#i will finish off the latter half of the house visit in the not too distant future!

[suddencolds]

Atypical Occurrence [1/?]

Happy birthday to my dear friend, @caughtintherain!! I wanted to give you some Vincent suffering to chew on for the occasion, so please take this fic (or, first part of a fic) as a gift <3

this is an OC fic - here is a list of everything I’ve written for these two! chronologically, this fic takes place a month or so after the last installment leaves off :)

Summary: Vincent shows up late to a meeting. It just goes downhill from there. (ft. fake dating, the flu, a house visit)

—

Vincent is late.

Yves tries not to stare at the empty seat across from him. The meeting—their first meeting of the day—started five minutes ago. If there’s anything Yves knows, it’s that Vincent always comes in early. 

In stumbles Cara, handling a morning coffee with probably more espresso shots than anyone should have at 8am. Then Laurent, briefcase in one hand, paging through a folder of files in his other. Then Angelie, Isaac, Garrett, Ray, Sienna. Then they get started, and Yves turns his attention towards the graphs projected onscreen at the front of the room, and tries very hard not to think about Vincent.

It’s five minutes later that the door swings open, near-silent.

Sienna—who’s presenting—stops, for a moment, to look back at Vincent from where he’s standing in the doorway, which means that of course, everyone looks.

Cara turns around in her seat, raising an eyebrow. Angelie frowns at him. 

“Sorry I’m late,” Vincent says, quietly. “It won’t happen again.”

Isaac shrugs. Angelie looks a little concerned, but she turns back to her work, anyways. Sienna resumes her presentation. All in all, it’s nothing—or it should be nothing. Probably traffic, on the way here; a particularly unlucky commute. An unlikely occurrence, but—to anyone else—not anything worth dwelling over.

It might be a sufficient explanation, if Yves didn’t know better.

Vincent takes care to close the door quietly behind him, then heads over to the only open seat, across from Yves. He unzips his briefcase, quietly, unobtrusively, and takes out his laptop. Yves tries to focus on what Sienna is saying—she’s giving a review of a client’s current investment strategies; he’d reviewed her work on this just a couple days ago.

Vincent asks good questions throughout—he always has a good sense of what areas still lack clarity, Yves has found. Today is no exception. He takes part in the meeting with such calculated precision that Yves almost misses it.

Almost misses: the slight stiffness to his shoulders, as if it’s taking more than the usual amount of effort to keep himself upright. The way in which he clears his throat before speaking, like it might actually hurt. The way he rests his head on one hand, halfway into the meeting—as if even now, barely forty minutes into the workday, he’s already exhausted.

It’s subtle enough to go unnoticed, subtle enough that Yves wonders if he’s just reading too much into it—if, perhaps, Vincent is fine, after all.

—

He doesn’t see Vincent again until lunch.

Or, more accurately, he doesn’t see Vincent again until he’s headed down for lunch with Cara and Laurent. Vincent is already on his way out of the cafeteria, a takeout container in hand.

“You’re not going to eat here?” Yves asks.

Vincent doesn’t look at him. “I have some work to get done at my desk,” he says. He clears his throat again, like it’s irritating him.

“Okay,” Yves says. Vincent turns to leave, and Yves thinks of a hundred ways in which he could possibly prolong this conversation, and then decides against it. Vincent is already so busy.

“You look tired,” he settles on, instead.

He expects Vincent to dismiss this, to reassure him that it isn’t true. But Vincent looks up at him at last, blinking, as if he’s surprised that Yves noticed at all. His eyes are a little dark-rimmed underneath his glasses.

He doesn’t deny it, which is as much of a confirmation as Yves needs.

“The sooner I can get this work done, the sooner I can go home,” he says. Yves supposes he can’t argue with that.

“I guess I’ll see you around, then,” Yves says, even though he wants to say more, even though he feels like there’s more that he should be saying. “Don’t work too hard.”

Vincent nods, at this, and resumes walking.

—

Yves is probably overthinking it. There isn’t anything concrete, really, to justify his concern.

Vincent’s lateness to the meeting could just as easily be the consequence of an alarm he’d forgotten to set, his exhaustion just as easily a side effect—of recent late nights in the office, of arbitrary changes to the projects he’s on, of last-minute demands from clients.

The next time he sees Vincent is at the end of the work day. Yves always takes the elevators on the north end of the building—they’re ones that lead directly out into the parking garage. When he gets out to the hallway, Vincent is already standing there, waiting for the elevator.

Yves watches Vincent stiffen, slightly. Watches him raise one hand up to his face to shudder into it with a harsh, “HHihH’iKKTSh-hUH!”

A thin tremor runs through the line of his shoulders, as if he’s too cold, even though the office air conditioning is no colder than usual. His hand, cupped to his face, remains there for a moment more before he lowers it.

He sniffles, then, rummaging through his pocket for—something. When he doesn’t find it, he just frowns a little, sniffling again. 

“Bless you,” Yves says.

“Yves,” Vincent says, his shoulders stiffening a little. He clears his throat, turning around so that he can address Yves properly.

It’s only a few seconds later that he’s turning sharply away, tenting both hands over his nose and mouth for—

“Hh-! hHiH—HIHh’DZSSschh-uhh! snf-!”

“Bless you again.” 

Vincent sighs. “Don’t bother.” He really looks exhausted, Yves realizes. During their brief interaction at lunch, he’d already sensed as much, but the harsh white glare of the bright corporate lighting only makes it more evident.

Vincent looks a little paler than usual, if only slightly, and there’s a slight flush that spreads itself over his cheekbones. He looks—well, nearly as put together as always, distilled only by the slight crookedness of his tie, as if it’s been on too tight; the near-invisible sheen of sweat over his forehead. The slight redness to the bridge of his nose, the slight shiver to his hand as he reaches up to adjust his collar.

Yves frowns, taking this all in. “You look kind of…”

“Terrible?” Vincent finishes for him.

Yves winces. “...Well, terrible is a strong word. I was going to say, you look like you could use some sleep.”

“I’m… feeling a little off,” Vincent says, staring straight ahead, as if it’s not an admission at all. But Yves suspects, from the way he avoids eye contact, that perhaps it was something he was intending on keeping private. “You should keep your distance.”

The elevator dings. The sliding doors part, and he steps inside. 

“First floor?” Yves asks, hesitating next to the panel of buttons.

“Yes,” Vincent says. Then, quietly: “Thanks.”

“You know, now that busy season is over, the world is not going to end if you take a sick day,” Yves tells him. “Even if you do like, twice the amount of work as everyone else on the team, if you needed to call out, I’m sure something could be arranged.”

Vincent smiles at him, a little wryly. “I must look pretty bad if you’re saying this to me.”

“Yes, I was lying,” Yves says. “Clearly, you look terrible.”

It isn’t true at all—even here, even like this, Vincent doesn’t look terrible, not even in the least. But Vincent still smiles, at this—a tired smile.

The elevator doors slide open.

“Text me if you need anything,” Yves says, impulsively. “Seriously. Tissues, soup, medicine—whatever. It’s not far of a drive.”

“That’s very considerate of you,” Vincent says. “I will see you tomorrow.” And then he steps out of the elevator, and Yves is left with an inexplicable sinking feeling in his stomach. As far as he knows, it has no place there. Obviously, Vincent can take care of himself. Obviously, Vincent can handle a cold. Yves has nothing to be concerned about.

—

The next day is rainy—a constant, torrential downpour, which makes his commute to work take almost twice as long as it usually does. It wouldn’t be spring here, Yves supposes, without dreary weather like this.

Back in uni, when he rowed crew, they’d practice out for hours out in the rain. Now that he spends the majority of his day inside, he supposes he can’t complain. The shelter of the office building is a reprieve.

Vincent doesn’t show up.

“I think he’s out sick,” Cara says, when Yves asks. “You know, it’s funny. I don’t think I’ve actually seen him take a sick day before.”

“For how hard he works, he definitely deserves one,” Garrett says.

“He seemed fine yesterday, when I saw him,” Cara says, with a shrug. “Probably came on quickly.” Yves nods.

But that isn’t quite right, is it? Vincent hadn’t seemed fine, had he? Yves thinks back to the things he’d noticed—Vincent, uncharacteristically exhausted during the meeting, though it was clear he’d been just as engaged as usual. Vincent, shivering in the elevator, telling Yves to keep his distance. How poorly had he been feeling already, yesterday? How poorly does he have to be feeling today to have called off of work for it?

He finds some time just before lunch to text.

Y: how are you holding up? Y: yesterday’s offer stands if you need me to bring you anything!

He doesn’t get a response from Vincent, which is a little concerning. He checks his phone halfway through lunch, and then twice more, in between his afternoon meetings, just in case he’s missed a notification.

“Are you expecting a text from someone?” Cara says, looking a little curious.

“Just a friend,” Yves says, which is and isn’t true.

To make a point—to Cara, and possibly to himself—he shuts his phone off. He very pointedly does not look at it again for the remainder of the hour.

It’s not until mid-afternoon that he finally gets a response.

V: Sorry to get back to you so late.

Yves sits upright, fumbling with his phone to get it unlocked. The text bubble pops up again, somewhat intermittently, to show that Vincent is typing.

V: If it’s not too much trouble, there’s a blue folder on my desk labeled 2-A.

Yves blinks at this, a little disbelieving.

Y: you’re asking me to bring you work files? Y: arent you supposed to be resting 🤨 Y: paid sick leave, remember? as in, leave your work at work??

V: I meant to pack them yesterday.

Y: that’s like a genie grants you 3 wishes and you ask for an extra day of assignments Y: terrible waste of a wish if you ask me

V: As a genie, you’re quite judgmental

Y: ok ok Y: as your loyal lamp dweller i’ll be over around 8pm with folder 2-A  Y: you need anything else? 

V: Nothing else V: You can just leave them outside my door 

A beat. Then Vincent sends:

V: Sorry to trouble you

Yves thinks of twenty responses he wants to send to that text. Then, thinking better of himself, he shuts his phone off and gets back to work.

—

It’s a little past seven when he finally checks out of the office.

Outside, the rain hasn’t even begun to let up—it falls, straight and heavy, in large, globular droplets. The streets gleam with water. Yves leaves his umbrella in the trunk, tunes out everything but the static of the rainfall, and drives.

Yves has only ever been to Vincent’s apartment once—to pick him up for the New Years’ party Margot hosted—and even then, Vincent had met him at the door. But he recognizes the unit, nonetheless.

For a moment, he considers leaving the folder of files outside of Vincent’s door and taking his leave.

But it’s windy, and he’s afraid the papers might fly away, torn up by the biting wind, and get lost face down in a puddle somewhere, which would defeat the purpose of him coming here in the first place, and would probably also breach some employee confidentiality policy. So instead, he knocks.

It’s silent for a moment. Rain beats down on the slanted rooftops, a constant thrum. 

Yves is about to reach out to knock again, when the door swings open.

There stands Vincent, in a pale blue hoodie and loose-fitting pajama pants, with neat rectangular cuffs.

He looks tired. It’s the first thing Yves registers—the unusual fatigue to his expression, which he can’t quite seem to blink away; the flush high on his cheekbones. The way he holds himself, his shoulders stiff, carefully, defensively; as if despite his exhaustion, there’s a part of him which wishes to appear presentable still.

It’s only a moment later that he’s taking a halting step back, ducking into a hoodie sleeve. Yves catches the shiver of his expression, his eyebrows pulling together, before it crumples, and his head jerks forward with a harsh—

“hHihh’GKkTT—! Hh-!! iHH-’DZZSCHh-uuUh!”

The second sneeze sounds louder and harsher than usual, even muffled into the fabric of his sleeve. It betrays his congestion all at once. 

“Bless you,” Yves says.

Vincent emerges, sniffling a little. When he speaks, he sounds a little hoarser than he did yesterday. “I thought I said you - snf-! - could leave them on the front step.”

“You did,” Yves says, glancing down at the folder in his hands. “But it’s windy, and it’s raining. I figured you’d prefer to have your files intact. How are you feeling?”

Vincent blinks at him. He’s leaning heavily against the doorframe, Yves realizes, one hand gripped tightly around the frame, his knuckles white from the pressure, as if it would take him too much effort to stay upright otherwise. 

“Alright,” he answers. “Thanks for making the trip here. I… it must’ve taken longer, in the rain.” He squeezes his eyes shut, as if his head hurts, as if the light coming from outside is exacerbating his headache. “If you ever need me to pick something up for you, I owe you.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” Yves says. Despite himself, he reaches up to press his hand against Vincent’s forehead.

The heat under his fingertips is alarming, to say the least. Yves blinks, lowering his hand, and tries to keep the worry out of his voice. “Have you taken your temperature?”

Vincent shakes his head. “I don’t think I have a thermometer.”

“Have you eaten, then?”

Vincent averts his glance, looking sheepish. “I… was planning to stop for groceries, yesterday,” he says. Planning to.

Yves thinks back to the elevator ride yesterday. Vincent had probably already been feeling very unwell, then. And yet, he’d talked with Yves as if nothing was out of the ordinary. I’m feeling a little off, he’d said, as if anything about his current affliction could possibly be characterized as “little.” I will see you tomorrow—as if he had really, genuinely been intending on showing up at work. 

“So I take it that there’s nothing in the fridge, either,” Yves says.

“If it’s any consolation, you’ll be pleased to know that I slept,” Vincent says, in lieu of answering.

Then he shivers—the sort of concerning, full-body shiver that is a little concerning, coming from someone who is usually unaffected by the cold—and Yves is immediately reminded that the door they’re speaking through is open.

“Can I come in?” he asks.

“You probably shouldn’t,” Vincent says, before his expression scrunches up, and he’s ducking away with a— “hh—! hHih-II—TSSCHHh-UH! snf-!”, smothered hurriedly into the palm of his hand. He sniffles, emerging with a slight wince. “This came on pretty quickly. It might be the flu.”

“It’s fine,” Yves says. “I got my flu shot in the winter. And anyways, I’ll be careful.”

Vincent is quiet, for a moment. Then, frowning, he says, “I’d feel terrible if you caught this.”

That’s the least of Yves’s worries—he doubts he’s going to catch this. Even if he does, it will just mean a few days off of work. Not the end of the world, by any means. Nothing to warrant the expression on Vincent’s face—Vincent looks upset, as if he’ll really can’t think of anything worse than Yves catching this. Like even the thought of it is worth being upset over.

Yves shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it, seriously.” He pushes past Vincent to step inside and shuts the door behind him. “Here, I’ll set these down on your desk. Where is it?”

“Down the hallway, to the left,” Vincent says.

Yves takes the folder, leaves his shoes at the door, and heads inside. 

Vincent’s bedroom is small and organized—it’s the kind of bedroom that’s tastefully minimal, in the sort of unified manner that implies that everything in it has been carefully arranged. There’s a small white desk in the corner, a stack of files arranged neatly next to Vincent’s laptop, its lid halfway to shut. There’s a bookshelf, leaned up against the wall far; the bottom shelf looks to be filled with textbooks; the top shelf lined with books, both in Korean and in English. The walls are painted slate gray, the carpets lining the floorboards picked out to match, and there are pale blue curtains hanging from the windows, pulled tightly shut.

There are signs here, too, of his illness, but they are subtle. A tissue box, nestled between his pillow and the headboard, half empty. A waste bin at the foot of the bed, conveniently in reach. A small bottle of aspirin on the bedside counter; an empty packet of cough drops sitting at the edge of his nightstand.

Yves sets the folder at the end of Vincent’s desk, next to the rest of his files, and turns to face him.

“You’re not going to work on these until you’re feeling better, right?” he asks.

“Only if I can’t sleep,” Vincent says, which Yves supposes is a satisfactory answer. Then he twists away, his eyebrows furrowing, lifting a loosely clenched fist to his face to cough, and cough. 

The cough is harsh and grating—his entire frame shudders with the force of it, his breaths shallow and raspy. He really sounds awful. This must have come on quickly, Yves thinks.

If it’s upsetting, seeing Vincent like this, it’s even worse to be standing here, in his room, doing nothing. So—if only to make himself useful, if only to convince himself that there’s something he can do—Yves ducks out into the kitchen.

The pantry is meticulously organized—glasses lined up in neat rows; stacks of bowls sorted by size. He fills a glass with water, shuts the cabinets, and takes it back to the bedroom. 

By the time he gets back, Vincent is sitting at the edge of his bed. His glasses are folded neatly, left at the very edge of the countertop.

“Here,” Yves says, crossing the room, holding out the glass for him to take. 

“Thanks,” Vincent says, taking it gingerly from him. He takes a small, tentative sip, and then another—his hands are a little shaky, Yves notices. “You - snf-! - should really go.”

“I’m not entirely convinced you’ll be fine on your own,” Yves says.

“Of course I will be,” Vincent says, with all of his usual certainty. He lays down, pulling the covers over his body. “I have been fine on my own for years.”

It’s meant to be reassuring, Yves supposes. But he doesn’t feel reassured in the least.

“Thank you again for bringing me the files,” Vincent says, at last, shutting his eyes.

“You could’ve asked me to get you groceries,” Yves says. “There’s a supermarket not far from here, right? And you’re out of cough drops.” He takes a few steps over, towards the desk in the corner of the room. “These—” He examines the bottle of ibuprofen on the table. “—are expired.”

“Just because you’ve extended this kindness to me,” Vincent tells him, “doesn’t mean I should take advantage of it.”

Yves blinks, a little taken aback. “It’s only groceries. I wouldn’t have minded, really.”

“See,” Vincent says, with a note of—something in his voice. It sounds a bit like resignation. “That’s just the kind of person you are.”

Yves doesn’t know what to say, to that. 

Before he can think up a fitting response, Vincent’s breathing evens out. Yves lets himself listen to the shallow, steady cadence of it. Lets himself acknowledge the heavy, painful feeling in his chest for just a moment. Then he shuts the lights off and heads back out into the hallway.

#snz fic #sneeze fic #sneeze kink #snz kink #snz #i wanted to end somewhere more conclusive but i was falling asleep at my keyboard trying to end this so #please take this for now 🙏 #my fic #it is very late rn so i am scheduling this for the middle of my work day tomorrow... now i need to run to sleep T.T #i will finish off the latter half of the house visit in the not too distant future! #yvverse #ps caughtintherain if you are reading this ily and i am so grateful to you for letting me consult you abt these two 😭😭 and i hope it's #okay for me to post this as a gift jafkhjfslk ANYWAYS pls read this at your leisure and happy birthday again!!!

[avatar-anna]

Workday Blues

2024 Masterlist

i wrote this weeks ago after a co-worker had me seeing red lol

"I just don't get it, H," you sighed, leaning back against the leather seat of your car as you waited for the light to change. Your voice felt strained, and you knew you sounded whiny, but you couldn't help it. After a long shift at work, you told yourself you reserved the right to complain. "Why can't people just, I don't know, do the job they showed up to do and get paid for?"

"I'm sorry, bub," Harry said, his voice tinny as it filled up your car. "Did you talk to your manager?"

You scoffed. "There's no point, but I swear I wanted to tell them I didn't want to work that shift anymore. I'm just so sick of—of—doing more than what's required of me and not being compensated for it."

Harry remained quiet over the phone. At this point in your relationship, he knew when you wanted his advice and when you just needed to vent about your job. The latter happened more and more as of late. Sometimes you felt bad for being so negative, but after nine hours of being overly positive as a restaurant server, you didn't have much positivity left in you.

"Need me to leave you a review again?" Harry finally asked.

Despite your exhaustion, you smiled. "What's that, now? The third one this month?"

"Fourth. Three and a half. I had Mitch leave one after the, what did you call it, 'influencer incident?'" he asked, referring to an afternoon where someone tried to pay for their meal by posting a video online.

"Hm. I'll have to bring him a slice of pie the next time I visit the studio."

"Hey, what about me? Where's my pie?"

Grin widening a bit, you said, "I'll give you something better."

"And...how far from home are you now?"

"Pulling in right now. I'll see you inside."

You pulled into the home you shared with Harry, resting your forehead against the steering wheel once the car was in park. Your feet hurt, you smelled like the food your restaurant served, and you desperately needed to take your makeup off. Sometimes you wondered why you were still putting yourself through all of this, and Harry definitely did too. For years now, Harry promised to take care of you, to take care of your student debt so you could focus on your career and not be so tired and unhappy. He didn't say it often because it typically led to an argument about independence and needing to be able to take care of yourself, but you knew how he felt, and after days like today, the idea of letting someone else take care of you financially seemed more appealing than it normally did.

Sighing, you slid out of the car, gathering your lunch bag and purse before shuffling into the house on slippered feet. "H?" you called, eyes lighting up when you heard the sound of nails scraping against wood floors. A shadow of jet black fur whipped around the corner and bounded toward the entrance hall to you, tongue out and tail wagging.

"Hi, pookie! How's my sweet boy?" you cooed. Hades nudged your leg with his nose, and you bent down to run your hands over his soft puppy fur until he eventually fell onto his back in need of belly rubs.

"You talking to me?" Harry's voice sounded like it came from the kitchen, which you followed once you straightened up and your dog was finished licking your face.

"You're gonna eat your words when you get your cute butt over here."

"I live with two boys, and only one of them greets me excitedly without fail. You do the math," you joked.

You smiled and shook your head at the comment. Harry knew your feelings about your "unflattering" work uniform, so he often went out of his way to compliment you whenever you were in it.

When you finally made it to where Harry was standing at the kitchen counter, tears nearly welled up in the corners of your eyes. "Is that—"

"Wild Cherry Pepsi," he said, his grin wide and knowing as he read your expression. "With pebbled ice. And dinner, but I know you care more about the drink with that sugar addiction of yours."

"You know me so well," you said, your voice rising in pitch as your head bowed.

"Aw, come here, bub." You shuffled over the last few steps to Harry, folding right into his welcoming embrace.

His body was firm and comforting against yours, his t-shirt soft beneath your cheek. Breathing in deep, you wrapped your arms around Harry's torso, letting every frustration you felt at work fall away as he held you.

"Thank you," you mumbled, tilting your head up after a minute or two had passed.

Harry smoothed his hand over your hair and down your back, pulling at the hair tie that held your braid in place all day. "For what?"

You shrugged, eyes closed as he began to pull the strands of your braid apart. "I don't know. For being you, for not suggesting I should quit when I know you want to."

"Another time," Harry promised. Pulling out a chair at the kitchen table, he gestured for you to sit down. You practically fell into the chair, feeling like you could finally relax as you took the plastic to-go cup into your hands and took a sip. Your eyes closed, feeling as though you could fall asleep right then even though you knew you should probably eat. As if he could tell you were on the brink of sleeping, Harry asked, "Do you want to keep talking about work or are you ready to forget?"

Harry wasn't being rude, nor was he belittling your frustration. You'd done this song and dance a time or two, but some days required you to vent more than others.

Around the straw, you said, "Can I?"

He sat beside you, taking Hades in his lap, who was happy to be held even though he was getting way too big for it. Usually, you chided Harry for holding Hades like that, but you were too tired, and honestly, it was kind of cute.

You talked while you ate, and Harry listened, letting you get everything you needed off your chest. He was quiet but attentive, apologizing for things out of his control and cursing your co-workers when you did. None of it would really improve the situation at work, but you always appreciated Harry's willingness to listen when you needed him to, and share in your anger and frustration when necessary.

Standing from the table, you took your plate and put everything in the dishwasher. Grabbing your plastic cup in one hand and Harry's hand in the other, you said, "I think I'm all done."

Harry kissed your temple before pulling you up the stairs toward your bedroom. Hades snaked between you and him to run ahead, waiting on the landing impatiently. "Good, because the Real Housewives of Salt Lake City won't wait for just anyone."

"Not a reading night, huh?" you asked, resting your head on his shoulder. Harry looked down and raised his brows in an expression that expressed he was not, in fact, going to be cracking open his book tonight. Kissing his cheek, you said, "Go ahead and start the next episode, baby. I'm gonna hop in the shower and wash my day off."

Harry, who'd been on his way to do just that, paused and frowned. "Well now I want to watch something else."

Grinning, you held out your hand while you continued to sip your drink. "Come on."

Hades, who had already claimed his spot at the edge of your bed, tilted his head to one side, clearly confused as to why his parents were walking away instead of joining him. "We'll be quick," you promised, even though you knew your dog didn't understand. But the message was for Harry too.

When you were finally in bed, watching Harry's show through eyes that were struggling to stay open, you looked up from where you resting against his shoulder. Harry's glasses were perched on his nose, his eyes focused on the television in front of him as he ran his hand idly over Hades' fur, who had conveniently found his way onto your lap once you settled into bed for the night.

"If you insist," Harry said on an exhale, turning the shower on and setting it to a temperature he knew you both liked.

"Be honest," you said suddenly. "I'd be happier if I quit, right?"

Harry was quiet, but you knew he'd heard you. He was just weighing his words. "Is another job lined up in this alternate universe?" he finally asked.

"I don't know, maybe. They argue quite a bit, though. Don't think you want to be part of all that drama," he replied, taking the remote and pausing his show. He looked down at you, eyes soft but perhaps a little concerned. You'd never considered his offer of letting him provide for you this seriously before. "Honestly? I think you'd get bored, bub."

You shrugged. "I don't know. You've said you'd always take care of me. What if I just...let you? I could be one of them," you mused, nodding your head at the women on your TV.

A nod and a noncommittal hum was your only response for a few seconds until you'd gathered your thoughts. "I'm just so...tired. I'm tired of everything I do not being appreciated. I'm tired of not being supported. I love my regulars and I like most of my co-workers, and part of me feels a sense of loyalty to this place despite, well, everything."

"We'll do some job hunting tomorrow," Harry said. "I'll help you update your resume, you'll send some feelers out, and we'll go from there. How does that sound?"

"I could get a remote job," you mused. "I'd get to be home more. I could travel more with you."

Harry kissed the top of your head. "As much as I would love that, I think your strengths lie in the connections you make with people. You certainly charmed the pants off me."

"Literally or metaphorically?"

"Both."

You grinned, cheeks reddening as you recalled the night you first met Harry.

*.*

"Holy shit you're Harry Styles."

Your hand immediately clapped over your mouth, as if physically covering it would keep you from embarrassing yourself further. In your defense, it was the first time a celebrity sat in your section at work, and no one had thought to warn you. And Harry Styles, no less. The man in front of you was probably still immortalized on your childhood bedroom wall, and now you'd all but outed yourself as a fan when he'd no doubt wanted some privacy.

"I'm so sorry, I—" How were you supposed to recover from this? Harry stared at you with a small smile, a pitying one, no doubt. God, you had one opportunity to act cool in front of a celebrity and you blew it in less than ten seconds. "I'm sorry, let me start over. Hi, I'm Y/n, and I'll be taking care of you today. Can I get you something to drink?"

"Just a water please," Harry replied, his voice soft as his smile widened, which made you think that perhaps he thought you making an absolute fool out of yourself was at the very least amusing.

Once you made it back to the service station to retrieve his water glass, you gave yourself exactly one minute to collect yourself. "He's just another customer. An extremely attractive customer," you murmured, grabbing a pitcher of water from the fridge. "You can do this, Y/n. Pull yourself together."

From there, things went smoothly. You acted like you hadn't freaked out when you initially greeted Harry's table, and Harry was thankfully on board with that plan. He was polite, wasn't fussed when a dish he wanted couldn't be made vegetarian, and was surprisingly interested in making conversation with you anytime you were at his table.

"How long have you worked here?"

"Too long," you joked. "Sometimes I feel like there's a bit of Stockholm Syndrome with this place, but the tips are good."

Your eyes widened a bit when you realized he might think you were making a joke about one of his songs—which you absolutely weren't trying to do—but you didn't comment on it, and thankfully neither did he. You talked a little bit more about the career you did want to get into, and casually asked what brought him to the restaurant you worked at. It wasn't one celebrities tended to frequent, but perhaps that was its charm to Harry.

"Had a day to myself, just thought I'd do some exploring," he explained before you left him to enjoy his meal.

You'd gotten a couple more tables since then and couldn't go over and talk to Harry like you wanted, but perhaps that was for the best. You flitted around the restaurant floor like you always did, charming customers and taking complaints in stride with a smile. Tips were key, and snarky comments or not being accommodating would get you nowhere with certain customers, even if it did kill you inside just a little bit to see an insufferable person get their way.

You didn't realize it at the time, but according to Harry, he watched you—not in a creepy way, per his recollection of your first meeting. He watched you chat with regulars and help your co-workers place orders and carefully placate disgruntled customers. And all the while, you still managed to stop by his table, smiling and topping off the coffee he ordered after he ate, which, according to him he'd done just so he could keep talking to you.

Apparently, he'd been working up the courage to flirt with you when you finally set the check down on the table. "No rush," you said with a smile before heading to another table, a party of ten that you accidentally huffed to him was supposed to be a party of five.

Harry paid, then smiled when his bill and credit card came back to him. Sorry for acting like an idiot earlier. It was nice meeting you! you'd written on the receipt, adorning it with a smiley face. You watched as Harry smiled as he read your note from Expo before one of the line cooks shouted at you to run the food that was up.

You didn't think you'd ever see Harry again, a universal truth, some might've called it. But for some reason, the notion disappointed you, and not because you didn't get a picture with your teenage crush. It felt bigger than that somehow, which was altogether crazy considering you'd only just met him.

So imagine your surprise when you saw him again two days later. "He was supposed to be in my section, but he insisted on yours. Don't fuck it up," one of your more vile co-workers told you, clearly jealous. And as you saw him, his head bent over the menu and his knee bouncing beneath the booth, your heart leaped in your chest in a way that made you both nervous and excited.

"You forgot something," he said as he closed out his check for the second time that week. Time had passed in a blur, despite it slowing down every time you went over to talk to him, which was to say a lot. It wasn't as busy as the day he first came in, leaving you no choice but to check on him more than you normally would.

"Did I?" you asked, looking down at the bill with furrowed brows.

"Last time I was here, I mean," Harry corrected.

Last time, you thought. All Harry had gotten was a salad and a coffee, but the tip he left was well over half of what your other tables had left that day combined. But you rang everything in correctly. Perhaps he was expecting a discount for his celebrity status? He didn't seem like the type, but that was the only conclusion you were able to draw.

"The note you left," he continued, a faint blush spreading across his cheeks. He sat up straighter, giving you a better view of the Keith Harring shirt he wore. "It didn't have your number on it, so I've had to come back the last two days so I could ask you for it. Only now I know you don't work on Mondays."

Shock ran through your entire body, to the point where you couldn't even speak. Harry, Harry Styles, mind you, wanted your number. Badly enough that he'd come back to an average Mom-and-Pop restaurant to get it.

"No, I—I don't," was all you could manage as your entire face heated up.

"I hope I'm not sounding like a creep right now," Harry said, scratching the back of his neck nervously. "I realize now I may have participated in some light stalking."

"You're not," you blurted, trying to remember how to speak. You felt like you'd somehow entered an alternate dimension. "Here, hold on."

You pulled your order pad from your back pocket and scribbled your number down, willing your hands to stop shaking. Ripping it off the stack, you handed it to Harry, who took it from you graciously.

"Can I call you later?" he asked, standing up from the booth. You had to back up a couple steps to give him room, and you were now aware of just how tall he was as you craned your neck to look at him.

"Please," you blurted, cursing yourself for sounding so eager. Harry didn't seem to mind, though, smiling as he slipped his phone and wallet into the back pocket of his jeans. "I—I mean, sure. I'm off at eight tonight."

"I'll be counting down the minutes," he said before cursing under his breath. "Shit. I sounded like a stalker again, didn't I?"

A laugh bubbled out of you, making Harry's shoulders relax. "I'll allow it. Just this once."

Harry laughed too, then winked, and you were honestly so proud of yourself for not swooning in front of him. "I guess I'll be talking to you later then, Y/n."

*.*

"You made me so nervous," you said as you recalled the memory of how you'd embarrassed yourself in front of Harry the first time you met.

"I know," he said, laughing when you smacked his arm. "It was cute, though! And you also made me plenty nervous, to be fair."

"That is true," you sighed, grinning a little as you turned your face into his arm. "One of us stalked the other, and it certainly wasn't me."

"Sure, but one of us has posters of the other plastered all over their childhood bedroom."

Scoffing, you sat up and scooted away from him, making Hades bark in protest. "It's one poster. And you weren't even my favorite. Zayn was."

"Sure. Keep telling yourself that."

"I will."

Sighing, you settled deeper against him, as much as you could considering the puppy still in your lap. "Sometimes I think I keep the job because that's where we met."

"It's okay to let it go. We'll have the memory," Harry promised, his hand meeting yours as he began to scratch Hades' fur. "We'll figure it out. I promise."

Nodding, you reached for the remote and pressed play on the show, content to leave the conversation there. If Harry promised to help you figure it out, then you believed him.

#harry styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x you #harry styles fluff #harry styles writing #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic

[dimiyuri]

familiarity | feligard

It's been a couple of months since the war ended, and even though the Empire has won, nothing feels the same. Felix stares at the ceiling in his empty house in former Fraldarius territory, sighs to himself. This place used to be a home, he thinks as he glances over towards a painting on the wall, a painting he did as a child of himself, Glenn, Rodrigue and his mother. Now, it's just an empty, barren house – four walls and a roof.

There's a gentle knock on the door, and before Felix can sit up to go and answer it, the door swings open. One of the house's maids, Lenore enters the room, bowing her head. "Sorry to intrude, Master Fraldarius, but you have someone visiting."

"Did you ask who they were?" Felix asks coldly.

The maid shakes her head. "I... don't know who she is, but I think she's important. Imperial." Lenore steps out and walks down the hall, leaving Felix alone again. He sighs, running a hand through his long blue hair. He didn't even bother getting dressed today, still in his pyjamas.

Felix decides to make himself somewhat presentable, washing his face in the sink and finding some casual clothes. If Lenore said that this visitor was an Imperial type, Felix half-expects someone like Hubert or even Dorothea. Not that he wouldn't mind the latter's company right now.

When he finishes readying himself he leaves his room and walks down the stairs, Lenore waiting at the entryway standing next to the visitor. Felix rubs his tired eyes. "Well, isn't this shocking."

"That's not a way to treat your Emperor." Edelgard steps forward into the house, slipping off her shoes and setting them to the side. "Good morning to you too."

"What're you doing in my house?" Felix asks flatly.

"I'm just paying a visit," Edelgard explains. "Plus, you were one of our best leaders during the war. I wanted to give you something special." She walks through the house and situates herself in the living room, settling down on the sofa.

Felix, confused, follows. He has no memory of Edelgard ever visiting Fraldarius, but maybe he was always spending time with Sylvain back in their youth. Felix knows of Edelgard from childhood. This is the first time he's ever truly spoken to her in private.

Felix finds a comfortable sofa to situate on as well. "What did you want to give me?"

"Hubert had one of these magical daggers laying around," Edelgard explains, as she retrieves a sparking dagger from her dress pocket. "It looks a bit like a levin sword, but smaller. I figured you'd want it."

Felix takes the dagger. Huh, this feels familiar. He looks at it closely, sparks of electricity shooting from the blade. Felix knows a decent amount of reason, so he can handle a magical sword harnessed with the power of dark magic. "Thank you," his expression changes into a shy but relaxed smile.

"You're welcome. I also wanted to ask you," Edelgard glances down. "Do you know that Dimitri and I are... were related?"

"Kind of," Felix sets the dagger down on the table. "He didn't say much about you."

"I see..." the Emperor's expression changes as well, almost appearing hurt. "I wonder why that is."

Felix wants to change the subject. Just thinking about the dead makes him sick. He's already witnessed it too much, and has already caused the deaths of so many friends and even his own father. "We'll never know," Felix says flatly. "That goddamn boar is burning in hell is all I know."

#felix's writing #fanfiction #writeblr #fire emblem fanfiction #fire emblem three houses #fe3h #three houses #fire emblem fanfic #edelgard von hresvelg #felix hugo fraldarius #feligard #rarepair #crimson flower au

[lubdubsworld]

Someone to Love.

Hello!!!

Here is my gift for 8k subscribers!!!

Alpha Jungkook x Omega OC Werewolf Au!

Genre ! : Fluff . Mild Angst. Mild Smut.

Work Count : 6k

Summary : Widowed Omega Aerin isn't really looking for love. But Jeon Jungkook the handsome alpha who gets washed over a waterfall, is willing to offer it to her anyway.

Complete!!!

The thing about living in a clan as small as ours, was that word always travelled fast.

We were a close knit pack, everyone knew everyone and more importantly, everyone was always in everyone’s business. Which is why, it was no surprise that, even before the Head Alpha could send word for me, I already knew about the young alpha who had , apparently, washed over the waterfall. The drop was a good twenty five feet and the bottom of the pool littered with sharp rocks. He was obviously injured.

As the healer, I would have to be there to examine him.

Nevertheless, I waited till Jinyoung came knocking on my door, sometime after the midday meal, his face urgent and voice a little shaky. I had just finished wrapping my daughter against my breast, tying the end of the flannel across my back and over my shoulder . I pulled on the ends, securing the wrap around my torso, and making sure her limbs were free to move about.

Sera giggled, chubby fists wet with drool as she shoved them into her mouth. She was teething and that meant excessive drooling and a penchant for biting everything I sight. But like this, she was usually well settled, the warmth of my body and my scent lulling her to a drwsy state. She would be asleep by the time we reached the injured wolf.

My son was still out playing with the other alpha pups in the woods. He wouldn’t be back till sundown. And even if he did, Joowon was almost nine winters old now. He could fend for himself in the hut till I got back.

I quickly grabbed my shawl, wrapping it over my shoulder, before moving to the door and opening it.

“Aerin? Alpha Kim sent for you, there’s an injured wolf you need to tend to.” He said urgently and I didn’t miss the four or five young omegas hovering behind him, giggling and coy. I shook my head. Apparently, even a half dead, injured alpha wasn’t safe from these younglings. I gave them a chiding smile but they merely laughed some more.

“Of course, Jinyoung . Let me just grab my bag.” I quickly picked the small carry-all tote I used for visits. It had almost all the tinctures, ointments and salves that I stocked in the apothecary attached to my hut, in smaller quantities. I also kept a polished set of needles and tools in case I had to extract stubborn splinters of jagged rock ends out of flesh. For being one of the strongest breed, it was ridiculous how often alphas got hurt doing the silliest things.

Like going over a waterfall.

As we began the short trek over to the Head alpha’s cabin, the throng of smitten omegas surrounded me, looking bright eyed.

“They say he’s very handsome, unnie. And young!” One of them laughed.

I hummed.

“Then one must hope the rocks in the pool didn’t leave too much of a mark .” I said casually.

“I wouldn’t mind a scar or two, as long as he has his…you know..” Another set of giggles.

I shook my head, laughing. The girls were incorrigible but that was their right. They were all young, barely twenty and unmated. They knew nothing about the marriage bed , nothing about the intimacy that came with it. The love the commitment. My heart ached.

Two years and still my heart ached something fierce .

“Just tell him he has to rest for a month at least, unnie. Tell him he can’t leave for a month and I’ll work my charm.” The Head Alpha’s daughter Jisoo gave me a sharp little smile and I shook my head.

“I’ll do no such thing. And I don’t appreciate you lusting after a man who may well be dying.” I said sternly and Jisoo had the good grace to blush.

“Unnie, its just that…. I’m bored of all these dumb alphas panting after me. They’re so…uncouth. I just want to meet someone new.” She pouted.

We reached the small hillock that would lead to the Head alpha’s house and I gave her a smile.

“Well, in that case, I’ll patch him up real good for you. But till then, you and your girls, why don’t you go occupy yourselves elsewhere.”

Jisoo wrinkled her nose but listened and I smiled at Jinyoung, hugging sera closer to my chest and making haste to the hut in front of us. Jinyoung led me to a side door and further into a room at the end of the narrow corridor.

“Aerin! Child… You’re here!” The Head alpha held his arms out and I embraced him quickly. The injured alpha was laid out in the middle of the room on a thick pallet of straw and blankets. They had stripped him of his wet clothes and he looked like he was sleeping. I stared at his face and felt my breath catch.

He was breathtakingly beautiful. I couldn’t look away. Right up , I could make out three flesh wounds, jagged and slightly deep : one across his brow, another across his shoulder and one right over his chest. Dark ink curled all over his torso and he looked young but also like a warrior.

“We just found out he’s from the Jeon clan. The head alpha’s son.” Yugyeom, knelt by his shoulders, pointing out the inked shoulder which marked him as the heir to the Jeon pack.

“We’ve already sent word. They’ll be here to fetch him in a day or so. We need only tend to him till then. Well. Give him all hospitality and treat him like a king. We need to remain in the Jeon’s good graces.” The Head alpha said sternly and all of them bowed.

I quickly, grabbed my bag, laying it out on the floor and crawling over to his side.

“Hot water and spirit , please.” I told the maid standing by but the Head alpha quickly held a hand up.

“Aerin ah? I have a meeting here with the Min and Jung clan leaders. The autumn festival is set to begin tonight. Its impossible for me to keep him here and all the other alphas are going to be busy too. I want him to get the best care possible and I can think of no one better than you, fort this task. Can we shift him to your hut?”

I swallowed nervously. I didn’t really entertain patients in my house. Especially not alphas. My son got jittery and my daughter was too used to my own scent.

“As a personal favor to your alpha?” He said insistently, eyes flashing red and I realized it wasn’t a request. Rather a command.

“I… Yes, alpha.” I said hesitantly. “ Can I just examine him now, make sure nothing’s broken, before we shift him?”

“Yes of course my dear.” The alpha bowed before stepping aside. I quickly glanced at everyone else.

“Please leave.” I said quickly and they flushed, bowing before moving out of the room.

“Should I stay , Aerin?” Jinyoung asked nervously and I shook my head. “ Just wait outside and close the door for me, Jin.”

Once the door shut, I quickly glanced down at Sera who had curled into my chest and fallen asleep. I brought a bit of the fabric by chest over her head, so she wouldn’t get too much of the alpha’s scent. Kneeling down, I went about peeling the blanket off him.

He was a beautiful man, I thought absently, long limbs and thick muscles all over and it was no doubt his strong, well kept body that had saved him.

Other than a few more surface wounds on his legs and a gash on his thigh, he seemed relatively unharmed. I did run my fingers over his joints and arms, carefully looking for any swelling or discoloration that would signify broken bones. I carefully gripped his shoulders, turning him over gently to examine his back. I made a mental note of all the cuts that looked like they would have to be sewn together, so I could prepare enough string for it. I leaned over to press my ears against his chest, noting the rise and fall of his lungs.

A hand brushed over the back of my head, gentle and soft.

I jumped, wrapping both hands around sera and scooting back in panic, eyes wide as I stared at the man on the floor, now blinking tiredly at me.

“I… I..” I couldn’t get my words out and he groaned .

“Am I dead? Are you an angel?” He whispered.

I blinked, blood rushing to my face as I tried to calm my breathing.

“Jinyoung!!!” I yelled sharply and the door opened, Jinyoung stepping in and staring wide eyed at the alpha on the pallet. He was struggling to sit up and I quickly pulled myself together.

“Alpha Jeon! Please… You must stay still. ” I said quickly, pushing my palms against his chest, helping him lay back down, trying to ignore how his eyes danced all over my face, nostrils flared .” I’m Aerin, the healer from the Kim pack. You remember what happened today?”

He groaned again, lifting a shaky hand to press against his head. I moved closer, gently reaching out to grab his wrist, pulling his fingers away from the still wet wound on his brow, and his eyes clashed against mine, wide and steady. He stared pointedly at where my fingers curled around his wrists and I let go quickly.

“Yes….. one of the pups almost went over the waterfall. I… I tried to get him out.” He said softly. He glanced at Jinyoung. The latter looked away, clearly nervous.

“Pup?” I asked, heart dropping and he gave me a small smile. I tried not to let my gaze linger on his lips as he chuckled lightly.

“Can you help me up, kid?” He asked softly and Jinyoung startled, glancing at me.

I shook my head. I turned to Jungkook, heart racing. He sighed, resting back against the bed.

“Don’t worry, angel. I managed to toss her back to her father just before I went over the edge. I’m certain that she’s perfectly alright.”

“well, that’s a relief.” I hesitated, feeling awkward. Sera stirred and Jungkook’s gaze went to her again.

“she’s yours?” He asked gently and I blinked, glancing at Jinyoung nervously. It seemed too personal but I couldn’t imagine not answering without seeming rude.

“Yes, sire.” I bowed politely, moving back a bit more as Jungkook inhaled and reached out again, this time gripping my wrist. He scented the air and I flinched , yanking my hand away and quickly standing up, uncomfortable. He was still staring at me, gaze steady.

“You… You can tell the others that he’s conscious. We can move-” I stopped when the alpha cut me off.

“You don’t smell mated. You haven’t been with a man in years.” He said quietly and now Jiyoung looked uncomfortable too.

“Alpha Jeon, I-”

“Jungkook. Call me Jungkook.”

My heart jumped at the thought of addressing him so intimately. I shook my head.

“I’m looking for a mate. Can I court you, angel?” He said suddenly and my jaw dropped.

“There’s… There’s a dozen unmated omegas outside.” I choked out. Was I dreaming ? This couldn’t be happening.

“That’s not what I asked. Whom must I speak with? To court you? Your Head alpha.” He turned to Jinyoung. “ Please send word to Alpha Kim that I require an audience with him. And that its very important that he come here as soon as possible.”

“Please don’t.” I said quietly, feeling my body tremble and he froze.

“What’s wrong?” He said quietly.

I shook my head.

“I have a son. I’m not… I have a son. He’s almost nine winters old. He still… He loves his father. The man who raised him… I can’t…. it would break him. Please, Alpha Jeon. You have power here and I have none. Your word is law and I’m bound to honor it but please, please consider. My son…”

Jungkook’s gaze softened incredibly at that.

“I have a ten year old brother.” He said gently. “ What you’re saying is that it isn’t the head alpha’s approval that I need. It is your son’s.”

I blinked, thrown.

“I…”

“Then you must promise me this. If your son…” He paused, “ What’s his name?”

“I… Joowon.”

“If Joowon tells you that he wouldn’t mind having me in his life….will you consider letting me court you.”

I could only stare. Jinyoung cleared his throat looking completely enthralled by the drama unfolding in front of him. I saw a glint of mischief in his gaze and felt my hackles rise.

“Alpha, there’s a festival in our clan. It lasts three weeks and is filled with festivities and joyous celebrations. I do believe the Kim pack would be honored to have you stay with us, enjoying our hospitality and the bountiful gifts of nature we here in the lowlands enjoy.”

I gaped at him in disbelief.

“I… “

“That’s settled then. I will send for my pack members as well. They would love to share this time with you.” He turned to me.

I exhaled, certain that he had hit his head on the way down the falls.

“You’re insane.” I said softly, shaking my head. “ You’re free to enjoy all that my clan has to offer…. But, I’m not on the menu, Alpha Jeon.”

I quickly stood up.

“Tell Alpha Kim that he can fend for himself in one of the huts we have for heats and ruts. I’ll send one of my apprentices to sew up his wounds and apply salve on him.”

“I’m afraid not, Aerin. You know what the chief said. It has to be you.” Jin grinned and I glared at him.

Jungkook was smiling too.

“Come now, angel. Just because you don’t like me ….yet… don’t shun your duties.”

Good Lord.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Fucking hell, what the actual fuck…” Jungkook swore and I glared at him, grabbing a strip of white linen and balling it up before pressing it into his mouth, gagging him.

He stared at me, eyes wide in surprise and mouth open around the fabric.

“Stop swearing in front of my son.” I snapped. Joowon laughed, carefully threading the twine through the eye of the cleaned needle. He dipped the twine and the needle into the warm water and the spirit again.

“Come now mother, you know I can say worse things.” He stuck his tongue out and I glared at him.

“Not in this house, you can’t. Also keep it down… I’ve just put Sera to bed.” I carefully pinched the skin over his chest together before reaching out and slipping the needle into his skin. I worked carefully and diligently, focused on the task and when I was finally done, I glanced up, only for my gaze to clash with Jungkook’s.

“I.. were you staring the whole time?” I asked, blushing. Jungkook spat the gag out and grinned, boyish and naughty.

“Can’t help it. The view is truly breathtaking.”

I rolled my eyes.

“I wasn’t kidding when I said that there are omegas here who would love to be courted by you. You haven’t met any of them yet and that is why you seem to be … so… “ I shook my head.

“Joowon ah… Who’s the most beautiful woman in this clan?” Jungkook asked firmly and my son hummed from next to me.

“Mother, of course.”

I gaped at the pair of them.

“See? I trust Joowon’s judgement implicitly. “ Jungkook shrugged.

Joowon laughed again and I didn’t miss the looks he kept tossing at the alpha. Curious but also laced with a lot of admiration. I wasn’t surprised. Joowon had never been suspicious or hesitant in offering his friendship to people. And Jungkook had regaled him with tales about hunts and fishing trips and kayak rides in rapids….. and the younger was now clearly intrigued and almost halfway to smitten with the man.

My own heart raced , pulse pounding in a way it hadn’t in years. And yet, I knew it was futile. Men like Jungkook…. They didn’t really fall in love with women like me. All these flowery words, all this flirting….it was for one thing only. And once he got it, he would leave. Of course he would.

But that was the problem. For the first time in two years, I considered it. Considered letting him have it….have me. But with it , came a nagging wish that he wasn’t joking. That perhaps, I wasn’t as….undesirable as my late husband had made me feel.

I shook my head to clear the haze of dreams, impossible girlish dreams that came with his scent and his proximity. I didn’t want to go down that road. I wasn’t… I may be younger than Jungkook but I was still too old to be courted and to start a new life with someone. Least of all someone like Jungkook.

I glanced back up at him as I carefully applied salve on the stitches, fingers light on dusky smooth skin. He was still staring at me, and as I bent in closer, his hair brushed my forehead. My eyes fell on his nipple and my mouth went dry. I breathed out and looked up at him, shaking my head and pulling away.

“You’re all done alpha.” I whispered.

His hand crept up to my knee, squeezing gently.

“I’m just getting started.” He whispered and I bit my lips, looking away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Father… you shouldn’t have come .” Jungkook was groaning and I could only stare in horror , trying to process the fact that both Alpha Jeon and his wife were now standing in my hut, fussing over their son and ruffling his hair like he was five years old.

“Nonsense !” Alpha Jeon thundered, making me jump. “ You went over the waterfall and you expect me to not be worried. I brought our healer but I see the Kim clan has an exceptionally talented young healer themselves. My son looks as good as new , dear girl.” He grinned at me and I smiled shakily.

“I’m going to court her, father.” Jungkook said without any preamble and my heart dropped to my knees. Lady Jeon’s gaze snapped to me and I retreated further, clutching Sera to my chest in panic.

“No.. I.. no he’s not. I’m sorry, Alpha, I… I should go…” I dived for Joowon’s wrist, yanking my son along and moving to the door.

“Wait, child.” Lady Jeon’s voice made me still and I bit my lips, squeezing my eyes shut in horror. Surely whatever was coming…it couldn’t be good… t would be the same thing I’d heard over the years, the same threats, the same insults…

“Let me look at you.” Lady Jeon said and I trembled a bit, turning to her nervously, prepared for rejection and annoyance.

I found none.

All I could see was genuine interest that morphed into pleasure as she took in my features.

“What a beautiful girl you are.” She whispered , “ You can do so much better than my savage son, who apparently doesn’t know his way up or down a waterfall.”

Jungkook growled from the bed.

“Mother.”

Lady Jeon gave him a look.

“I’m serious. The Kim clan , I’m sure must have several fine young men, all of them willing to court her. What makes you think they would hand her over to you, Jungkook.” He said regally and I hesitated.

“I… I’ve been mated before. These are my kids.” I said hesitantly.

Lady Jeon blinked.

“Does that make a difference?”

I couldn’t respond, mind in shambles.

“Unless …what we’ve heard about the Kim clan isn’t true? And they are archaic and small minded when it comes to their women?” She said sharply, turning around to glare at my Head Alpha who looked horrified as he bowed.

“of course not , my lady..we… We all treat Aerin with the utmost respect.. She is as our daughter.”

“That is not what I asked. Has she not been courted?” Alpha Jeon asked gruffly and Jungkook made a noise of impatience.

“I’m saying I’ll court her, why is everyone-“

“Quiet Jungkook. “ Lady Jeon said sharply before turning to me.

“Have you not been courted after your husband’s death. Its unheard of for a young wolf to remain without a mate. Did none of the men in your clan step up?”

I hesitated before deciding on the truth.

“Joowon-ah? Could you go play outside for a while?” I said softly and he hesitated before glancing at Jungkook and running off. Once I was sure he was out of earshot I turned to Lady Jeon.

“They only offered to take me on as a mistress.” I said honestly, staring at my feet. “ And … I have a son. Old enough to understand these things. He… He heard his friends talk about how I was … He asked me if what they said was true…. If I was just anyone’s to use or take, now that his father was dead. I…. I had to reassure him that it wasn’t the case…. That I wouldn’t… That I didn’t need to warm anyone’s bed to survive.”

“She’s coming with us tomorrow.” Jungkook growled from the bed and I glared at him.

“Please let me finish.” I snapped. “ And yes, there are men here who feel that way but Alpha Kim is right. They have for the most part, treated me with great respect and I … I enjoy my life here. I’m not lacking for anything..” Except someone to love, someone to hold through cold winter nights, someone to share bright spring sunshine with…someone to kiss in the rain… someone who would go to war for me…

“So? You don’t accept my son’s offer of courting? Is that what you’re saying?” Lady Jeon asked gently.

“Don’t answer that.” Jungkook’s voice came from my right and I stared at him.

“Alpha Jeon…”

“Could all of you give me a moment alone with her?” Jungkook said quietly and Alpha Kim bowed.

“Please let me show you to your resting quarters.” He said gently and Jungkook’s parents shot him one last look before leaving the cabin. I stayed still as everyone filed out, one after the other.

Once it was just him and I, Jungkook cleared his throat.

“Just three weeks.” He said softly, “ Give me three weeks. Three weeks and if at the end of it you tell me that you don’t want to leave your clan…I’ll accept it without argument. You’ll never see me again.”

I sighed in exhaustion.

“You’re going to be here for the three weeks of the festival anyway. My answer isn’t going to change. I’m not going to fall in love with you, alpha Jeon. ” I said quietly.

He grinned.

“I’m going to remind you of what you just said….six months from now…when you’re my wife.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jungkook was out and about three days later and to my utter horror, jealousy reared its head when I saw the extent to which he was popular with the other omegas. I stayed in the sidelines, holding sera and keeping an eye on Joowon, watching Jungkook get accosted at every turn.

But Jungkook it seemed, had no interest in wooing me.

He was wooing my son.

“These are delicious, Jungkook.” Joowon said excitedly, hands full of candied fruits and honey dipped grapes.

“Stop calling him that…” I hissed , but Joowon merely stuck his tongue out at me, stuck firmly to Jungkook’s side. Jungkook sat on the hard ground of the hut, surrounded by wooden strip and workmen tools, building a miniature windmill for Joowon who had never seen one before. The wind didn’t hit the lowlands much but Jungkook’s clan lived up hill and the windmills helped bring water to the canals.

He gave me a grin, his eyes trained on my lips as I sung gently to Sera, rocking her back and forth on my arms.

“You must give some of that honeyed fruit to your mother too, won-ah… perhaps she will have something sweet to say to me.” He grinned.

I rolled my eyes.

“I believe you’ve heard enough honey dipped words from the many omegas who can’t get enough of you.” I said impishly.

Jungkook laughed.

“ All I need is one word from you my lady….” He whispered and I flushed.

“ One word? No matter the question…? What word is that. ” I shook my head.

“Yes.” Jungkook smiled. “ Because it is that way with me. No matter the question , if you were the one asking, my answer would be yes.”

I stared at him, thrown by the magnitude of sincerity in his tone.

“Mother, ask him if he hates you…” Joowon giggled snapping me out of my thoughts.

I laughed and Jungkook glared.

“You’re supposed to be helping me brat.” He said with faux anger, eyes still excessively fond as he pulled my son into a playful headlock.

I watched them wrestle around Joowon smiling in a way that I had never seen him do in a long long time and my heart ached. Was it wrong… I wondered, to be this greedy? To want a lifetime of this….

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“ They say you never mourned him.” Jungkook sat on the rocking chair, shirt unbuttoned and Sera lying on his chest, the warmth of his body and the staccato of his heart lulling her to sleep . I sat on the floor, leaning back against the wall, Joowon was already asleep nect to me, head resting on my lap.

I watched him, watched the large, rugged hand, so gentle on my daughter’s back, stroking her gently, as he hummed sweetly.

“there was nothing to mourn.” I whispered bitterly, threading my fingers through my son’s hair, the silky strands falling through like water.

“He wasn’t a good man then.”

I shook my head.

“He married me when I was sixteen. And when I was old enough to see him for what he was, he didn’t want me anymore. And he died because he tried to rape the Head Alpha’s daughter.” I felt that familiar sickening feeling of disgust.

Jungkook didn’t say anything merely staring off into the fire blazing in the hearth.

“Is that why you think…you’re too old?” He asked gently and I flushed.

“It didn’t help with my self esteem.” I admitted.

“And is that why you..hesitate? To tell me how you truly feel.”

“It’s complicated. I … It s not easy baring my heart to you…” I looked away.

“You’re beautiful. I want you. Everyday I feel like I’m falling deeper.” Jungkook said quietly.

I stared at him, stunned.

He turned around and smiled at me.

“It’s not complicated for me. Its hard to watch you keep me at arm’s length. It’s hard to go to sleep on the floor, knowing your warm body is at touching distance. Its hard watching these omegas mistreat you because they’re jealous of the attention you get from me. And its hard….telling myself I can’t just pull you into my arms and kiss you in front of them all so they know . ” He smiled, “But telling you how I feel? It’s not hard at all.”

I felt my mouth go dry and stared at my knees.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Marry me.” Jaebum had cornered me by the apothecary and I stared at him in shock.

“What?” I snapped, “ What nonsense is this? Move out of my way.”

“Alpha Kim wants Jisoo to marry Jungkook. He has asked one of us to get you out of the picture. And no one else wants another man’s sloppy seconds. I’m the only one who agreed so you should be honored. Just say yes and come with me.”

He made to grab me and I stumbled back in terror only to crahs into a broiad back, right behind me. A familiar scent and strong arms coming around to hug me.

“Perhaps, Alpha Kim should reconsider his plans. Because I’m sure he doesn’t want the entire Jeon clan to come to war with him.”

Jaebum stepped back.

“you would start a war over some omega?” He scoffed.

Jungkook grinned shaking his head.

“No. But I would start a war over my woman.”

Jaebum scoffed again before spitting at his feet and walking away. Jungkook glared at him till he disappeared from view. My limbs started trembling the moment I realized what had just happened. After years of working for these people…healing them and mending their wounds….Was this how they saw me?

I went limp in his arms and he hugged me close.

“Angel….are you alright?” Jungkook whispered and I swallowed, turning around and staring at him.

“I… They… Why would he do that?” I whispered and Jungkook reached out cupping my face gently.

“I don’t know. But he’s an idiot. As if I would let another man lay a finger on you…” He said softly and I laughed, shaking my head.

I looked back up at him, letting my gaze fall to his lips. As if on cue the heavens opened and it began to rain… Jungkook swore, moving to find shelter but I grabbed his arm, pulling him closer.

“Alpha Jeon…” I said quietly, water dripping down my face as the rain intensified . “ Will you kiss me?”

Jungkook’s eyes went comically wide. He was already dripping wet, hair falling in soaked strands into his eyes.

“Wh-What?”

“I’ve waited for many years for this kiss. A kiss in the rain. With a man who would go to war for me.”

Jungkook laughed at that and I stared as he leaned down, gently pressing his lips to my forehead. Tears sprung at the tender gesture and I gripped the fabric of his tunic hard. Laughing I buried my face into his chest, as he pressed a multitude of kisses on top of my head.

“Angel. When I kiss you for the first time…it’s not going to stop with a kiss.” He winked.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Leaving my clan was easier, when I reminded myself of what they had done. But I did my duty, offering my greetings and farewell to all the elders, before moving to link my fingers with Jungkook , who held Sera in his arms.

“ I owe you my gratitude. Because you’ve kept her safe all these years. But from now she holds no ties to your clan.” Jungkook said firmly, and I stepped closer to him.

I watched as Jungkook’s father shared a ceremonial glass of wine with the head alpha.

And just like that, I was no longer a Kim.

I was a Jeon.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Mother…” I whispered , mortified , watching Lady Jeon, wrap my daughter in her baby clothes, Packing her clothes and Joowon’s clothes as well. “ Please it isn’t necessary.”

“Nonsense. Jungkook and you need to spend time together. Alone. And I need to spend time with my grandchildren. I’ve already missed out on nine years of Joowon’s life , I refuse to miss out on another second. Besides, he has never seen a windmill he says? My husband has made arrangements for us to pitch our tents right next to one.”

I could only smile and watch as my excitable son practically bounced off the wall, eager to go on a trip with halmeoni and harabeoji.

Jungkook stood next to me, wrapping both arms around me.

“Say the word and We’ll leave in a hour right behind them.” He said gently and I smiled, shaking my head.

“No… your parents want this. I can tell. Let them enjoy some time with their grandkids.”

“Excellent.” Jungkook gripped my shoulders and turned me around.

“I’m in the mood for some honeyed words.” I said quietly.

“Jeon Aerin. My angel. Mine and Mine forever.” He said softly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Six months later :

Jungkook pressed kisses down my back and I grinned into the sheets, watching the springtime sun spill into our room, soaking the sheets in warmth . I stretched as he gently turned me over, feather light kisses on my belly, now slightly curved . He pressed his ears to the taut skin, listening.

“What is that, pup? Oh…yes.. yes yes… You’re right . Absolutely right.” He pulled away and climbed top of me, gently parting my thighs before slotiing himself in between. I sighed as he pressed against me, gently pushing in till he was buried to the hilt inside me.

“God, that feels good…” I whispered and Jungkook hummed, pressing a kiss to my ear before biting the lobe between his teeth.

“Know what our pup just told me , wife? “ He whispered and I looked at him, curious.

“What?”

“Well, he told me that I should remind you that you were so sure you would never fall in love with me.”

I shrugged.

“I’m sure you were once, pretty sure that you would never get washed over the waterfall.”

Jungkook laughed.

“Touché. So we both admit we’re wrong ?”

“The perfect marriage.”

Jungkook kissed me nose before beginning to move gently inside me again and I closed my eyes in bliss.

Someone to hold during cold winter nights.

Someone to kiss in the rain.

Someone to love in the springtime sun…

Someone like Jeon Jungkook, the perfect alpha.

AUTHOR'S NOTE : I LOVE ALL OF YOU. THANK YOU FOR 8K.

#jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #jungkook au #jungkook smut #jungkook fics #bts smut #bts smut fic

[fandomvariousness]

Pairing: Levi x reader

Warnings: mild angst, violence, swearing, smut: slight dacryphilia, choking, slight masochism, slight dumbification, power play, unprotected sex

Summary: you’re an untruly scout in Levi’s squad and he let’s you know exactly how he feels when he pays you a visit during your punishment task

Word count: 3.6k

All hell broke loose if it was one of the worse days.

Your hot-headed disposition was a challenge to deal with in the first place, but if you felt a tad annoyed that day… Let’s just say punishments were as natural to you as breathing air.

It took slightest things to piss off Captain Levi – an irritated glance after he scolded you, a quiet remark you’d use to talk back and he, of course, would hear it. Simply put – you were disobedient. Yet even then you were an indispensable soldier – resourceful, intelligent, and absolutely fearless. Much like a wildfire – once you blaze, it’s hard to put you out.

Even so, Captain Levi eventually chose you to be a part of his new squad. Yes, he never encountered such an erratic human being that’s basically impossible to control, the traits that go against his every bullet point in describing a proper soldier, but he knew he would be an absolute fool if he’d go that massive potential of yours go to waste.

Countless times he wanted to kick you off the squad for being an unbearable brat, yet he didn’t. Often, you yourself wondered why.

✃

The squad has been on a minor expedition outside the walls for training purposes, so all of you were headed to the nearest cottage safe house.

After a tiring day of training, when the sun was setting down, you were all sitting outside, enjoying the last remnants of warmth in the air. Captain was sauntering inside the cottage, probably inspecting each crack and crevice after you all spend the first half of the day cleaning it.

It would be such a nice evening if Eren and Mikasa would argue a bit quieter. In fact, Mikasa was calmly saying something to Eren, while the latter, being basically as hot-headed as you, was arguing against her every word.

It pissed you off when they were like that, because it’s obvious Mikasa would do anything for Eren. Either he is so daft and doesn’t get it, or he doesn’t care. You never admitted to yourself that you’re jealous that Eren has someone who cares for him, while you have no one. Not even your family which was once very big – you had lots of cousins, aunts and uncles. Now, only you remain.

“Oi,” you exclaimed. “could you just tone it down a bit?”

Eren’s fiery gaze snapped towards you in a second. “Stay out of this!”

Now, you knew it’s none of your business, but you hated being talked to like that, much less ordered. You stood up in a swift motion from where you were leaning against a bench and turned your body to face Eren.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’ve no interest in what you’re crying about, Jaeger, but you’re not even listening to Mikasa, that much is obvious.”

Others were starting to pay attention too – they knew that when the two of you started bickering, often it’d turn into something more… interesting.

“You know what else is obvious?” he asked, his voice challenging. “That you act all brave and fearless, but in reality you’re just a restless child acting as if she lost her dummy!”

You felt that familiar tickling feeling of your temper rising, firing you up until you eventually lose yourself and act upon instincts that keep you alive and going.

You chuckled curtly. “Me? You’re calling me a child?”

Tauntingly, you’ve stepped closer to him. Eren knew that it’s not smart to wind you up like that, you’re still friends, good friends – it just so happened that you’re both in a bad mood today.

“At least I can wipe my own ass without Mikasa’s help.” you finished your sentence just before Eren grabbed a fistful of your collar and roughly pulled you flush against him, both of your impulsive auras conflicting with each other.

You growled as you pushed him away in a swift, forceful motion, earning a murderous glare from him.

It took so little to get you angry. Even though you pushed him away, that unruly part of yours stepped close to him again as you dug your forefinger in his chest in a threatening manner.

“Don’t touch me, you, whiny bitch,” you spat out, your voice dripping with venom – you were already blazing, and there was no going back.

Eren slapped your hand away. “Who you’re calling a whiny bitch? I wasn’t the one who cried into the pillow for two weeks after driving Reiner and Bertholdt away!”

Now, you can be reckless, wild, fiery… But Eren can be cruel.

The reason you were so devastated after finding out your two best friends were your mortal enemies was because with them you felt like you’ve had family again – both of them reminded you of your older brothers. You shared your feelings with Eren in confidence, and he just blurted it out in front of everyone.

“Fuck it,” you thought as you launched a punch at his face with a primal scream.

By now the others knew not to interfere in your fights, not even Mikasa. God knows they tried, and it made it even worse.

Eren fell to the ground with a hard thud before you quickly straddled him and lifted up your bent hand to launch another punch at his bloody nose.

The bastard was quick to react nevertheless as he met your fist with his palm and squeezed it, slapping you off of him with his free hand in a swift motion. The second your own body collided with the grass you were already scrambling with your hands and feet to get up.

As you turned to Eren with the intention to ram him to the ground again, he was already on his legs as well. The others were still shouting for you two to break it up, knowing that it’s only a matter of time before Captain Levi shows up.

Not thinking straight, you did exactly what you wanted, you launched yourself at him and picked him like a flower stem, both of you flying to the ground again, followed by a sickening thump.

Your vision was getting blurry from all the rage and adrenaline as you lifted up your fist, charged with savage energy, ready to collide with Eren’s already battered face, yet it never happened. It never happened because someone else was gripping your wrist so hard, almost stopping the blood flow.

You snapped your head back to see murderous look in Captain’s gray eyes.

Still gripping your wrist, he jerked you back like a rag doll, painfully sending you to the ground, away from Eren.

It fell so quiet you could hear the clouds passing.

Levi sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I will kill both of you.”

“Right,” he continued. “when everyone’s going to sleep after this long, tiring day, you brats are going to sweep this house clean again. I don’t care how long it takes you. Eren takes right wing, Y/N takes left.”

He glared daggers at the two of you before going back to the cottage, just like that. It was actually worse when he didn’t say much – means he’s absolutely sick of you.

Still breathing heavily, you stood up, leaning on your knees with your palms for support.

“Shit, guys,” Jean muttered. “Shall we say our goodbyes now, or...?”

“Jean.” Mikasa snapped, shutting him up.

You glared at Eren who glared right back at you, although his eyes were already void of the rage that was previously residing in them.

You looked away without a word and made your way towards the cottage, wanting to wipe all the dirt and soot away.

✃

You stared at your distraught face in the mirror. Distraught by the fight you had with Eren, and by the fact that you got on Captain’s nerves again. How longer can you go on like this before he finally kicks you out?

You wiped your wet face with a towel as you heard someone come into the bathroom. Mikasa’s frame showed up in the mirror.

“Mikasa,” you spoke without hesitation as you turned around. “I’m sorry for what I said.”

Mikasa shook her head sheepishly. “It’s alright.”

“No, it’s not. You’re the most caring person I know and I used that to shame Eren, although there’s no shame in caring for your loved ones.”

Mikasa blushed as she set her eyes to the ground. “Everyone’s going to sleep already – you better hurry.”

“Right,” you sighed, feeling the jitters of anticipation.

You quit the bathroom and made your way to the cleaning cupboard to grab all sorts of supplies. At least the Captain was nowhere to be seen – you couldn’t bear his condemning gaze now. Not when you secretly always yearn for his approval.

You can’t help but stare at him a second longer than you should, or think about him when you shouldn’t. The fact that he hasn’t kicked you off of his squad gives you some material for thinking that maybe he simply doesn’t want to. There’s just something about him that makes you tense everytime you’re around him – not the dread everyone feels, but something else entirely, something that makes your stomach tingle.

You just finished cleaning all the dishes after dinner and was now sweeping the floor that was still clean after your cleaning tasks earlier in the day. That was the point of the punishment, you figured – clean the surroundings that are already clean, only to frustrate you.

You were kind of spacing out, the flashbacks of the fight with Eren coming back, rekindling the violent blaze within you. Everything was suddenly in your head again, pushing you to the edge. You closed your eyes and exhaled through your nose as you stopped momentarily, letting go of the broom and trying to forget how Eren just blurted out about your sorrows, how Captain glared at you, how everyone got to witness you getting unhinged again.

Hot flashes hit your body as you blew the stray ringlet of hair from your forehead, leaning on the dining table with your palms, desperately trying to calm down.

“Who told you to stop?”

Oh no… Really not the time.

You needed a few more seconds to stop the shivers as you opened your eyes and straightened your frame, facing Captain Levi, who was leaning against the counter.

It was precisely those few extra seconds that displeased him.

“Tsk,” he spat out as he straightened his frame. “Not only you’re deranged, but lazy too.”

You faced him with as blank a face as you could possibly muster, yet all your feelings were bubbling up, threatening to spill out with a little more provocation. You never wanted to rip off someone’s head so bad, until now.

You didn’t realize you’d squeezed your eyes shut until they suddenly opened with the sound of hard crash – Levi had purposely smashed a ceramic cup to the ground, shattering it to pieces.

You set your mad eyes on him, disbelief written all over you.

“Clean it.” he ordered. “Or are you going to disobey me again?”

You bit the inside of your cheek so hard you sure it was bleeding, breathing heavily, restraining yourself like never before in order not to pounce on him.

Instead, you repeatedly bit your lower lip as you felt your eyes watering. It’s better to cry yourself stupid before him than to actually hit him – then everything would definitely be over.

He stepped closer to you, your clothes almost brushing together, as he looked down on you with clear disgust, and… satisfaction?

You were so angry. He tried to demean you just now, and you were under immense pressure to actually pick those pieces up. You knew you had to, but you couldn’t bring yourself to.

You gulped. “You’re abusing your power.”

“No,” he closed in on you, making you step backwards until the back of your thighs hit the table. “I’m establishing my power, since you clearly don’t recognize it.”

He leaned his palms on the table just like you did moments ago, trapping you. Your heart was palpitating against your ribcage, yet for reasons entirely different than rage.

All of those glances and pushes and punishments now made sense – that was the only way he could think of to interact with you with no suspicion from others. He’d often chide you for the stupidest things, just so he’d have the chance to have a conversation with you, no matter how fleeting or unimportant.

Deep down you always knew it, and that’s why you’re continued being such a burden. Just so that he’d look at you and punish you again, scream at you, or kick the shit out of you again.

The atmosphere in the room has changed radically. You felt like walking on a string, about to fall off as his face was hovering just above yours, torturing you with anticipation.

“You wanted to beat the shit out of me just now, didn’t you?” he quizzed while slowly tracing your features with his stony gaze. Instead of answering, you gulped.

He grabbed your face harshly, puckering up your lips in the process. “Speak.”

“Yes.” you admitted before his hand slid down to lightly hang at the base of your neck, igniting whole another fire within you.

“Yes what?” he asked, adding pressure to his hand.

“Yes, Captain.”

At this rate, you’re going to burn out.

He chuckled quietly through his nose and stood up straight. “Go on, then. I’m ordering you to slap me.”

It was as if you just turned into a statue – that’s how shocked you were. “W-What?” you asked sheepishly.

“Do I need to repeat myself?”

You stared at him, trying to see him and his intentions through. Obviously, things were finally getting spicy, but your defense mechanism still rang some alarm bells – is he trying to trick you into something? Are you really going to bitch-slap the humanity’s strongest?

You felt your palms starting to tingle as he stared right into your eyes, challenging you to do it.

And you’re gonna do it, alright.

Something just snapped inside you, as it always does before you do something stupid or something you’re going to regret. You charged your palm with strength before sending it flying across his cheek with all your might. You whimpered as your skin came in contact with his, setting your palm on fire from such a harsh stroke.

And then it dawned on you – you really did bitch-slap him. He even stumbled one step backwards, his head ominously turned to the side, crow-black hair shielding his eyes from your vision, what absolutely terrified you.

He straightened his frame as he wiped a droplet of blood from his lip with the tip of his thumb.

You gasped audibly, making him look at you.

That’s it, you thought, he has a perfect reason to kill you now, and you were stupid enough to fall for it. You closed your eyes and awaited whatever’s to come, and it did come.

His lips came crashing on yours, both of you stumbling backwards, moving the table a bit. He immediately yanked you to sit on the wooden surface, positioning himself between your thighs as you held onto him for dear life.

He devoured you with hungry, open-mouthed kisses before you bit his lower lip, drawing blood once more.

One of his hands that were digging into your hips came in contact with your neck, squeezing it hard and pushing you away so he could see your hazy face.

“Savage.” he muttered after a few moments of taking you in, making your mouth stretch out into a lazy smile.

He pushed himself to you further, making your back hit the table as he attached his lips just below your neck, where jaw transitions to neck, coaxing a mewl out of you. He coaxed another when he rutted his hips against yours, making you aware of the growing tent in his pants.

“Fuck,” you breathed out, eyes closed as he sucked and bit little marks all over your neck. Hiding them is going to be a problem.

You took his face in your hands and kissed him deeply, rolling your hips against his in a tantalizing motion, whimpering at how his hardness brushes against where you need him the most, feeling him exhale into your mouth as his mind was equally clouded.

It felt like everything was finally coming to be exactly as it should, like you’d finally be released from your misery, like the intentions behind each of your actions would finally be clear, without any misunderstandings.

You were both impatient. No time for thorough build up, you just wanted to feel him inside you, just as he wanted to fill you up.

He drew back a bit, restrained by your legs snaking his waist as he rested his forehead against yours, panting heavily. “I’d really like to fuck you now.”

The fact that after all the crazy shit you’ve been through today he’d still ask for consent made you give it all to him. “Only if you do it so hard I can’t walk for days.”

You felt his dick twitch. “Easy.”

You yelped as he flipped you around, fumbling with the hem of your pants as he pushed them down to your knees, along with your underwear. You shivered as cool air hit your slick folds, and once again when you heard Levi fumbling with his own belt.

You wiggled your hips against him, impatient, almost crying out – you needed him that bad. His palm came flying against your behind, making you yelp loudly, gripping the edge of the table as you’re all sprawled out on top of it.

You whimpered again as you felt him brush the tip of his dick teasingly against your entrance. “Please, Captain…”

“So impatient,” he muttered silently before ramming into you without any warning.

Your nails dug into the wooden edge as you cried out into the air, holding on for dear life as he slammed you, table legs creaking underneath you rhythmically.

Levi had a perfect view of you as he rutted against you – the way your ass bounced flush against his hip, your arm muscles straining as you gripped the edge of the table harder and harder, the way the strands of your hair flew up and down with each motion, and how helplessly you squealed each time his tip hit your cervix – all of that sent him insane, unable to stop the silent whimpers that came out from his own mouth.

He had to restrain himself from going too fast – that’s how eager he was to finally sprawl you under him, after all this time you drove him out of his mind with your unstable behavior, hatred-driven glances and disobedience.

“Yes, yes, love it,” you wailed incoherently.

“Of course you do,” he huffed just before he grabbed a fistful of your hair and yanked your head backwards, stars spilling out of your head.

The way his dick breached you was literally driving you crazy – it was like a perfect fit, slipping soundly against your walls and hitting all the right spots at exactly the right time. Your cunt clenched around him on its own, making him groan at your artfulness. His fingers dug into the plush of your backside, thrusting into you without any mercy.

The coil in your stomach was getting tighter and tighter, your brain short-circuiting each time you heard Levi groan, the lewd sounds of skin slapping against skin ringing against the walls.

“Oh, God,” you cried out as your bliss was rapidly closing in on you.

“No,” Levi countered as he pressed his back flush against yours, brushing his lips against your ear. “just me.”

His head hung down, burying itself in the crook of your neck as he finally spilt his seed inside of you with a low groan that sent you to your own release. You cried out as he panted heavily against your skin, your body slumping on the table completely.

You had to muster up the remaining grain of your strength when Levi stood up and pulled his pants on so you could to the same with your own. Your breathing was still erratic as you fumbled with the pair of strings in the hem of your pants, trying to tie them. Levi approached you and lightly swatted your trembling hands away, tying them for you.

You were lost in his gray eyes by now, not even knowing what to say at first, but this silence that ensued was kind of comforting, both of you assessing the situation.

He chuckled suddenly. “Why did you beat the shit out of Jaeger in the first place?”

You smiled awkwardly as you shook your head curtly, gluing your eyes to the ground. “Doesn’t matter. Stupid thing, really.”

“Alright.” he said, his voice low, as usual. “You can tell me all about it next time.”

His words made you look at him again, eyebrows slightly lifted, eyes full of sudden anticipation.

Next time?

You were kind of scared at the thought of getting together with Captain again, but you felt excited way more.

“Oh, and like I said,” he paused before leaving the room completely. “clean it.”

You remembered the shattered cup and this time failed to refrain a smirk that creeped upon your lips.

“Yes, Captain.”

He left after that, but you swear you saw a ghost of a smile on those harsh lips.

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[notnctu]

when the snow falls | j.jh

jung jaehyun x reader genre - angst first, fluff later details - childhood best friends!au, ghost!au, platonic relationship, genderneutral!reader, ft. boyfriend johnny warnings - grieving/mourning, mentions of death, lots of crying, explicit language (swearing) word count - 8.3k inspiration - A Christmas Carol synopsis - Jaehyun visits you every holiday season since his death to bring you out of your self isolation and hatred for the one season you both once loved.

a/n - this is for my first collab ever: a taste of winter collab hosted by @dearyongs​​​ & @pastelsicheng​​​ ! again, thank you for letting me participate and i hope this fic brings more warmth for everyone during the winter!! happy holidays everyone & i hope you can check out the rest of the fics in the collab as i will be, they’re written by such amazing writers! :)))

An iridescent frost covers the tall windows of the apartment and a bright white sky greets you this morning. The fallen sheets expose your bare shoulders to the bitter crisp cold air and goosebumps rise to remind you to wear a fucking sweater for once. However, the cold isn’t what bothers you this horrid day as you’re leaping out of bed to glance out at the world. It’s the first thing that you lay eyes on: it covers the streets, it’s falling from the blanket of grey sky, it’s others’ joy when it’s your trauma. What Mother Nature has brought upon this winter season, as she always does this time of the year, is snow. 

The first sign of snowfall marks the first day of your self isolation period until the holidays pass. It marks the anniversary of your best friend’s death and an agonizingly long winter, but in spite of that, it also means the appearance of a rather special guest. A guest that is only visible to you and though resembles much of your passed friend, does not share the same memories as you do. 

“The snow is just so comforting, isn’t it?” Though you live alone, a sudden voice erupts from behind you and has you turning rather quickly to face the truth of this season. Your greatest treasure, yet haunting demise. “Hello, y/n. How has your year been?” Jaehyun stands with a lean at your door frame, his arms crossed at his chest and hair full of fluff. 

“Hello, Jaehyun’s spirit. I happen to hate the snow, if you have forgotten.” Your hip presses against the cold glass and you’re no longer afraid of being half naked in front of what this form of imagination possesses itself to be. 

“Remind me why again.” Jaehyun casually sits on your unmade bed, looking as about your age now. There is a brief silence as you examine how he’s grown with you, you’d imagine this is how he’d look if he was still alive and well.

It would be his third year in college, same as you, possibly studying engineering due to his past fascination with the mechanics of roller coasters. With such a strong jawline and a definite lean built, girls would be running all over him. Not to mention, his dimples remain one of his charms.

Kicking off the icy window, you walk carefully and slowly up to Jaehyun. A hand reaches to caress his cheek, but it goes right through him and leaves your hand to hang in mid-air. This happens every time you see him again, wondering if you can get one last touch of his dewy complexion, and you simply can’t. Despite his ability to touch you, there is no possibility for your senses to travel through to the other side of the supernatural dimension. 

Jaehyun gently rests your hand back to your side and repeats his request, “remind me again why you hate the snow.”

“It’s how you died.” A small croak gets caught in the back of your throat and tears well up to blur your vision. “So when the snow falls, it brings me back to the dreadful memory of me losing you, of you leaving me.” 

“I died from snow? That is so lame.” Jaehyun grumbles and rolls his eyes. 

You chuckle, but the tears roll down your cheeks as if they know no happiness. “You died from a car accident in the snow. Your tires slid, you couldn’t brake … and so, you crashed. Full trauma to the head, an instant death.” 

“Where was I going?” He wasn’t this curious last winter, and so you’re unaware if it’s your mind playing sick tricks on you or if his unrest spirit is this forgetful. You wish it was the latter. 

Choking on your tears, the droplets hit the hardwood floors below you. An overwhelming feeling of melancholy overtakes your chest and you’re suffocating underneath an unknown pressure. Your throat is drier than your mother’s gingerbread cookies, but you swallow the frigid air around you. 

You’re so choked up by your sobbing that it’s too difficult to speak. Any words you say feel like thin ice, ready to crack at the lightest touch. “O-On the way to … my house. You were coming over to tell me a secret.”

“And I never got to tell you.” 

“No, Jaehyun. I’ll never know what you wanted to tell me that day.” 

when the snow falls. 

There has never been a time before Jaehyun and all that you knew, all the memories that fill your brain, every growing pain you could possibly share, was with him and all until it wasn’t. Had there been a time after Jaehyun, you would not have expected it to come as soon as it did.

For the months following his death, you were in denial of his missing presence because every. single. thing. reminded you of him. Jaehyun remained in his assigned seat in school, although it was clearly empty. He lived through others’ mourning stories, where they spoke of fond memories that they shared and things he liked. The worst of them all, you still texted him every day in hopes to see the tiny three dots pop up that he was typing. And the warped reality in your head, the first stage of grief flooding every possible corner, was that he has always just been slow at replying back.

Then, his funeral rolled around and his parents asked you to share one happy memory of him. There were so many, how could you possibly have chosen just one? And so you didn’t. The moment the frame of the church entered your view, your legs stuck to the ground and refused to enter. There was going to be a point when you entered the building filled with crying people and a gripping, horrid smell of death and you wouldn’t be able to forget it. That scary thought, not only frightened you, but angered you. 

The large attendance of people walked past you as teary eyes blinked up at the dark wooden frame of the door, but every one of them had never visited him for more than once when he was alive. His older cousins that had forgotten about him when they flew away for college, his acquaintances from piano lessons who never bothered to remember his full name, his old friends from primary school that he had lost connection with after graduation, they were all here.

And you can’t help, but fester a fueling frustration in the pit of your stomach and as it grew into your chest in the matter of seconds, you wondered the single thought that picked up your feet to run home: where were they when he was alive? 

After a year and the appearance of Jaehyun’s ghost became less of a shock during winter, you were stuck in an odd and uneasy place of what if’s. Talking to him once a year was never enough, texting his old number was never enough. It was just never enough.

Missing him grew into a dark sense of yearning, longing, bargaining. Long nights of twisting and tossing in your bed, many thoughts and endless possibilities ran through your unhealthy thoughts. The description and police report of his accident played like a reel in darkest contemplations. 

The first year of college had to be the hardest to go through without him and thus, aiding in your regrets of not cherishing him enough when he was around. A rabbit hole of universe paths drove you wild, wishing and hoping that you could turn back time and stop him from coming over in the middle of a blizzard. And the one lasting thought still haunts you to your present: if only you hadn’t encouraged him that night, he wouldn’t have died. 

The saddest part has barely been acknowledged, even by yourself. That this one tragedy tainted the one holiday you two loved the most --- Christmas. Every year since his passing, you locked yourself in your room for two weeks before the holiday and waited through it all. Truthfully, there was nothing in the universe that was going to allow you to enjoy the holiday when it wasn’t with him. Even his ghost, who very randomly popped up on a December day and cluelessly never brings much comfort as the live him did during this season.

Jolly holiday music lost their joyous sound and became awfully low tempo. The bright red and green signature colors of Christmas became dull and rather grey; the long strings of colorful lights that hang from houses and around large trees were absolutely drained of their color. The warmth of the fireplace went cold. The cheesy Hallmark Christmas movies no longer entertained and lost their spark.

The Christmas themed decorations that covered the windows of shops, the city, your own house, became an overwhelming sore sight to look at. The love from your loved ones… you couldn’t feel anything remotely close to love anymore, just meaningless affection. The one gift that the Earth blessed your region with, snow, became the one petrifying thing that it had to offer. And your favoritism for the holiday, the so-called ‘Christmas Spirit’, slowly died out, along with Jaehyun. 

Now that it’s been three years since his passing, you’re here spending your third lonely holiday season inside your apartment discussing your yearly recap with your ghostly best friend. 

“That ridiculous final exam lowered my grade and I walked out of that class retaining none of the information. When will I ever need to know about pirates in the 1800’s?” The chocolate wrapper crinkles in your fist as you finish your overly passionate recollection of the most useless class you could have taken this whole year.

Jaehyun sits by your side, facing you as he hugs his knees close to his chest. A small grin dots the dimple on his left cheek when you peer over at the huddled boy and the sad reminiscent glisten in your eye does not go unnoticed. “You used to love pirates. Dressed up like one for Halloween and went up to every house yelling,” Jaehyun clears his throat and perks up, ready to perform.

A balled fist in the air, paired with a look of utter gusto and passion, Jaehyun speaks in an attempt to horribly reenact your once embarrassing pirate impression. “Argh! You scoundrel, give me all the treasures in your possession… preferably chocolate sweets.” He holds his stomach as he bursts into a fit of his baritone laughter. His wide mouth grows into such a big, open smile that his eyelashes dance on his glowing cheeks. 

“For a ghost, you sure look like someone who’s very much alive.” Naturally, you’d swat lightly at his knee or arm whenever he would joke around. However, the pain of your hand passing right through him breaks this habit and you’re left scoffing at the way Jaehyun is consumed with laughter.

“You know, for someone who is alive… you sure look a bit … lifeless. When was the last time you were happy, y/n?” Jaehyun finally settles down and gently nudges at your elbow. 

His question hits you like a wall of bricks. Unexpected and completely straightforward, but that’s just always been the way he is. “This past weekend when I turned in my last assignment for the semester.” 

“No. The last time you were genuinely happy, not relieved. You mentioned a boyfriend, right?” 

Rolling your eyes, you grow a bit silent and annoyed at his comment. “Listen, hopeless romantic. Not every relationship is perfect sunrays and gushy unconditional love.” Perhaps, your gaze drops down to your hands and the wrinkled wrapper between your fingers has worn out from your fidgeting. 

Johnny Suh. If you could move mountains for this man, you would. It all started due to an accidental happenstance of you abruptly walking into your campus’ coffee shop to seek shelter from the rain and him, the attractive barista behind the counter, chasing after you in a stained apron and an immensely strong aroma of coffee beans. Jaehyun practically swooned over hearing how you two met, hearts in his pupils and a dreamy grin resting fondly as he attentively listened. 

Jaehyun has always wanted a relationship, though he did have many admirers in high school, he never had the opportunity to experience one true love and to play out every sappy romantic thing rom-coms taught him. Hearing about your love life is the closest thing he can get to it, unfortunate for him, but fortunate that his best friend still has some romance in them.

Nevertheless, it’s only been a few months together. Though Johnny has seen intimate parts of you, he’s never experienced a winter with you and frankly, he won’t ever experience one with you if you keep this up. 

“Johnny doesn’t make you happy, then why are you with him?” Jaehyun knows Johnny makes you feel something that is hard for you to put into words. He also knows the type of person you are, pushing your buttons to get you to defend something you love. Boldly. Loudly. Strongly. He knows how to get you to spit out words of truth, even when they’re difficult.

“My partner is the literal definition of happiness, okay?” The defensiveness drives your assertiveness further. “The last time I was happy was when…” your eyes are frantically examining the floor for any source of focus as a highlight reel of this whole year flashes through your mind.

“... On my birthday, he planned me a picnic. Bought me roses, the whole grand scheme of romance. I started to cry, out of happiness… it was the first time in a while that the reason behind my tears was something good.” There’s somewhat of an epiphany when you finish your sentence. Your voice gets lost in your train of thought as the blissful scene plays out. 

“Why were you crying?” Jaehyun snatches the distracting wrapper from your fingers, it being unrecognizable from the wear and tear. It causes you to meet Jaehyun’s round eyes: empty, but not sad. They’re lost, yet filled with purpose.

Jaehyun has always been able to open up the darkest parts of your heart. “Because it reminded me of the time when you and I walked up that steep hill over on Fifth Street… and we forgot the picnic blanket. But it didn’t matter because after the strenuous journey, all we wanted was to sit down and enjoy some fucking sandwiches, along with some hot chocolate your mom packed us.” 

“y/n, you cried over the memory of sandwiches and exercise? That’s so---”

“Before you insult me by calling me lame,” you bring your finger to stop him mid-way and narrow your eyes, “I was so happy to be able to share our same experience with someone else. Even though you’re gone, I can still have these happy moments with other people.” 

Then, Jaehyun gathers both of your hands to hold and brings them to his soft lips. Everything about him feels cold, like a harsh chill that bites at your skin. In spite of it all, his delicate kiss on your knuckles somehow feel warm and slightly comforting. Jaehyun peers up with kind eyes, “you’re almost there. I will do everything I can to get you there.” 

Blinking at him with confusion, your expression asks the questions for you. When he sets your hands in his lap, a soft pat on the back of your hand reassures you. “Can we bake Christmas cookies?” 

Rolling your eyes, you tear your hands away from him. He leaves you with unspoken words and an oddly comforting feeling, but it’s not enough to dissipate your deeply rooted dislike for this particular holiday. “You ask this every year.” Getting up, you walk towards your bedroom to get away from feeling too vulnerable.

Jaehyun watches your back intently as you’re stumbling over your feet. He whispers to himself, “and I think this year is going to be the last year I’ll ask for it.” And a hopeful smile appears joyously as he anticipates the storm before reaching still waters. 

The sound of the doorbell awakens you and Jaehyun is nowhere to be seen. He comes and goes as he wishes, however, he’d usually accompany you during the mornings. You’re particularly sluggish, finding it difficult to adjust to the blinding white sky outside as snow continues to drift upon the city. 

“Good morning, gumdrop.” Your boyfriend is rather chirpy today. Johnny engulfs your fragile body in his long arms and you’re lost in his scent of peppermint bark. 

“This was unexpected.” His shirt muffles your tiny voice and Johnny is setting down bags of groceries on your kitchen countertop. 

“I texted you last night that I was coming over to do some grocery shopping for you. Did you sleep early?” Your very helpful boyfriend starts unloading all the parcels of fresh produce and your favorite snacks. However, there is a slight tinge of annoyance and possibly it’s due to the fact you weren’t expecting to see anyone during your isolation. Johnny couldn’t have known though.

A deep sigh escapes your lips and you walk over to stop his movements. A hand holds his arm and the other intertwines with his own, but you stand under him with the sweetest smile you could wear during the holiday season. “How is it that your mom invited me to your family holiday party, but tells me that you’re not going to be there?” 

Your smile automatically falls from your lips and a hand retracts from his warmth. It’s the sudden truth that you must face, the confession of your sadness that you’ll eventually need to tell your partner. Wondering how he’s going to take the news, your mom probably gave him a brief breakdown about how you’ve been this way for the past few years now. 

Nonetheless, Johnny has always been bold with his statements and though you’ve adjusted to his abruptness, this one is hard to give a quick answer back to. So as you’re racking how to present your dark narrative, Johnny sets you down on the couch with the utmost gentleness. You don’t even feel the cushion underneath you when the million different answers streamline their way into your brain.

Johnny notices your frantic eyes and unfocused gaze, growing a bit concerned at how cold your skin feels at his touch. Taking off his sweatshirt, he carefully slips it over your shaking figure. When the softness of the polyester cotton blend brushes upon your bare arms, you’re snapped back facing a worried expression.

And you say the one thing on your mind, the only thing you can think of in your scattered brain. “Jaehyun died during this time of year, so it just makes me very emotionally unstable to… participate in any festive events. I’d rather be alone, the whole holiday season.” 

Johnny nods, but his face remains with his eyebrows together and lips pressed into a tight line. He’s well aware of who Jaehyun was and means to you. Though you don’t talk much about him, your eyes light up with a bright twinkle whenever you do. It’s like the world spins ‘round and everything feels restored. Johnny knows enough about your good friend to deduct how hard it must be for you during the winters. 

“Can I help you in any way?” Johnny peers over at you with a small smile, and you wish there is something in your decaying heart to keep it up forever. 

“I hate to say it, but please just leave me alone for the winter.” Flopping on his lap, you’re burying your face in your hands to cower away from seeing your sunshine hurt. There are no more sugar coated kind words for you to pick and choose from.

While Johnny can understand how difficult it must be for you, he still holds onto a sliver of hope that you’ll come around. “Come on, don’t be such a Grinch. No one should be alone for Christmas.” 

Groaning, you sit up and roll your eyes at the familiar references. “Listen, Cindy Lou Who. Don’t call me that.”

“It’s still a cute nickname, you don’t think?” Johnny snickers lightly, but your expression turns rather grim and serious. A faint overcast of melancholy washes over your expression as you’re staring off into your memories again.

In a faint voice, your voice is barely above a whisper, “that used to be one of Jaehyun’s favorite movies.” Your arms drop from your puffed up chest, but Johnny catches your hand and kisses your fingertips.

“What was yours?” Johnny keeps the atmosphere as light and playful while he still can. 

“The Nightmare Before Christmas.” Ironically fitting and that’s one of the sole reasons you don’t watch holiday movies anymore. There have been too many parallels with your life and the wrenched holiday. As twisted as the joke may seem, you’ve lived your own nightmare before Christmas, except you never got the happy ending to it all. It’s like a nightmare that continues and you can’t escape it. 

Having said, Johnny pulls you up to stand and draws you into the biggest hug. “I can’t leave you alone, even if I tried my very best. I still get butterflies every time you smile at me, so you think I wouldn’t be addicted to that feeling?” 

“Johnny…” This man is in love with you until the ends of this Earth, until the horizon stretches so far that it’s unimaginable to see where it stops. 

“I’ll respect your wishes as much as I can, but know that it’s not the best form of healing.” The final word causes a chill to run down your spine. It implies that you’re still hurting, although he’s not wrong, it’s rather disheartening to hear someone else speak it aloud. “I’ll come around less.” 

“If I’m grumpy, then you’ll know why. And don’t try to shove the whole Christmas spirit act on me, I don’t want to hear a single thing about it! I can’t spend a Christmas without Jaehyun.” Johnny squeezes your shoulders at your bold declaration.

“You can’t or you won’t?” A painful tick at your heart leaves you speechless at his question. 

For as long as you could remember, every Christmas was spent with Jaehyun. Picking out a tree for both of your families and getting lost together between the evergreens brought laughter and excitement. Baking cookies and drawing the ugliest faces in tacky colorful frosting always happened a few days before the holiday. Drinking hot chocolate by his family’s fireplace and watching Christmas movies were one of your favorite activities. Christmas Eve was always so special, where you and Jaehyun made it tradition to open your gifts from each other right when the clock struck midnight. 

Then everything simply stopped. And when you tried to participate in those same activities, selfishness and guilt preoccupied your heart. What do any of those things mean without Jaehyun? Jaehyun was the reason you loved Christmas as much as you did. Then, his death became the reason you hated it as much as you do.

“I think that’s enough for today.” Johnny knows he’s hit a nerve, he can see it in your glossy eyes and subtle drop in the corners of your mouth. There is no protest from the taller man when he accepts his sweatshirt without a complaint. The bitter cold air bites at your bare shoulders again and you’re practically existing in its lack of warmth. Gathering the rest of his belongings, you two bid a kiss goodbye and shut the door.

It’s almost a relief that he’s gone and the tear runs down your cheek when your back hits the door. Suddenly, Jaehyun appears across the living room leaning on the door frame to your bedroom. “He seems like a nice guy.” 

“He is.” There is a hang at the end of your sentence and Jaehyun walks toward you. A few sniffs fill the empty apartment, but you’re rubbing away any sign of sadness from your face.

“But?” 

“But, he’s so optimistic about… everything. He lives by the sun and every waking day, he just lives it to the fullest. There’s nothing in the world for this man to possibly understand how sad I feel.” It’s the heaviness in your voice that has your heart sinking to the pit of your stomach. 

Jaehyun’s freezing hands graze your chin and as he lets go, his stare doesn’t leave yours. “Learn from him.” Your best friend’s ghastly voice reminds you that he’s not real. He’s a ghost. He’s very much gone and not for a split second, should you be wanting to cave into his embrace or else, you’ll hit the floor hard. Nevertheless, you’re entirely vulnerable and the next few words that leave Jaehyun’s mouth causes your throat to close up.

“Keep him close. y/n, he is the sun.” It’s a moment you thought you’d never witness, your best friend complimenting your significant partner. Moreover, it hurts to think about how great of friends Jaehyun and Johnny could have been. “To be very honest, you need some heat this winter.”

“Then, what were you?” It’s the curiosity that nips at your tongue as it leaves no space for a pause. The thumping of your heart being so loud in the dead silence, but you know Jaehyun doesn’t have a heart to beat recklessly as yours. 

Jaehyun smirks and chuckles fondly, despite how desperate and serious you may have sounded. “I was a pain in the ass.”

Scoffing, you break the immensely intense eye contact. “You still are. This whole haunting thing is very creepy.” Gesturing his entire being in front of you, he just looks so alive and breathing. Before Jaehyun, you always thought ghosts were floating entities with a white transparency. But your best friend stands before you, well aged and all together. 

It still tosses you into shambles as to why Jaehyun exists, but you’ve given up on figuring out his purpose. He could be a form of your own imagination for all you care, perhaps you’ve grown so sad that you started to seek things. 

Companionship from the one person you wish was still alive?

Like before, you’ve always spent Christmas with Jaehyun… alive or in ghost form.

It’s another one of those long days that seem to never end. The bright white sky seems unchanging, stark with a dusty and imminent endless overcast of snow. It’s blinding and you’re regretting the moment you overlooked the curtain blinds at the department store.  

Your phone has already been lost somewhere underneath your bed and there isn’t a single desire to reach for it. Missed calls pile up, voicemails clutter your inbox, texts flood your messages, and your social media notifications fill your screen. Despite everyone’s effort to contact you, there is no sense of joyous cordial nature to even glance at them.

Jaehyun has been appearing more frequently and staying for longer periods of time. The conversations bring an empty comfort, most of the times you feel the need to remind yourself that you’re not actually talking to someone, are you?

“What’s that sad look in your eyes?” He startles you when you’re off looking vacantly out the window. Your mind has been completely distracted lately by meaningless thoughts and the sweetest reels of Jaehyun that have turned blue.

The more you wrap yourself in your white sheets, the less you can feel any source of warmth. And perhaps you haven’t realized that you no longer felt any heat the past few days, that you’re at a freezing point and it’s made you numb.

“Not sure what you mean.” Your voice remains dull and monotone, lifeless almost. Jaehyun takes a seat against the window and for the first time, you can see right through him.

“It’s not your fault, y/n.” Is he a mind reader too? The thought that always circles your mind when Christmas draws near is not only that Jaehyun is gone forever, but how you could have prevented it all. The guilt eats you up and no matter how hard you’re searching for acceptance, it slips away from you before you have a chance.

When you don’t answer, Jaehyun heads over to your bed and he’s alarmed at how cold your hands are. “It was never your fault.” Your best friend pulls you into a hug, but it can barely be felt. What kind of hug can’t be felt?

“I never said it was.”

“No, but you thought about it.” The chilly draft causes you to shiver and it’s hard for you to concentrate on anything else besides the night of his death.

“I should have stopped you from coming over.” Although you’ve confessed this many times to him before, it never gets easier to say. Jaehyun sighs and ultimately frowns at your tears slipping from your eyes again. Like the snow that drifts from the heavens, your tears know no end to their downfall. It’s become too natural for them to appear. The closer it gets to Christmas, the harder it is to stop from crying.

“It’s hard for me to speak about it since we don’t remember much of the same moments---”

“Jaehyun! I remember that night as clear as it was just yesterday that it happened.” There’s no reason to yell, but a strong sense of pain erupts from your chest.

He’s so calm at your sudden outburst, turning his head to face you with a deadpan expression. “You weren’t there, y/n. You were home, safe and sound as you should have been. I’m more than grateful that you’re the one alive.”

“I’m not!” But when the confession leaves your lips, you’re shaking and fearful. The entire room is stiff and silent. You couldn’t even believe what you had just said, wondering if that is anything close to truth. You look up at Jaehyun, who blinks at you with furrowed eyebrows and wide eyes. “I mean,” you clear your throat in the midst of the tense atmosphere. “I could have saved you.”

“You’re not a hero and I didn’t need saving when I was already gone.” He taps his temples lightly, “full trauma to the head. It was just my time to go.”

“The secret. I wanted to know so bad that I didn’t stop you from coming in a snowstorm!” Jaehyun pats your head in an attempt to soothe your aching heart.

“And I wanted to tell you just as bad that I didn’t care about the snowstorm. y/n, stop blaming yourself for something that happened to me. The universe is much more complex than that, give it some credit.”

“You’re even philosophical as a ghost? Give me a fucking break.” Groaning, you pull the sheets over your head to somehow run away from the conversation.

Jaehyun lies down next to you, smiling cheekily to himself and glancing over at the lump that you had become underneath the blankets. “Do you remember the time I taught you how to ride a bike?”

“I thought it was your dad who taught me.” You grumble, tossing away the sheets to glance over at him. It always puzzled you how Jaehyun never remembered the same memories as you do, and even if you did, one of you remembered it differently.

“He was probably there as supervision. I was the one who helped you take off your training wheels and strap on your impressively thick knee pads.” You’re lying on your elbows now, fists pressing into your cheeks and a fond attentive gaze upon Jaehyun’s resting figure. He’s staring up at the ceiling that protects you two above, yet can cave in at any moment.

Dimples dip into his round supple cheeks as his toothy smile comes into view, reliving the happy memory. “You rang your little bell so many times that day.”

“Because I was scared!” You protest, muttering something incoherent. “Didn’t we go downhill when I said I wasn’t ready?”

“We went downhill because you said you were ready.” His hair ruffles in your sheets when he turns to face you, and he just takes your breath away. It’s the stars in his dark eyes that sweep you off your feet, like the gleaming star on top of a tree. The color that oozes from his smile, like Christmas lights that line a rooftop, make it hard not to stare. Jaehyun looks just like Christmas, the most wonderful thing of the year. In someway, he resembled an angel or the soft sheet of snow ready to fall right through.

You’re encompassed by overwhelming effervescent emotions from listening and watching Jaehyun glow and gleam. “Then, what?”

Jaehyun’s low chuckle illuminates the room, dazzling the boring grey interior. “Little ol’ you, hurt yourself real bad that day, scrapes and wounds you thought you’d never heal from. You didn’t talk to me for a week, but you ended up learning how to ride a bike.”

“Is that right?”

Jaehyun rests on his side now, only an elbow supporting his body and he’s leaning in close to your face, you’re almost too sure you could feel a breath on your lips. “No matter how painful it gets, I’m always here to push you through it all.”

When your heart beats sporadically at his proximity, you didn’t realize that you are holding in a breath, being quite afraid that if you let it out, it would simply blow him away for the night. And you’re not ready for him to leave you again.

Christmas Eve;

It had to be a miracle that anyone got a hold of you this week when Johnny comes practically banging at your door. Though you are so close to ignoring his loud thumping, the sound of your boyfriend’s soft sniffles alarms you greatly.

“y/n, holy shit!” It’s deja vu when you’re in his arms again, a horribly warped version of it when the smell of peppermint bark tickles your nostrils disgustingly. “I thought something happened to you. You weren’t answering my calls or texts.”

“My one wish for Christmas was to be left alone and I meant it.” The attitude in your voice becomes jarringly evident and Johnny blinks back at you with a new found annoyance as well.

“Can you at least think of the other people around you?” He holds your shoulders lightly, but staring into his eyes seems to be harder to do lately. Jaehyun appears on the couch, lying flat on his stomach and a hand resting underneath his chin. This is no longer a private conversation, but you learned long ago that no one else can see him.

“Who are you talking about? My family? Because they’ve all given up on me.” This is the first time Johnny has seen you act so cold and distant, yet entirely vulnerable. You’re stripped of everything that you usually hide in --- oversized clothes, happy smiles, and a beaming warmth.

All Johnny ever wants is for you to be loved, not only by him, but by the world. And interestingly enough, he loved you for your vulnerability and your rawness. This is until he realizes, in this moment, that it stems from your trauma of losing Jaehyun.

“What about me, y/n? I’m still here.” Johnny is frantic, and by all means, hurt by your aloofness. Brushing off his hands from your body, you’re taking several steps away from him.

“And why are you still here when I kept telling you to leave me alone? Whenever I was upset, Jaehyun always gave me space! Haven’t ever thought about how that is something I need?” You’re saying nonsensical statements that are fueled by anger and annoyance.

He’s pushing your limits and for once, you’re pushing him away. But this isn’t new to you, in fact, you’ve pushed so many people away just like this and that’s why they’ve decided to just let you be.

Johnny is taken aback, “you know, I feel like I’m competing with Jaehyun and I’ve never even met him.”

You scoff and throw your arms in the air, visibly in disbelief at what your boyfriend is saying to you. May you lose your temper, you’re unsure about the future of this relationship. Yet, something in your cruel and painful heart no longer cared, snapping your wits and patience at your beloved.

“What are you saying?” You’re pacing back and forth, fuming with an inexplicable infuriation. Jaehyun catches your eye, and for a brief moment, you’re holding eye contact with him instead. “Jaehyun is dead,” facing Johnny now, you say words that jumble in your chest, regardless of their true meanings, “and even if he was alive, there would be no competition.”

“Because you were always going to choose him over everyone else in your life, is that right? Exactly like how you do now.” Johnny’s words sting like daggers at your skin, worse than the layer of frost that bites at you for the past two weeks.

“Please, don’t attack me for hurting.” With that, your voice breaks and cracks all over. Your tears hit the ground without you feeling them run down your cheeks.

Johnny is quick to wipe them away, not minding that his hands will now be wet from your salty droplets. He instantly regrets it all, the unwarranted questions, the fighting, the barging in unexpectedly. It pains him more to see you like this.

“I apologize. I’m sorry that I’m not saying the kindest words to you when you need to hear them the most.” Your partner is frowning, a true rare sight to see. “But, you’re still grieving and there is going to have to be a time that you move on.”

It’s one of those tip of the iceberg moments or when the ball finally hits the ground and a rush of cathartic enthusiasm washes over you. However, you’re not happy. You’re not even remotely close to happiness. You’re fucking sad, you’re aching with a pain so deeply rooted that it isolates you, that it rips apart anything that used to bring you joy.

And this causes you to scream your lungs out, sobs that choke you up. “I can’t! You don’t understand, no one understands! I just fucking can’t. He was my best friend and that night… he was going to tell me something.” Jaehyun can’t bear to hear your piercing wails, as he’s disappeared completely from the setting. When you’re panicked and searching for him, you only see Johnny staring back at you with a very concerned expression.

“And I will never know what he wanted to tell me.” Your tone grows soft and rather delicate, like a sad realization at the possibility that the secret died with Jaehyun that night.

“Some things are better left unknown. Do you really think you’ll feel better knowing?”

“Listen to him, y/n.” Jaehyun randomly appears next to Johnny’s stature. He stands a few inches shorter than him, but the sight of them together has you blinking in awe.

You’re darting between the two of them, “I don’t know what will make me feel better.”

“Come, tonight. Your whole family wants to see you for the one holiday that brings people together.” But when Johnny steps forward, you’re taking a step back.

“Please, just go.” With an assertive point to the door, your head does not lift up to watch your boyfriend leave. Despite every person you’ve done this to, Johnny’s hurts the most. His flame dies out tonight, providing no sense of security or heat. And with a toss of his arms of exasperation, he shuts your front door and leaves without a goodbye, without wishing you a merry Christmas.

Jaehyun calls your name, but you’re rushing to your bedroom and slamming the door shut. “Don’t you dare travel through the wall.”

Your apartment has grown so dark due to the shorten winter days. It’s pitch black all around you and the sky is no longer a deafening white. It’s the first time you notice the dark blue scattered clouds and the intricate snowflakes that drift carefully down to the streets. And, you’re all alone in the quietness. You truly are isolated every Christmas.

“y/n, let’s talk.” Jaehyun is beyond fed up with your behavior, that has to be the last straw. This is the first year since his death that he’s seen the evident spark in your eye, the hope that is hiding behind your depression. He sees it in the way Johnny looks at you, like you’re the greatest present he could receive in life. In your proclamation, as hard as it was to witness, is a spirit that wishes to be freed. There was a chance this year. There still is one.

“Jaehyun, you left me! You left all alone, and no matter how hard I try to stop thinking about you, it never works. In the end, no one is here for me like how you were.” Hands in your hair, you’re losing yourself at a rapid rate. It hurts to keep your eyes open, tears sting as they well up around the rims.

“Find a part of me in the people around you.” The door to your bedroom swings open and Jaehyun takes note of you by the window again. You want to leave, you want to be out there and he knows, before you can actually realize it yourself. You’re turning to face him and in the dark, he looks solid. He looks so real and whole.

“How do I do that?” It’s a genuine question that you’ve pondered before, but never feeling like you had the strength to do so. You’re always dwelling on your past with Jaehyun, indulging in the sacred memories only you two shared.

“What are things that you associate me with?” He is found leaning against your door frame again, hands are shoved into the pockets of his faded jeans.

You say the first thing on your mind, “snow.” When the words hit the air, your ceiling light flickers briefly. Jaehyun doesn’t flinch, however, still focused on your crying figure. Snow, the first sign of snowfall is when he appears for the winter.

“What else?” He encourages.

“Familiarity.” The light flashes again, for a mere second longer this time before it resumes darkness. Familiarity, for he grew up by your side for as long as you could remember.

There is an odd feeling that enters the room and you’re fearful of the unknown. But, Jaehyun’s cadence doesn’t falter, he’s not distracted by the random spurts of light. And if anything, it all could be his doing. “Keep going.”

“Comfort.” Flicker. “Warmth. Love. Excitement.” With each word, the light builds stronger and stronger. You’re speaking memories into existence now, “making snow angels until it got dark, laughing until our stomachs hurt, watching movies until the clock struck midnight, dancing until our legs gave out!”

Streams run down your face and you’re yelling until your throat feels raw, but you don’t wish to stop as the light glows brighter and brighter with each spoken word.

As you listen to every listed attribute and memory, you recognize a central theme in all of them and one thing that Jaehyun embodies, the one thing he’s always been associated with.

“Christmas.” A shaky breath exhales and a loud spark pierces your ears. The light illuminates intensely all around you, lighting up the darkest corners of your room and blinding you more than the sky has been lately.

“Jaehyun?” Closing your eyes, you can see the brightness through your eyelids and you’re beyond confused as to what is happening. When you mindlessly reach for his hand, you actually feel it and your heart is soaring due to strange unquestionable physics.

Jaehyun intertwines your hand in his own and caresses your face gently. For once, he doesn’t feel cold. He’s blazing hot, melting away the long days of isolation. “Open your eyes, y/n.”

What lies before you is an incredible, marvelous sight. Snow dusts the roof of your family’s house as green, red, yellow bulbs light the frame of it. Your parents really went all out; round snowmen sit perfectly together on your lawn. A decorative wreath hangs at the front door and a distinct chuckle catches your attention.

From the window that looks into your kitchen, your mother rolls a sheet of dough on the counter as clouds of flour erupt around her. Your father is preoccupied at the stove, with the silliest gimmicks for decorating the feast they’re about to hold. Silver tinsel line the dinner table with a festive table cloth draped upon it. The remarkable tree shines in the center of the living room, a glimmering star on top. 

“I know we probably won’t see y/n again this Christmas…” The sound of your mother’s voice rings a bell in your yearning heart and Jaehyun is gazing at you with a wondrous look in his eyes. The grip on his hand is tight, your breath enters the night in puffs of smoke, and regardless of this all being real or imaginary, you’re so immersed in this reality that he knows you’re anticipating what your family has to say.

“... but something about this year really makes me miss them.” Your mother puts the rolling pin off to the side and rests her hand on the kitchen counter, trying to hold back any form of her own tears from falling.

“May Jaehyun watch over them tonight, our little angel doesn’t deserve to be alone.”

Your dad walks over to embrace your mother in a long hug, kissing the top of her head gently. “Merry Christmas, y/n.” Your father speaks into the air, without the knowledge of you outside, he’s thinking of you.

Something in your heart shatters, but it’s entirely different from the pain you’ve felt over the years following Jaehyun’s death. It’s a warm, bubbly feeling that spreads across your chest and you’re covering your mouth out of pure shock at the sight of your parents.

Your parents, who you’ve neglected every holiday season, still think of you. You recognize the ingredients that scatter the table, they make your favorite dish every year in hopes you’ll come join them. 

Jaehyun whispers, “y/n, know that I’m always going to be here. I may physically be gone, but I live in your heart and the joyous memories we’ve shared together. I live through the many people who love you now, through Christmas. This spirit is also very much alive in the other people around you.”

When you peel your eyes from the scene of your parents, the vision suddenly disappears and you’re facing Jaehyun right back in your cold, empty, dark apartment. But you wish the moment lasted a little longer. For the first time in a long time, you wish to be with your loved ones. You wish to celebrate Christmas with the people who still care about you, the ones that are still alive and well.

“What if I’m not ready?”

“This signifies my final push down the hill. You’re all strapped up in your knee pads, y/n. You’re never truly going to be ready, but that shouldn’t stop you from trying.” Jaehyun pats your head lovingly and mimics the motions of securing a helmet on your head.

You’re letting go of his hand, running around quickly in search for the appropriate outerwear for the snow. It’s like a switch went off in your heart and a cathartic feeling settles in the pit of your stomach.

Every Christmas since his passing, you thought it was best to be alone. You thought it was selfish to live your favorite holiday season without your best friend, that you lost the spirit of Christmas.

However, this entire time… Jaehyun’s ghost has been a reminder that the Christmas spirit has always been alive. It’s not about the enthusiastic festive events or the cheerful themed activities or the distinct colorful decorations, it’s about the appreciation and love you have for the people who have made your year so special. You’ve associated the holiday so much with your best friend, that you’ve lost sight of it in your family, your current friends, your own boyfriend.

When you’re rushing out the door, you stop in your tracks and peer back at Jaehyun leaning against your door frame, just as he appeared a few weeks ago. He has the warmest, brightest smile on his face, “y/n, I think I finally remember the secret I wanted to tell you.” You’re afraid of the answer and the outside world, but your hand doesn’t slip from the door handle. Could it really be? The long anticipated secret that has been gnawing at your conscience since his death?

Nevertheless, he’s giggling and holding his stomach slightly from the immense amount of joyous laughter. “I wanted to tell you that I... finally learned how to shave.”  

At first, you’re stunned at the simplicity of the beheld secret. All this time, you thought it had been something so meaningful, something so mind blowing, that needing to know practically destroyed your mental state. Then, a wholehearted and genuine laugh erupts from inside of you and you’re lighting up the darkest parts of yourself. Jaehyun looks at you fondly, like a beauty that he hasn’t seen in awhile. 

“That’s fucking it? You came out in the middle of a blizzard to tell me you learned how to shave? How lame.”

Jaehyun chuckles, “when did I ever need an extremely valid reason to see you?” The laughter falls short at his confession and in the midst of all this enthusiasm, you bid him the softest smile. His purpose has been fulfilled, as the best version of you he’s always known and loved stands before him at last. 

“I guess... you’re right. What’s going to happen to you now?”

“I’ll always be here for Christmas, even when you’re old and grey surrounded by the warmth of your loved ones in front of a large, extravagant Christmas tree. When the snow falls, I’ll be here.” Jaehyun’s dimple smile is the lasting image you see, the one you’ve always hoped to remember him by.  

“Merry Christmas, Jung Jaehyun… I--”

“Love you too, y/n. Merry Christmas.” He ushers you out the door with a small kiss on your knuckles.

That is the last time you ever see him again. Now, when the snow falls, it marks the anniversary of your long awaited healing, the journey to acceptance, and the beloved memory of your best friend. May you never lose the spirit of Christmas and the warmth from your loved ones.

#nct scenarios #neowritingsnet #nct-writers #neothestars #kpopscape #nct scenario #nct #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun #jung jaehyun #nct fluff #nct angst #nct imagines #jung jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun scenario

[kythed]

an age of miracles

synopsis: why do the most beautiful people always seem to get the short end of the stick? 

tagged: atsumu miya x reader, mentions of illness, mentions of god.  

commitment level: 3,617 words.

hospitals are liminal spaces. transitional, gateways between birth and death and the whole mess in between. (life.) they’re sites of both tragedy and miraculous recovery, and you’re not yet too old to stop praying for the latter. 

+

his name is atsumu. you skim the documents pinned to his door — atsumu miya. age 21. cirrhosis. 

cirrhosis is late stage liver scarring. nasty stuff. evidently, atsumu miya is in his third stage — portal hypertension. abdominal swelling. jaundice. 

for a bedridden guy with a serious illness, he’s not as justifiably depressed as one might assume. 

“hey, doc,” he says when you come in. he’s facing the window, letting the sunlight cast a saintly halo across his cheeks. blonde hair, an angular sort of face that’s been hollowed by illness. in another life, he might’ve been handsome. 

you clear your throat, and he glances back, surprised. “ah. you’re not my doctor.” 

“nope. nursing student.” you sit at the foot of his bed. “i’ll be monitoring you the next month or so as part of my studies.”

“monitoring,” he repeats drily. “you make it sound like i’m a lab specimen in a test tube.”

“means you’re special.” 

“sure. ‘specially fucked up.” he’s younger than you are, but there’s an aged weariness in his gaze. 

“aren’t we all, mr. miya?” 

he cracks a grin. “touche. call me atsumu, though. mr. miya’s my dad.”

“as you wish, mr. miya,” you say, biting back a smile. (there are those who say sarcasm has no place in hospitals. you do not fall into this category.)

+

atsumu likes to play chess. the second day of your clinical, he’s got a travel sized chess board set up on his bedside table. “been dying from boredom the past few hours. think you could take a break from ‘monitoring’ me to play a game?”

you set your clipboard down. “i could. i’d advise against it, though. i’m a pretty good player.”

atsumu grins. “not better than me.” 

he’s right. he beats you three games in a row before you finally snag a checkmate. (and you suspect this is only due to pity.) 

“what’d i tell you, baby?” he crows, and you shake your head, raising your arms in surrender.

“it was an off day. if i’d been on my game i could’ve swept the floor with you.”

“prove it,” atsumu says, leaning forward. he’s pale from a lack of sunshine, but you notice a faint pink glow in his cheeks now. “come back tomorrow.”

tomorrow’s a saturday, and you don’t have clinical. “of course i will.” 

you’re not one to back down from a challenge, no matter how trivial. plus, atsumu is fun. (and kind of cute.) 

+

“hi. brought you something.” you set a tupperware of cubed fruit on atsumu’s lap before pulling up a chair next to the bed. 

“did you make this?” he says, eyes wide. 

“i just chopped up a few apples and stuff,” you say, plucking a blueberry from the container and popping it into your mouth. 

atsumu shakes his head before biting into a chunk of pineapple. “you’d think it’d be hard to mess up fruit salad, but somehow this damn hospital can make a strawberry taste like cough medicine. everything they serve here tastes like cough medicine, actually.” 

“delicious.” 

“disgusting.” atsumu sets up the chess board. “so, like, thanks. for the fruit. can i keep the tupperware?”

you laugh. “why do you wanna keep the tupperware?” 

“it’s a reminder of normality.” atsumu shrugs. “i only ever eat off chipped hospital dishes here.” 

your chest throbs. “oh, atsumu.” 

“don’t you ‘oh, atsumu’ me,” he says, rolling his eyes. 

“sorry. yeah, you can keep it.”

(he wins at chess again.)

+

you’re only required to come in to the hospital three times a week, but you get into the habit of visiting atsumu every day. the first time you visit after class, you’re wearing a sweater and jeans. atsumu wolf whistles.

“damn. you look good when you’re not in scrubs.” 

“are you saying i don’t rock scrubs?” you press a hand to your chest in mock offense. 

“nobody looks good in scrubs,” atsumu says. “except for me, probably. i look good in anything.” 

you laugh. “i believe it.” 

“you’d better.” atsumu has a nice smile, you notice, wide and shiny. 

you plop yourself down beside him on the bed. “hey, you wanna see a picture i took on the way here? i found a stray cat near the convenience store.” 

“i’m a dog person,” atsumu says, but he nonetheless leans forward to get a look at your phone. “oh, cute.” 

“isn’t he?” you say, zooming in on the little orange cat. “i think i’m gonna name him after you.” 

“what?” atsumu huffs. “why?”

“because he’s good at chess,” you say. 

atsumu furrows his brow. “you played chess with a cat?”

“no, i just have a feeling,” you hum, and atsumu rolls his eyes with a small smile. 

“you’re stupid.” 

you slip your phone back into your pocket. “in a cute way, though.” 

“if you say so,” atsumu says, and you flick his shoulder. “ouch. way to bully a sick man.” 

“you deserved it,” you laugh, and he joins in.

“yeah, i did.” 

+

the next time you visit, atsumu’s family is there. his parents have kind, tired faces. 

“nice to meet you,” his mom says, grasping your hand warmly. “i’m glad atsumu has a friend here.”

“mom,” complains atsumu. “i have friends.” 

“none as cool as me, though,” you tease, and he smiles.

“you’re right,” he says, and his dad rumples his hair before turning to shake your hand. 

“it’s great to meet you, mr. miya,” you say, returning the shake. 

“the pleasure’s mine,” he says. he looks nearly identical to atsumu, just a little grayer. right next to him, there’s a boy who really does look exactly identical to atsumu, though his hair’s dyed dark and he’s a little more filled out. he has an air of begrudging maturity about him, the telltale sign of a young man who’s been forced to carry burdens that aren’t his. 

“i’m osamu,” he says. he’s sitting on the chair near atsumu’s bed. “this little asshole’s brother.”

“i don’t know why you keep calling me little,” atsumu says, lightly punching osamu’s forearm. “i’m the older twin.” 

“yeah, but you act like a baby.” osamu grins and leans out of reach when atsumu tries to swat at him. you chuckle behind a hand, leaning back against the wall as mr. and mrs. miya question you about your studies and hobbies. 

on your way out of the hospital a half hour later, you run into osamu at the lobby coffee shop. 

“so,” he says, sipping from a steaming cup. “you’re a nursing student?”

“mm,” you say, handing a fiver to the cashier to pay for your sandwich. “i’m in my fourth year at hyogo university. are you in college, too?”

“nah,” says osamu. “i play volleyball. professionally, i mean.”

“oh!” you notice the lettering on his sports jacket for the first time. msby black jackals. “that’s really cool.”

osamu shrugs. “sometimes it is. tsumu’s wanted to be a pro player since we were kids — but he won’t ever be able to do that now, of course. so that’s why i play. better to have one miya in the pro circuit than none at all.” 

your heart sinks. “you’re a great brother, osamu.”

osamu shakes his head. “i’m really not. it should’ve been me in that hospital bed.”

“osamu…” you trail off as osamu just shakes his head, giving you a sad smile. 

“it was nice meeting you,” he says before tossing his cup and heading back towards the elevators. 

+

“no,” atsumu says staunchly, crossing his arms. “definitely not. i don’t read.” 

“come on,” you wheedle, dangling the book in front of his face. “it’s one of my favorites, and i thought it might stave off some of that stifling boredom you always complain about.”

“i’m bored, but not that bored,” atsumu says, squinting at the book. “what is that about, anyways? the little prince? sounds lame.”

“it’s not lame,” you promise, bouncing slightly on the bed. atsumu sniffs. “okay, what if i read it to you? you don’t have to do anything but listen.”

“i’m not a child.” 

“you’re acting like one.”

atsumu throws his hands up in defeat. “alright, fine. you win. we can read the little prince.”

“excellent.” you beam. “scoot over?”

“what?” atsumu says, but he scoots to the side of his bed as you kick your shoes off and curl up next to him. you feel his breath hitch as he lightly lets his arm curve around your waist. 

you sigh, content, and flip to read the first page. “once when I was six years old I saw a magnificent picture in a book…”

+

it takes three visits to finish the entire story. atsumu sniffles when you read the last line, rubbing his eyes furiously.

“did he die?”

you trace a light circle on atsumu’s palm, smiling slightly. “i don’t know. i think it’s up to the reader to decide. he left his body, but is that really death? or is it just… moving on?” 

“i think he just moved on,” insists atsumu. “he moved on and returned to the stars. he was just a kid. he was too young to have died.” 

“look at you,” you tease, and atsumu flushes. “waxing on poetic.”

“it was good,” atsumu says gruffly. “thank you.” 

“you’re welcome,” you breathe, and when atsumu buries his face in your neck, you realize he’s crying. 

+

he kisses you for the first time a week later. it’s late in the afternoon, and both your faces are tinged with gold. he slips a hand beneath your jaw, and you let him slowly guide your lips to meet his. they’re soft, hesitant, and sweet, pressing against yours with an uncharacteristic shyness. 

you sigh happily when he pulls you forward to straddle his lap, slipping your hands into his thick blonde hair, letting him press light kisses down the length of your neck. 

“hey, beautiful,” he breathes into your collarbone, and you laugh. 

“hey, pretty boy. nice to see you today.” 

+

atsumu’s discovered a newfound love for reading ever since you read the little prince outloud to him. you’ve been bringing him secondhand books from the thrift store near your house, and now there’s a sizeable stack of novels out on the table. 

“i think i’ve read more in the past couple months than i ever read in high school,” he admits, running a finger down the spine of treasure island. “you’ve turned me into a nerd.”

“you’re welcome,” you say, straightening his collar.

“it’s kind of nice, though,” he says thoughtfully, tossing the book back on the table. “to read about all these different people, all the things they do. all the stories i’m never gonna get to experience.”

“you’re getting to experience them through reading,” you correct. “that’s the beauty of fiction.”

atsumu laughs. “you’re such a sap.” 

“it’s true,” you insist. “god knows life is too short to live through everything we’d like to. that’s why he gave us imagination.”

“do you believe in god?” atsumu asks softly. his stare grows distant.

you think for a moment. “sometimes i do. do you?”

“same. sometimes.” he fiddles with the hem of his shirt. “sometimes i wonder, though… like, if there’s a god, why does he hate me?” 

you chew on your cheek. “why do you feel hated?” 

atsumu laughs a laugh tinged with slight bitterness. “sweetheart… i’m not going to live past twenty-five, if even that.” 

you swallow the knot in your throat, letting it sink deep into your stomach where it sits like a lump of copper. “well… the little prince is less than a hundred pages. sometimes the shortest books are the best reads.” 

atsumu nods silently. he’s not convinced. you’re not sure if you are, either. 

+

atsumu sleeps a lot these days. you spend as much time with him as you can, but more often than not, he’s in a half conscious daze, curled up beneath the white hospital comforter. during these times, you just set your backpack by the door the slip into bed next to him, wrapping yourself around his back and pressing your palms to his chest just to feel his heartbeat. it’s faint, but it’s steady and rhythmic. ba-dump. ba-dump. ba-dump. 

sometimes, atsumu’s his usual, lively self, cracking bad jokes and poking fun at you. his smiling face has come to be your favorite picture. on these days, you bring him a hot chocolate from the coffee shop and split it with him, kissing off the whipped cream that finds its way onto his lips. he still likes to play chess, and, though he won’t admit it, you’ve been getting better. one day, you beat him, two games to one. 

there are solemn, quiet times, and there are bright, cheerful times, but you savor all of them. every moment spent with atsumu is valuable in your book. occasionally, you’ll go with him out into the hospital garden, into the warmth of the sun. every so often he’ll stop, lean on you to catch his breath, but he never complains. 

“look,” he’ll say instead, pointing at a vine of jasmine, or a single daisy swaying in the breeze. “almost as pretty as you.” 

+

one day, as you’re leaving atsumu’s room, you run into his doctor in the hall. 

“keep your chin up,” she says, straightening her glasses. “it’s possible he could still recover. strong young men often do.” 

you nod slowly. “is he going to need a transplant?”

“well,” says the doctor, clicking on her pen absentmindedly. “if it gets any worse, yes. but i’m going to be honest with you — it’s unlikely we’ll find a donation with both a matching blood type and in good condition.”

“ah.”

“so just hope for the best.” she slips into his room before you can say another word, leaving you to lean heavily against the wall, staring at nothing in particular. miracles happen every day, you remind yourself. there’s no reason atsumu shouldn’t be the recipient of one. 

+

“hey,” atsumu says. he whispers your name with an unusual tenderness. “i have to talk to you.”

it’s been five months since you first met atsumu on a clinical, and it’s been three months since he began to call you his girlfriend. you lace your fingers between his, giving his hand a light squeeze. “yeah, ‘tsumu?”

he takes a deep, shuddering breath. “i don’t think i’m going to… be here much longer.” 

“no,” you say, chest tightening. “don’t say that. you’re gonna be fine.” 

“sweetheart,” he says, voice low. he takes your chin and firmly turns your head to look at him. “i’m sorry. you know i am. i just… i’m sick. it’s hard to think straight sometimes, so i just wanted to tell you before i can’t anymore.”

“tell me what?” you ask, voice barely above a whisper. 

“tell you that i love you.” 

“atsumu,” you breathe. a frustrated tear finds its way down your cheek. “i… i love you, too. but please… just hang on. they’ll find a donor. they have to.”

“they might not,” he says, and he smiles, pulling you close. you knot your hands in the front of his t-shirt, pressing your face to his chest. “don’t cry. i’m just going to go live in the stars, right? like the little prince.” 

there’s so many things you want to say, like, you nerd, can’t believe you’re making literary allusions or shut up, asshole, or i’ll miss you if you do, but you say nothing, because if you open your mouth you’re sure you’ll just sob. 

“don’t cry,” he says again, but he’s crying, and you lift your face to see the tears streaming. “i love you.” 

your throat is too thick to say it back, but he sees it in your eyes. i love you, too. 

+

you spend the rest of the night with him before leaving at a little past 2am, and the next morning, you get a text from osamu. 

he’s gone. 

you don’t cry at the funeral. it’s small, just his family, a group of close friends, and you. you don’t look in the casket, either, because you want to remember his smile, and empty bodies don’t. you sip on a paper cup of water and lean against a wall, where osamu finds you. 

“hey,” he says, and you nod in return. “he left this for you.” 

you take the letter from him, and after he gives your shoulder a squeeze and heads back to his parents, you tear it open. 

hey, you. i’m writing this two months after you first came into my room in that god-awful set of scrubs. right now, you’re napping in the chair near my bed. you look cute. we had our first kiss last week, and i’m still walking on air. fuck, that sounds dorky. oh, well. guess i’m a dork. only for you, though. 

anyways, if you’re reading this, it’s because i’ve died. whoop-dee-doo. i’ve moved on to the great beyond. i’ve fallen past the veil. whatever it is you nerds like to say. there are probably things i’m going to say to you in the next few months that are a little more… intimate, i guess? but i wanted to tell you this while it’s still fresh in my mind: you’ve honest-to-goodness saved my life. i mean, it might not go on for much longer, sure, but you really have, in a way. being sick is weird. it makes you a lot more sensitive to miracles. 

you start. you don’t remember ever talking to atsumu about miracles.

someone from the outside might look at me and call me unlucky, but i feel pretty damn lucky right now. meeting you was without a doubt a miracle, and if i never got sick, it never would’ve happened. take that as you will, i guess. all i know is i’m not angry at god, even though maybe i should be. i mean, i’m still not sure he’s even out there. but there’s gotta be something, or someone, because how the fuck else could i have possibly recieved something so… great? i sure as hell never did something to deserve it. (god, i sound stupid. but it’s just hard to chalk up to coincidence.) 

anyways, i love you. not sure i’ll ever get the guts to say that out loud, so i’m saying it here. i love you, and i hope you love me, too. 

- atsumu

“i do,” you whisper. “i do.” 

+

on your way home, you stop at the convenience store for a bottled water, and the little orange cat comes out and winds itself around your leg, purring. 

“hey, ‘tsumu,” you say, squatting down to scratch its head. “fancy a game of chess?”

it meows back. 

“yeah?” your eyes grow wet, and you wipe them on the sleeve of your sweater. “wanna come home with me?”

it meows again, and this time, you break out into full scale crying. you’re not sure if you’re imagining it, but you think you can see a tear in the cat’s eye, too. 

he follows you home, and the next day, you purchase a water dish, a big bag of cat food, and a blue collar. (blue was atsumu’s favorite color.)

+

three years later. 

“honey?” 

“yeah?”

your husband comes out from the hall, buttoning up his shirt. “you almost ready to go?” 

“almost, ‘samu,” you say, slipping on a bracelet. your hands are shaking, and he notices it, too. today’s the third anniversary of atsumu’s death, and it’s also the date of osamu’s first big press conference. “he’d be so proud of you, you know.” 

osamu smiles. “he would. he’d be proud of you, too.”

you laugh. “what for? for marrying his little brother?”

“no, he’d probably be kind of pissed at me,” osamu jokes, before coming to stand behind you. he wraps his hands around your waist. “he’d be proud of you for finding happiness, i think.” 

“i am happy,” you say, tilting your head as osamu presses a kiss to your temples. there’s a beat of silence. “but i miss him.”

“i do, too.” osamu rests his chin on your head. “he probably misses us.”

“mm,” you say. “i think he might be having too much fun for that, actually.” 

“maybe,” says osamu, and he leans forward to grab the keys from the counter. “i’m gonna go heat up the car, okay?” 

“sounds good,” you say, as the cat dashes into the room with a meow. a nameplate that reads ‘tsumu’ dangles from his collar. “oh, hey kitty. i forgot to feed you. i’ll be out in a minute!” 

after you fill the cat’s dish and pull on a cardigan over your dress, you slip outside, shivering in the night air. the sky is clear and full of stars, and as you walk to the car, you crane your neck up to see. 

“hope you’re doing well, ‘tsumu,” you whisper to the gleaming constellations. 

you still have things you want to say to him, even after all these years. you want to ask him how the weather in the cosmos is, and if the fruit salad is better up there. you want to ask if he’s read any good books lately, or if he’s seen how great osamu’s serve has gotten recently. you want to laugh with him. 

most of all, though, you want to let him know that he was your miracle, too.

#haikyuu!! #haikyuu #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu fanfiction #atsumu #atsumu miya #miya atsumu #miya atsumu x reader #atsumu miya x reader

[silentprincess17]

The Perils of Swimming

This fic is a collab between me and the wonderfully talented artist @neivaloz on tumblr! Check out her awesome artwork that accompanies this fic! I love how we inspired each other and I look forward to more!

Summary: Link agrees to go swimming with Zelda when she gets her body back. He does not think this through, because there is one major problem: he can't swim.

Read on AO3 here!

Now that the sea in Aboda Village was directly in front of him, with Zelda no longer a ghost and made of flesh and skin, her promise of taking him out to swim actually a reality and not a passing comment at Papuchia Village, Link was beginning to regret the rashness with which he had said yes.

He hadn’t expected her to actually take it seriously. In the throes of the whirlwind adventure, he hadn’t anticipated she would actively remember, let alone take it to heart- it was now... four months since they had reclaimed the Ocean Realm? Which means it was roughly two months since they defeated Malladus. Towards the end, time seemed to fuse together, and life boiled down to essentially overcoming whatever barrier was in their way at the time. First it was restoring the tracks, then obtaining the Compass, followed by the Bow of Light and finally entering the Dark Realm to fight Malladus with the Lokomo Sword strapped to his back. By the time they reached the Compass, Link had more or less lost all notion of time, as Zelda and he grew progressively more panicked with each setback and it became an increasingly hectic race to save her body…

Link had chosen to stick with his engineering, primarily. He still felt he was more of a rookie soldier who only knew how to perform vague attacks that just so happened to work out in his favour, and without Zelda’s help as a Phantom he most certainly would have failed from the get-go. With that in mind, he chose to continue with what he had trained for up until now: to pilot the trains with mechanical engineering as his mainstay. Still, he didn’t want to completely lose what sword skills he had developed, so he regularly stopped at Hyrule Castle to train with Captain Russel and his guards. (The latter was really just an excuse to see Zelda before. Or afterwards. Most of the time it was both.)

And yesterday, Friday night, was one of those times he had gone to training, visiting Zelda before he supposedly went home for the weekend.

What he hadn’t expected was for her to insist on coming with him back to Aboda Village. He would never refuse her anything, and he assumed she might have wanted to meet Alfonso, or Niko, or really just visit his hometown, and he had agreed, staying at the castle that night. Zelda had long since given him a room close to hers, as a “more convenient place to stay” seeing how central the castle was to the rest of Hyrule.

Taking all that together, it was a surprise when she dragged him across to the small beach, where the sun sparkled against the deep blue sea, unclasped her belt that had the small sash attached to it, and pulled her dress off.

He gaped, before hurriedly turning away, “Zel! What are you doing?!”

“Taking my dress off silly, I’ve got my swimsuit underneath! We’re going swimming! I’ve finally, finally, caught up with the paperwork that accumulated whilst we were on our journey, and I finished my lessons in advance this week, for this reason! I know it’s not Papuchia, but there’s always a next time!”

What? Swimming? NEXT TIME?!

Nope, he had to ignore that for now. There was the issue of surviving the first-time round.

Because the idiot that he was, he couldn’t swim!

He lived in what was basically a seaside town, and yet, he couldn’t even paddle in the water, let alone swim.

He would drown as soon as the water reached higher than his neck!

“Link? It’s not too late, is it? I know it’s a little bit later than what I originally intended for when asking you, but there was just so much reordering to do in the Kingdom. Plus, you remember the whole scribing thing we had to undertake; it all took up so much more time than I expected. And then the weather was just awful this past week whenever I had some free time...”

Oh yes, he remembered the scribing. That whole incident had happened a week after their return to the castle, where Link had stayed behind both to physically recover himself from exhaustion and his wounds, and simultaneously help Zelda adjust to the land of the living.

On the first day, she had walked into so many doors and walls he thought she might have concussed herself, she regularly forgot she had to eat, and she didn’t have any fear of heights, despite the fact that falling with a body had pretty serious consequences. Consequently, Link felt honour bound to try to help her to remember she was, in fact, Hylian, and as such susceptible to many perils that she seemed to have forgotten over the course of the long months she spent as a spirit. Plus, she was very cute, and he blushed every time he felt her grip his hand excitedly, or drag his arm towards a bookshelf, or give him impromptu hugs for helping her.

Niko had cornered them after a week, wondering where Link had gotten too. When he found the two of them nibbling on sweet buns from Castle Town, a book on maps wedged firmly on their thighs, Link’s arm resting on the panel just above her shoulders; Niko had pulled a right fit. He had fussed over Link before declaring he would now create a tapestry to commemorate the newest iteration of legendary events. And that had taken the better part of two weeks to complete, and was now referred to as the “scribing” by Zelda and him.

“Link! Are you going to change your clothes or not? That’s the second reason why I didn’t drag you to Papuchia, because I forgot to tell you to pack your trunks.” She paused, “You do have trunks, right?”

No, no he didn’t. He’d just sacrifice an old pair of cargo pants he had. It would be fine. Probably. He made a vague motion towards his house, before deciding to put the Hero’s cap on. It would hopefully hold some of his hair back, and it would bring him luck on this death quest he was about to embark on.

Why?

Why did he put himself through this?

He sighed. He knew the answer.

This was all because he couldn’t say no to her.

He shuffled back into his home, Niko popping up whilst he half-heartedly opened his wardrobe and shuffled around some more. Spirits. He didn’t want to go back out. He didn’t want to admit to Zelda he didn’t know how to swim. Worse still, he didn’t want her to think badly of him for living by a seaside town, and yet, never having learnt such an essential skill.

Niko hobbled across on his cane to Link, peering around the wardrobe door.

“What’s with the long face? I thought you’d be excited, bringing the Princess over. Yes boy, I know she’s here, everyone heard the two of you enter town. It’s a small place, Link.”

He fished out an old, half-faded blue pair of shorts. “Zelda wants to go swimming, Niko.”

Niko’s eyes widened, “What? But you-”

Link slammed the wardrobe door shut with perhaps more force than necessary. “I know.”

Niko hesitated, before he placed a gnarled hand on Link’s shoulder. “I have a question for you Link… Do you know of any of Princess Zelda’s weaknesses?”

Well, that one was easy. “She’s absolutely terrified of mice. She will literally jump into my arms, or onto my back, to escape them.” He chuckled, “Even as a giant Phantom, three times my height, she couldn’t come near one.” He hesitated, thinking back to their recent conversations on her balcony under the stars, “She’s also scared of not doing well... but I guess this is a fear we all have…”

“That’s your answer then, Link.”

Huh? Why would knowing what Zelda was scared of make any difference?

“I can see you are still confused. Let me make it clearer. Did you judge the Princess for having those failings? Did you at any point think less of her?”

He vehemently shook his head, before stopping midway as it finally sunk in.

Oh.

Niko simply tapped his cane against the floor twice, before ambling off. “I’ll make some fried chicken for you both. One always gets hungry after swimming in the sea.”

Link scrambled into his shorts, and then ran out, just as Zelda walked up to meet him. “You were gone for an awfully long time, Link. I don’t want to imagine how disorganised your wardrobe is-”

The words bubbled out, “Zelda I don’t know how to swim.”

“-at least you’ve got some… are those even trunks? Well-”

“Zelda.” He grabbed her hand, shaking her arm a little, “Zelda!”

“What?”

“I don’t know how to swim.”

She stared, stupefied. “Why didn’t you say? I would have brought my floats!”

It was his turn to gape. “Floats?”

She waved her hands in the air. “You know those things you use to keep you upright in the water.” A frown grew on her face, “Wait, does everyone here not know how to swim? That’s quite dangerous! We’ll have to change that.”

She shook her head, gently clasped his hand, pulling him along, “But that’s for later. I’ll teach you today, Link, if you want?”

He nodded, and she smiled.

“Let’s start off with paddling first, and then progress to basic kicks!”

Time flew by again, as he started off gently peddling his feet in the water, arms spread out wide, head just about jutting above the water line as he hovered, suspended in the sea, for the first time. Once he’d mastered just holding his weight in the water they proceeded onto kicks. That involved first thrashing his legs whilst gripping onto the ridge of land to hold himself in place. Then he advanced to doing one leg at a time like a proper swimming pattern. Zelda wrapped her arms around his middle, and he had a go at moving both arms and legs in synchrony.

He was surprised she could carry him, “Link, I do exercise you know. I’m not just a fluffy Princess. Being a Phantom was quite the experience.”

She heaved him higher, and he spluttered in the water, thrashing his arms a bit at the unexpected heave, “I liked being strong, and being able to help you. So, I’m going to do the best I can with my current body too. You never know, it might prove useful on our next adventure!”

He could only smile. He thanked the Spirits for giving him the chance to meet Zelda. For going on their convoluted journey. For having her as his best friend.

Soon enough, she gently let go of him, and moved to interlock her fingers with his hands as she guided him through the waves, his legs doing the measured, purposeful kicks they had practised.

He was so focussed, he hadn’t at all noticed Alfonso on the shore, until he called out to them, probably wondering what Link was even doing in the water. Zelda told Link to keep on kicking his legs as she slowly walked backwards, screamed back that he was okay and that he was learning to swim. Both of them cringed as they heard Alfonso guffaw loudly and watched as he shook his head, walking off towards the station.

“Well, we’re nearly there, Link!” She loosened her grip on his left hand, moving to clasp his wrist instead, “I’m barely holding onto you! You’re doing it! You’re swimming!”

And he gave her the biggest smile he could, as she slowly let go, wading backwards, and he swam by himself towards her, for the very first time.

Suddenly, the idea of doing this again was no longer so horrifying.

What was there to worry about when he had Zelda, his partner, his best friend, by his side?

#the perils of swimming #zelink #zelink fanfic #zelink fanfiction #the legend of zelda #loz #spirit tracks #st zelink #collab #swimming #when you say yes to the girl without thinking #link is a besotted fool and that's why he said yes without thinking #silent writes

[camdentown-library]

The flames in your eyes || ENG ver. Ethan Torchio x reader

❝ 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐚 𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐬, 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞, 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐬. 𝐀𝐜𝐜𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧 𝐢𝐧𝐯𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬, 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐠𝐨 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐚. 

𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬, 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐜𝐪𝐮𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐧 𝐮𝐧𝐮𝐬𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐛𝐨𝐲, 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐩𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐚𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐭 𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠. ❞

Genre: Fluff ;; romantic ;; slowburn

Pairing: Ethan Torchio x fem!reader

Warning: English is not my native language, I may have made grammatical errors. do not hesitate to correct me

N / A: The facts told are purely the fruit of my imagination, it is not my intention to do any wrong to any person mentioned, and above all the character of Ethan could (surely) not reflect the person in reality.

Happy reading to you all!

CHAPTER 1

The first rays of July had cast on the roofs of the houses in Rome, giving the off-white plaster and rosy tiles a golden sheen that tasted like honey. The wisteria were in bloom, as was the medlar tree under Marlena's house; the scent of life in the full act of her cycle, always knocked on her dining room window, filling it with sweet fragrances.

The girl used to take her place at the table during the late morning hours, surrounded by books and tomes quite old and gnawed by the dust, with the good resolution that even that day she would read and study those very boring pages of that equally boring examination. of Egyptology. The university summer session had already begun, she had just taken a couple of exams last June and was now preparing two more that she would take in the first weeks of September.

That time could seem apparently short, Marlena didn't care that much, what could ever distract her from her work? She had no friends, and by now, even though she had crossed the threshold of 21 years in the autumn, the girl was now completely extinct her naive youth, as well as her desire to laze.

The out of tune and unexpected sound of the intercom triggered her head bent over the books of the young woman, who after having heaved a sigh perhaps a little annoyed, she decided to get up from her chair, leave the dining room and cross the wide and not too long corridor in the shape of an "L" of his apartment, finally arriving at a brisk pace towards the device it had croaked in order to answer.

"Yes?" she asked quite firmly but not too cordially.

"I'm the postman, will you open me?" answered a stranger, as she pushed the button to open the gate.

Marlena therefore opened the heavy old door of her house, remaining patient to wait for the man to arrive at the door. Although she had lived in that condominium with her father for as long as she remembered it, she had not yet found a rational explanation for its lack of mailboxes. Was it because it was a palace built in the 1920s? Well that would explain the absence of an elevator as well, but a damn mailbox wouldn't be hard to add.

The man's gasping breath brought her back to reality as her eyes saw him peeking from the flight of stairs. Was he already that tired after not even crossing the second floor? The young woman wondered a little disappointed.

"Are you Madam Levavi?" the postman then asked, catching his breath and rummaging through her purse. Marlena wrinkled her nose instinctively.

"Ahm ... not madam, I'm her daughter" she replied shaking her head, what could that postman ever care if she was "miss" or "madam"? The girl lightly bit the inside of her cheek as a reproach.

"Here you are. How many floors are there still?" She asked the man wiping her sweaty forehead with a handkerchief after giving her the mail.

"Two more ..." Marlena replied disinterestedly as she closed the door, observing her letters.

Bills for electricity, water, the tax to be paid for the next university year and ... a letter?

Well, it certainly wasn't sent by her father...

The girl looked at the text of that letter once more, rereading it and rereading it several times, wrapped in a silence that was probably inherent in memories that clouded her common sense, while slowly after taking a few steps back, she gently placed her back to the wall.

"Dear Marlena,

I know perfectly well that it might have been easier to call you, but you know I've always enjoyed writing you letters.

Unfortunately I noticed that in the last few I sent you you didn't answer, I guess it's because the university keeps you very busy ...

However, I learned that your father is out of Italy on a business trip and he will be away until the end of August; It seemed only right to invite you to spend these last months of summer in our house outside the city.

I know that since your mom left, you haven't had the desire to visit us anymore, but I think it would do you good to change the air for a while. The place is quiet, there is the sea and also a large and extensive countryside with a pine forest and the locals are really friendly and helpful.

You can also bring Lapo if you want, I know you are very close.

Either way, let me know your verdict.

A strong hug.

Grandmother Agata.”

She had distant memories of that house, distant but still happy. He remembered when he woke up early in the morning with grandmother Agata and grandfather Laertes to be able to go to the sea and his little hands while looking for hermit crabs and shells on the shore, as he remembered the music in the square and the laughter echoing in the same way as the bells of the church on Sunday, everyone was happy ... and life seemed to be less unfair to those who deserved it less, it tasted like jam and fruit jellies, salt on the lips and bees flying.

Marlena's chest swelled with air, as if she had been holding her breath until then...perhaps because diving into one's childhood was like floundering in a stormy sea pretending to stay afloat.

The cheerful barking of her dog Lapo brought the young woman back to the present, who decided to place the letters on a window sill not far from the front door and set off together with the playful animal towards the kitchen. Lapo was a nice Bernese Mountain Dog, with a black, brown and white coat. It had been given to her five years ago, perhaps because her father had sensed that even his absence had created in the heart of his only daughter, a sense of distressing loneliness, which had consumed her to the bone making her totally apathetic for certain verses.

But Lapo, Lapo had saved her from her, with Lapo she spoke and shared gestures of affection, such as caresses and little licks between her fingers and hair. Sometimes Marlena fell asleep in her bed, with the bulky dog ​​on her, because feeling her warm and humid breath on her blankets reminded her in her sleep that she was not alone in the dark of the night. As long as Lapo's heart had beaten the young girl she was not afraid of having to wake up or sleep.

Although she tried to convince herself that staying in her comfort zone would be easier than answering "yes" to her grandmother's request, a part of her was again attracting her to that letter; her gaze was captured by the horizon of her mind, while in the distance she could almost hear the sounds and flavors of a place almost too fairytale to be part of the material world.

"I know I should answer..." she murmured as she was intent on washing the peel of a red apple in the kitchen sink. Meanwhile the dog sat up looking at her intensely while she wagged his tail waiting for her.

"...It's just that, that place...and then I should finish studying, I have an exam to take at the end of the summer, Lapo" but the dog tilted his head in disappointment and then got up and trotted out of the room, looking for of who knows what amusement, leaving Marlena to her thoughts, as she bit into the freshly dried fruit with the kitchen towel.

All of this would only be for a little over a month and a half, just a month and a half and then she would leave it all behind her again, as she did a long time ago.

“Hello grandma. I'm Marlena..."

Marlena after putting the letter back next to her bedside table, she grabbed the cell phone not far away and typed some numbers on the screen, not too convincingly, and then brought the object to her ear.

There were those ten seconds of waiting that seemed the stroke of half a century, until a voice said "Hello?".

Marlena had brought two large bags with her. One for clothes and the other full of junk such as: books, objects for the dog, tricks and everything that for her mind, not so familiar with travel, she considered indispensable. She was not so convinced that both of them would enter the trunk, but the exemplary ability to know how to adapt and make do with her grandfather always left her with amazement on the edge of her lips.

It took two days before grandfather Laerte's small and overly backward FIAT Punto made its peerless entrance next to the bottle-green gate of the small cloister of the Marlena palace.

The man had taken more or less ten minutes just to park, the niece had wondered how long it would take him to get there and start again.

The young woman was sitting in the back seats, together with Lapo. She held in her hands a small bunch of tulips that Laertes had brought her, made by herself. He said to her:

"I went for a walk in the countryside and tried to capture the most beautiful of all, like my granddaughter!" followed by a proud, croaking laugh. Laertes had always been a proud and incurable romantic, without ever giving up some of her drama, grandmother Agata did nothing but remind her of it in her letters.

Like when Marlena pointed out to him, that the steering wheel of the car was too damaged for the latter to be considered in accordance with the law, but he had always replied that a good soldier and partisan would appeal to his driving experience and a little 'of elbow grease, in order to be sure that the itinerary of the journey would be peaceful and without unpleasant hitches.

Lapo let out an enthusiastic bark when the croaking car left the endless concrete of the highway behind, and then took a narrow, winding, uphill road that would have led them to the small town.

Her gaze stared blankly at what was running, like tape in a movie camera, out the window; She saw the buildings of the city become less present, as well as the stench of smog, then there was a long stretch of highway, immersed in the wheat fields and every now and then some small farm or spare parts industry or other jobs would emerge.

In the car there would have been complete silence, had it not been for the old radio which played an entire disc of all of Lucio Dalla's masterpieces; Marlena's grandfather liked that singer, but not in the same way chatting while driving, because according to him it would have increased the chances of road accidents by 50%, and frankly, the granddaughter didn't mind at all this acknowledgment ... she didn't even know where she should have started and however much her relatives tried to make her feel at ease, she imagined herself as a stranger, a stranger, who had knocked on their door and was now just trying to learn and remember their common manners.

"If you look to the right you will see the sea, Marlena" Laertes informed her, while he struggled with the steering wheel at every bend, but he did not dare to make even a moan under stress. The girl decided to accept those words, and looking out (after rolling down the window) a crisp air of salt pervaded her nostrils like the balm of a mint. Her eyes tried to show as little as possible the defeat of an amazement that had overwhelmed her like a raging wave, making her heart pound.

The sea. Marlena loved the sea. And for a few moments she was wondering what she had forced her to shut up in the house all that time, but then her mind went back to static and clear. She knew why, and there was no other reason to get her back together, even if it was difficult.

Yet there seemed to be few people around the streets, perhaps because at that time anyone with a minimum of wit would have holed up in the cool four walls of their home, just to escape the scorching heat that did not yield until the stroke of five in the afternoon .

By now it was almost two in the afternoon when Laertes' car passed the threshold of the square of the small town, while the attentive (even if apparently lost) gaze of his granddaughter observed everything in detail.

Nothing seems to have changed in that place since the last one who went there. The street was always covered with the usual, old and coarse slabs of white stone and eroded by the weather, as well as the various shops that surrounded the square and the small houses side by side, glazed with a fresh off-white plaster and dark brown roofs, the fountain in the center, and the small restaurant with its balcony overlooking the long pine forest that extended at the foot of the modest hill that supported the town.

A jolt suddenly shook Marlena, when her grandfather decided to pull over and pull up the handbrake of his FIAT, thus causing a slight recoil unexpectedly enough to suddenly wake the girl from her thoughts. She cleared her throat, while she opened her door, so that Lapo could finally trot and wag his tail excitedly around, on the other hand she didn't blame him, it must have been hard for a dog to stay good in the car for so many hours.

"Here we are!" proclaimed the elderly man putting the car keys in his pocket and then ring the bell of the small house next to FIAT "Your grandmother will be so happy to see you, I bet she will have prepared ciambelle with red wine to celebrate your reunion" he added while he waited for the woman he mentioned to open to him, already anticipating on his lips the pungent and sweet taste of those sweets he loved so much.

"So I suppose you made at least thirty" commented the young woman ironically, as she dragged out the two bags with extreme difficulty, attracting the attention of Laertes who, hastily adjusting his frizzy white hair, hastened to reach his niece to give her your support.

“Ah don't worry, kid. I'll take care of it, maybe you can ring the door, your grandmother has now gone deaf as a bell...” he said as he gave a slight snort and then muttered something.

"C’mon, grandpa" Marlena replied then raising her eyes to the sky trying not to smile, how melodramatic could that man be?

After pressing her finger on the bell again, the girl waited for someone to answer and hearing the approach of some quick steps together with the rubbing of flip-flops on the floor, made her realize that Agata had finally heard their arrival. Marlena did not even have time to greet the elderly lady, who took her in her arms, wrapping her in an embrace that caught her unprepared and to which she did not respond immediately.

“Oh my love! I’m so happy to see you again! But look how you have grown! It seems only yesterday when you reached mid-thigh and now...” the hands a little gnarled, but from the soft fingertips of the woman, gently took the face of her niece like a cup, as if to feel if her presence was only fantasy or reality "...You are a woman to all intents and purposes" she whispered and then fussed with kisses all over her face, while Marlena whining pretending to be somehow annoyed.

After climbing a short flight of stairs that led to the house located on the upper floor, the girl's nostrils and consciousness were flooded with memories and sensations already savored. She observed the now old floor of the house, granite tiles that alternated with one hand painted and another not; Marlena rejoiced with a touch of amusement when she as a child she spent boring afternoons playing on them, jumping only on the decorated ones because according to her imagination those remains were made of incandescent lava.

The walls were always the same, covered with a light blue paint and slightly lumpy at times, she could feel it, when the index and middle fingers of her right hand absently brushed the surface.

The house of Marlena's grandparents was very simple and perhaps apparently a little cramped. Having opened the wooden entrance door, after having passed the landing and the stairs, she had in front of her a corridor that extended along to her right, thus marking the various doors of each room that the house gathered inside. Almost parallel to the entrance there was the kitchen door on the opposite wall, without doors, next to it the bathroom door, and then the door to the room of the two elderly spouses. At the end of the corridor there was a small balcony with the railing covered with hanging vases where, like a multicolored waterfall, a thick branching of coral red bucanville came out which, in addition to poetically letting itself fall from the small niche, climbed elegant and graceful on the handrail of the then hug the outside walls of the house.

Marlena took advantage of it, to be able to peep there, while she deeply breathed the fragrant and velvety scent of those petals, mixed with the sea breeze that came from beyond the pine forest that surrounded the town. She observed the small houses around her while if she winked she could distinguish the clear line of the flat and calm sea that merged in perfect alchemy with the clear sky on the horizon.

The young woman tried in every way to convince herself that that enchanted place, that little corner of paradise had never failed her...but she suddenly proclaimed herself foolish for having thought such a cynical thing in the least.

TO BE CONTINUED . . .

#maneskin #ethan torchio #damiano david #victoria de angelis #thomas raggi #fanfic #fanfiction #fluff #imagine #imagines #chapter 1 #romantic #the flames in your eyes #ENG VERSION

[newtie-patootie-bootie]

Masquerade (Chapter 1)

Summary: This is your third season and your aspirations on finding love are dwindling but news on Lady Whistledown’s society pages say that there is to be a foreign royal in attendance to the season. Could this royal dignitary be the one you’ve been waiting for, or could there be a mysterious stranger lurking in the shadows, waiting to pluck your heart for his?

Disclaimer: I do not own Bridgerton nor The Mandalorian- all rights go to the owners and creators of their separate stories.

Warnings: Descriptions of violence and minor blood and wounds- nothing too major. (I tell you, we’re getting into it, I promise!)

|| Please do not repost or plagiarise my work ||

If you’d like to read more of my works, please visit my Masterlist!

| Prologue | Chapter 2 |

Tags: @technicallykawaiisoul @call-me-soap​ 

Din stormed down the hall of his newly acquired estate, red cape catching the air behind him from the force of his gait and the beskar armour he proudly wore, winked in the early morning sun.

His helmet was tucked under his arm, leaving his uncovered features twisted in an enraged scowl and his untamed curls bouncing freely with his violent gait as he darted for the double doors that would lead him to the dining hall where his company would be breaking their fast.

The place in which he resided in had been bought once he had solidified the trade agreements with the Queen of England, the residence too lavish for his liking. It was more suited to Greef Karga’s own extravagant tastes, the man was his financial advisor but sometimes Din found himself lamenting in agreeing to bring the older gentleman into his court.

The house was dripping in the deepest red materials and gold accoutrement to accompany the ridiculously flamboyant furnishings Greef had purchased with the Crown’s treasury. It was a wholly unnecessary investment as Din had expressed his distaste for the country and its many crippling social demands and their tunnelled, biased view on the rest of the world around them.

When he had heard from the month’s financial statement and use of the treasury account that the properties Greef had purchased on behalf of his Majesty rivalled the livestock towns in their homeland, Din was furious but unable to do much of anything but issue Karga with a stern warning.

Karga made good on his promise to cease his incessant and improper spending habits but it seems Din was a little too late on that front.

Din growled, baring his teeth as he pushed the double doors open with one hand, dark eyes searching the table as his two Mandalorian guards, Sofir and Tatya- unhelmed, stood immediately and pressed their fists to their cuirasses. Both were young, perhaps too young to be kings guard but Din noticed their skill and the pride they had in their country. He chose them over the more experienced Mandalorian’s and he never regretted it.

Their half-eaten plates were abandoned in their hurry to address their king. The large table, some would say was ornate. A fine piece of craftsmanship.

Din would call it gaudy- unnecessary for a man who needed little and survived longer than the most socially capable of people.

For a moment, Din’s reality swirled and he was faced with humble surroundings. A different life, a life he was happier leading. With an internal shake of his head, the unwanted memories faded and he was once again immersed in the riches he was steeped in.

Din would have been fine with a crate and two boxes for chairs, but he could no longer be that man.

“Manda’lor.” Sofir and Tatya greeted him, bowing their heads in respect.

Din nodded curtly and gestured for them to return to their meals as he turned his piercing gaze to the foot of the table, searching. “Where is General Vizsla?”

Sofir turned her blue eyes to her king and swallowed the portion of fruit almost nervously, “I caught sight of him in the training room, perfecting his strikes.”

Din almost snarled his gratitude before whirling back out of the dining room with renewed vigour.

Long legs took him hurtling down the winding halls of his estate before he twisted the ornate knob and pushed the door open, revealing the training room in which Din, at the time of assembling each piece of equipment, was looking forward to utilizing at some point in between the droning events and simpering debutants and their aggravating mothers.

Even though he may not be what he formerly was, it did not mean he couldn’t keep his skills as sharp as the blade he wore on his back. Amongst the different equipment was a large ring raised off the ground, perfect for sparring.

And in the middle of the fighting ring was Paz, unhelmed and unclothed from the waist-up. Thick, corded arms jabbed at the air, testing his speed against the invisible foe he opposed. Sweat dripped from the soaked blonde strands of hair that hung over his forehead, blue eyes stony and focussed.

“You had no grounds nor merit to justify your blatant disregard of my orders, Paz!” Din’s voice boomed across the large expanse of the room.

Paz straightened, rolling his shoulders back as he turned to face his king, chest heaving with his laboured breath, “your plan to attend the ball unhelmed and unguarded was foolish at best, attempting to gain information on the most genuine of willing applicants completely unnoticed as you once used to did not go well, did it, Manda’lor? I saw you frolicking with that Duke’s daughter.”

Din remained eerily silent as he set his helmet down, the beskar rang out and he unclipped his cape and quietly folded it beside the helmet before sliding off his gloves and tossed them atop the cape. Paz watched as his king methodically removed piece after piece of his armour without a word- remaining silent as he peeled the layers of clothing from his upper half to mirror Paz’s own state of undress. Each garment was placed atop the armour, removed as not to soil the fabrics with sweat or blood.

Din’s body was not burly, nor could he hope to match Paz’s unique size but the fine definition of his upper arms and broad shoulders that were attributed to the years of dedication to his craft. His stomach was soft, not sharp and contoured like his general’s but Paz knew better than to underestimate his king and his smaller stature only attributed to his keen dexterity.

Dark, incensed eyes never left Paz’s and Din noticed the glimmer of uncertainty in the bluest part of his eyes but quickly covered it with the same stony indifference Din had been acquainted with all his life as he entered the ring smoothly.

Sofir and Tatya came barrelling through the open doorway, unwilling to overlook such a tussle from two of the most talented fighters in Mandalore.

They remained near the entrance, not wishing to overstep their welcome to watch their king and their General oppose each other in the fighting ring. “You’re lucky I do not have you punished for wearing another’s armour, least of all-” Paz was unprepared for the viper-like strike as Din’s fist shot from its dormant place by his thigh, snapping fiercely into Paz’s jaw, “-mine.”

The two guards watched, riveted by the raw display of power demonstrated by their leader.

Din Djarin was not a man easily intimidated by one’s size or power as one would be by Paz’s physical stature, but they both knew that Paz would not back down from a challenge either- not even from his king, “do you realise the precarious position you have put me in?! The young Dalton girl believes the Manda’lor and Din Djarin are separate entities!”

“You are no longer who you used to be.” Paz argued back, swinging his fist viciously and aimed right for Din’s nose but the latter was quicker and ducked from would-be blow, “your freedoms are limited as is your time to find a suitable partner in which to make your queen and rule by your side.”

“If I dare reveal myself now as the foreign ruler who she is so apprehensive of,” Paz swung again with a loud grunt and Din took his moment, ducking once more but the larger man caught on to his intent and lifted his knee, slamming it directly into the king’s stomach. The younger man rattled out a wheezing groan, stumbling back as his arms curled around his belly but Paz wasn’t finished and connected a quick blow to Din’s cheek- sending his king reeling to the floor.

“Continue, Manda’lor.” Paz mocked as Din slowly began to peel himself off the ground, curls tumbling around his head as he shook the fog beginning to blanket his thoughts

“Her trust will be betrayed as will her feelings if I choose to pursue her.” His voice was strained as he pointed at Paz, “you made the Manda’lor’s interest abundantly clear last night at the fete!” Din grunted as he straightened up, shaking off the ache in his stomach and spat out the blood filling his mouth from the cut inside his cheek, painting the scuffed flooring red. He shoved his reddening hand into the pocket of his pants and pulled out the crumpled Lady Whistledown and tossed it away as if it disgusted him, the sheet bounced on floor of the ring, rolling unevenly before it stopping directly in front of Paz’s feet.

Paz made to grab his opponent but Din twisted out of the way with ease, snapping another blow to the blonde man’s jaw. The general growled in frustration, “that scandal sheet has taken London by storm, we could not have our leader not make an appearance when he was reported to do so.” The two engaged in close combat, blocking and striking as they were taught in their tribe. “The speculation alone could ruin us and future potential alliances!” Paz rebutted, digging his fingers into Din’s wrist and tugged him forward as he screwed his dormant hand into a fist, “I did what was best for the Manda’lor’s image.”

Din dropped to his knees, narrowly avoiding Paz’s devastating strike and quickly regained his footing. Ignoring the twinge in his knee joints, the brunette used the sweat beginning to bloom across his body and twisted out of Paz’s hold before delivering harsh blows across Paz’s face- not necessarily aiming anymore. “I care not for any reporter’s musings, no matter how popular it may be!”

“Din Djarin may not, but the Manda’lor must!” The blatant rage displayed on Din’s features morphed into surprise at Paz’s argument and the man in question to slowly extricate himself from his king’s hold. “Our country is in your hands; you must do what is best for it and our people. It’s not just about you anymore, vod.”

Din huffed a soft breath, nostrils flaring as he took a step back from Paz.

The anger that fuelled him slowly began to drain as apprehensive eyes turned to his tribe-mate and Paz began, “I will apologise for wearing your armour, but I will not seek your forgiveness for my actions. I do not regret it.” Din watched his brother as he straightened his back, sweat-slicked chest speckled with his own blood. Every muscle flexing and only made him seem that much more imposing, “the Manda’lor is our leader and as such, I will not allow you to squander such a title away for a life you are no longer able to lead.” Din remained silent, staring deep into Paz’s eyes before stepping away and took a deep breath before moving toward the turnbuckle to retrieve a towel and tended to the weeping wounds across his bruising knuckles, “what are you going to do?”

Din turned to look over his shoulder at Paz, “what I have to.” His voice sounded resigned, “Sofir, Tatya, call the carriage around the front, please. We are going to visit the Duke and Duchess of Wintere, the Lady Dalton is about to receive her first caller.” He ordered without looking away from his wounded knuckles.

“Right away, Your Majesty.” The two guards promptly exited the training room, the soft clinks of armour following them.

The noise of the guards slowly tapered off, silence filling the space between Din and Paz as the king continued to care for his split knuckles, dabbing the beading blood away.

“You’ve not lost your skill, vod.” The slight pride that tinged Paz’s tone tickled Din’s amusement and huffed a chuckle in response.

“Were you expecting my reflexes to have slowed due to my recent negligence?” Turning to face Paz, he tossed the soiled towel to the general who caught it with ease and folded the fabric to an unused square before dabbing at the beads of sweat upon his brow.

“I had begun to believe that your former talents to have atrophied under the strain of the monarchy’s heavy expectations.” Paz answered easily, smirking at Din’s less restrained laugh, “I see that I was mistaken.” Thick fingers gingerly grazed over the bruise beginning to develop along his jawline.

“Good.” Din teased before bending to slip beneath the ropes, grunting in pain as the blow Paz delivered into his stomach protested at the movement, “perhaps now you will understand why I was most invested in the furnishing of this room in particular.”

Paz followed Din as he picked up his discarded garments and armour and meticulously reapplied each piece with grace, “you are going to pursue the Dalton girl?”

“I am.” The levity in the Manda’lor’s tone dissipated with the return of the hard topic, busying himself with the task of redressing.

“I wish you luck in your endeavours, your Majesty.” Paz bowed to his king before taking his leave, grabbing his linen shirt on the way out and shrugging it on without breaking stride.

Din sighed, strapping the cuirass in place before picking up his helmet and turning it face up. He could see his own reflection in the opaque visor, the silver and gold inlay winked at him in the streaming beam of sunlight.

There was no way he could attempt to court you without insulting your intelligence, nor could he take back the Manda’lor’s interest that seemed to capture this rumourmonger had shared with London’s overly curious.

“Haar'chak!” Din hissed quietly, setting the helmet over his head and stomped out of the room, cape billowing behind him.

You slowly opened your eyes to the pattern lining the border of your bedroom ceiling- the blue floral molding stood out against the stark white backdrop and in the middle was a fabulous illustration of a white owl taking flight amongst the snow-tipped hellebores and tilting upward toward the dawning sun. The mural itself was to your mother’s tastes, curved into a circle and tapered brushstrokes to blend with the ceiling to create the illusion of the image to be unfinished.

It was beautiful.

The picture was a little hard to make out from the shroud of darkness your room was ensconced in, its true brilliance remaining uncaptured.

The curtains had yet to be drawn by your maid and you heaved a gentle sigh while turning your gaze away from the artwork, your eyes slowly took in the furnishings that reflected the same blue on white theme as the rest of your bedroom did.

Your bedroom reflected the wealth your family carried and the multiple homes spanning across England were just the very same- steeped in expensive furnishings and high-end materials to make each abode even more comely. Your family’s London home was smaller than the country estate you and your brother had grown up in but it was by no means modest.

Many a suitor that had entered these halls had remarked on how grand the residence was, their eyes shining with greed and their pretentious gifts were poisoned by their determination to win the heart of the Duke’s daughter.

As your mind was overridden with thoughts of extravagance and lush surroundings, the image of an iron clad warrior flashed before your eyes, anonymous, alluring and unsettling.

Soft fingers pressed into the impressive material of your bed coverings, twisting the opulent silk between your fingertips anxiously before one of your hands slipped from the creased fabric and passed over your eyes, swiping across your brow as you reviewed last night’s events and your stomach began to twist with nerves:

As soon as the Mandalorian king was announced, overzealous mamas pushed their overbearing daughters toward him in the energetic hopes that they would be considered the new queen he had been purported to be desperately seeking.

Lost amidst the wave of hysteria, you did not realise that your partner had slowly begun to pull away from you, “I did not think he would come. What do you make-” your sentence trailed off as you turned to converse with the mysterious lord you had just met, only to see that the space he occupied beside you was now empty, “my lord?” You twisted in place, your gaze scouring every inch of Lady Danbury’s lavish ballroom until you made out the soft crown of untamed curls striding out of the room completely unseen.

“Lord Djarin!” You called, hoping you could gain his attention over the grating squawks of women fawning over the new arrival and cursed silently when he did not acknowledge you as he turned the corner out of the ballroom, out of sight.

Dashing forward, you took hold of your skirts to not tread on the material and attempted to remain vigilant in avoiding the flock of debutants elbowing and pinching their way closer to the king. You operated with a wide berth as you scurried for the exit, ignoring your mother’s calls when you felt a gloved hand clasp yours- forcing you to let go of your dress and cease in your pursuit.

Turning, your skirts fluttered delicately and the words of your polite rejection to the obviously headstrong lord bubbled at your lips- only to remain silent when you saw the silver helm of the king staring down at you. “Your Majesty,” you whispered, shock froze your intentions and you slowly curtseyed out of respect.

“Lady Dalton.” He knew your name?

With your hand still in his, he helped you rise and turned his body to face you while completely disregarding the gaggle of women who now fell silent, glaring at you with burning envy at his special attention.

“I must confess I did not realise we were acquainted, your Highness.” Your arm was still in his hold, orange-tipped leather fingers tracing the delicate bones of your wrist and you fought the urge to pull away from such a bold action.  

“We aren’t.” Blunt. Forceful. His words did little to calm the raging storm within you and you wanted nothing more than to pull away from his touch, not enjoying the coldness of his gloves, nor the anonymity that shrouded his being. Rather finding yourself wistfully wishing for the heat of another unfamiliar. An alluring lord that treated you with such care you’d never seen in any suitor beforehand.

“Well, in that case, how pray tell did you come by the knowledge of my name?” You retained your sense of propriety for propriety’s sake, your lips widening into an insincere smile that you had nurtured and cultivated over the seasons and separate events you had partaken in until you had mastered it.

It was a skill you used sparingly, mostly with unsavoury characters that had called on you with their ill intentions or their crass proposals.

“There was no shortage of envious musings in the town where your name was the topic in discussion. As for deducing you to be the wearer of such a fine name, it was rather easy,” you didn’t think it to be as trivial as he made it sound but remained silent as the Mandalorian king continued his deductions, “no one in this room fitted to such a moniker as a ‘winter blossom’ more than you.”

Your heart flipped in your chest and your fictitious simper cracked ever-so-slightly, “m-my Lord, I am flattered,” you curtseyed once again before raising your gaze to meet the blank stare of his opaque visor, “I would wish to commend on your armour, but I fear I may offend you with my lack of knowledge on the particular subject. So, in lieu of your warrior garb, I thank you for your service to your country.”

“I hope we meet again, Lady Dalton.” His gloved fingers slipped into your palm, his thumb gently curling over your dormant fingers, raising your hand to his helmet and gently rested it against the polished iron right over where his lips would reside were the armour removed.

Gasps rippled across the ballroom as he released your hand, the king nodded once before moving deeper into the room, flanked by his guards and the music began to play once again, tenuous and hesitant.

But, the sound of the sweet melodies flooding the room did nothing to drown out the wave of whispers that accompanied jealous eyes that were perpetually focused on you. You barely felt your mother’s hands on your shoulders before slipping down and kindly curling her arm around yours before leaning closer to whisper in your ear, “we will take our leave now. Leave your suitors wanting more, dearest.” Elaine gently urged you out of the ballroom- leaving the rest of the women to stew in their judgement.

Thomas and Ryder both followed you out, “I’m so proud of you, darling!” Your mother murmured excitedly and you could barely twitch your lips into a smile.

Your heart thundered in your chest and with your free hand, you clutched at the fine material of your bodice, swallowing nervously as you contemplated the fate of the season with the King of Mandalore chasing after you and a mysterious lord that became even more mysterious with every passing second-

-the sun shining down upon you ripped you from your reverie as Olivia pulled the curtains open with a chipper, “good morning, my Lady!”

You swallowed the primal groan that threatened to erupt from your throat as you lifted yourself up from the bed, the covers falling into your lap.

You sighed, running your hand down your rumpled bed-hair, “good morning, Olivia.”

Dragging yourself from under the covers, you swung your legs over the edge of the bed and toed on your dainty pale blue slippers, “we’ll need a few more chairs in the drawing room I would think, my Lady.” You snapped your head up to meet a nearly vibrating Olivia’s gaze- only to see the offending scandal sheet clutched in her hands. Maintaining your composure, you held your hand out for the paper and Olivia handed it to you immediately. You mumbled a ‘thank you’ to her as you stood from the bed and walked to the vanity- taking your seat in front of the mirror as Olivia began to tend to your appearance and diligently style your hair, “your prospects this season seem rather remarkable, my Lady, I must say!”

You barely acknowledged her comment as you opened the sheet and read under the subheading:

‘The Warrior King Charmed by the Frosted Flower?

This bold writer would like report that it may be a very short season for our dear Lady Dalton, for she has caught the eye of the mysterious yet alluring king of Mandalore.

Following his jarring entrance into the Danbury Ball, the Mandalorian king set his sights on the beautiful Lady the moment he strode into the room to the call of his own title- a rather candid affair if I may be so bold to scribe.

It seems he was rather taken with our winter rose from before he laid eyes upon her, swayed by featureless letters printed on an ink-blotted page. An accomplishment that this columnist will take full responsibility for.

Lady Dalton will have her hands full this season, with mysterious kings and lords and many suitors of the ton, wishing for her hand.

Perhaps, the Diamond of the Season is not as Incomparable as previously titled. The Queen should seriously reconsider the moniker she gave so freely to the prettiest in the pool and notice that perhaps it is not only beauty that wins the hearts of men- perhaps it is a mixture of beauty, boldness and intelligence that only the Lady Dalton can express so effortlessly.

We all know how the Queen despises when she is wrong, do we not?

In other related news-’

You tucked the paper in your lap, resting your linked hands over it as to mask the words from your view. “Has my mother read it?” Your voice was small, barely audible but Olivia took no notice of the change and continued with her tasks.

“Yes, my Lady. Her Grace was the one to organise additional chairs in the drawing room.” Olivia affirmed and you sighed, drooping your head down and your chin touched your chest. Olivia tutted in friendly reproach before gently lifting your head with cool fingers to resume her work.

“Of course, she did.”

Your fingers dug into the pristine paper, crushing it in your hands as Olivia worked on your hair, “a glowing compliment from Lady Whistledown, don’t you think, my Lady? Your prospects on the mart surely should have reached the heavens itself with the interest of a king!”

“Oh, yes,” you hoarsely replied as your eyes found your own reflection in the mirror, unease clearly etched into the fine lines of your features and you swallowed gently, “a most pleasing tribute, indeed.”

There was a knock on the door and Olivia excused herself with a curtsey before bustling for the door, creaking it open as to keep her lady’s modesty. You heard Olivia and whoever had interrupted you speaking quietly- their hushed whispers filling the room yet unable to be deciphered. “Olivia, what is it?” You asked, looking through the mirror.

Olivia quietly closed the door, turning back to face you with wide, excited eyes, “oh, my lady! It’s so exciting!”

Your brows pulled together and you turned to properly catch her gaze, “Olivia?” You repeated, your arm resting over the support of the chair, waiting patiently for her to explain.

“The Mandalorian king is here, my lady!” You stood from your chair, your back ramrod straight and distress pulled at the knot forming in your belly, “he’s here to promenade with you.”

“P-promenade? Now?” You hushed, shock punching the breath from your lungs, “i-isn’t that a rather early development, we only met the night previous!”

“You must have made quite the impression, my Lady!” Olivia exhibited the excitement you should have been feeling as she helped your numb form back into the chair as she resumed her work on your hair with a renewed vigour.

The entire time, all you could think about was soft brown eyes, tufts of dark curls winking with blonde and red accents in the artificial light of the chandelier and large hands searing the skin of your back as he held you to his strong, broad chest to keep you from falling.

Din Djarin.

“Haar’chak!” - “Damn it!”

"Vod." - "brother/sister or comrade/friend."

#Pedro Pascal #pedro pascal x reader #din djarin #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #bridgerton au #the mandalorian x bridgerton #newtie-writes #newtie-patootie #newties-masterlist #Jose Pedro Balmaceda Pascal

[tobiosmilktea]

umpah umpah! smau

↪︎ bokuto x f!reader x iwaizumi

[029] — when the party’s over!

masterlist | prev. | next

a/n: ah yes,, classic xiao writing this chapter instead of writing her final exam essay (this isn’t proofread either 💀)

it got colder and then it got warmer the moment alcohol burned through your esophagus in the dead of night. it was winter now, the arid tokyo air was on the cusp of freezing as if it were to rain, snow would be covering the city in a blanket of white.

other than those who were apart of the g-force groupchat, the bar wasn’t as crowded with strangers as it would usually be on a saturday night, yet you suppose that it’s the biting chill in the air that’s driving people home in the comforting warmth of their houses.

you liked going out, especially to go out drinking with your friends, but after the past few weeks, you needed to take a break from it all. sure, a drink would surely ease your tension in your shoulders, but what good would it be if you ex-boyfriends clung to you like two lost puppies? the entire night you have been pulled back and forth between bokuto and iwaizumi that you had lost count how many times you ran laps around the bar because of it.

so now, the first and probably the final time to yourself sitting alone at the bar was cut short as iwaizumi placed himself on the barstool next to you. 

you flicker him a look, one so nonchalant, yet so obviously asking him why the hell was he next to you. his mouth parted then as if he was suddenly being interrogated just by the plain look in your eyes to explain himself.

“let me guess,” you say first before a single syllable could even leave iwaizumi, “you want to buy me a drink?”

“only as an apology for annoying you earlier.” there was a hinting smirk on his lips as he turned towards the bartender, waving him down before ordering something fruity for you. at least he remembered you preferred sweeter drinks than liquor that would make your eyes water and your throat burn.

you sent him a smile. the words ‘thank you’ were laced in your grin that it was enough to send iwaizumi’s heart racing even without the words having to make its way past your peachy lips. 

peaches, huh? iwaizumi liked peaches. he wondered what they tasted like...

“after tonight, do you think you and i could talk—” he tries to ask in a hushed voice. it was discrete as if he feared that someone would hear his words and suddenly interrupted.

just like right now.

“hey! hey! hey!” bokuto erupts from behind them, sending a downpour of annoyance through iwaizumi as he watched the volleyball player sit on the other side of you. “a round of shots for us, please!” he tells the bartender upon placing your drink right in front of you.

you were about to open your mouth and decline since you already had more than enough alcohol coursing through your body, but you figured you needed the most you could get knowing this is what it would be like for the rest of the night. honestly at this point, you have come to accept the fact that you just had to just deal with them. you kept your mouth shut as you downed half of the sugar-rimmed margarita as the bartender placed down the shots in front of you.

you took the shot first, face contorting slightly at the stinging of the vodka while bokuto and iwaizumi lagged behind. unbeknownst to you, their glares made up of bullet holes and stab wounds clashed against each other as they tilted their head backs in a swing. they slammed their shot glasses down at the same time.

“another round, please!” bokuto calls again, pointing a wink at you as you looked up at him.

bokuto nods as he gives iwaizumi a look, “yeah. why? can’t your alcohol?” his voice teased as if he was proposing a challenge.

“you’re one to talk,” he scoffs.

like a domino effect, another trio of shot glasses were place in front of you, eyes widening into saucers as both bokuto and iwaizumi didn’t spare a sign of hesitancy as they grabbed their respective glasses.

a nervous laughter emitted from you, “don’t you guys think we should slow it down on the shots? i just barely swallowed the first one down.”

after the boys hadn’t answered you within a few beats of silence, it was clear that it was no use trying to slow them down. hell, they have already thrown their heads back before you could mutter another word to stop them. you wanted to roll your eyes at their careless actions—acting as if they needed to prove that their were the superior one to be sitting by your side. if anything, you could easily beat them if you actually had the energy to do so. instead, you lifted your shot glass to your lips and sipped its contents.

“another one!” iwaizumi said this time.

an obvious sigh left the bartender as his expression was unreadable. it was deadpan and nonchalant that you questioned whether or not he was annoyed or just didn’t give a single damn. either way, it was understandable. he had even thrown you a look from over the bar to ask if you wanted a shot too considering you were sipping your second one.

you shook your head. this was more than enough for tonight having to deal with the idiosyncrasies of your ex-boyfriends.

if you had to be completely honest, you near really pined yourself as someone who got annoyed easily, especially not towards iwaizumi nor bokuto. and yet the sudden influx of envy taking over whenever one of them catches you with the latter was forcing you towards the end of your rope. a simple smile towards one of them led to a jealous look at the other, but it only molded into something worse. from discrete, sly motions to full of cacophonies of backhanded compliments, you should’ve known it was going to only get worse ever since you did in fact visit the gym during practice.

long story short, you weren’t visiting anyone in particular but iwaizumi and bokuto liked arguing otherwise. it seems that professionalism was completely thrown out of the window once satomi was out of the picture, you’ve come to notice.

“next one!” the boys next to you shout again, snatching you out of your thoughts in a rough tug that it almost scared you.

you pulled a concerned look on your face as you finished your shot. “guys, i don’t think you two should be downing so many—”

but before the sentence could even leave your mouth, their fifth (or was it sixth?) shot was already burning down their esophagus. their voices were strained slightly as they called for another one, yet rather than in unison, their words started to slur into one another in an incoherent tangent. they slammed the frail shot glasses haphazardly. they were practically ignoring you at this point just to prove a point. granted, you weren’t sure what point they were trying to make anymore.

how ironic.

“seriously?” you scoff, the annoyance finally radiating off of you. “first the text messages, then causing a commotion during practice, and now this? do you guys have to turn everything into a competition?” you raised your voice higher than last time, yet it wasn’t like you were speaking softly anyway.

iwaizumi swallowed the contents of his shot quickly, swiping his wrist over his lips to capture the alcohol. “bokuto started it!” he exclaimed childishly. it was something so out of character that it was obvious he was just a few shots away from being completely blacked out.

“and you followed suit!” bokuto retorted upon slamming the shot glass on the bar. his biceps unconsciously flexed beneath your gaze at the action that you were surprised those poor glasses weren’t broken, let alone cracked. “i never even proposed a competition until you started calling over shots as well!”

“what the hell are you trying to prove, anyway?” iwaizumi bites back with the same energy. “least time i remember, you got absolutely shitfaced and poor (y/n) had to deal with you.”

by now you were sure every single person in this damned pub was all ears for a drunken argument. you feared to even crane your head slightly to see if anyone was staring at the three of you, hoping that your hand was enough to shield you a bit from the embarrassment (news flash: it did not). “okay, let’s not—”

“just shoes how much (y/n) cares about my wellbeing. isn’t that right, (y/nnie)?” the volleyball player mused as he slung his arm over you.

“y-yeah, but—”

and you were cut off once again as iwaizumi scoffs. “yeah right, you’re probably just trying to get wasted just to get her to take you home again. you’d probably take advantage of the situation like some people you know.”

a hard look flushed over bokuto’s face. his brows furrowed, creating lines of annoyance upon his forehead as you swore you heard his teeth grit. the anger was brewing within him and perhaps this is the first time in a long time you have seen bokuto act like this. “are you comparing me to satomi, right now?” the words were like venom spewing out of his lips.

“if the shoe fits,” responded the latter, “close friends typically act on similar wills, if you know what i mean.”

“iwa...” you say disappointedly upon facing him, hoping to stop them by any means necessary.

but perhaps you focused on calming down the wrong boy as the cringing screech of a bar stool being pushed back ravaged your eardrums. bokuto lets out a grunt, hovering over you and iwaizumi.

oh god, you thought. if you didn’t do anything now, it would only escalate even more and you were a hundred percent not in the mood to get kicked out of a bar right now. besides, for a bunch of drunk dudes, they put up a good fight in the way their words impacted the other.

“bo, stop.” you hissed at the volleyball player, your palm splayed over his chest to stop him from getting any closer. “we were supposed to celebrate tonight and not fight, remember?”

bokuto didn’t respond to even spare a knowing glance down towards you. there was a wildfire igniting around you and iwaizumi was only adding fuel to the burning fire. he stands himself, landing just a few significant inches shorter than bokuto, and yet his intimidation still stands.

what the hell were you going to do now? you weren’t exactly one to get into physical altercations, especially with men built like adonises. helpless, you flicker a look towards someone—literally anyone familiar to help you as your gaze lands of akaashi and kaori. they send you a pitied look, yet even they themselves weren’t in the mood to stop anything physical.

that’s it, you scoff with a roll to your eyes. “unbelievable,” you spat out, pushing past iwaizumi and bokuto as you finally managed to capture their attention.

they attempt to call out your name, yet you ignored their calls as you made your way over to akaashi’s table. akaashi scoots farther into the booth slightly with just enough room for you to squeeze in. yuko was also in the booth, placed just beside kaori as they shared a drink together.

“boys,” you huff.

“maybe i don’t envy you that much in the love department anymore...” kaori mused.

you bite back a chuckle, shaking your head at the thought. “there was nothing to be jealous about in the first place, anyway. besides, they’re getting annoying now. it's like after we get over a problem, a new one comes around and i’m sick of it.”

“if it makes you feel any better, i have a solution for you.” akaashi clears his throat, letting his offer simmer a bit as he sips from his glass.

“hm?” you hummed curiously, “what is it?”

akaashi shrugs, “tell them your true feelings.”

“huh?” the sound of surprise fell out of your mouth. a sarcastic laugh left you as you roll your eyes, “yeah right.”

“good luck getting that out of (y/n) anytime soon,” yuko added with a snicker.

“what is that supposed to mean?” you say rather offendedly. like sure, you didn’t exactly disagree but hearing it from a dear friend was different.

kaori flickers you an amused look, “you did lie and not tell them about the webtoon for years.”

“not to mention neither of them new they dated you until just recently,” yuko adds.

you pursed your lips together as the thought lingered in your mind, waiting until you come up with a rational answer that wasn’t an excuse. but truth be told, you have told lots and excuses and you were running out quick.

“you’ve never been good at telling people things that they need to hear.” that was the last hit on the nail as you sighed out. of course it was akaashi who had to mention your irrational inability of preferring to run away from things that were hard.

you didn’t really know what to say. everything they said was spot on, so it wasn’t like you had anything to add onto or defend yourself with as you fiddled with your fingers. “why did they have to come back to me at the same time?” you ask without thinking, catching yourself mid-sentence, but it was too late. your thoughts were out in the open now.

“the universe probably knows you’ve never really moved on and neither have them.” says yuko as she rests her head upon his palm. she had to be spitting out bullshit at this point.

“please,” you roll your eyes for the umpteenth time in a span of thirty minutes, “you sound like one of those tarot card readers on tiktok.”

“i’m actually serious, (y/n)...” she continues, “you literally wrote a wholeass webtoon about them.”

“why does it matter when so many people use their personal experiences to make things. i don’t see you blaming taylor swift for all her scandals from writing so many break up songs.” you state matter-of-factly because it was true. why did it matter? it wasn’t like there was anything you could do anymore considering the film’s preproduction is almost over and the webtoon is finished.

yuko opened her mouth again to say more, but kaori quickly stopped her. “no, (y/n), you’re right. but i agree with akaashi on this one. like, who knows how things will turn out when you tell them how you feel. it’s clear both of them like you, it’s just a matter on who you reject and who your accept.”

that was the very last thing you wanted to do—choose. you loved them both and the thought of even having to give more love to only one of them was like tightening a fist around your heart. “do i really have to choose?”

“i mean...”  akaashi finally speaks after another sip from his glass, “who said you couldn’t have both?”

the thought melted smirks upon yuko and kaori’s faces, but only sent your heart racing and crimson red blush to creep up onto your cheeks. did it get hot all of a sudden? no offense to those who do have open relationships, but like hell would you ever be in one. granted, you don’t really knock on things until you try it, but the concept is something you never really expected yourself being in. besides, bokuto and iwaizumi both dating you? those men are the literal epitome of possessive that a relationship with the both of them was just a train wreck waiting to happen.

but then again, how would you know?

you shake your head from the thought as your heart beat was only getting louder and louder and faster and faster the more you thought about the both of them. it even reached to the point that if you three were to ever get intimate that you would absolutely lose your mind knowing that you would be in between two of the hottest men you— “whatever!” you exclaim rather loudly, ignoring the hushed giggled from the yuko and kaori just by looking at your expression. “i’m going to talk to semi and suga, they’ll probably be more of a help than you guys. where are they anyway? oh, there they are.”

you lift yourself from the booth, but akaashi stops before you could even make a step. you turn over your shoulder, “you can’t keep running away from your problems, (y/n).”

capturing your bottom lip between your teeth, you let out a frustrated sigh. i know, you wanted to say, but instead you opted to take akaashi’s drink from his hand and finish its contents. “fine. what do i do?”

“when the party’s over, you tell them everything.” he explains upon receiving his now empty liquor glass from you. “besides, we only have a few weeks left before we have to leave.”

you let out an amused huff, “why does it matter when i’ll end up leaving again anyway?”

fun facts! —

y/n felt bad for drinking akaashi’s drink so she ended up buying him another one

after y/n left iwa and bo, it’s safe to say they argued a bit more on who was the one who drove y/m away

sakusa and atsumu had to pull them away

also at this point, everyone is drunk asf (esp y/n) which will explain her actions next chap

taglist: (closed!)

@moonlightaangel @elianetsantana @k4tiepie @memorableminds @wheeshllumi @suhkusa @kitsunetea @airybby @noeminemi @truly-a-snitch @keichan @cosmicmermaid25 @bap-kingdom @saturnfarie @kwdflash @ennos-baby @dinablossom @chrisrue15 @seikamuzu @nestlevanilla @chasekudo @yammmers @pixcldust @iwaizluv @h0ngh0ngh0ng @emogril @tiredandkindaoverworked @tsumue @underratedmage @bokutosuwus @kellesvt @unstableye @oh-tapeworm @scrappyfka @alittlebitofrain @mxngy @tpwkatsumu @atsumuwoah @macchiatoast @dicerawr @kageyamasbabygorl @some-random-stranger-007 @vhskenma @wntrmn @little-plants @stargirlara @kissungjae @je11yfishwriter @sbaepsae @apollochjld

#haikyuu!! #haikyuu #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smau #bokuto koutarou #bokuto x reader #bokuto scenarios #bokuto imagines #bokuto smau #iwaizumi hajime #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi scenarios #iwaizumi imagines #iwaizumi smau

[viastro]

nobody knows | choi seungcheol

ミ★ synopsis: in which seungcheol is ordered to kill you, the secret daughter of his boss’s rival.

ミ★ genre: mafia!au, assassin!seungcheol, suspense, humor, fluff, some angst

ミ★ warnings: minor character death, mentions of blood and vomit 

ミ★ word count: 7,264

ミ★ pairings: seungcheol x female reader

ミ★ notes: hi guys ! it’s been a long time since i’ve written a oneshot, and i definitely did not mean for this to be as long as it is. it’s almost as long as daises omg. i haven’t put out a oneshot in a long time because i was dedicating so much time into finishing remember us, which i did ! so now i’ll be trying to write oneshots as much as i used to :D i’m not really a big fan of how this turned out but i hope you guys enjoy it ! i didn’t wanna scrap it just because i didn’t know how to fix it, so i hope it’s okay <3

“Changwoo has a daughter?” Sunghoon nods his head at the question, smirk taking over his features at this newfound information he’s been given. He glances at his personal assassin.

“I need you to kill her Cheol, as a means to show Changwoo that he shouldn’t harm what’s mine.” 

Seungcheol stares at his boss, knowing that he’s been angry about Changwoo killing his right hand man a few months ago. Having this information on his supposed daughter could either make things worse for the two rivals, or make the other mob boss back off. However, Seungcheol doesn’t get a say in these decisions. He can never choose to save anyone Sunghoon orders him to kill, even though he may want to. All he can say is, 

“Of course, sir.” 

“Thank you! Have a good day.” You say cheerfully, waving goodbye to the customer as they walk out the door, boba in hand. You let out a sigh once the door closes, placing your hands on the edge of the counter to close your eyes for a moment. 

“Yn, are you okay?” Opening your eyes, you look up to see your father’s bodyguard staring at you with a bit of concern laced in his features. You nod your head, giving him a thumbs up. 

“Just a bit tired Wonwoo, but I’m okay. I stayed up too late last night watching dramas again.” You joke, giving Wonwoo a bright smile to try and lessen his worry. He lets out a soft grin, shaking his head at you. “You should be sleeping earlier when you know that you have a shift the next day.” 

You shrug, “I know, but the drama was getting spicy. I highly recommend it’s okay to not be okay.” 

Wonwoo chuckles, telling you he’ll check it out when you guys get home. With that, he turns and walks back over to his table, where he will sit for the rest of your shift as it is his job to protect you when you’re out. 

You don’t know why your father even sends Wonwoo to be with you when you have your shift, or why he cares in the first place. You live in a different house than him, he doesn’t visit you at your apartment, the only time he goes out of his way to speak to you is when it’s your birthday. And even then, it’s just a short phone call.

He’s made it his, thing, to push you away the moment your mother passed when you were in high school. You know of his lifestyle, you know how he earns money, and you know that more than half of South Korea fears him. You may be the heir to one of the largest mafia bosses in South Korea, but you have made it clear you want nothing to do with that life. Your father knows that as well, but he decided to take it a step further and just pretend you don’t even exist.

But he gave you your freedom, as long as Wonwoo is by your side to make sure you’re safe. No one knows of your identity, there’s no knowledge of your father even having a child, but he still wants that extra protection on you. That’s why when you decided to move out of the house and into an apartment, he had Wonwoo go with you. 

He’s been with you for the last three years, even going to your on-campus classes. Wonwoo’s become the talk of the town with the ladies and gents there if we’re being honest. He’s not that much older than you, he has about three years over your head. He started working for your father as a drug runner, then he slowly rose up the ranks when it was discovered that he’s incredibly good with a gun and does martial arts. 

And that’s how you’re here now. At your shift with Wonwoo waiting at the table he always stays at when you work. Perfectly safe and sound.

Or so you thought.

“Do you have a picture of his daughter?” Mingyu asks, taking a sip of water as him and Seungcheol sit in the car in front of the boba shop you work at. Seungcheol nods his head, handing Mingyu the file so that he can look at it.

“Jesus Christ, this photo looks like it was taken ten years ago.” Mingyu mutters, looking at a very young version of you. It’s blurry as well, making it hard for him to get a good look at your features. Seungcheol lets out a sigh, squinting through the tinted car windows to try and look into the shop. “That’s because it was taken ten years ago. No one has seen her since then.”  

“What if she’s cute now? She’s just a couple years younger than you.” Mingyu asks, wiggling his eyebrows jokingly. Seungcheol turns his head and looks at his colleague/best friend, giving him a bored expression. “Did you forget that my mission is to kill her?” 

Mingyu shrugs, turning his head to glance out the window. “No, I remember.” 

“Then why did you ask such a ridiculous question? You know our line of work Mingyu, can’t have anyone in our lives that can make us vulnerable.” Seungcheol reminds the younger, and he nods. Mingyu just stares quietly out the window, feeling slightly upset by the reminder of the life that they live. 

Seungcheol looks at Mingyu for a moment, knowing that he doesn’t enjoy this lifestyle. Didn’t want to get dragged into it, but was desperate for money. Now he’s in too deep, and there’s no signs of getting out of it until he’s older and not of use anymore. Seungcheol can say that he’s the same, except the only way he can get out of this business is for him to die, or to kill his boss and take over. However, he’d never do the latter, no matter how much he wants to.

“Let’s get going now.” Seungcheol states, opening the door and stepping out of the car without another word on the subject. Mingyu lets out a sigh, opening the door to the car and hopping out. He follows after Seungcheol, shoving his phone in his pocket as they walk into the small boba shop. 

You turn around at the sound of the bells from the door, about to flash a big smile at the customers that walked in, only to feel your breath get caught in your throat when you lock eyes with the blonde haired man. 

His eyes are a deep brown. It’s the first thing you notice about him, and you can’t seem to find yourself backing down from his intense stare. In fact, you don’t want to, and Seungcheol raises an eyebrow at that. 

“It’s definitely her.” Mingyu mutters under his breath, pretending that he’s telling Seungcheol what he wants to order. However, his friend doesn’t answer him. Mingyu opens his mouth to repeat what he said, only to turn his head to find Seungcheol staring directly back at you with a glint in his eyes that he can’t seem to decipher. 

“Yn, it’s time for your break.” You snap out of the intense staring contest with the handsome man when Chanhee steps out from the back, preparing to take over for you. You give him a smile, “Thanks Chanhee.” 

“Of course yn. Oh, by the way, are you going to get food from next door?” You purse your lips as you think for a moment, before shrugging. “I don’t see why not.”

“Great, can you get me the greek fries? I’ll pay you back.” You laugh, reaching out and patting your pink haired coworker, giving him a thumbs up. 

Seungcheol watches the whole interaction in a dazed state, and Mingyu is left standing beside him incredibly confused. Mingyu’s never seen Seungcheol like this before, usually when they’re out on a job he’s stoic and swift. However, Seungcheol just stands there staring as you turn back around to glance at him, giving him a small smile before walking into the breakroom. Now out of sight. 

“Are you oka-”

“We can’t kill her.” Seungcheol murmurs, turning to look at Mingyu with a serious expression on his face. Mingyu’s eyes widen at the absurd confession, one that he never thought he’d hear Seungcheol make. “I beg your pardon?” 

“We can’t-”

“Are you guys ready to order?” Chanhee asks the two with a grin on his face, and they immediately change their attitudes, flashing the man a smile. Mingyu walks up to the counter first, looking up at the menu before beginning to order. “Yes. I’ll have the hokkaido milk tea.”

All while Wonwoo watches from the table, eyeing Seungcheol suspiciously as he drinks the fruit tea you made him. 

“Hi! Welcome to Tsukki Tea!” You greet cheerfully, looking up from the register to see the handsome man from a week before. Your eyes widen slightly, and the blonde haired man tilts his head at you. 

“Are you ready to order?” You ask slowly, unable to look away from his face. You didn’t comprehend how handsome he was at his last visit due to you having to go on your break, but now that you’re getting a good look at him, he’s incredibly attractive. 

“I’ll have the brown sugar milk tea.” The blonde says, and you feel your knees wobble at his deep voice. You nod your head, putting his order into the system as you hear your heart beat rapidly within your chest. 

“Your friend isn’t with you today?” You ask as he pays for the drink, initiating small talk. He freezes slightly, glancing up at you, “Huh?”

“Your friend. The really tall one from last week, I noticed he wasn’t with you today.” You explain, a nervous smile appearing on your face due to how much you regret asking him the question. He lets out an, ah, before shaking his head. 

“He has work today so I came on my own.” He answers, giving you a reassuring smile, and you feel heat rush to your cheeks at the pretty sight. You immediately glance back down at the touchscreen, ripping his receipt and holding it out towards the handsome man. 

“Can I have a name for your order?” You ask, and he gives you a grin. “My name is Seungcheol.” 

You nod your head, writing his name down on the cup. You can’t help but think that his name is pretty as well, quietly muttering it to yourself as you put the cap back onto the pen. Seungcheol notices this, and bites the inside of his cheek, thinking of how precious you are. 

“Your order will be ready shortly.” You tell him, and Seungcheol nods his head. He walks over to an empty table, sitting down and pulling out his phone to check his messages. 

Seungcheol told Sunghoon that he needed some time to scope you out. To understand your schedule, and find out when you’re alone. He was lucky that his boss believed it, but what he doesn’t know is that Seungcheol isn’t doing any of that. 

The assassin just wants to get to know you. 

When Seungcheol told Mingyu the first day they saw you that he can’t kill you, Mingyu didn’t believe him. He thought it was just from lack of sleep, or he was just pranking him. However, he came to find out that it wasn’t from either of those reasons at all. That Seungcheol was serious.

“You’re never like this Cheol, why can’t you kill her? It’s never been hard for you before.” Mingyu says, taking a sip from his boba as they drive back to headquarters. Seungcheol just stares silently out the window, biting his finger as he thinks of why he can’t kill you. 

He doesn’t have an answer to that.

“I haven’t found the answer yet.” Seungcheol simply responds, and Mingyu turns to glance at him with a flabbergasted expression on his face. 

“WHAT?!” 

“I’ll figure it out along the way.” Seungcheol mutters, still wondering why his heartbeat quickens when he thinks of your bright smile. Mingyu just scoffs, leaning back into the driver’s seat. 

“I know that I said she might be cute and insinuated that you fall in love with her, but it was absolutely a joke. What if the boss finds out that you aren’t actually going to kill her?” Mingyu asks, and Seungcheol purses his lips at the reminder. He lets out a sigh, frowning as he thinks of an excuse to give him. 

“I got it.” 

“Do you?”

“Probably not.”

“Seungcheol!”

Wonwoo glares at the mysterious man from across the shop, wondering what his intentions are with you. He tilts his head to the side, glancing back at his phone while he wonders why the name Seungcheol seems so familiar to him. 

You take the finished boba out from the machine that adds the plastic seal, walking over to the counter. You grab a straw and place it on top of the lid, “Order for Seungcheol!” 

The man in question turns towards you at the call of his name, letting out a small smile. He stands up from the table, walking over to you and gratefully taking the boba. 

“I hope you enjoy it, Seungcheol.” You say softly, and he takes notice of the twinkle in your gaze. 

“What’s your name?” He asks, smiling down at you.

You glance up at the man with your eyes slightly widened, having not expected him to ask a question. He tilts his head to the side in amusement, and you let out a sheepish smile, rubbing the back of your neck. 

“My name is yn.” You answer, and he nods his head.

“Well, thank you for the boba yn. I’ll be sure to enjoy it since you made it for me.” Seungcheol says in a sweet tone, causing you to smile. You wave bye to him as he steps out, and he waves back at you before closing the door. You let out a sigh once he’s out of the shop, resting a hand over your beating heart. 

“He’s too handsome.” You mumble, before turning towards the sink. Wonwoo watches as you begin to clean the station, small smile on your face as you do so, and he feels himself growing more concerned. 

“I gotta find out who he is.”

“Seungcheol, it’s been close to three weeks. Why isn’t the girl dead yet?” Sunghoon asks as Seungcheol cleans his gun quietly. He freezes slightly, before quickly relaxing, turning to glance up at his boss. 

In complete honesty, Seungcheol is shitting his pants at the moment. Him and Mingyu have been planning on how to not kill yn without letting their boss know, and they don’t really have a good idea. However, Seungcheol spends his days going to visit you at the boba shop. The conversations between you and him continue to grow longer each time he goes. To the point that he waits for you to get on your break so that the two of you can spend it getting to know each other. 

He’s discovered that you started working at the boba shop because of your serious addiction towards the drink, and that you wanted to learn how to make it yourself. He’s also learned that you’re allergic to bees, yet you love flowers and nature with a passion. Seungcheol finds you to be rather endearing, especially when you brightly tell him stories.

While you’ve learned that Seungcheol is a very simple guy. He enjoys working out in his spare time, and would like to own a dog. You asked him why he hasn’t adopted one yet, but he just gave you a small smile, shaking his head and saying that it’s not the time for him to get one.

“She has a bodyguard on hand at all times, I wouldn’t want to cause a bigger mess.” Seungcheol lies with ease after a second of thinking, and the man before him squints slightly. He leans forward towards the assassin, the power and influence he has radiating off of him in waves. 

“Since when has making a mess been a concern to you, Seungcheol?” Sunghoon asks in an icey tone, and Seungcheol stops wiping the cloth over his silencer. He glances up at his boss, keeping eye contact as they practically stare each other down. 

“Do I need to remind you of who you work for?” Seungcheol hears his heartbeat in his ears, knowing damn well what his boss is capable of. He’s known since he was a child. So Seungcheol shakes his head, visibly backing down from the oncoming fight that was going to break out. 

“Good. I want her dead by the end of next week Seungcheol.” 

“Okay, but hear me out.” You begin, and Seungcheol watches you with an amused smile. You lean forward in your seat, staring directly into his pretty eyes, causing a small blush to form on his cheeks. 

“Bigfoot.”

“No.”

“But Cheol! They have to be real.” You state, and the latter just shakes his head at you, taking a sip of the boba you made for him before you went on your break. He lets out a breath, “Yn, if bigfoot was real, then someone would’ve caught them by now. There’s no way a creature with big ass feet and is apparently really tall wouldn’t have been captured by now.” 

This is one of the many ridiculous conversations you and Seungcheol have had since the two of you have gotten closer. Seungcheol looks like the epitome of relaxed as the two of you converse, but what you don’t know is that there’s a storm running within him as he realizes what he has to do the longer he stares into your bright eyes.

You frown at the handsome man, leaning back into your seat with a pout on your lips. Seungcheol coos at you, reaching out to squeeze your cheek, and you slap his hand away. He lets out a hiss of pain even though it didn’t hurt, rubbing the back of his hand. You try not to peek, but when Seungcheol begins blowing on the area you hit, you can’t help but look up. 

You reach out and take his hand, and Seungcheol’s eyes widen when you pull it towards you, blowing softly on the back of his hand. Warmth rises to his cheeks, as do yours, but you both pretend that you’re not at all flustered by the action. After a moment, you glance up at Seungcheol, “Are you okay now?” 

He immediately looks away from the direct eye contact, feeling too shy to even sputter any words. You let out a smile at the sight, softly resting his hand back onto the table. Seungcheol mutters a quiet, thanks, and you chuckle, finishing the last of your boba. 

“I still think bigfoot is real.” You pettily mutter, and Seungcheol lets out a laugh. 

“In your dreams, yn.” 

Wonwoo watches from his table, pursing his lips at the sight of you and Seungcheol having gotten so close in a matter of a few weeks. He still doesn’t know anything about Seungcheol, having not done any research as of late. However, he leans back in his seat, now decided on what he has to do.

Seungcheol’s about to step into the boba shop when he’s grabbed by a hand and pulled into the alley. He immediately reaches for the gun in his waistband, only to freeze when he realizes that it’s no longer in his possession. His eyes slowly trail up, and he finds your bodyguard standing in front of him, his own silencer held in his hands, pointed directly towards Seungcheol’s head.

“So you work for Sunghoon, huh?” Wonwoo asks, not breaking eye contact with Seungcheol. Wonwoo did some digging, because he knew Seungcheol’s name was all too familiar. Which was when he discovered that Seungcheol is Sunghoon’s personal assassin. His boss’s rival mafia leader.

“You did a background check, Wonwoo?” Seungcheol asks, and the latter shrugs, chuckling darkly. 

“I can’t let yn get hurt.” Wonwoo states, squinting at the assassin standing before him. Seungcheol shakes his head, “I’m not going to kill yn.”

“Bullshit. You never pull back from a job, I saw it in my search on you.” Wonwoo exclaims, moving to turn the safety off when Seungcheol raises his hands up in surrender. “I’m really not. I plan to kill Sunghoon to protect yn.” 

Wonwoo’s eyes widen slightly, before squinting again. “And how do I know you’re not lying?” 

Seungcheol stares into Wonwoo’s eyes, hoping that his honesty shines through his gaze. He lets out a breath, “Cause I would’ve killed her by now. I know you did your research on me, you should know that all my victims died by my hand in 1-2 days after the assignment was given to me.”

Wonwoo does know that Seungcheol’s assignments would die in a matter of days when they were first presented. That’s why this information causes him to hesitate for a moment, but it doesn't make him remove his finger from the trigger. 

“What do you want with yn?” Wonwoo asks, and Seungcheol surprises the black haired man by giving him a small smile. 

“I want her to live peacefully like she is now. I want her to be happy.” 

The two stare each other down after Seungcheol’s confession, thinking to themselves. It’s after a minute or so that Wonwoo lets his arm fall to his side, turning the safety back on. Seungcheol almost sighs in relief, only to visibly pause when he catches Wonwoo still squinting at him. 

“So, what’s your plan?” Wonwoo asks, handing the silencer back to Seungcheol. He quickly puts it back in the waistband of his jeans, before giving your bodyguard an amused grin. “What? You gonna help me kill my own boss?” 

Wonwoo shrugs, finally cracking a smile. “It’ll keep yn safe, and it’ll also give me brownie points with my own boss. I don’t see why not.” 

Seungcheol chuckles, shaking his head. He leans back onto the brick wall of the alleyway, finding himself enjoying Wonwoo’s company even though he did almost die because of him. Seungcheol glances up at the dark sky, seeing the stars shining brightly. 

“I’m killing him at midnight.” He breathes out, and Wonwoo nods his head. He looks at his watch, seeing that it’s 8:50 pm, meaning you’ll be getting off your shift in a few minutes. So they have to wrap up this conversation soon.

“Well, you gonna pick me up later or what?” Wonwoo asks, and Seungcheol laughs quietly. He nods his head, glancing back down at the black haired man, finding him smiling as well. “Of course, it would be rude of me not to drive around the man who offered to help me kill a mafia leader.” 

“Ah yes, finally. A man with morals.”

Seungcheol and Mingyu step into the building, calmly walking towards the elevators to get to Sunghoon’s office. Wonwoo stayed behind in the car, where he’s currently hacking into the security system so that he can cut off the video feed when the deed is done. He’s already erasing the data of Mingyu and Seungcheol even being in the building in the first place.

“You think he’s gonna put up a fight?” Mingyu asks quietly, and Seungcheol scoffs. 

“Of course he is, but do you think he can win?” Mingyu ponders the question for a moment, before turning to Seungcheol and flashing him a mischievous smile. “Against the best assassin in Seoul? No.” 

“Checking the video feed now.” Wonwoo mutters into his mic, typing into his laptop. Seungcheol and Mingyu say a quick response back, continuing to walk towards the office.

Wonwoo goes through the video feed, trying to see if Sunghoon is just in his office like Seungcheol claimed he would be. Only to freeze when he sees who else is in the room with the powerful man. Wonwoo panics, immediately moving to speak into the mic when the connection gets cut out. 

“NO!” Wonwoo yells, watching with wide eyes as Mingyu and Seungcheol walk right into the room. 

Seungcheol and Mingyu look like the definition of ease when they step into the room, with Mingyu even cracking a smile at Sunghoon. Seungcheol opens his mouth to greet their boss, only to stop when he looks towards the chair by the desk, catching your frightened eyes.

There’s a towel stuffed in your mouth, preventing you from talking. There’s tear tracks on your cheeks, and your wrists are zip tied behind your back as you cry silently in fear. Sunghoon lets out a smile at the sight of his assassin standing in pure shock, head cocking to the side. 

“Took you too long to kill her, so I got impatient.” Sunghoon slyly explains, glancing over at you with a cheeky grin. You look away immediately, closing your eyes as more tears fall from them. You begin to regret letting Wonwoo go out for the night, or else you wouldn’t even be in this situation at the moment. 

“Yn, I need to be somewhere tonight. Is it okay if you stay home alone? I promise to be back in a couple hours.” Wonwoo tells you, and you peek your head out from the kitchen, glancing at the bodyguard who suddenly looks timid. You let out a happy smile, happy that Wonwoo is finally going out to do something. 

Since he was assigned to be your bodyguard, he hasn’t had a day or night to himself. Never even asked you for one, so obviously you’re going to let him. You nod your head, bouncing over to him with a big smile on your face, causing Wonwoo to raise an eyebrow at you. 

“Did you want me to leave that bad?” Wonwoo teases, and you slap his shoulder with a chuckle. 

“No! You just haven’t gone out without me since you became my bodyguard. Which was three years ago…” You trail off, having not realized how long it’s been. Wonwoo rolls his eyes, trying to hide the fact that the reason he’s going out is still for your safety. 

“Don’t pity me now. I enjoy my time with you, yn.” 

“Do you have friends, Wonwoo?” Wonwoo glares at you, having not appreciated the question. He slips on his shoes, turning and heading towards the door. You let out a laugh at his reaction, waving bye to him. 

“Remember to lock the door after I leave and turn on the alarm. Don’t answer the door, no one should even be knocking on it anyways. If anything happens, call me or your dad, okay?” You nod your head, and Wonwoo lets out a nervous breath. He glances up at you one more time, feeling his heart pound as he hopes you’ll be safe with him gone. 

“I’ll be back soon, yn.” And with that, Wonwoo walks out the door. 

It’s only within an hour of being alone that you hear a knock on your door, and you cautiously reach for your phone when you hear it again. Your hand wraps around your phone, only to freeze when you hear the locks turn and the door opens. You quickly run to your room, locking the door quietly behind you and rushing under your bed. You make sure the sheet underneath the mattress shields your body from view, before pulling out your phone in the cramped space. You move to text Wonwoo, only to freeze when you hear the doorknob jiggle. 

Your heart pounds against your chest, and you worry that the assailant can hear it from how silent it is in your apartment. You quickly turn on your phone, managing to pull up your conversation with Wonwoo when the door unlocks, and you freeze in fear. You turn off your phone so that the light won’t show from underneath your bed, and you stay as silent as you can as you hear the person’s shoes step around your bedroom. 

You watch as the person moves to walk out of your room, but you don’t dare make a sound until you can no longer hear their footsteps. You’re about to let out a quiet breath of relief, pulling up your phone to text Wonwoo when the person lifts up the sheet, staring directly at you with a smile on his face.

“Hello, yln yn.”

“Boss-” Seungcheol begins, only for Sunghoon to raise a hand up to stop him from speaking. The pieces slowly come together as to why he couldn’t get a dog, why he always redirected the conversation when asked about his life. Seungcheol catches your eyes, and he sees the betrayal in your gaze. He mouths that it’s going to be okay, and you look down at your legs, wanting nothing more than to leave. 

“Care to explain why I heard plans of you and Mingyu trying to kill me?” Sunghoon asks, eyes squinting at the two. Mingyu stiffens beside Seungcheol, and your eyes widen, beginning to wonder if Seungcheol is actually on your side. 

Seungcheol and Mingyu don’t respond for a second. With Mingyu internally panicking about whether or not he should lie, and Seungcheol pondering on how to answer the question. However, Seungcheol decides not to answer it, instead pulling out his silencer from his waistband in a matter of seconds, pointing it directly at his boss’s head.

Mingyu steps over to you as Seungcheol and Sunghoon stare each other down. You look at Seungcheol’s friend from the day they first stepped into the boba shop, and he gives you an apologetic smile. Mingyu reaches into his waistband, pulling out his knife, beginning to cut off your zip tie. “Sorry to meet you on such bad terms, Cheol has told me a lot about you.” 

“I didn’t believe it when I caught wind of the rumor. After all these years, you’re going to kill me just like that? Over our rival’s daughter?” Sunghoon asks, eyes not faltering from Seungcheol. He stands up from the table at Seungcheol’s silence, letting out a smile at the fact that Seungcheol hasn’t pulled the trigger.

“For yn?” Seungcheol begins, and you glance up at the blonde. He locks eyes with you for a moment, letting out a breath. Seungcheol turns back towards Sunghoon, squinting at the man. “Anything.” 

“You’re not really going to kill me for her, right Seungcheol?” 

Seungcheol lets out a breath, before turning the safety off the gun. You watch the confrontation unfold with wide eyes as Mingyu works on cutting the ropes wrapped around your legs and the chair. 

“I’ve always hated you.” Seungcheol mutters, pressing his finger to the trigger. Sunghoon raises an eyebrow, “You wish I just left you at that crack house where I found you? Seungcheol, I made you-”

“You made me into a monster!” Seungcheol shouts, hand shaking as he points the gun towards his boss’s head. Mingyu and you jump slightly at the raise of his voice, having not expected Seungcheol to lose his temper. Mingyu quickly takes off your gag, and you stand up from the chair, holding onto the back of Mingyu’s shirt as the two of you try to silently leave the room.

“You made me into a man that kills people, for your own gain.” Sunghoon listens in silence, watching Seungcheol's hand tremble. The blonde blinks back tears, feeling all the pain he’s hidden slowly pouring out as he stares at the man who practically raised him. He takes a deep breath, before applying more pressure to the trigger.

“That’s why I’m going to kill you for my own.” Seungcheol states, about to pull the trigger when Sunghoon knocks the gun out of his hands. Seungcheol reaches out to grab it quickly, but Sunghoon is faster as he kicks Seungcheol in the stomach unexpectedly, winding him in the process. Sunghoon grabs the gun in the short time that Seungcheol is out of it, and raises it into the air.

“Did you forget I taught you everything you know, Seungcheol?”

Seungcheol’s eyes stare at the gun pointed in his direction. You and Mingyu are frozen in place, with Mingyu’s hand resting over his own gun in the waistband of his pants. 

“Drop the gun onto the floor Mingyu, or else he dies.” Sunghoon threatens, and Mingyu glares. Seungcheol nods his head at Mingyu, and the latter slowly rests the gun onto the carpeted floor, before glancing back up at Sunghoon.

“Yn and Mingyu didn’t do anything, just kill me.” Seungcheol says, and Sunghoon shoots him a glance. He rolls his eyes, and you feel your breath hitch when he adjusts his hold on the gun.

“You’re right. However, remember what you learned?” Sunghoon asks, and Seungcheol feels his heart sink. The mafia boss chuckles at his silence, letting out a breath.”You know this Seungcheol, it’s the first thing I taught you when you were a kid. The loved ones always pay the price.” Sunghoon states, letting out a laugh at the harsh glare the blonde is throwing his way. He tilts his head to the side, before glancing over at you, finding delight in the fear on your face.

“Goodbye, yn.” 

Seungcheol shouts when Sunghoon quickly turns the gun in your direction, reaching out to stop him, while Mingyu moves to shield your body with his.

The loud sound of the gunshot echoes around the room, and you’re holding Mingyu’s shirt tightly in your hands. Your eyes slowly open at the sound of a body falling to the floor, and you look up to see Mingyu still standing safe and sound. Both of your eyes widen at the same time, and you turn to find Sunghoon slumped to the floor, blood pouring out of his lifeless body. 

You glance up to see Seungcheol staring at the door, and you turn your head to see Wonwoo standing there, gun held in his hands. He slumps onto the door frame, letting out a tired sigh.

“God damn it you guys. I told you to move in on my signal, yet when the connection cut out, the two of you still went inside.” Wonwoo complains, reaching his hand up and wiping away the beads of sweat that formed from sprinting all the way here. Seungcheol lets out a small chuckle, shaking his head. Mingyu lets out a breath of relief, walking over to Seungcheol to ask if he’s okay. All while you just stand there, suddenly realizing that there’s a dead body right in front of you. 

“O-oh my God.” You mutter as your vision slowly goes in and out, and Wonwoo’s eyes widen when he remembers that you’re incredibly sensitive to blood. Everything fades to black and you begin to fall, causing Wonwoo to take a step forward in an attempt to catch you.

However, Seungcheol’s faster as he runs over and wraps his arms around you, catching your passed out body before you hit the floor. He sighs, moving the strands of hair that rest on your face. He turns towards Wonwoo and Mingyu, finding them also feeling relieved at the fact that he caught you. 

Wonwoo lets out a breath after a moment, glancing over towards the dead body. He pulls out his phone and begins to take pictures, causing Mingyu to raise an eyebrow at the odd behavior. Seungcheol also stares at Wonwoo, but he knows why he’s documenting the experience.

“Don’t worry Mingyu, I’m just doing this so that my boss gives me brownie points.” Wonwoo mutters, before deciding that he’s taken enough. He quickly sends it to your father, before pocketing his phone and looking up at the three of you.

“Let’s bring yn home.” 

You wake up to the smell of fried rice, and you feel your stomach grumble at the scent. Letting out a sigh, you reach up and rub your eyes, only to freeze when all the memories from the night before resurface. You sit up in bed, only to pause when you register the hand gripping yours. You turn your head, finding the familiar head of blonde hair resting on the edge of your bed. 

“Cheol?” You murmur, wondering why he stayed with you as you slept. The question gets answered once you look up and see Wonwoo leaning against your doorframe, taking a bite of a strawberry as he gives you a small smile. 

“You were having nightmares on the way back, so Seungcheol wanted to stay by your side to make sure they weren’t too bad. Guess he fell asleep though.” Wonwoo explains, and you feel your heart warm slightly. You run a hand through your hair, suddenly feeling the need to vomit at the memory of Sunghoon’s dead body. 

Wonwoo’s way ahead of you, as he is now walking over with a garbage bag. You silently thank him, clutching the plastic with a tight fist as you try to forget the visual. Seungcheol stirs in his sleep, holding your hand a bit tighter as he pouts. The sight calms you down, and you let out a quiet coo. 

“Your dad plans to visit later to make sure that you’re okay, by the way.” You nod your head at the newfound information. For some reason, you never expected that getting kidnapped and almost murdered would get your father to come and visit you. 

but alas...

“Do you approve of Seungcheol, Wonwoo?” You ask quietly, choosing to let go of the plastic bag in order to softly pat Seungcheol’s sleeping head. Wonwoo shrugs, tilting his head to the side. 

“He killed his own mafia boss in order to protect you. I’d say that’s more than enough to consider him as a good guy.” Wonwoo answers, and you let out a smile. With that, Wonwoo walks out of the room, now out of earshot. 

“Wake up, you’ve been approved.” You mutter, patting Seungcheol’s head. He opens one eye, glancing up at you with a small smile. 

“How’d you know I was awake?” Seungcheol asks, and you shrug in response. It’s a trick you don’t think you want him to know yet. He lets out a smile, squeezing your hand once again. He lets out a tired yawn, letting go of your hand in order to stretch his arms above his head.

“What will happen to you and Mingyu now? You did kill a man who has a lot of power in South Korea after my father.” Seungcheol leans back into his seat, not wanting to remind you that Wonwoo was the one who actually killed Sunghoon in order to not let the image come back into your mind. 

“Mingyu and I did a lot of digging, that’s where we found out most of the people working under Sunghoon hated him. By most I mean around 90%, by the way.” Seungcheol explains, and you let out a quiet, ah. “So they were fine with you killing Sunghoon?” 

Seungcheol nods his head, “Precisely.” 

“What about the other ten percent?” You ask. Seungceol opens his mouth to respond, only to stop when he sees Mingyu and Wonwoo standing in the doorway. You raise an eyebrow at the sight of Mingyu wearing your apron, but you decide to close your eyes. 

“Breakfast is ready.” Mingyu announces, and the two flash you and Seungcheol a mischievous smile before stepping back out of your room. You let out a sigh, turning back towards Seungcheol. 

“Guess we’ll find out, mm? For now, let’s go and eat breakfast.” Seungcheol says, and you purse your lips, before nodding in agreement. You climb out of your bed, leading the way towards the dining table to find Mingyu and Wonwoo already eating without you two. 

“Rude, didn’t even wait for us.” You tease, and Wonwoo chuckles. 

“Not our fault you and the new mafia leader are slow.” Mingyu responds, taking a sip of his coffee. You squint at the latter, and he just flashes you a smile. 

“Ew, don’t call me that Mingyu.” Seungcheol mumbles, taking a bite of the fried rice that was prepared. 

“I’ll call you what I want to, leader.” 

“Fuck you.” 

“How could you say that in front of your future girlfrie-” 

And with that, Seungcheol launches himself across the table, causing the two to start wrestling on your wooden floor. Wonwoo and you let out a sigh, turning to each other and smiling. 

“What a strange breakfast.” You mutter, no hint of malice behind your smile as you and Wonwoo watch the two fake fight on the floor. You tilt your head, and Wonwoo lets out a sigh when he sees no sign of them stopping. 

“I’ll stop them.” Wonwoo mumbles, getting up from his chair and walking over to the two. He pats his elbow, then jumps onto them, eliciting a loud groan from Seungcheol and Mingyu. You giggle quietly, shaking your head and taking a sip of water at the chorus of complaints of how sharp Wonwoo’s elbow is from Seungcheol. 

You tried to get out of the mafia life your father lives by moving out. That obviously didn’t work as you have a new mafia leader on the floor of your dining room who saved your life the night before. However, the longer you stare at Seungcheol as he laughs with Mingyu and Wonwoo, you find yourself rather grateful for the events that unfolded since meeting Seungcheol. 

He turns and catches your gaze, immediately smiling at you. He waves you over so that you can help him up off the floor, and you roll your eyes. You stand up from the chair and walk over to him, extending your hand out towards the man. 

“Can’t even lift yourself up off the floor?” You tease, and Seungcheol rolls his eyes. He takes your hand, and you pull him up off the floor. 

“Gives me an excuse to hold your hand.” Seungcheol responds cheekily, and you scoff at his answer, although the rising warmth to your face clearly says otherwise. Mingyu and Wonwoo glance at each other, both taking turns to make vomit noises at the two of you. 

“Get a ROOM!” 

“Disgusting.” 

“Not my fault you guys are lonely!” You shout back, and Wonwoo squints at you. 

“It is your fault.”

“Shhh.”

“Yn!” 

“Wonwoo!” Seungcheol grins when you and Wonwoo begin to squabble, letting out a happy sigh. Mingyu stands up from the floor, letting out a sigh at the sight of you and Wonwoo arguing.

“Hey, hey, hey!” Mingyu yells, raising his hand up, causing you and Wonwoo to pause mid-argument. You both turn to glance at Mingyu, finding him and Seungcheol staring at the two of you with amused looks on their faces.

“Eat now, argue later.” Mingyu states, and you and Wonwoo share a look, before moving and sitting back down in your seats to continue eating. 

“It is your fault, by the way.” Wonwoo mutters, and you glare at him. Seungcheol snickers behind his hand, taking a spoonful of fried rice to stop the noise from escaping. 

“Fuck you, Wonwoo.”

“How could you say that in front of your future boyfr-” And with that, it’s now your turn to launch yourself across the table and onto Wonwoo. 

Mingyu lets out a tired sigh, choosing to ignore the loud bickering from behind him. While Seungcheol chuckles at the sight, finding himself at peace for the first time. 

seungcheol was finally able to save someone. 

You let out a giggle at Wonwoo’s pained expression from falling backwards onto the floor, and Seungcheol feels his heart warm from the sound.

and this time, it was you.

#caratwritersclub #seventeen scenarios #seungcheol x reader #seventeen x reader #seventeen x you #seventeen fluff #seventeen angst #seventeen mafia au #seventeen mafia #seventeen oneshot #seventeen oneshots #seventeen #seventeen scoups #seventeen seungcheol #choi seungcheol #seungcheol oneshot #seungcheol scenarios #seungcheol fluff #seungcheol angst #choi seungcheol scenarios #choi seungcheol x reader #choi seungcheol fluff #choi seungcheol angst #scoups x reader #scoups fluff #scoups angst

[thewritewolf]

Mari Christmas And A Happy New Adrien

Summary:

Lost in the aftermath of Hawkmoth's defeat, Adrien loses complete track of time and before he knows it, the holiday season is upon him. Will a Christmas visit to his girlfriend's house be just what he needs to move on?

Hello and welcome to my piece for the @mlsecretsanta event! My giftee, @lesslinette, asked for among other things, Adrienette, family bonding, fluff and just a bit of hurt/comfort and I aimed to please!

I had to do a good amount of research into French and Chinese Christmas traditions (including interviewing my long-suffering French friend - thanks @emsylcatac!), so hopefully I didn't get anything *too* wrong.

Read on Ao3

Enjoy!

Marinette 💖: You still up?

Adrien: Yeah Still not sleeping great House was always too quiet Never thought it could get more quiet tho lol Whats up?

Marinette 💖: :( Just wondering what u were doing 4 xmas Since You know

Adrien: Since father went to jail and mom died again? Haven’t thought about it Guess ive still got time to figure it out

Marinette 💖: … ..Its the 23rd of Dec Like 2am Not a lot of time left

Adrien: oh Guess uh Stay at home?

Marinette 💖: Adrien Its been like two months Youve been going crazy in there Youll just be stuck in there all by yourself Why don’t you come over?

Adrien: I don’t know… I don’t want to bring anyone down Or ruin anyone’s christmas

Marinette 💖: Adrien ‘Kindest Boy in Paris’ Agreste

Adrien: Oh no she used my middle name

Marinette 💖: You are coming over tomorrow And letting me pamper you And letting my family - your REAL family - love you And that is the end of that ...Is that okay with you?

Adrien: Whatever you say ma’am

Marinette 💖: Good Be here no later than fifteen hundred Let me know if I need to pick you up

Adrien: Will do

Adrien laid back down, his face lit up only by the glow of his phone and the only noise in the room being Plagg’s snoring. Putting his phone to sleep, he turned over, closed his eyes, and honestly smiled for what felt like the first time in a long time.

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

Adrien reached the door to his girlfriend’s house with a gift under one arm, an envelope in his pocket, and a weak smile on his face. The latter wasn’t because of a lack of feeling on his part - the exact opposite, actually.

It had been hard to go to sleep after their conversation that night, a swirl of mixed emotions keeping him from getting the rest that he craved. Last night wasn’t much better and he was left exhausted. He’d even been half tempted to call and say that he couldn’t make it, but somehow that only made him feel worse.

So here he was. He’d shambled his way to the car, driven himself there through blurry eyes and frequent yawns, and turned the doorknob. Maybe they’d understand if he just dropped off the present and headed home.

Well, maybe not home, but just where he lived.

The instant the door opened, a wave of hot air buffeted him. Not only did it warm his freezing face, it brought all sorts of wonderful smells on it. There were the expected scents - baked potatoes, salmon, chicken. But then was something else, something a little harder to place.

After puzzling over it for a moment, he shook his head and stepped into the house. No sooner had he closed the door behind him than he heard some voices calling out from deeper inside.

“Wait, was that the door? The family wasn’t supposed to be over until tomorrow, weren’t they?”

“Tom, that has to be Adrien!”

There was excitement in Sabine’s voice that warmed his heart, but not quite as much as when he’d taken a couple steps into the house and was blindsided by Marinette bursting out of the living room to wrap him in a hug.

“Worried I might not show?” Adrien whispered after they parted from their kiss.

“Not even for a moment, chaton.” She smiled up at him before her eyes wandered down to his arms, a suspicious look on her face when she saw the one present. “Looks like you showed some restraint this year.”

“Of course!” At her continued doubting look, he added. “Come on, I’m perfectly capable of giving reasonable gifts.”

“Last year you tried to give me my favorite restaurant.”

“But I didn’t!”

“Only because I hid your checkbook and credit cards!”

Adrien snorted. “Details.”

Rolling her eyes, Marinette tugged on his coat sleeve. “Follow me, you ridiculous man. You can put your gifts under the tree, we’ll open them tomorrow.”

She led him into the living room, where their Christmas tree had been set up in all its glory. There were red paper chains wrapped all around it and a huge variety of homemade ornaments - including a few that he’d made in years past. Ever since he and Marinette had started dating, he’d been welcomed into their household with open arms. And even before that, they’d been nothing but kind to him.

His eyes poured over the tree, looking for one specific ornament. It didn’t take him long to find it - with its poor quality, it stood out among the beautiful glass orbs and painted baubles. His fingers brushed over the patches of glitter, a nostalgic smile spreading across his face as he took in the patterns of melted wax inside it. His first ornament. They’d barely been dating a few months when he’d made that one.

Had it really been four years already?

Arms wrapped around him from the side and he looked down at Marinette’s chin resting on his shoulder, peering up at him with big blue eyes.

“What’re you thinking about, hot stuff?”

“Old memories, that’s all.”

“Hmm…” She leaned up to give him a kiss on the cheek. “You just about ready to make some new ones?”

“With you? Always.”

“You two want to come in and help us finish cooking dinner?” They both jumped when Sabine’s voice reached them.

Blushing, Marinette reluctantly let Adrien go and headed toward the kitchen. “Coming, maman!”

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

A few hours later and the four of them were seated around the dining room table. Some things had been moved around from what Adrien remembered from the usual arrangement, and a long table had been set up. Most of the spaces were empty - with the four of them, only about a third of the table was occupied. But while the chairs were mostly left bare, the table was not.

Even though he had helped make some of it, Adrien was still amazed at how good the food all looked when laid out on the table like this.

Most of it was pretty traditional, at least from what he knew. A lot of the time his experience with Christmas dinners were meals allowed to grow cold until he gave up on his father showing. But the roasted chicken was still steaming when they cut into it, the smoked salmon and toast still holding the heat of the oven on them. Add in the gratin dauphinois and this was just about the ideal Christmas dinner he could imagine.

Naturally, it got even better with Sabine’s contribution - spring rolls.

As Adrien shoveled them onto his plate, he asked Sabine, “Is this the only Chinese dish for today, maman?”

“Just you wait, dear.” She smiled over her plate. “Today was Tom’s turn to make dinner. Tomorrow will be mine and you’ll definitely have your fill then.”

“I can’t wait!” Adrien took some of the chestnut sauce to pour over his chicken. Which reminded him… He glanced nervously toward the oven. “I don’t suppose you made foie gras, did you?”

Marinette made a face and shivered.

Tom quickly shook his head. “Oh no, son. Back when Marinette was… what? Eight, nine? She found out how it was made and made us promise to never have it again.”

“Eleven years later and we haven’t broken that promise yet,” Sabine finished. “There are plenty of other foods in the world.”

“That’s good.” Adrien breathed a sigh of relief. “It always made me uncomfortable when my father ordered it.”

“Ordered, dear?” Sabine gave him a confused look.

“Oh, we never really cooked our own dinners.”

Tom’s jaw dropped. “Not even Christmas dinner?”

“Nope. Sometimes he’d have to order the dinner prepared the day before and then we’d reheat it the day of, since no one wanted to come into work on Christmas day, you know?”

“I see…” Tom shared a look with Sabine, but the meaning was lost on Adrien. “Well, you make sure you have your fill, son! We’ll be making more for tomorrow, so this is all for us.”

“Thanks,” Adrien said with a grateful smile.

The conversation meandered and for the most part Adrien was just content to listen in, drinking in the company after spending so much of his time recently just by himself. Well, mostly by himself. Marinette would visit whenever she could get the time between college classes and internships. Nino and Alya were more elusive, if only because they were outside the city so often these days.

But there was one person who was his constant companion, Adrien thought with a smile as he peeked into the breast pocket of his T-shirt…

...Only to see that it was empty. Maybe he’d gone to visit Tikki and the kwamis of the miracle box? Adrien was drawn out of his thoughts when Sabine directed a question at him.

“Are you ready for the pre-dessert snacks, dear?”

“Oh! Sure, yeah. What do you have?”

“You’ll love it!” Tom excitedly got up and hustled over to the kitchen, Sabine right behind him. He raised his voice to be heard as he went to the room next door. “We know how much you love camembert so…”

Adrien’s eyes widened. They didn’t…

Tom returned with a platter of cheeses in his hands and a frown on his lips.

“Something wrong, papa?” Marinette’s eyes glanced between Tom and the cheese platter.

“No, no… its just… I could have sworn I bought more cheese than this. And I was so sure that I had purchased camembert.” He rubbed his chin. “Ah well, there is more than enough for the three of us anyway.”

While Sabine set down a large bowl of salad in the middle of the table, Adrien glanced at Marinette. At his side, Marinette was biting her lips and pointedly staring into the middle distance, trying her hardest not to laugh. For his part, Adrien was frustrated that he couldn’t go anywhere without Plagg making a noticeable dent in the food supply.

His annoyance with Plagg was so great he almost didn’t enjoy the Yule Log that Tom had made for dessert. Almost, but not quite.

Once they were done with dinner, they cleared the table.

“So, how’d you like the meal?” Marinette asked as she dried off the dishes while Adrien washed them.

“Definitely better hot. And homemade.”

Marinette chuckled. “I’m glad the bar was so high for us. Really makes us feel like we accomplished something here.”

“How about…” Adrien bit down on his lips and narrowed his eyes in thought. “It was the most delicious meal I’ve had in months.”

“Ooo, now we’re getting somewhere.”

“Years even.”

“Good, good, go on.”

“I had never known food could taste so delicious until you graced me with your heavenly meals.”

Marinette’s eyes gleamed with restrained laughter, the hint of a barely contained smile ruining her deadpan. “Glad I could finally weasel how you really feel out of you.”

“Yeah you’re pretty good at that, aren’t you?” Hands still in the sink’s soapy water, he leaned over and planted a kiss on her forehead.

“No fooling around now, we still have to help put up the last decorations before we relax for the night.”

“What sort of decorations?”

“Paper lanterns and paper chains. That sort of thing.” At Adrien’s politely confused look, she added, “It’ll help make mom’s side of the family feel welcome. Plus they look pretty cool.”

“Well what are we waiting for then? Let’s kick this into overdrive!”

Adrien suddenly worked in a flurry, Marinette scream laughing as she got splashed with some of the water thrown up by his breakneck pace. Marinette could barely keep up between her giggling, but she somehow managed.

With the last fork, plate, and glass sparkling clean and put away, Marinette shook her head and dabbed at her slightly damp shirt with a fresh towel.

“You’re a dork, you know that?”

“So my girlfriend tells me.”

Adrien relished the sometimes quiet, sometimes loud evening he spent with the Dupain-Chengs. When he went upstairs and cuddled Marinette in the cozy darkness, Adrien felt only excitement for the next day

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

Morning came swiftly, but Adrien rose to meet the dawn’s first light with a smile on his lips and a spring in his step. Marinette was… a little less eager, but he managed to coax her out of the bed, eventually.

When they finally got down the stairs and made it to the kitchen, Sabine’s eyes widened and she even froze in the middle of folding one of her dumplings.

“Marinette? I’m surprised to see you up so early.”

Bleary eyed, her daughter simply jabbed a finger toward Adrien and grunted. Adrien rubbed the back of his neck and chuckled.

“I knew you’d be a good influence on her, sweetie.”  Sabine patted his cheek with a warm smile. “Now, once you’ve had some breakfast I’d really appreciate some help out here. From you especially, Marinette, since you know exactly how to do it the way I like it.”

“Can’t Tom help?” Adrien made some toast for him and Marinette, doing his best to stay out of Sabine’s way. “Not that I’m not willing to lend a hand, but he’s got to be pretty good at it after all this time, right?”

Sabine laughed and even Marinette cracked a smile. “You’d think so, but no. The man can make almost any dessert known to French mankind, but I’ve yet to see him finish one spring roll or dumpling in all our years of marriage. Just about the only thing I’m trusting him with today is the roasted pork.”

“Not even the cheese plate?” Adrien asked, tongue in cheek. To his surprise, Sabine shook her head gravely.

“We don’t make one for Christmas day. After all, everyone that is going to be here is from my side of the family and we’re all lactose intolerant.”

“Oh.” Adrien glanced at Marinette, who shrugged.

“I got lucky and got papa’s tolerance for it, I guess.”

“Huh… well, can I help?”

A few hours passed, most of which Adrien spent doing vital but unskilled cooking like stirring and kneading. Although they did let him try to fold a few dumplings. It ended up nowhere near as well done as Marinette’s, but she still gave him a kiss on the cheek for the good effort. From what he gathered, Tom had never even managed to get it to stay together.

They had just put the last batch in the oven when they heard a knock at the door, Sabine quickly taking off her apron as she rushed to answer it.

Adrien’s ears perked up when he heard a conversation in Chinese start up, but between him being a little rusty and them speaking so fast, he couldn’t pick out much.

A few moments later, Sabine walked back into the room with an older Chinese couple. Marinette pulled him towards them. Sabine put a hand on Adrien’s shoulder and introduced them.

“Adrien, these are my parents. My mother, Ling,” she said, gesturing towards the grey-haired woman currently hugging Marinette. “And my father, Zheng.”

The older man’s grey eyes sparkled with excitement as he held out a red envelope for Adrien, who just now noticed that Marinette had also been given one. He froze, eyes widening. Was he supposed to have gotten them something too? He hadn’t realized that anyone would be getting him anything, except maybe Marinette. There was a moment where he was about to decline but he took a shot in the dark and accepted.

The moment his hand touched the envelope, Zheng spoke in Mandarin, “Best wishes for the New Year!”

“Thank you very much!” Adrien replied automatically in the same language. While the finer points might escape him, Adrien was fluent in niceties.

Zheng’s eyes widened before he nodded sagely to himself. “Ahh, I see you’ve picked up some Mandarin from my daughter, yes?”

“Oh, no, sir. I’ve been studying since I was fourteen.”

Once again, Zheng’s eyes widened before he chuckled and looked knowingly at Marinette. “This one is definitely a keeper! I approve.”

Marinette’s cheeks were almost as red as the envelope, but she still smiled.

The bright, enticing red of the envelope made him want nothing more than to open it right then and there. But Adrien took a nod from Marinette, who had very pointedly left it sealed even as she refused to set it down. He chose to follow her lead as they all made their way to the living room.

While the Dupain-Cheng parents and the Cheng parents were getting settled there, Marinette volunteered them to go make some tea. Once they were in the kitchen and out of earshot of the new arrivals, Adrien held up his envelope with a raised eyebrow and curious look.

“You can go ahead and look at it now, it’s just not polite to do it right when you get it.” She carefully unsealed the envelope. “It's this Chinese tradition - good luck money for the new year, you know?”

Adrien followed her lead and found one ten, one twenty, and one fifty euro note inside. Glancing over, it seemed Marinette got the same. He was half tempted to just give her his euros since he didn’t have any need for it, but decided that might be tacky. If she would even take them at all. After stashing the envelopes away in a kitchen drawer, they came back with tea for everyone.

Over the next few hours, more and more family members funneled into the house. Adrien, used to seeing maybe four people during the holiday season, thought the room would be close to bursting after the first aunt arrived with husband and two kids in tow. But then came the uncle and his family, then the second aunt with her boyfriend and by the end of it fifteen people were packed into the living room. For some reason apples in boxes became involved? Adrien thought that was a pun but that was more his pun sense than his linguistic skill.

Before anyone could get too settled in, they finally got to opening presents. Despite his fears from the red envelope, no one else seemed to have gotten Adrien anything.

At least, none of the extended family had. The Dupain-Cheng family, however…

“Here you go, dear.” While the rest of the room was chattering among themselves, Sabine placed a package about as big as a shoebox on Adrien’s lap. Before he could react to it, Marinette had shoved a bag stuffed with packing paper.

“Let me go get your-”

Adrien felt a tug on his arm and looked down at Marinette seated beside him. “Open your gifts first and then we’ll open the ones you got us.”

“Okay, okay.” Adrien looked at the box on his lap and tore it open. He tilted his head in confusion as he lifted the fabric that he found there out of the box. His eyes widened when he realized it was an apron with ‘Kiss the Chef’ on it.

“Its for when you come over to cook with us!” Tom beamed down at him proudly. “Now you don’t need to borrow our aprons any more - you’ll have one of your very own!”

Adrien felt his eyes get misty and he bit his lips to keep himself from crying. After a few moments of pulling himself together, he managed to say, “Thank you, guys. I’m really looking forward to wearing it!”

“Speaking of…” Marinette prodded the bag she left with him.

“Right, right.”

Adrien removed the paper and pulled out what turned out to be a sweater, cream colored and decorated with mistletoes and black cats in red scarves. It felt amazingly soft as he slipped it on over his head, embraced in a warm hug that - he lifted the fabric to his nose and took a deep breath - yes, smelled exactly like Marinette. For now at least.

“Do you like it?” Instead of replying, Adrien wrapped his arms around Marinette and pulled her close to him, nuzzling his nose against her neck. Giggling, she smacked his arms lightly. “I’ll take that as a yes, now let go!”

After he pulled his arms back, he stood up and stepped between the Cheng family members and made it to the tree before heading back to the little corner of the living room that they had claimed. He passed the envelope to Tom and the box to Marinette.

“A… gift card for an appliance store?” Tom said, his brow furrowing.

“I wanted to get you an actual new stove because you’re always upset at it,” Adrien explained in a rush, feeling embarrassed that his gift felt so… impersonal compared to theirs. “But when I went to the store I had no idea what actually made a good stove and searching it up on the internet only made it more confusing and… yeah,” he finished lamely.”

He glanced up at them and felt better to see them smiling back.

“That’s very thoughtful of you, Adrien! Thank you, we’ll make good use of this.”

Beside him, Marinette began opening her gift, which Adrien was much more excited for. Not because he had spent any less for it, but because that at least he knew exactly what to get.

He knew he’d done good when she gasped as she pulled out the expensive fabric she’d once stared at longingly from the otherside of a store’s window in Paris. Which, of course, meant that he was also expecting the smack on his arm from her as well.

“Adrien! This is expensive! You definitely shouldn’t have bought this.”

“Actually, you’ll remember that I get to spoil you exactly three times a year - birthdays, Valentine’s, and Christmas.” He gave her the most innocent look he could manage. “So you like it then?”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “You know I absolutely love it, you cat.”

“Then that’s great!” He continued with the overly chipper and oblivious tone, knowing how much it bugged her. He rubbed his hands together. “So… when’s dinner?”

-----------

After a Christmas dinner packed with Chinese dishes, they slowly returned to the living room.

Adrien sat in a corner of the room, taking in the warm and inviting atmosphere, the excitement and energy of so many people gathered together in such a small space.

Holding Marinette close, Adrien felt like he was part of a real family for the first time in a long time.

#Miraculous Ladybug #Adrien Agreste #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #Adrienette #Love Square #Tom Dupain #Sabine Cheng #ml secret santa exchange #my writing #Mari Christmas and a Happy New Adrien

[queen-scribbles]

"No matter what I'll always come after you" for Vesper?

Okay, this, as usual, ran away from me to the tune of 2300 words, but I’m not complaining.  (It does touch on game events, including the end, just so anyone wanting to avoid spoilers is aware)

----

Most children threatened to run away from home at least once. Vesper just hadn’t expected Constantin--of all people--to make good on it. (Though maybe she should’ve.) While her mother and uncle debated where he might have gone and organized searches for the palace and city proper, Vesper snuck out a side door and headed in the opposite direction, toward the meadow where they’d picnicked  few days ago. Constantin had wanted to explore more, but their governess wouldn’t let him. If he was feeling defiant enough to make good on running away, she’d bet he went back there.

And the deep footprints in the riverbank mud bore out her theory. He proved easy to find once she had his trail, headed straight for a patch of woods, though she found him more from the yelp than his trail.

A yelp that presaged his falling from the tree he’d been trying to climb.

“Constantin!” Vesper lunged forward to catch him, but thanks to the limits of ten year old legs, only sort-of managed to break his fall. (Whenever her growth spurt wanted to show up would be fine by her.) “Are you alright?!”

“What’re you doing here?” Constantin demanded instead of answering. He looked alright, if dirty and still petulant.

“Looking for you,” Vesper retorted, nudging him off so they could both sit up. “We were worried-”

“I’m not going back,” he interrupted sulkily, poking the dirt with a stick. “I’m sick of sums. And behaving myself.”

“I can tell,” she teased, brushing dirt off the knee of his breeches.  “But our parents are worried sick, and I feel like the longer it takes to find you, the more trouble you’ll be in.”

Constantin jabbed the stick more viciously into the ground at the base of an ant hill, and was silent a long moment before nodding.  “...Fine.”

Vesper helped him to his feet, brushed more dirt off his clothes. There was nothing that could be done about the scrape on his forearm, or the ripped sleeve that hung around it, however.

They were halfway home before he took her hand and mumbled a slightly grudging, “Thanks for coming after me.”

Vesper smiled. “Always.”

----

Raised voices had become so commonplace in the family portions of the house, Vesper barely batted an eye at the muffled strains of the Prince in contention with someone yet again. She knew who it likely was even before hearing Constantin’s protesting retort. She knew how this would go, too, and finished the current page of her book, setting it aside with a sigh.

As usual, her uncle’s voice rose in both volume and quantity of words until she could almost make out the words of his tirade from three rooms down the hall. As usual, there was a long, rebellious pause, then Constantin’s voice so low she barely picked up the murmur of it, then a slammed door. As usual, Vesper counted to twenty, then went after him. As usual, he was on the balcony that looked toward the harbor, sitting on the ground with his back against the wall.

“Should have known you’d come after me, with a row like that,” Constantin said without looking.

“Always,” Vesper said lightly. “You alright?”

He shrugged, gaze fixed toward the horizon.

She waited him out, knowing the words would come.

“It’s never good enough for him,” Constantin finally spat. “I’m never good enough. Everything I do, Ves. It’s always just a little wrong, or falls just a little short, or a little too embarrassing, or I’m a disgrace to the family name! He’s never happy!”

“He does ask a lot from you,” Vesper agreed softly, because it was true. Knowing her uncle had reasons for his high standards--the family’s position, Constantin being his heir--didn’t negate how impossibly high the bar seemed some days.

Especially with it being set for Constantin. Who liked to flirt with the wrong people and fight with the wrong people and never really could seem to hold his tongue.

But he didn’t need censure or critique now, not from her, he needed a listening ear. So that’s what she did. She listened. She sympathized. And she let him calm down from the heights of ranting before she even suggested heading back inside.

She was stiff from sitting on the ground so long, but seeing him smile again was worth it.

----

The air around the tavern stank of cheap beer and vomit, which was better than most nights. Vesper wrinkled her nose and tried to ignore it. Damn Constantin for choosing this one, though he’d likely done so banking on the knowledge she’d be reluctant to follow him here alone. Unfortunately for him, if that had been his thought process, it hadn’t taken much to convince Kurt to come with her. (It may have involved the words ‘I’m going regardless’ from her, and grousing from Kurt, but she knew, despite his grumbling, he liked her and Constantin more than he’d admit. Hence him following her to four other taverns before this one.)

They’d barely taken two steps inside when the unmistakable sound of Constantin singing reached their ears, and Vesper groaned.

“I won’t tell the prince where we found him if you don’t,” Kurt muttered behind her.

Vesper’s mouth twisted in a wry smile. “Oh, my lips are sealed, it’s his I’m worried about.”

Kurt just grunted in response to that, and the two of them made their way through the crowd until they found her wayward cousin.

“Vesper!” Constantin grinned when he saw her. Not drunk yet, but on the way. “Didn’t think you liked places like this, cousin.” He gestured broadly at the surroundings, sloshing his drink over the table. Well on the way to drunk, then.

She forced a smile. “Oh, but you know I’ll always come after you, dear cousin, no matter what it takes.” Even visiting shady taverns our parents would kill the both of us for patronizing.

He laughed and took a deep drink before slouching back in the chair. “Are y’ here to join me or drag me home?”

“The latter, I’m afraid,” Vesper said lightly. Her uncle was on his way home from some diplomatic summit and would be in a foul temper if his son was missing upon returning. She needed to get Constantin home and sleeping off this afternoon’s escapades. “Though I do hope there will be no actual dragging involved.”

Constantin’s gaze flicked to where Kurt stood behind her, arms crossed, and grinned again. “Backup, Vesper? Worried you can’t corral me on your own anymore?”

His tone was playful, but she knew how swiftly that could change when he was in a mood, and she chose her words accordingly. “Two pairs of eyes are better than one, and it is part of his job to watch out for us. I was worried, cousin. You’ve been gone most of the day.” She left off they’d been looking for him almost half of that time.

“Afraid I got kidnapped or broke my neck?” Constantin teased, taking another drink.

“Among other fates," Vesper said with an easy laugh. Both of those are actual possibilities with you. “You know I have a vivid imagination.”

He laughed as well, loud and tipsy, and leaned forward to clumsily pat her hand. “As you can see, I’m fine, dear cousin.”

“Yes, it does appear you had an enjoyable afternoon,” she agreed, deciding she didn’t want to know the origin of the stains on his shirt and coat. Or where his hat ended up. (If he had even worn one.) “My mother’s fretting herself silly about you, though, Constantin, what say we head home and put her mind at ease?”

He took long enough to answer she was afraid he’d dig in his heels and she’d have to have Kurt yank him out of the chair. But he rolled his eyes and pushed the nearly-empty tankard across the table. “Oh, fine. Wouldn’t do to have my beloved auntie worrying herself sick.”

He stumbled getting to his feet, and Kurt grabbed his arm to keep him upright.

“Thank you,” Constantin slurred, leaning against him heavily. (He’d been closer to drunk than she thought, apparently.)

“Just doin’ my job,” Kurt said with a grunt, accepting the inevitable and tugging Constantin’s arm around his shoulders as they headed for the door. He shot Vesper a look she’d almost call impressed.  “Nice going. You’ve got a way with words.”

Vesper bit back a laugh as she pushed open the door. “Thank you. I have to counter my abysmal showing with a blade somehow.”

Kurt chuckled, and she caught the faint flash of a smile before he bit it back.  “You’re still learning, Green Blood. Give it time.”

“That does help with a lot,” she said, glancing at her thoroughly inebriated cousin. Hopefully time would help smooth away some of his more worrisome habits.

At the very least, though, it would help with his hangover.

----

One thing that came in handy, with how often Vesper found herself in these scenarios, Constantin was loud. He was loud when he was celebrating, loud when he was complaining, and he was loud now.

Vesper could hear him hollering demands and derisions at his captors well before she and Kurt reached the warehouse where he was being held.

“D’you think there’s any chance of this becoming a less frequent occurrence when we reach the island?” she asked as she scanned the building for discreet ways in.

Kurt pressed his lips together--whether biting back a smile at her question or annoyance at her cousin, she couldn’t tell--and shrugged. “Only time will tell, I suppose.”

Vesper bobbed her head to concur with his assessment and resumed searching for a way in. Fortunately, it proved easier than anticipated to sneak inside the building. She’d rather not incite a brawl just before leaving Sérène. It was equally easy to follow Constantin’s yelling to the room serving as his makeshift cell.

“Constantin, shhh!” Vesper hissed against the keyhole.

There was silence, then, slightly quieter and much more effusive, “Ah, cousin, there you are! I knew you’d show!”

“We can’t leave without you, Governor D’Orsay,” Vesper reminded him as she examined the lock. “And you know I’d come after you anyway.”

“Always.” There was a grin in Constantin’s voice. “If you’re looking for the key, I believe one of the rapscallions mentioned a desk?”

That was indeed its hiding place. And she found his effects in the trunk beside it to boot. Her cousin was almost giddy as he burst from the small room the moment the key turned in the lock.

“That’s more like it!” he crowed, clapping her on the back and nodding toward Kurt. “Thank you ever so much for the rescue, dearest cousin and loyal Captain. Now” --he snatched his hat from pile in Vesper’s arms-- “let’s go have an adventure, shall we?”

She schooled away a smile at his enthusiasm and held his coat out of reach. “Constantin? Remember how we discussed Teer Fradee being an opportunity for a fresh start? Please endeavor to keep that in mind.”

“Yes, of course, dear cousin.” He darted forward to grab his coat and she let him have it. He pulled it on and whirled around with a flourish. “We shouldn’t keep them waiting.”

Vesper shook her head and smiled as she tugged him toward the route she and Kurt had used to enter. While somehow Constantin’s enthusiasm managed to make more noise than Kurt’s armor, they did make it back out unchallenged. She grabbed Constantin’s arm to tug him toward where Captain Vasco waited.

Her cousin was right about one thing--they’d delayed long enough.

---

The winged form of the High King came crashing to the ground with her second to last round through his throat. Vesper ignored the still twitching body. Kurt or Sìora could check he was actually dead, she only cared about Constantin.

Her saber clattered against the stony ground as she lunged toward the half-constructed cairn around her cousin and started pulling it apart with her bare hands. Once free enough, Constantin slumped limply against her chest and Vesper held him close.

“...Vesper?” he mumbled, barely audible, through lips chapped and scarred by the malichor and heaven only knew what else.

“I’m here,” she said, voice shaking with relief they gotten here in time. “I come after you no matter what, remember?”

There was no reply, the weight of him heavy against her chest, but she could still feel him breathing.

“Hold on, cousin,” she murmured. He was so quiet, so still. They needed to get him to a healer.

There was a hand on her shoulder and Kurt crouched next to her. “Green Blood.”

Because it was Kurt, Vesper didn’t try to hide the lingering worry in her eyes as she released her hold on Constantin so Kurt could take him for the journey down the mountain.

She tried not to let King Vinbarr’s words echo too loudly in her head as she and Sìora followed, tried not to let the foreboding take root, but the sheer desperation in the man’s voice still left a seed.

“He will be the end of us all!”

---

The trek up through Anemhaid was made all the more difficult by the heartsick dread steadily building in her chest, but Vesper made it. Alone; her companions stayed to help their people, and her heart was stuck at the bottom of the mountain. (Don’t be a hero, she’d said, knowing full well he would anyway because he couldn’t help himself, knowing she’d have to do the same.)

She didn’t want to be here, didn’t want to be doing this.

She finally slowed as she reached the main cavern, saw her cousin’s familiar silhouette.

“Vesper.” Constaintin almost smiled as he turned. “I knew you’d come.”

“Of course I did, cousin.” Vesper swallowed hard, chest tight, and rested one hand on the hilt of her pistol. She hoped against hope she wouldn’t need it, but the dreadful knot in her gut and strange glow in his eyes promised she would.  “No matter what, I always come after you.”

#queens fic #greedfall #vesper de sardet #constantin d'orsay #kurt greedfall #ves/kurt #it's not in the spotlight but it's THERE

[liv-laugh-die]

||Admiring|| 💖Miya Osamu x Gn!reader

trope: strangers meeting in the park (ik its random bear with me😭)

warnings: its not proofread all the way through (im sorry im tired), so theres probably grammatical errors or typos but other than that none

genre: fluff pretty much just sappy stuff

pairing/s: osamu x gn!reader

wc: about 2.5k

a/n: oh my god idk where i came up with this but i think its cute so :p i hope you enjoy!!

You stared at your blank computer screen, hope of finishing your assignment before its due date at midnight slowly vanishing. 

     The clock on your desk read 11:27pm, the green lines wavering in your vision as your eyes slowly drooped, trying to drag you into the depths of slumber. You wanted to sleep, you really did, but you knew there was no way you could give up writing your essay, even now, knowing you weren’t going to submit it on time, because you would stress too much about it if you didn’t at least try to complete it before the due date. 

     Pushing yourself away from your desk, your chair squeaking against the floor ever so slightly in your dead silent dorm room, you tried to think of some excuse that your professor might believe. You doubted there was anything you could think of, but hey, your professor was better than what your roommates’ had mentioned theirs being, and you were grateful for that. Maybe you could tell him that you were exhausted from working extra hours at your job since you had had to cover your coworker’s shift and that’s why you couldn’t complete your essay on time? Or, maybe you could get away with a simple “I was lacking interest in the material, and couldn’t understand anything, and I didn’t ask for help because I knew that you are such a busy man trying to do so many things at once. Another hopeless near college drop-out wasn’t something I thought you needed on your hands.”

     ....Maybe not the latter.

    You sighed, running a hand through your tangled hair, practically feeling it screaming at you to wash it. You barely had time in the mornings to take showers anymore, and when you took them at night, you never had the strength to wash your hair, always knowing that putting a hat on overtop or throwing on your hoodie would make it seem fine on the outside, and that was good enough for you. As long as you looked at least decent and somewhat presentable.

    Your dorm room was fairly small, like every other one, but the lack of furniture made it seem larger than the rest. Nothing more than you and your roommate’s joint desk, the mini fridge in the corner, and the beds filled the space. You almost tripped over your backpack lying next to the bunk bed pushed up against the wall, falling to what would’ve been inches away from your roommate’s sleeping body.

    In an attempt not to disturb them, you tiptoed through the room, stepping over the occasional heap of clothes or homework, until you reached the bathroom. You fumbled over the door knob before almost tumbling into the small space. Glancing in the mirror, you didn’t fail to notice your messy hair, the dark circles tracing beneath your eyes, or the way you looked like you were seconds away from passing out. The sound of running water rang in your ears as you turned on the sink faucet, cupping your hands together and bringing your face down to meet them, rubbing the cold water all over you in an attempt to keep you awake for just a few moments longer.

     Your eyes returned back to the mirror as you sighed at your dripping wet face. There was no way possible you were going to finish your assignment on time. You knew it, your roommate knew it before they passed out, and you had noticed your professor’s wary glance this morning in class as a sign that he knew it too.

     An idea sprang into your head, part of you dreading the optimism that seemed to seep through your brain slowly. You didn’t feel like being energetic right now.

---an hour later---

You weren’t exactly sure how, when, or why you decided it would be a good idea to take a shower (you did end up washing your hair, thank god), get your things together in your bag, and head to the off-campus coffee shop (since the one on-campus had already closed), but you found yourself with a warm cup of coffee in hand as you exited the shop, the cold midnight air enveloping you in an unwelcome embrace.

     You shivered. The only thing your spontaneous brain had forgotten had to have been your jacket, the one thing your normal brain would’ve remembered if it weren’t already past midnight and if you weren’t majorly sleep-deprived.

     You most certainly weren’t done with your essay yet, nor was there any possible way for you to finish it on time since it was now approximately thirteen minutes past the due time, but you let yourself breathe for now.

     There weren’t many people out at this hour, and it made the usual busy city streets seemed like a ghost town. There were a few restaurants still open as you strolled along the sidewalk, their lights responsible for illuminating more than half the area in front of you. You passed by an onigiri shop your friend had recommended to you, but you just weren’t that hungry. Most nights, you’d kill for a midnight snack, but your single shot of espresso coffee was satisfying your needs for now.

     You decided to head to the park after seeing a rabbit hop its way across the vacant street and into the bushes in that direction. The fresh air was nice and cool against your dry and croaky lungs, and your ears needed a different sound than that of you miserably attempting to touch type quickly, your fingers rapping against the keyboard with vigor.

     A stream nearby flowed softly, the dripping of the water against the rocks complimenting the noise of the crickets chirping in sync just downstream. Your footsteps cut through the grass slowly, not bothering to follow the stone path. The park was a nice change of scenery. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d been here by yourself in peace, it was always you and your rambunctious friends who ran through every now and then just to see the dogs running through the sprinklers, or the occasional poor cat whose owner dragged them out into the daylight for exercise. This was peaceful, though, and you appreciated that.

     A few more rabbits crossed your path, giving you that wide-eyed, side glance before darting off into the darkness, outside the reach of the lampposts emitting light. The sound of the stream soon faded out as you continued to walk through the park, sipping your coffee every so often. The warmth from your cup was soon dying out, and you figured you’d have to start walking back to your university sooner or later. Maybe you could crash at your friend’s house who lived just off campus, though you had forgotten your phone back at your dorm and had no alarm, no laptop to complete your work, and no contact with anyone else who might worry where you’d be. You had really no choice but to trek back to your dorm in the darkness, cutting your peaceful visit to the park short.

     You let yourself have a few more minutes of stress free relaxing as you sat down on a bench just before the ground let out into a downhill slope overlooking the rest of the city below. The trees around you swayed in the breeze, and for a moment, you thought it was the wind talking, and not an actual human being who had somehow made his way beside you without gathering your attention.

     “Didn’t think anyone else would be up at this hour,” the stranger mumbled. You glanced up, almost startled that, indeed, someone else was actually awake and strolling through the park.

     The boy couldn’t have been much older than you were, maybe the same age. He had his hands stuffed in his jacket pockets, the wind tousled his dark hair ever so slightly, and the moonlight played along, illuminating his face just so you could actually see how gorgeous he was.

     You cleared your throat, averting your eyes back to the ground as you shifted over, creating more space on the bench in case he wanted to sit down beside you. “I decided to actually take care of myself for once and give myself some time to breathe before facing the wrath of my professor tomorrow when he finds out I didn’t turn in my essay on time.” You let out a low, breathy chuckle, not exactly sure of what would happen next.

     The guy sat down on the bench next to you, though he made sure to give you some personal space, which you were grateful for. He laughed along with you a bit, and you could tell just from his tone just how tired he really was.

     You gave him a side glance, raising an eyebrow. “So, what the stressful thing that brought you here in the middle of the night?”

     He smiled half-heartedly, eyes trained on the moon. “Work stuff. Jus’ been busy, I guess.” He shrugged. 

     You waited for him to continue on, but he stayed silent. You didn’t complain, though. Wasn’t your whole reason for coming out here in the dead of the night for some quiet? Plus, it wasn’t awkward either. You were comfortable sitting next to this stranger.

     “What do you do for work?” You waited a little longer than necessary to ask, but he didn’t seem to mind the long pause.

     “I own a restaurant a few blocks away. I love the job, it’s just tiring havin’ to deal with rude customers like my brother who won’t get the hint and get out sometimes. I got into an argument with him earlier today and he just wouldn’t shut it.” He rolled his eyes and took his hands out of his pockets, making eye contact with you as he went on about his day, and you couldn’t help but smile at his passion. “The guy thinks he can just walk in when I’m working with a new employee and just act like he runs the place! Quite stupid if you ask me. Such a jerk, he is. Thinkin’ about just banning him from the place, really.” 

     You snorted. “He really bugs you that much, huh?”

     The guy smirked at your laugh, admiring it, though you would never had guess that was what flashed across his face in a million years. He nodded. “Yeah, ‘course I love ‘im ‘cause he’s my twin and my best friend, but he really knows how to annoy the hell outta me.” He shrugged. “Maybe I’ll just get a sign in the window that says “no shirt, no shoes, no service” and cross it out and write my brother’s name instead,” he reasoned, and the pondering look in his eyes made you wonder if he was actually considering the idea.

     You smiled. “You’re funny.”

     “You say that like ya weren’t expectin’ it.”

     A laugh made its way out your lips. “Well, when you’re approached by a stranger in the middle of the night you sort of expect the worst.”

     The guy glanced off in the distance, away from you, furrowing his eyebrows. “Sorry, didn’t think of that comin’ off that way.” He shrugged a shoulder. “Guess it’s a good thing I’m funny then, and not some creep, eh?”

     You nodded, the smile on your face not fading as he changed topics.

     “So, what’s your essay on? Any way I can help ya finish it?”

     You shook your head dismissively. “Oh, no. It was due thirty minutes ago.” You quickly explained the topic you were writing about in class before getting side tracked. “My professor had said he would allow it to be turned in the next morning, but I doubt he actually meant it.”

     He smiled a wide grin, making butterflies flutter in your stomach. “You go to the university nearby, right?” 

     You nodded in confirmation, raising an eyebrow. “If I’ve got any luck, there’s a chance you go there too?”

     He laughed a little, shaking his head. “Nah, I don’t, sorry. I’ve visited campus a few times because some of my friends go there, but I just usually focus on work.”

     His gaze was tilted upwards towards the sky, and you couldn’t help but admire how the exhaustion still shone in his eyes, but somehow that same passion gleamed there too just mentioning what he did for a living. You wished you were that passionate about something that would actually support you financially in the future and make you happy.

     When he glanced back at you, you were still taking his essence in, and he made a look of confusion. “What?”

    You shook your head, chuckling. “Nothing. I just admire that you can dedicate yourself to something and make it seem so easy.” He looked at you, interested to hear what you had to say, even though you were sure you couldn’t be the first person to tell him this. “I haven’t even known you for more than ten minutes and I can already tell you’re passionate about what you do and if you’re stressed about it, it must mean you’re dedicated to seeing your work through, and that’s more than enough to admire and appreciate, especially when that can be so difficult sometimes.” You finished your short tangent, looking back up at him to see him staring intently at you, seemingly in awe of what you’d just said. You felt a blush creep onto your face as you quickly blurted out, “Sorry- I didn’t mean to be so straightforward and weird like that- I sound like some crazy secret admirer or something...”

     The crickets chirped in the silence between the two of you, and it felt like it would never end.

     “Y’know, I wouldn’t mind havin’ a secret admirer. I mean, wouldn’t be so secret, but...” You saw the smile creep up onto his face. “It’s nice being appreciated. Nobody really tells me that kind o’ stuff, so... thanks, I guess.” 

     The heat on your cheeks didn’t go away by any means, but you grew more comfortable with it as you mumbled, “Maybe I wouldn’t mind admiring you.”

     Now, it was the boy’s turn to blush, and you smiled at how his cheeks grew redder with every passing second, and how his subtle grin spoke a thousand words he didn’t need to say.

     “Miya Osamu.” The boy’s hand came into your view as he extended it for you to shake. “I own Onigiri Miya across from the grocery outlet.”

     You smirked, grasping his hand in yours as you said, “L/N Y/N. I own an official license for being a horrible driver and an ID that proves I’m a sleep-deprived college student and that’s about it.”

     He laughed, shaking your hand and standing up, letting go too soon for your liking.

     Because for some weird reason, his hand felt right in yours.

     Osamu said a quick goodbye, mentioning something about how he should get going and how you should get some sleep before he disappeared down the stone path back into the darkness.

     You stood up not too long after he’d left, your coffee now entirely cold as you plopped the half full cup into the trash can on your walk back to your dorm, not needing the pathetic warmth anymore. Your heart was beating fast and the feeling of Osamu’s hand resting in yours lingered on your palm, and that kept you warm enough.

     Maybe you’d be visiting that onigiri place your friend recommended to you a little sooner than you’d originally planned, and maybe more often than you would’ve expected.

#osamu miya x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff #hq fluff #hq #miya osamu #osamu #osamu x reader #oml i actually like this #ahhhh its cute #since when have i been motivated #i hope this doesnt flop *sob*

[reinerispretty]

What if Zuko's S/o was a fire dancer, like they use their fire bending with their dances, and they dont tell zuko because their scared he would judge them or something, but one night Zuko and the gaang go to one of their shows and sees them

thank you so much for sending this in!! i hope i was able to do your idea justice :) 

---

Meeting the Fire Lord’s son had been a chance encounter that (Y/N) could have never dreamed in a million years. While she had grown up on a small island off the coast of the mainland, she spent most of her days on Ember Island. Her dancing troupe performed for different travelers every weekend. They combined firebending with their dances and dazzled the crowd at each performance. She ended shows with fire lilies being thrown at her feet and a crowd standing outside of her dressing room door, waiting for autographs. 

She had met Zuko while she was shopping in the market. She eyed her grocery list and reached out for a papaya only for another hand to collide with hers. Her eyes trailed up to find its source: a boy with dark hair, golden eyes, and a scar covering the side of his face. 

“Oh, sorry,” she apologized. “Did you need that?” 

“Kind of,” The boy had said, shrugging his shoulders. “But it’s not a big deal if you need it.” She pursed her lips. While she knew her fellow performers might be annoyed with her for not bringing back what she asked, she felt bad taking from others. She picked up the papaya and handed it to him. 

“You take it. I’ll just get a mango.” She picked up the other fruit and plopped it into her basket. “I like the taste of mangoes better anyways.” 

“Me too,” the boy said, offering her a small smile. She returned his gesture with a smile of her own. “I haven’t seen you around here before.” 

“I’m here pretty much every day. I think it’s you who I haven’t seen around here before.” She offered her hand for a shake. “I’m (Y/N).” He shook her hand firmly, but didn’t introduce himself. 

“It’s nice to meet you.” She nodded. 

“Well, I gotta get going. Shen closes the shop at sundown and I have to be quick if I want to get some goji berries.” She gave him a small wave before turning on her heel. 

“Wait!” He called out. “Shen’s goji berries are overpriced for what he offers. I can take you to a different place, if you’d like.” 

“I’d love that! Shen’s berries cost me an arm and a leg.” She followed the mysterious boy through town, down some back alleyways, and along a dirt road. Even if he was a stranger who hadn’t given her his name, (Y/N) wasn’t scared of him. (Plus she was a pretty good firebender, so she liked to think she could take care of herself.) 

He led her down to a part of the beach that she had never been: the royal neighborhood. It was the part of Ember Island where the most elite families lived. (Y/N) had always been far too afraid to ever go near this side of the island. She liked staying near what was comfortable. 

The boy led her into the backyard of one of the houses. There, goji berry bushes grew in the dozens. Each bush had bloomed with bright red berries that made her mouth water. She looked up at the boy. 

“Take as many as you like.” She shook her head in disbelief. 

“No way! I don’t want to steal from anyone.” 

“It won’t be stealing,” he said calmly. “I live here.” Her mouth nearly dropped open in shock, but she stopped herself. His face was kind and she could sense that he was being sincere. So, reluctantly, she began picking berries and dropping them into the basket. 

“I think they ripened just the other day, so you can try some if you want.” He plucked a berry off the bush and popped it into his mouth. (Y/N) eyed him cautiously before chewing on her own berry. 

“These are the best goji berries I’ve ever tasted,” she said as she stuffed more into her mouth. The boy laughed. 

“I’ll be here for the next few days if you’d like to grab some more.” 

And that is exactly what she did. (Y/N) returned each day to pick more goji berries and each day the boy joined her in the backyard, eating until he was full. They talked about anything and everything under the sun. Where (Y/N) was from, how they were both benders, and what their favorite part about the island was. 

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” (Y/N) said one day as they sat in the grass together. She plucked another berry from the bush. “But if you live here, that means you must be the son of some big public official, right?” 

He sighed, plucking some grass from the ground and dropping the blades back down. “Yeah, you caught me.” 

“Zuko!” Called another voice. From inside the house emerged a girl with dark hair and intimidating eyes. “We’ve been looking everywhere for you. Who is this?” 

Instantly, (Y/N) had realized that she had been so, so stupid. She didn’t know why the scar wasn’t a dead giveaway, or the fact that he lived in the royal neighborhood. The boy that she had been spending so much time with recently was Zuko, Prince of the Fire Nation.

“This is (Y/N),” Zuko said to the girl. “She’s my friend.” 

“I don’t know of any (Y/N)’s that went to the Royal Fire Nation Academy for Girls,” the girl drawled, leaning against the doorframe. 

“That’s because I, uh, didn’t.” (Y/N) grabbed her basket and stood. “I really think I should go?” 

“And maybe don’t come back,” the girl said, a smirk painted on her face. 

“Wait!” Zuko grabbed her hand before she could walk away. “I’m leaving soon. Can I visit you somewhere?” 

(Y/N) looked between him and the other girl, who she assumed was Princess Azula. And while (Y/N’s) profession garnered her tons of fans, not everyone was so accepting of it. Many times, uppity reach people had told her to get a real job and stop wasting her life away. She feared she would receive the same treatment from the members of the royal family. 

“I have to go,” she said again, before quickly running away. 

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

It had been months and Zuko hadn’t returned. She had watched from behind barrels as his ship left the royal port. She was sad that she had lost a friend but was relieved that she wouldn’t have to worry about him finding out who she really was. She wasn’t just a commoner, she was a performer, and the latter rarely got taken seriously in the Fire Nation. 

As the months went by, she found herself thinking of Zuko more frequently than she would have liked. Their friendship had only progressed over the course of a few days, but during those days she felt like she could tell him almost anything. The conversations they had had in the goji berry bushes were some of the most intimate conversations she had had with anyone. Despite herself, she missed him. 

Zuko returned to Ember Island with his new friends a few months after he had last been there. They had hidden out in his family’s old beach house because he knew it was the one place Azula wouldn’t think about searching. 

“We should go!” Sokka said one evening as he held up a flyer to their group. It was an advertisement for a local group of firedancers. Despite living in the Fire Nation for the majority of his life, Zuko had never seen a firedancing show, so he and his other friends eagerly accepted. Satisfied with their response, Sokka put the flyer down on the table before walking away. Zuko eyed it for his information and noticed how the painting of one of the firedancers looked strangely familiar. It wasn’t until they arrived at the show that they realized why.

At the forefront of the stage stood (Y/N), the commoner girl he had befriended the last time he was there. She smiled at the crowd and waved to a few returning fans before doing a backflip and producing fire from her feet. The crowd, including Zuko and his friends, were absolutely delighted by the choreography of the production. The firedancers spun quickly around each other, yet none of them were accidentally burned. 

“This is amazing!” Suki exclaimed. Toph grunted. 

“Yeah, if you could see it.” But all Zuko could really see was (Y/N). He thought her moves to be far more beautiful and elegant than her peers. She combined challenging dances and challenging firebending skills to create a fantastic show. She was truly talented. 

After the dancers had finished their set, Zuko requested that his friends follow him to one of the dancers’ dressing rooms. “Looks like Zuko’s got a crush,” Katara giggled, but he brushed her off. 

He reached the door at the end of the hall that had (Y/N’s) name written on it in fancy script. He knocked. “Just a second!” He heard her shout, before the door flung open to reveal her in a silk robe and her hair in a knot, her makeup being half scrubbed off. “Oh no,” She said once her eyes landed on him. She shut the door quickly. 

“What was that about?” Aang asked. Zuko lifted up a hand to signal his friend to be quiet. He knocked again. 

“Just another second!” She called. From inside the dressing room, (Y/N) made quick work of brushing out her hair and washing off the rest of her makeup. Her heart was racing, partially from the show she had just put on, but mostly due to Zuko showing up at her door unannounced. She supposed that even if he had wanted to announce, he wouldn’t know how, but she was still incredibly nervous. 

Once she was satisfied with her appearance, she opened the door slowly and smiled sheepishly up at him. “Hi.” 

“You didn’t tell me you were a firedancer.” 

“In my defense, you didn’t tell me you were Prince of the Fire Nation, so I think we’re pretty even.” Zuko chuckled, shaking his head. 

“Yeah, but I was hiding my identity so you wouldn’t act weird around me. What’s your excuse?” She pursed her lips, looking at the ground. 

“I thought that if you knew, you wouldn’t take me seriously. A lot of you rich folks come around and criticize me for what I do, so I guess I was just...scared.” She shrugged at the end before noticing the group of people standing behind Zuko. “Oh, hi! I’m (Y/N). I used to eat Zuko’s goji berries.” 

Collectively, the group raised an eyebrow. 

“I would never criticize you!” Zuko exclaimed. “What you did out there was absolutely spectacular. I thought you were the best dancer out there.” (Y/N’s) eyes widened and she covered his mouth with her hand. 

“Don’t let the other dancers hear you saying that! They get crazy jealous.” Zuko wrapped his hand around her wrist and moved her hand down. 

“Do you want to grab dinner sometime?” He asked. (Y/N) smiled. 

“Yeah, I’d really like that. Let me just change into something that isn’t a robe.” 

---

permatag list! 

@aroyaldarknessblr , @harryisthesunshine

#atla #writing #avatar #zuko x reader #sokka x reader #aang x reader #katara #toph #suki #aang #zuko #sokka #iroh #azula #momo #appa #fanfiction #request