he supposes Kirishima does it as well, since he doesn’t touch on it.
If anything, the redhead smiles at him fondly.
(For the love of All Might, it’s too breathtaking.)
Izuku finds some ease, though, in his friend’s heat next to him. Kirishima’s presence is solid and stable like his quirk, but soft and gentle all at same. It perfectly encapsulates who Kirishima is, as a hero and a person.
Still, the freckled boy can’t help but wonder why Kirishima has decided to join him. Izuku is not doing anything particularly interesting. They’re not talking… but it’s not awkward, either.
Regardless, Izuku’s peace is disturbed yet again by Katsuki’s yelling bursts, his steaming hands felt from far away. As always, it’s just Sero, Kaminari and Ashido having fun with him.
Before Izuku can dive in his terrified relief, he’s reminded of the fact Kirishima is next to him, and maybe watching him as well.
“You okay?”
“Y-Yeah! Yeah… Kacchan’s enthusiasm is…” Izuku gulps, “a little too much sometimes.”
“Oh.” Kirishima sounds a little suspicious, but he quickly resumes his smiley nature. “Man, tell me about it,” he jokes.
Izuku holds his plastic cup tighter, refraining himself from tearing it apart and spilling all the soda on the floor.
“I can tell he’s having fun, at least,” Izuku analyzes. “He really likes you guys.”
“Yeah…” Kirishima pauses, only to laugh nervously, “he doesn’t really know how to show that, though.”
(Izuku recalls all the punches to Kirishima’s stony hair, and the insults Katsuki throws at him on a daily basis.)
“At least he likes you, Kirishima-kun,” Izuku reassures him in a lighthearted tone. “Kacchan was never happy with me.”
Admittedly, he hasn’t quite thought over these words – nor was he expecting Kirishima’s concerned gaze, his fondness of Katsuki gone.
“What do you mean?” The red-haired boy inquires.
“Ah, you know…” Izuku clears his throat, as his other classmates party and pay them no mind. “Kacchan’s called me weak since we were kids. He’s always been competitive, and- since my quirk took a while to show up”— he gulps due to the weight of the lie —“we were never…” he trails off, really not wanting to give more details.
“… you were never friends?” Kirishima completes.
Izuku swallows the bitter taste in his mouth and silently shakes his head.
“B-But it’s okay, though! We’re good now,” he tries to convince his friend (… and himself). “I just have to stay away from him because- you know how he is. But he’s got you guys as friends, so I know he’s happy.”
Kirishima looks away, thoughtful. He doesn’t seem entirely relieved by his words. Izuku suddenly feels the need to escape – what has he done?
“I- I need to go to the restroom!” He jumps from the sofa before Kirishima stops him.
Izuku is in such a rush that he doesn’t realize Katsuki is in his way.
“Oi!” Katsuki snaps. His eyes are immediately spiteful. “Deku…”
“K-KACCHAN! SORRY!!” Izuku runs even faster – how embarrassing.
“Get in my way again and I’ll fucking kill you!”
“Bakugo, chill,” Izuku hears Kaminari say nonchalantly.
This is his reality.
He’s happy with it. He is.
--
Everything was fine. Truly. Izuku has no idea what he did wrong.
(He’s never known, beside having no quirk in the past.)
They were training at the gym, outside of class time. Izuku tends to train on his own, but lately he’s been sparring with Kirishima, whose quirk helps with more physical attacks. It also helps Kirishima’s special technique in return.
Basically, Izuku and some of his classmates were going for a break, to drink water and eat whatever strengthens their quirks (like Sato having to eat more sugar). On his way, Izuku passed by Katsuki, who’s literally never in a good mood.
“Deku.”
“S-Sorry, Kacchan! You can go ahead!”
“As if I’ll fucking do what you say,” Katsuki bumps his arm into Izuku, hard, as he mutters in his breath, “shitty nerd.”
Izuku gulped and said nothing else.
(The freckled teen strived to not let One for All concentrate in his clenched fists.)
So, when everyone is gathered, chatting with one another, Izuku is admittedly distant from them. Katsuki would glare at him every now and then just for existing, no matter how far he was.
That’s the reason Izuku refuses to train with all of them when Kirishima suggests. Izuku tells them he’d be on his own again – his tone maybe too tight and serious. His classmates don’t question it, despite their concerned looks. Izuku tries to avoid Kirishima’s in particular – because he loves spending time with them, with him, he really does but…
“Yeah, leave Deku,” Katsuki voices in opposition, “it’s better than dealing with a dead weight.”
“Yikes, Bakugo! That’s really uncalled for!” Kaminari protests.
“I know you guys are rivals, but that’s too much, don’t you think?” Sero scolds.
Izuku stares at Katsuki, ignoring his classmates’ statements. Izuku stares deep into his red eyes: unlike Kirishima’s, they’re dreadful, have been since they were only five. He has the same superior stance and tone. Katsuki is the exact same person as the senseless bully that told Izuku to kill himself not too long ago.
The green-haired teenager’s look becomes intense. Furious. The kind of fury that doesn’t always show, because everything is bound to fall apart.
Even when his eyes avert from Katsuki, that’s what ultimately happens.
“Oi, fucking look at me!”
Despite Katsuki’s terrifying rage, Izuku defies.
“Why should I?” He mumbles, his voice gradually raising and deepening, “I can’t even exist near you.”
“What did you fucking say?”
Izuku’s hands clench into tight fists, glowing with One for All. His green eyes sparkle with intensity and ferocity.
“You heard me, Katsuki.”
The atmosphere is instantly changed.
“H-Hey guys, come on, don’t fight!...” Sero chuckles nervously, only to be pushed away by powerful hands.
Katsuki rages and advances, raising his arm.
Although he can defend himself, Izuku can only brace for the impact.
(It’s what he can do. The anticipation. The acceptance. He’s always expecting a blast to his face, and the reminder that he’ll never be good enough. No matter how hard he tries, whether or not he has a quirk; nothing matters to Katsuki, as long as Izuku stops existing.)
Izuku waits.
But it never comes.
No. He hears the explosion blocked by something hard – hard like a rock. And once Izuku looks up, he covers his mouth to contain a gasp.
“What the hell is your problem?!” Kirishima screams, arms together like a shield, the sharp skin scratched by the burnings of Katsuki’s hands.
Katsuki himself is also shocked for a moment. For one, nobody else has ever dared to get in the way of his attacks, either because they’re too scared of him… or they don’t fear him enough to stop him. But most importantly, Kirishima has never stood up to Katsuki. Kirishima has endured his insults, sure, but he’s never defied him in an actual fight.
“Get out of the way, Kirishima,” Katsuki warns him. “I won’t hesitate to break your face in fucking pieces!”
“Then DO IT! I DON’T CARE!” Kirishima roars. He’s never sounded this angry. “I won’t let you break Midoriya EVER AGAIN!”
Izuku can’t move. He can’t say a word.
Katsuki is about to hit Kirishima again without any remorse, only for Sero to hold him back with as many tapes as he can make. Sato, Shoji and Koda help, while Kaminari tries to calm Kirishima down, which has zero effect.
“You’re not a man, Bakugo! You’re a goddamn abuser!” Kirishima points at him. “And abusers ARE NOT MY FRIENDS!”
“Dude, stop! You’re going to make it worse!” Kaminari scolds him, whereas Katsuki has already reduced himself to incomprehensible, enraged noises. Jiro might even rush to call Aizawa-sensei to hold both Katsuki and Kirishima back.
In spite of all the rage he must be feeling, Kirishima still stands protectively in front of Izuku, instinctively approaching him every time Katsuki threatens to break free and come after them.
Regardless, Izuku can still do nothing.
Nothing at all.
--
As expected, Katsuki and Kirishima are suspended for days – similar to when Izuku was forced to fight his classmate a few months ago.
Uraraka and Todoroki stay with Izuku as they wait. Only Kirishima returns to the dorms for now. His friends initially don’t understand why he fought Katsuki, assuming he’d lost his calm for nothing.
Yet Kirishima answers to none of these questionings. The moment he finds Izuku, his look softens, and he rushes to check over him.
“Midoriya,” he whispers in concern, “are you okay?”
Izuku dumbly gazes at him in response, swallowing a gasp when he notices the damage that Katsuki’s explosion did to Kirishima’s face; even with Recovery Girl’s help, the painful scratches can still be seen.
“K-Kirishima-kun…” Izuku chokes with tears welling up in his eyes, and the many feelings and words he’s struggling to understand.
The boy isn’t sure how he should feel. He’s guilty for putting Kirishima in danger, and for ruining his friendship with Katsuki. But Izuku is also angry at Katsuki for not hesitating to hurt someone that cares so much for him. Izuku is furious that Katsuki hasn’t changed at all.
Even so, the freckled teen feels relief. That someone was there, that someone actually stepped up and defended him.
(That someone was his hero, differently from when All Might saved him from the slime monster.)
Izuku launches himself towards Kirishima, wrapping his shaking arms around him. He wants to say all of those things so badly, but he fails. Kirishima’s soft arms hold him back and caress him, fingers running through his messy green hair.
“It’s okay,” Kirishima whispers to him, and says those same words countless times. Izuku’s cries are muffled by his shirt.
It’s like everything else disappears, and it’s only Kirishima and Izuku in this world. Kirishima shields him from every insult, every kick, every punch and slap across his face and his ruptured heart. Kirishima embraces his scars and making sure to be there to tend to them.
Izuku can only cry.
--
Later that night, Kirishima stays with Izuku in his dorm. It’s not like he can sleep with Katsuki’s room right next to his.
Izuku has already dried his eyes out of tears, and flooded Kirishima’s shirt as a result. Regardless, the two boys are glued to one another in Izuku’s bed, Kirishima rubbing his shoulders and the back of his neck. Izuku can’t help melting and clinging to him.
Even so, Izuku only has one question in mind.
“… Why did you do it?”
“He hurts you,” Kirishima answers simply.
Izuku gulps. “But he’s your friend…”
“I don’t think he was ever really my friend, Midoriya.”
Izuku pulls away to face him, the scratches in Kirishima’s face clearer than ever.
“I remember our first class with All Might. Bakugo wanted to kill you,” Kirishima harshly reminds, hands tighter on Izuku. “I knew there was something wrong with him, and yet I still went on to hang out with him. I admired his skills, I called him a man, I sacrificed everything to save his goddamn life because I cared about him. I… thought he was my friend.” He pauses. “Even when he called me Shitty Hair or hit me… I thought I could endure him – and maybe I did. But in the end, I ignored who he really was, and I let him hurt someone I care about for way too long.”
“No…” Izuku protests, “please don’t blame yourself! I was the one who—”
“Midoriya, you’re my friend. I knew Bakugo sucked, and even if he was my friend, I never did anything! And I’m really, really sorry.” Kirishima cups Izuku’s cheek with one of his hands. “I’m so sorry I ignored you. I promise you, I’m not enduring any of his shit anymore.”
Izuku gapes at him. “Kirishima-kun…”
“If he ‘cares’ about me, I don’t give a crap,” the red-eyed boy says firmly. “He sure as hell doesn’t respect me, only when I behave the way he wants. I don’t owe him anything, and I’m not standing around and letting him hurt me or my friends ever again.”
Maybe he should insist. Tell Kirishima that, if it weren’t for Izuku’s pathetic existence, his friendship with Katsuki wouldn’t have ended.
But Izuku doesn’t.
Because Kirishima is right.
Izuku’s hand touches his face, internally flinching when he feels the wounds caused by Katsuki.
“I just don’t want you to hurt because of me,” Izuku admits.
“Midoriya… nothing Bakugo does to me could ever hurt more than knowing he’s abused you for your whole life.”
Abuse. The same word he used for Katsuki earlier today.
“I’ll make sure he never hurts you again, okay?” Kirishima squeezes him. “I promise.”
Although he doesn’t literally say it, it’s clear to Izuku the love in his friend’s words.
The love in Kirishima’s smile whenever Izuku stutters and says a jumbled mess. The love in Kirishima’s concerned eyes when Izuku insists he’s okay when he isn’t. The love in his red eyes and words when Katsuki hurt him. The love in his touches, his soft hands protecting Izuku, understanding his scars.
Kirishima loves him. He really does.
Izuku bursts in tears again and Kirishima lets him, soothing him until the end.
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hopelessly-me · 2 years
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Spooky prompt: avengers pumpkin carving contest
LISA HI! Omg- this one turned into feelings. I was originally going to write it to be a silly, crack type fic but then... my brain decided feelings had to be had. So here is some Bucky and Clint (with the team) goodness, and I hope you enjoy. (1689 word count)
If y'all want to send me spooky season themed prompts, I'm still open to doing them. =)
“Going to join in?” Clint asked Bucky, tilting his head over to the layers of plastic wrap on the floor constructed in a large circle, pumpkins all around.
“I… don’t know,” Bucky answered honestly.
“I’ll save you a spot, just in case,” Clint said with a wink before he walked over to the group that was assembling. Clint placed his forearm and elbow on Bruce’s shoulder, looking at the scientist and smiling.
“You know… it might not be a bad thing if you tried,” Steve pointed out. Bucky nearly jumped, not expecting Steve so close. “If you want, you can help me with my pumpkin.”
“I think I should sit this one out,” Bucky said.
He knew Steve wouldn’t push. None of them would. It was only a few months since Bucky had started his stay at the Tower and there were just some things he wasn’t ready to do just yet. Going out on Avenger mission, training with them- even holding knives could make him start to panic a little, worry that something, somewhere, deep within him would come back out. He couldn’t shake the idea that the Soldier sometimes had more control than Bucky did, and it was terrifying.
“Let me know if you change your mind,” Steve said, patting his shoulder before he walked by. “Alright guys- ready?” he asked. “FRIDAY, are you taping this?” Steve asked.
“Of course, Captain,” the AI system said.
“Alright guys, Rules for the annual Avengers pumpkin carving contest. You may only use the tools in front of you. No additional knives, no lasers- nothing.” Bucky was pretty sure Tony pouted. “We have one hour to recreate the pumpkin that auto generates on the screen. Whoever wins gets the entire month of November off from training. All agreed?”
“Agreed,” was the common response.
“Alright then. FRIDAY, the count down please,” Steve said.
A handful of months and slowly Bucky was learning about the people who stayed in the Tower nearly full time. He knew who he could go to when he needed to get his mind off of things, and who he could sit with when he just needed some quiet time. He knew who was up for the most fun, and who would really rather be alone themselves without someone nearby. But it seemed like no matter how they liked to live their lives, everyone came together for these monthly “family night” events and would just… breathe. They would all find enjoyment out of each other’s quirks and sometimes those moments transcended into their daily lives.
Still- Bucky wasn’t ready to be fully involved yet. He was still working out if he felt like he deserved it, which was harder when Tony became visibly worried of Bucky’s presence in the room, especially if he was around knives. And while Bucky knew he couldn’t take the blame for things he didn’t have control over, that didn’t mean he couldn’t take the emotions from it and hold them close.
He walked around the room and watched as everyone worked on their pumpkins. He was beginning to see who were the artistic types and who wasn’t solely based on how well their Haunted Houses turned out. Natasha might not be the best artistically but she was by the far the best with wielding a knife, although Clint was a close second. Steve was arguably the best artistically, Sam fairly good himself, but neither of them could wield the tools in front of them quite like Clint and Natasha.
“Hey,” Clint said, looking up from his pumpkin with a smile.
“Hey. Having fun?” Bucky asked.
“Eh. It’s pumpkin carving,” Clint answered honestly. “Wanna sit?” he asked. Bucky couldn’t see the harm of sitting there, so he did. “Spooky season. How do you feel about it?”
“Well.. at one time in my life I would say that there wasn’t a point to it because monsters weren’t really,” Bucky answered. “Now… that’s a hard argument to make.”
“No joke,” Clint muttered.
“What about you?” Bucky asked.
“I love everything Halloween,” Clint answered. “Magic might not be my favorite thing, but I like everything else. Corn mazes, hayrides, pumpkin spiced everything.” He was leaning over, the back of his shirt riding up as he did so. “But growing up in the circus- you get to see Halloween every day. I used to hate it for the longest time because the season reminded me of my life before SHIELD and the Avengers. Now I can kind of separate the two and go back to loving the season again. Haunted houses and all.”
Bucky knew there was a point to this conversation. Clint didn’t open up about his life before SHIELD to anyone without there being a reason. So when Bucky didn’t answer, Clint looked over at him and held the smallest of the knives out to him. Bucky looked down at his hand, covered in chipped away pumpkin and tiny little scars before he looked back up.
“You can still hate what they put you through. But you get to decide how to move forward and what you get to love again. And maybe carving pumpkins can be one of those things,” Clint said. “Your choice though.”
Bucky nodded and took the tool out of Clint’s hand and pulled the pumpkin over between them. “Never carved one before,” he admitted. “At least not that I can remember.”
“That’s okay, my pumpkin looks like shit anyway,” Clint replied.
Bucky turned it around and snorted. “Did you even try to make this a haunted house?” Bucky asked, looking at the stars and the arrows Clint had etched into the pumpkin.
“Nah. Not with the shit food I eat all the time. I need that training in my life,” Clint answered with a grin. He scooted closer to Bucky and set the rest of the tools between them. “Your move, Barnes.”
The hour passed much too quickly before the fake air horn sounded. Bucky startled and looked at the others before he looked down at the pumpkin in front of him. Arrows and stars, a moon, planets, swirls- the pumpkin he shared with Clint looked like a mess of anything and everything they could think of. Bucky glanced up at Clint, who was all smiles, leaning over and talking to Sam, checking out his pumpkin and laughing. Bucky looked back at the pumpkin and the tools that were set between them.
“You alright?” Natasha asked.
Bucky looked over, Natasha leaned over his way in one of those rare moments she was willing to extend the olive branch, just a little. “Yeah- I’m alright,” Bucky admitted, finally setting that small tool Clint had handed over down. “I… think we might have lost the contest,” he admitted.
“If it makes you feel better… Steve always wins,” Natasha said before she leaned back and away.
Each pumpkin was turned around when Steve called out to them. Thor looked mighty proud of his attempt, which wasn’t half bad if it wasn’t for the fact that half of the house looked like it had toppled over due to a misplaced cut. Tony’s and Bruce’s looked almost exactly alike- both simple in form, but to the point- Bucky wondered if it was because they could look at blueprints and space things out easily. Natasha and Sam’s looked like completely failed attempts, just like Wanda and Vision’s attempt, but none of them seemed to care.
“Alright you two- how did it go?” Steve asked, looking at Clint and Bucky.
“Ta-da!” Clint said loudly, proud of their work as he turned the pumpkin around. “I am calling this one- friendship!”
“Wow. Masterful art piece. We should encase it,” Tony taunted with a smile. “It’s very early childhood-esque. It make you feel-”
“Ew, don’t museum me. That’s what Steve is for in real museums,” Clint scolded playfully.
“Did you even attempt a haunted house anywhere in that?” Sam asked with a grin.
“Who would do haunted houses when you can do arrows?” Clint asked. He sighed dreamily and let himself fall back, Bucky’s arm reaching out quickly to prevent him from hitting the ground. “I love arrows.”
“You’re a dork,” Natasha said through a laugh.
“Honestly- is anyone surprised by bird brain and Terminator’s pumpkin?” Tony asked. There was a small chorus of no. “Alright Steve-”
Bucky watched as the team argued and bickered about who’s pumpkin was best. Clint had leaned forward again, throwing himself into the conversation, grinning and laughing with the others. Bucky looked back down at the pumpkin that Clint and him made, still trying to figure out how he felt about it until he realized that this was the closest he had been to the team since coming along. That warm feeling started to push its way in as he realized for almost an hour he was lost in something other than his thoughts, and that he was part of this small community.
Looking up, Bucky caught Steve’s eyes on him before Steve smiled and looked down at the pumpkin. Bucky nodded and smiled himself before he glanced over at the person who helped make it happen. Clint stated how he needed the training because his diet was shit. Maybe Bucky should start going to the training sessions now- needing them to help him settle into this community. Maybe he was finally ready for it.
“Rigged! This contest is rigged! Clearly my pumpkin is the best!” Steve shouted.
“Sorry Stevie- the voting has concluded,” Clint said in a very serious tone. “Brucie has the best pumpkin.” Bruce’s face was starting to turn red and Natasha had leaned over, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.
“It's okay to lose sometimes, Stevie,” Tony taunted, reaching out to pick at Steve, who pushed his hands away.
“Collusion,” Steve muttered.
“Collusion,” Sam repeated in a high pitched tone, straightening up as he laughed, his hands over his stomach. The whole team was laughing now. Clint knocked over, pressing against Bucky’s side to keep himself upright. Bucky looked at him and smiled before he looked at Steve.
“Sorry Punk,” Bucky offered.
“Yeah yeah- it’s alright,” Steve said. “Happy Halloween, team.”
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Text
A Green Day concert, a bloody nose and a coming out – Sunset Curve & Green Day I
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Summary: Luke and Bobby got them tickets for the Green Day show in LA on November 2nd 1994, also known as the night Billie Joe punched a homophobe and Alex came out to the guys.
Friendship fic, super Alex & Bobby centred, Luke and Reggie are not straight but don’t know that yet. Also, I know most people think Alex came out way earlier, but he has to not be out for this story to work.
((warnings: homophobia, homophobic language (not fully written out except in the band name of the opening act), slight violence, mentioned: alcohol, underage drinking (I am german, so for me it’s not underage drinking but yeah), in general: swearing))
word count: 4.9k, read here on AO3 x
~
Luke and Bobby got four tickets for the Green Day show in LA on November 2nd in 1994, it was one of Green Day’s bigger shows at that time. The boys previously have been to other concerts of the band, but the last one was in a small club in ’92, of course, all four of them being way too young for that place. Luke and Reggie were the first ones out of their group to get fake ID’s, mainly to go to gigs and play gigs. In the beginning, Alex thought he would never do the same, too scared of possible consequences, but then Luke used his stupid puppy eyes. (They still work even after Alex crush died, dead and buried). And if he was being honest, it was really helpful for playing clubs if the owners can at least pretend that they believe the four boys are old enough to be there.
Alex was aware that Green Day’s opening act, Pansy Division, was an all-gay band. And he was excited and scared at the same time. He found out because this one kid in his English class, Josh, went to the San Diego show earlier that week and told one of his friends that he shouldn’t go to the LA show as Green Day was just a bunch of “f*g lovers” and not worth their time. So Alex was scared: what if his friends would say the same thing?
They arrive late and the line is massive, Alex anxiety pitches in and reminds him that if it takes too long for them to get inside, he might miss Pansy Divisions performance. Logically he knows that they wouldn’t start letting people in so late that the opening band already starts when most people are not inside yet, but his anxiety is not that into logical thinking. He can’t help being fidgety, at one point Luke noticed and asks him if the crowd is making him uncomfortable. “Yeah, a little bit” Alex responds, not wanting further questions about why he was so anxious. The boys keep close to the bar, staying in the back first, not too excited to get into the crowd just yet. Alex knows the others would be inside the first mosh pit if it wasn’t for his anxiety, but not once did they show any signs of annoyance about his hesitancy. They just patiently wait for Alex to get used to the crowd and atmosphere, never angry when he has a bad day and he never signals that it is okay for them to go into the more crowded areas. Sometimes, especially when Luke doesn’t know where to put his energy he and Reggie go, but they always make sure that at least one person stays with Alex. He probably should tell them how thankful he is for this more often (the others would disagree here since they feel like Alex thanks them too much).
When Pansy Division started playing Alex didn’t expect them to actually sing about hooking up with guys at rock concerts, loving men, having real, deep and meaningful relationships and just, in general, doing normal daily life stuff, living with a boyfriend and how it feels after a breakup. He feels so excited, almost jumping up and down to the beat, not able to put his excited energy out on the drums like he would if it was their own concert. Alex completely forgets to check the guys for any reactions, too involved in the music. He doesn’t see that the other three boys enjoy Pansy Divisions music just as much as he does. He doesn’t see Bobby eyeing him from the side, a knowing glint in his eye.
Alex doesn’t know that Bobby saw the way Alex would look at Luke when they were 14, at Brian from History when they were 15, and how he sometimes looks at pictures from Billie Joe Armstrong in magazines. Bobby also didn’t miss Alex’ obsession with the song Coming Clean. The other boys sometimes forget about how Bobby’s parents are genuine open-minded people, who introduce him to a lot more diverse people than his friends’ parents do. So yes, maybe Alex was discreet enough for Mr Luke Oblivious Patterson and Captain Reg Oblivious Peters, and his parents who anyway only see what they want to see, but not for Bobby. Bobby, who might from an outsider’s perspective looks like he is standing a bit outside this friendship group due to him being less loud and sociable than his friends, but Bobby who loves his friends with all his heart, Bobby who truly sees his friends and knows that this is where he belongs. Seeing the absolute bliss, happiness and excitement streaming from Alex like waves is contagious.
After Pansy Division finished their set and there was a short break before Green Day would start theirs, Bobby slips from their group, mumbling that he would get another beer. Instead, he goes to buy Pansy Divisions EP, because the band was genuinely good but mostly because he knows Alex wouldn’t buy it, but he will definitely want it. On his way to the little corner where they sell the Green Day merch as well as Pansy Division stuff, Bobby realises that it was actually packed, but he soon saw that it was just a long long line for the Green Day merch. Actually, there are so many people he can’t even see the Green Day merch salesperson. He manages to get to the guy who took care of the Pansy Division stuff, he greets him with a head nod and a short “hey”, while scrambling his money out of his pant pockets to count it. He’ll have to nick a bit off of Luke’s beer later, not having enough money left to buy another one. When he reaches out to hand out the money for the CD somebody joins the guy who cared for the merch. Bobby recognises that it’s the singer of Pansy Division and he smiles at him. “Great performance, really enjoyed you guys’ music!”. The singer grins at that and holds out his left hand, which Bobby finds a bit strange, but takes it nonetheless.
“Jon, nice to meet you.”
“Bobby, pleasure is all mine.”
“Ah, you’re a musician yourself!” Jon says while checking out Bobby as if he could tell whether the kid in front of him was any good based on his appearance. It took the guitarist a second to realise that Jon must’ve felt his calloused fingers from playing the guitar during the handshake. “Yeah, I’m actually here with my bandmates.” A voice in his head, that sounds suspiciously like Reggie tunes in with “We’re Sunset Curve, tell your friends.” But Bobby pretty much felt like a child trying to play in the adults’ league, so he doesn’t say anything else. Jon grabs the CD he was about to buy and opens it while asking “So Bobby, is the CD for you or someone else?” Taken aback by that question Bobby tells him without thinking “We kind of always share records. Em, so maybe Sunset Curve?” Jon who was about to sign the inside of the CD case, pauses and looks up again “You’re in Sunset Curve?”
“Yeah, rhythm guitar.” He answers without much of a thought, it takes him two seconds then he adds: “You’ve heard of us?” Jon chuckles at Bobby’s shocked tone.
“Saw you play a few months ago. Didn’t remember your name till Mike mentioned one of your songs, always called you “the band with the cute drummer” actually.” Jon casually explained to a still shell-shocked Bobby. The comment about Alex makes him choke on his own spit though. Jon smirks, but before he can say more Bobby’s mouth starts talking before his brain gave its okay: “You saw us well enough to say that Alex is cute, but you didn’t recognise me?” After the words left his mouth, he feels his face heat up.
‘Way to embarrass yourself by having too much of an ego, Robert, great job’, he thought to himself. But Jon again laughs it off, as if he made a funny joke, smirks and asks if Alex was here tonight.
“He is,” Bobby says, voice cold, “he is also sixteen.”
Now it was Jon’s time to look embarrassed. “Oh shit, never mind then.” He pauses. “Sixteen is a bit young to play that club you played, isn’t it?” He pauses again. “You guys take this whole music thing seriously, I like that!”
More at ease again after Jon’s reaction to Alex’ age, Bobby’s brain finally catches up with everything Jon said before he called Alex cute.
“Wait, Mike as in Mike Dirnt? As in Mike Dirnt mentioned one of our songs?” he asks astounded. Jon laughs at the utter bewilderment that the younger one’s face was showing. But before he could say something about it a loud voice behind Bobby sneers: “Oh look at that, Bobby the f*g lover.” He turns around and sees Andrew from his math class. “Always knew at least one of you would be a shirt lifter!”
Bobby tries to take a deep breath before he answers but Jon beats him to it. “I would really think people were clever enough to listen to lyrics, but you still find the poser ones at these concerts, especially since Dookie got Green Day so popular outside of the scene!” Bobby needed a few seconds to realise that Jon wasn’t even talking to Andrew but instead just talked about him to Bobby and the guy selling the merch.
“Don’t you dare talk to me like that you fucking fairy!” Andrew sneers, stepping closer to Jon. As soon as Andrews anger is directed towards Jon and not Bobby anymore, the guitarists fight instinct kicks in.
“Fairy? Really?” he asks Andrew with a snigger in his voice, “Didn’t know we live in the 50s, Andrew. Learned all these terms from your daddy?” Bobby tries to make his voice sound as degrading as possible. For a second it seems like Andrew might shut up and leave but then Jon starts laughing loudly about Bobby’s comments and before anyone can react Andrew takes a swing and hits Jon right on the mouth. Without thinking, Bobby copies his action and the next thing he knows is that his hand hurts and Andrew has a red square on the side of his face. He glares at the guitarist and strikes again. This time the fist hits Bobby’s nose and he sees black stars in front of his eyes for a few seconds. After that, all hell is breaking loose and Bobby is being pushed around for what feels like a few minutes before he gets pulled aside and finds himself behind the selling booth with Jon by his side who has a busted lip that is still bleeding. Jon has a hand on the teen's shoulder and looks worried at him. “Fuck your nose does not look too good!” he says. Hearing the words Bobby brings his hand up to his nose and winces when he feels a sharp pain as soon as his fingers touch his nose. “Fuuuuuuuuck, Alex is going to kill me!” he groans at the thought of how the blond will react to seeing Bobby like this.
“Hey man, good punch you got on the dickhead there!” an excited voice states beside Bobby, which makes him turn his head probably a bit too quick, considering he just got punched in the face a few minutes before. But the guitarists' instincts were right: standing beside him was no other than Green Days’ singer, Billie Joe Armstrong. The blond (with fading blue in his hair) is smiling at Bobby and continues with “but I think mine was even better” while pointing at something behind Bobby, who turns around just in time to see security carrying a half-conscious Andrew out of the venue.
“You know that guy?”
“He goes to my school!” Bobby answers, still in awe looking after Andrew.
“Oh, you need to tell me about how he looks tomorrow, man I don’t miss high school but I’d love to go to school just to see that!” Billie Joe tells him and Jon, still sounding way too excited. When Bobby turns around again to look at the two musicians in front of him, he catches Jon telling Billie Joe that Bobby is part of the band they talked about the other day. Somehow getting even more excited by the news he fully turns back to Bobby. “Love that! We need more good people in this scene so we can make sure the music stays clean of dudes like that! Well, it was lovely punching homophobes with you Bobby, but I actually have a concert to play!”
And with that Billie Joe is gone through the door leading to the backstage area and Bobby looks at Jon hoping that he can find answers with him (like is he hallucinating?) but he just chuckles at the teenagers in awe face and takes the CD Bobby wanted to buy all along, as well as the money he had already paid and hands both back at the teen with the words “I think you paid enough for this already, thanks for sticking up for me!” And adding, when Bobby tries to give the money back again, “You better go so your bandmates don’t worry and you don’t miss the Green Day show!” Bobby thanks him and with a smile he makes his way back to the other boys while putting the money and the CD into his pockets.
When Alex finally sees Bobby come back to them, he feels relief washing over him. Alex always hates it when they split especially if one of them is on their own and Bobby has been gone for way too long. The first thing Alex notices is that Bobby doesn’t carry any beer or anything else that he could’ve brought from a bar, the second thing is that Bobby’s nose is bleeding. The easing relief is instantly replaced by worry as Alex's brain catches up with his eyes. As soon as the guitarist reaches them Alex starts searching his fanny pack for tissues and anything else that can help with a bloody nose, all while berating Bobby about getting into a fight. Reggie and Luke excitedly ask Bobby about it, but when their bleeding bandmate tries to tell them about what happened Alex just shushes him and gestures for him to look up so that he can take a better look at his nose. While Alex is still cleaning up Bobby’s face the crowd starts cheering and Alex turns around quickly to confirm his suspicion that the main act finally made it on stage. He keeps on cleaning his friends face from now slightly dried blood when he hears Billie Joe's voice over the speakers.
“Sorry guys, I know we’re late, but I had to punch a homophobe…” The rest of the sentence does not reach Alex’ brain as he looks at one of his best friends, whose nose was bleeding after obviously being punched and all he can hear is white noise, while the realisation, that Bobby being the homophobe who was just punched by Green Days’ singer, sets in. He feels a sharp sting in his chest all while feeling overwhelmed by fear, cold naked fear. And his thoughts race through his brain, too fast to actually make any sense, all he knows is that his worst nightmare seems to be coming true: the people he trusts the most will eventually leave him. They will hate him. They will think he is disgusting, and they will leave him. Unconsciously he takes a step back from Bobby, taking both his hands off his friends face but before he can totally spiral into his thoughts, he is caught by Bobby who holds the drummer by his wrists and looks at him like Alex offended him deeply.
“Seriously?” Bobby’s voice comes out sharper than he probably intended, softening his tone as he sees Alex flinch at him, “You actually think I am homophobic? Fuck Alex do you really think that poorly of me?” The guitarists' words and face are both filled with what Alex can only describe as hurt. Bobby attempts to say more but he is cut off by Billie Joe's voice coming over the speakers saying his name.
“A special thanks to Bobby from Sunset Curve! Make sure you check them out they’re a local band that’ll make it big one day, I’ll promise you! I swear, give them less than a year and they’ll be playing here on this very stage! Thanks, Bobby, for helping me punch a dickhead!” And with that they start into their first song, leaving the boys standing completely mind blown in the back, each one trying to comprehend what just happened. After a few seconds, Reggie, Luke and Alex all turn to Bobby with questioning faces, but Bobby concentrates on Alex’ face. “Do you believe me now?” When Alex nods the, still bleeding, guitarist feels relief wash over him. “Good! Because I already have your Christmas present and I literally know no one else who has the same taste that you have!” He actually manages to make Alex smile with his stupid comment, feeling like they might be okay again, he holds onto Alex’ sleeve, needing something to ground him, knowing that Alex is uncomfortable with public affection. He turns to Luke and Reggie who as soon as they have his attention try to bombard him with questions, but he stops them and promises to tell them later.
___
After the concert:
When they leave the venue, a wave of, for L.A. unusually cold air, hits Bobby’s face and clears his head a little, making it easier to think about everything that had happened. As he was the first one out of the four to step out in the cold air, he takes a deep breath before turning around to see the other three boys walk up to him. He notices that Alex pulls his jean jacket tighter around his body, clearly not enjoying the cold air as Bobby does. He smiles at Bobby and then follows Reg and Luke who started walking towards the side street where they parked the van before the concert. The two boys talk animatedly about the Green Days show, analysing every detail. Seeing one of their favourite bands live did distract the two enough for them to not ask any further questions, right now. Alex smile tells Bobby that the same did not count for the blonde boy. Bobby jogs up to Alex to walk beside him, but when he tries to initiate a conversation with his bandmate, the blonde just shakes his head and mumbles, that he has things to think, but as if to calm Bobby down, Alex takes his hand and squeezes it before they reach their van. The van they brought because they actually started to be able to book enough gigs to pay for it (and to actually need it), they all paid for it, even though they don’t talk about the fact that Bobby paid the biggest part, with him having the only parents who actually support the band.
Bobby is driving, with Alex in the passenger seat lost in his thoughts and Luke and Reggie in the back, trying to get Bobby to finally tell them about what happened at the venue. The guitarist promises to tell them as soon as they arrive at the garage, but despite the impatience from Luke and Reggie to find out about everything they still have a quick stop at a small diner on their way home to get their after-concert food.
Alex, Reggie and Luke all go straight for the couch while bobby prefers sitting on the floor, facing them. For a few seconds they all munch happily but soon Luke starts bugging Bobby about what happened at the club, so he puts his sandwich aside and takes a short breath. He doesn’t know where to start, he kind of wants Alex to know that he got the CD for him, but he doesn’t want to put any pressure on Alex, nor does he want the other two to find out about Alex liking boys before Alex wants them to.
“So,” Bobby starts, “we all really liked Pansy Division, right?” he asks with a nervous laugh tinting his words. He looks at the three boys on the couch for confirmation and gets it from two of the boys while Alex looks like he gets scared by the simple indication that he might have really liked the queer band they all saw tonight. Bobby acts like he didn’t see it while deciding, that he won’t tell the blond that Jon was hitting on him. That might be a bit much information for one night. “Well, I thought,” he continues while pulling out the CD he brought earlier “I’ll get us their CD.” He waves the CD then places it on the table in front of the couch so the guys can look at it.
“And that’s where I met one of the band members, Jon, he is the singer.” He looks up at his friends who all stare at him with a mixture of shock and curiosity on their faces, even Alex nervousness seems replaced. ‘I didn’t even get to the really shocking parts yet’, Bobby thought to himself.
“Okay, so we got talking, he found out I play in a band and when he asks for a name to use to sign the CD I just said Sunset Curve, because we always share records, like I mean I don’t even know who owns what anymore!” Luke looks dead serious while nodding his head, Alex starts smiling slightly and Reggie looks like he is trying really hard to separate their shared music collection in his head.
“Anyway, it turns out he saw one of our shows earlier this year and apparently, he was talking about one of our songs with Mike, but before you get too excited, I couldn’t ask him about it because that dick Andrew from my math class interrupted us. He called me a – eh, never mind” he stops himself, giving Alex a short glance – “he started calling me and Jon names and I kind of started making fun of him for using really outdated terms and when Jon laughed about that, Andrew hit him and then I hit Andrew and he hit me back and suddenly everything got crazy. Next thing I know is that I am behind the merch booth with Jon and Billie Joe Armstrong, and Andrew is being carried outside by security.” He tries to rush the words out fast enough so that Luke doesn’t stop him because of the band being recognised and Alex doesn’t stop him because he hit someone.
“And then Billie Joe finds out I am in Sunset Curve and he says something about it being good that more good people will keep the scene going or something and then he pretty much left to play the show and Jon gave me the CD and I went back to you guys so you wouldn’t worry too much.” When he finally finishes his story, he is staring at three really shocked looking faces.
“Mike Dirnt and Billie Joe both know of Sunset Curve?”
“Who knew Bobby is such a badass!”
“You hit Andrew?”
All three started talking at the same time, but then Alex stands up and he looks real mad and everyone else shuts up. Bobby looks at him. “Alex, I didn’t plan to, it just happened. I got so mad when he started calling Jon these awful names and when he hit him, I just snapped.”
“What about our no fighting rule, huh?”
“So, when someone is being super homophobic, I am just supposed to do nothing?”
At that moment Bobby realises that Alex didn’t process until now that Andrew was using homophobic slurs against Bobby and Jon. He sees Alex anger vanish from him in mere seconds, replaced by fear and sadness settling in his eyes. Lips pressed into a thin line Alex sits down on the couch again. It breaks Bobby’s heart to see his friend like this. They all stay silent for a while.
“What did he say?” Alex asks with a voice so quiet Bobby almost misses it.
“Alex,” he sighs, “I am pretty sure you don’t want to know!”
With that Alex's eyes, which were glued to his hands before, snap up and meet Bobby’s. “You know, don’t you?” Alex asks Bobby, seemingly completely forgetting that the other boys are in the room.
Bobby does not know what to answer, not wanting to make Alex come out because he feels like he has to, or because Bobby figured it out already. “I only know what you want me to know, everything else is just a hunch.” He finally settles on.
Alex laughs. “So, you definitely know, and I actually thought I was being subtle.”
“I still love you, you know that, right?” Bobby just needs Alex to know that. Even if this is a weird one, Bobby wants this to be the reaction Alex gets for his first coming out.
It takes Alex a few seconds but finally, he looks up again, searching Bobby’s face for any trace of him lying. As Alex realises that the boy in front of him means what he said he feels like the biggest wave of relief washes over him. This, black-haired, awkward and quiet boy in front of him, who buys CD’s from queer bands, punches one of his classmates because he was being a homophobic bigot to a complete stranger and whose first reaction to Alex half-assed coming out is to tell him that he still loves him. This boy, who is so uncomfortable with most people touching him, who still wants to hold all of their hands all the time, calling them grounding. This boy, who would probably punch more people to protect them because he gets crazy protective about the people he cares about. And suddenly it’s difficult not to start crying and Alex feels like his voice will break if he tries to talk so he just nods.
And in that second, knowing he has Bobby on his side for this, he decides that he wants them all to know. So, he gets up from the couch and “gets on the runway” as Luke likes to call Alex’ nervous walking occasionally. After walking up and down three times, he suddenly stops, turns to Luke and Reg who look super confused by what is happening and he blurts out “Iamgay” so fast that there was no way that any of the guys could’ve understood a single word. So, he takes a deep breath and repeats: “I am gay” while standing there, eyes closed, and breath held.
“Oh, that…” Luke starts, but he gets interrupted by Reggie who says: “That makes so much sense, that is why you were staring at Brian so much last year! That really confused me, man!”
“I was... I was not staring at Brian Denver!” Alex sputters embarrassment creeping in his cheeks.
“You totally were, you even knew who Reg was talking about right away!” Luke laughs and gets up to pull Alex in a big hug, squeezing him tight. Reggie gets a hold of them and pulls them down on the couch where he squeezes between them, and wooshes through Alex’ hair affectionately. Alex, now half sitting on the couch and half lying on Reggie looks up to Bobby, who stands awkwardly in front of the couch. As the other two notice Bobby as well they all kind of freeze in their cuddle pile. Even as Bobby was more comfortable touching his bandmates than he was with touching his parents, or literally anyone else, he still never expressed any interest in being part of a cuddle pile before. Seeing how all of his friends stopped as he approached, the guitarist started taking a step back, but Alex stopped him by holding out his hand for Bobby to take. It takes him a few seconds but finally, he lets himself being pulled on top of Alex into the cuddle pile and even though it feels strange at first he likes the feeling of Alex’ soft t-shirt under his cheek, Reggie’s arm around his waist and the smell of Luke’s cologne.
Later that night Bobby snatches a picture of his best friends still cuddling on the couch hours later, now all fast asleep. He hasn’t shown that picture to anyone except for his daughter when she finds out about the band 25 years later and he decides to tell her about the loves of his life, even if most people wouldn’t recognise them as it since it was purely platonic love. And even though he got married, he never loved anyone as much, with the exception of his daughter, as he loved the three boys who left him when he was just 17 years old.
The next day Bobby snatches a picture of Andrews black eye. He shows that picture to Billie Joe, backstage at an event he attempts without his best friends after the man recognises him as the kid with whom he punched a homophobe. After that Bobby leaves the event early, not being able to hold up the image of Trevor, too consumed by grieve and guilt. Guilt over not being able to protect them. Guilt over not dying with them. Guilt over using their songs.
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vampiric-daydreams · 4 years
Text
Unrequited
Jasper x Reader
Summary: You had been happy to quietly like Jasper from a distance. But when he and the Cullens start acting stranger than usual, you begin wondering if there’s more to it.
Word Count: 2,372
Tags: @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @eggmettcullen @scuzmunkie
A/N: Felt cheeky and wrote something after a year and a half of hiatus that nobody asked for. Sorry not sorry. Might do a part 2?
*
It had crept up on you. It wasn’t something you wanted.
“I’ll go fir-” you started, as your right hand brushed against your English partner’s. The pen between you rolled off the top of the desk as you jolted from his icy touch. Jasper Hale’s cautious eyes met yours. You suddenly grew conscious of every part of your body and how it might appear to him. Your mouth dried up.
From that touch, those feelings manifested in your fingers; a lingering chill that had lasted for hours. From then, your throat tightened whenever you spoke to him. You stuttered between words, and the mere thought of meeting his honeycomb gaze made you feel sick. Reminiscing that first graze of physical contact and back to your first meeting with him, you accepted that those feelings had always lived within you; dormant and waiting. When hadn’t you liked Jasper?
What drew you to him wasn’t something you could pinpoint, at least nothing that wasn’t shallow. You hardly knew him and you only spoke to each other in English class when you had to. Even then, it was a routine ‘hey, how are you today’ and little more unless you were paired together for a learning task.
“… the dance.” That was all your friends had been talking about and it was still months away.
“I’m asking him to the dance,” Jason was hyping himself up, “I’m just going to do it.”
You had every intention of giving him a slap on the back before he went to lay his heart on the line. But all it took was the sight of Jasper crossing the asphalt with some papers in his hand to make you cease and admire him instead. Sometimes you just wanted to march over to him and confess your feelings.
“Oh shit, that’s not good.”
You snapped out of your lover’s trance and looked at Eric’s face flushed with uncertainty as Jason dropped his head. Rejection. He was biting his lip on his way back to your group. Every time you thought you could be gather courage and tell Jasper how you felt, you saw somebody else receive decline from their own attempt. The world around you gave constant reminders to stay in line. This is what will happen to you if you try to break them up.
“He wants to go with Angela.”
Jason’s obstacle was a cute girl with glasses, and yours was Alice Cullen. Dressed immaculately in designer clothing, Jasper’s girlfriend was not somebody you wanted to rival for his affection. Everything about her was perfect and polished and a clear winner against the likes of anyone who stood beside her. How could he ever look at you, let alone accept you?
However, there didn’t seem to be any sign of Alice today. Or Emmett. Edward and Rosalie were standing by the bottom of the stairs leading up to the school. Jasper descended them, his hands now empty and stuffed in his pockets.  As your group comforted Jason, you felt a burning stare on your back; and when you turned around, you met the perturbed frown of Edward Cullen.
*
 Jasper sat beside you. He had joined the class seven minutes late; citing to Mr. Evans that there was a minor family issue. He didn’t greet you as he took his seat; he didn’t pull out any pens or open an exercise book. Something was wrong. An unkind corner of your mind hoped he had broken up with Alice and that was why she wasn’t at school today; or at least that they were having relationship problems. You shook the nasty thought away, not noticing that you had shaken your head until his voice pierced through you. “Are you okay?”
His voice sounded strained, but his expectant gaze pulled at you. Your tongue felt like it had doubled in size. “I… um.”
“Excuse me, is my teaching disrupting your conversation?” Mr. Evans was frowning at you both, and a few classmates snickered.
“We’re sorry, Mr. Evans.” Jasper’s voice was smoother. “I was asking (Y/N) something that I should have saved for later.”
Mr. Evans crossed his arms. “Indeed.”
Both of you were silent. It wasn’t until the bell rang when Jasper started a rare non-essential conversation with you. “What are you doing this weekend?”
Your pulse quickened. Had you somehow intrigued him? You took a shaky breath and focused your energy on not stammering this time. Sound available. “Nothing, why?”
Was he actually going to ask to see you outside of class? You fought to reign in the blush that threatened to give you away. He was smiling. “Oh, the rest of my family are going camping again.”
You hung onto his pause for dear life. It lasted only for a split second, but it was enough time for you to imagine a study date at his place. Sitting side by side, perhaps a little too close, so that your arms would brush. Growing tired of studying and resting your head on his shoulder. Jasper craning his neck lower so his face was close enough to yours that you could feel his breath on your face. A moment of weakness as thoughts of his absent girlfriend slipped away as his lips found yours…
His next sentence cut through you.
“So, Alice and I will have the entire house to ourselves again, which is always a pleasurable time.”
You couldn’t bring yourself to look up at him. Was he still smiling? Why did he feel the need to add that second part? Was he bragging to you?
“S-sounds fun for you guys…”
“Yeah! Our house is always so packed so it’ll be nice to have some alone time.”
Why was he suddenly alluding to his physical relationship with Alice? Why was he bothering to talk to you at all?
 *
 For the following week, Jasper interacted with you more and more. Yet each interaction left you with a hole in your chest. How could something you had wanted for so long turn out to be so awful?
“Our anniversary is coming up so my parents helped me book a romantic weekend away for Alice and I.”
“Even my sister gave Alice a gift for our anniversary. Our family just love us together. They’re always saying how perfect we are for each other and that they couldn’t imagine us with anyone else.”
“Alice and I are skipping school tomorrow for a date.”
Awkward silences turned into deafening info dumps detailing his adoration for his girlfriend; daily reminders that you had no hope of ever being with him and that his family would hate you for hurting Alice if you did. By the time Monday had rolled back around, your light was fading. Jasper had gone from your secret obsession to the last person you needed to see. You dreaded the last class of the day where he’d force you to listen to more of what you least wanted to hear.
Perhaps it was better this way. Each new insight to his relationship made you want to stay further away. Maybe you liked the idea of Jasper more than Jasper himself. Still, if your disillusion stemmed from his relationship, perhaps you’d be reacquainted with your earlier passion for him. A hard bump on your left arm pulled you away from your thoughts.
“Sorry-” you started apologising to Edward Cullen, who you had collided with. You felt hot under his burning gaze. It was a knowing look, one that was brimming with disapproval. Saying nothing, Edward brushed past you in the direction he came from; other students jumping out of his way as he charged through the crowd.
In the cafeteria, the aura surrounding the Cullen’s table was inconsistent. Throughout lunch, you caught each of them watching you one by one. Rosalie’s hostile eyes sent daggers through you, while Emmett seemed apologetic—but not for his girlfriend’s behaviour. An overwhelming sense of dread washed through your body, making you shudder. Edward’s look hadn’t changed since your exchange in the corridor. His gaze was unsettling. It was as though you were under his microscope and he could see everything about you. Had Jasper caught on to you crush on him and told his family? You found your answer when you locked eyes with Alice, whose devastation was clear on her smooth features. He had definitely figured it out, then. Jasper didn’t look at you once. Alice looked at you the most. Up and down. Left to right. She was frowning, but her forehead didn’t wrinkle, and she suddenly seemed miles away.
“I guess they don’t appreciate the threat of an outsider?” Jason glanced at their table and then back at you. “At least I’m not the only one being sidelined.”
“It’s not like I broadcasted it all over school. How did they even find out?” A well of anxiety formed within you. By the second it grew darker and deeper, blacker and blacker, and you were in danger of slipping in and being consumed by it.
“Do you want an answer?”
“No. Not really.”
 *
 And just like that, Jasper’s entire demeanour changed for a second time. His incessant mentions of his girlfriend turned into a bitter distance in which he ignored you entirely. Two more days passed. Your self-worth was diminishing. How could your crush on him be such an insult? Were you so dreadful that he was this repulsed by you?
He was about to walk through the classroom door when you stalked over to him and pushed him back out and to the side of the corridor. His voice interrupted you before you could even speak. “I know you have feelings for me, (Y/N). You don’t have to say anything. But I’m in love with Alice. I love Alice. Not you. I will never leave her for you so you need to accept that and stay away from me.”
“I didn’t mean to fall for you like this. I’m trying to let it go, but none of this gives you the right to be so rude all the time!” Hot tears burned your cheeks as they fell. “I know you won’t leave Alice! I never asked you to! But what is so disgusting about me that is making you treat me like this?��
“It’s not like you’re entirely innocent, (Y/N). If it remained the innocent crush it once was, I could accept it. But fantasising about us cheating behind my girlfriend’s back? Wishing every day that she and I would break up for your benefit? That’s selfish.”
Bile rose in your throat. He was right. There was something worth his repulsion. You should have apologised and promised to leave him alone. You wanted to tell Jasper that you never wanted things to get so out of hand. But you said, “What, so you read minds now?”
His hesitation was brief, but you noticed it. The subtle way his citrine eyes widened as those words left your mouth made you wonder if you had an edge you didn’t recognise. As awful as your thoughts about him and Alice were, how had he known about them? “You still haven’t denied it, (Y/N). Isn’t that what most people who love someone unattainable think?”
“You don’t know a thing about what I think.”
“I know a lot more than you’d expect me to and-” Before you had time to blink, Edward’s hand clapped on Jasper’s shoulder.
“What he means to say is that he—we—don’t appreciate your meddling in his relationship,” said Edward.
You gritted your teeth. “I haven’t meddled! I haven’t said a word! Who do you think you are, with your whole family death-staring me? With all these assumptions about my thoughts and intentions?” Your volume grew louder. People were staring and whispering to each other.
“Regardless of the decisions that have and haven’t been made, I think it would be best for everybody if you and Jasper stayed away from each other from now.” A strange, soothing sensation surrounded you. Your broken, shaky breaths grew steady. You unclenched your jaw and your fists, and you realised that Edward’s suggestion was best for everyone.
“But we sit together in English. Mr. Evans is very fond of his seating chart.” The sharpness had left your voice.
“I’ll change my classes.” Jasper still sounded uncomfortable; he still didn’t look at you.
“Fine.” His dismissal of you caused the embers of your anger to spark and reignite, but it felt like somebody was throwing water on them. You cooled back down.
 *
 The first week with an empty space beside you hurt the most. Knowing it wasn’t because of a camping trip, or even a date with his girlfriend; but that he no longer wanted anything to do with you made you feel faint. You would never brush his hand with yours again or feel the lingering touch of his alabaster skin. He would never smile at you, or greet you, or ask about your day—even if it was only to be polite.
But something niggled in the back of your mind, and over time it bothered you more than losing Jasper’s acquaintanceship. How were they so right about my imagination? How did they figure things out so quickly?  You had told no one about how you wished Jasper would abandon Alice and leap into your arms instead. It was a huge assumption on which to base that level of animosity and disdain.
Something was definitely off about all this; and if you had to sacrifice even your feelings for Jasper, you at least wanted to figure out how the Cullens were so on the mark. A stupid idea popped into your brain, one that was ridiculous—but you were so worn down that you allowed this concept to spread. What if, somehow, your thoughts weren’t safe?
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