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palbabor-writes · 3 years

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Practicum

Pairing: Shigaraki Tomura x Fem!Reader

Warnings: SMUT/18+ only, unbalanced/unhealthy relationships, student/teacher sex, tw.dubcon, tw.sub/dom dynamics, brat taming, fingering, masturbation, a table is pretty roughed up in this, so pls hold a brief moment of silence for it

Words: 12,857

“So, you just want me to read from the book?”

“Yes.”

“And...answer questions?”

“That’s what I said,” Shigaraki smirks, already reaching toward his bookshelf, tugging the heavy Intro to Biology text out and shifting it into his large hands.

You bite at your lip again and pass your gaze from his amused expression to the bland cover of the textbook, debating your next move, trying to walk yourself through all the ups and downs. It’s too simple; too easy. It’s not like him. He’s got something else in mind, why else would he fucking look like that? It’s not a bad look. No, it’s a look that makes your stomach flip and head spin.

“Stop being so suspicious,” Shigaraki scolds, drawing your wandering attention back to him. “I don’t bite, that is, unless you want me to.”

Notes: the title was selected because it’s got the word cum in it. ahhh, the things that crack me up. anyhow.

this is part of the BNHA Degeneracy server’s 9 to 5 collaboration! i had a ton of fun participating in this and thank you guys for making this so freaking awesome! special shoutout & thanks to @albinoburrito & @kugutsuu for their beta edits! this was a departure from what i usually write about and i appreciate all of your notes and help!

Practicum prac·ti·cum /ˈpraktəkəm/ noun a practical section of a course of study

It’s your senior year, they said. Live a little, they advised. Stop and take a breather, you’re practically home free! Take some easier classes. Focus on what’s in front of you, it’ll be over before you know it! On and on and on.

Spring semester is almost here. You’ve applied for graduation, the cap and gown ordered, and you have a shiny class ring sitting on your pinky. It’s in the bag. Just breeze through four more classes and you’re out. Well, it would be an easy shot, if you hadn’t put off this one class.

It always popped up, so it’s not like you could plead ignorance. Your advisor warned you, each quarterly meeting, that you needed to get it out of the way. Take it seriously, he cautioned, clacking out his notes, typing down that you’d failed to heed his sage advice, again. If you wait too long, you’re not going to get the professor that you want.

That was the other problem. You’re a procrastination superstar. If there was some kinda award for putting off assignments, you’d have won it ten times over. You liked the heart pounding race to the deadline, the sleepy boasts that you’d tackled the project within hours of its due date.

It’s a stupid habit. Every semester you promise yourself that you’ll do better. You won’t wait, you’ll tackle things one assignment at a time and turn them before the hard cut off at 11:59 pm. Who the fuck did you think you were kidding? Certainly not your friends, or your advisor. He could read you like a book. Hell, he’d even sent warnings.

‘Don’t forget about the deadline for senior registration!’

‘You don’t want to be on a waitlist. You especially don’t want to take one of the harder professors. These are freshman level classes, they’re designed to flunk undergrads. Don’t forget (Y/N), chew them up and spit them out tactics are employed.’

But you had. You’d set an alarm on your phone, then neglected to give it a title, so you’d only chuckled and smacked the chirping into silence that morning, snoozing the all important deadline away.

Fuck.

Most of the classes for biology are wait-listed. No, scratch that, all the classes for Intro to Genetic Biology are wait-listed. You opt into the waitlist for all of them, just in case, and a week later your phone alerts you that one has an open seat. Actually, it has several open seats, too many open seats to be natural. However, you’re not going to look a gift horse in the mouth, so for now, you’re enrolled in BIO 1208: Principles of Cell and Organismal Physiology - For Non-Science majors.

Perfect.

Yeah, no. You’d looked up the professor, since the whole open seat thing was still giving you the heebie-jeebies, and your heart dropped. You’ve heard of him, most of the student body has. His classes are notoriously small. Not because the university limited them, or planned for smaller class sizes. No, his classes are tiny because he is infamous for failing students.

Most, when they realize they’re scheduled for his bio classes, frantically drop, taking the withdrawal and praying for better luck next semester. Others, brave souls who think they can come out unscathed, attempt to grit their teeth and push through. But, by midterms, they’re war torn and haggard, shaking their heads and praying for a ‘C’, at best. Fewer still, pass.

This pedagogy isn’t a sign of good teaching; quite the opposite, in fact. You don’t want your student body failing. Yet, year after year, Professor Tomura Shigaraki keeps teaching the same Intro to Bio class. It boggles the mind, but you’ve never had to worry about it. Well, until now.

When you’d received the notification that you’re enrolled in the B section and spied the name Shigaraki under the professor listing, you’d scarfed down your suddenly flavorless lunch and dashed up the steps to the student advising hall, praying there was some way you could wiggle your way out of this growing disaster.

“I’m pretty sure I told you to take it earlier and to take it in the fall when there are more freshman level classes available. I swear I said that to you. And, AND, I even sent you emails, several times if my sent inbox is to be believed, to NOT forget when senior registration ends.”

Your advisor is peeved. You don’t blame him. He’s right, this is your fault, but there’s gotta be some kinda loophole. Something, fuck, anything, that can pull you from this mess.

“I know, I know! I’m so sorry. You’re right. But, I mean, can’t I just hold off for another week? See if the waitlist clears?”

The man that you’ve known for four years, that’s seen you progress from freshman to senior, steeples his long fingers and purses his lips, likely debating on a tactful scolding, or a firm rebuttal. He takes a deep breath and you can’t help but sink into the soft cushioning of the chair, your nose wrinkled and brow furrowed, mentally preparing yourself for the worst.

“Do you know how many students we require to take BIO 1208?”

“No,” you gulp, nibbling on your lower lip nervously.

“Over 7,000. Do you want to hear the statistics that would need to shake out in your favor for you to miraculously avoid taking this specific class? Nothing is going to open for you, it is this class, or no class.”

You sigh, and your advisor nods, pushing his horn-rimmed glasses up his nose. “Well then, I suggest you brush up on your study skills. Find a classmate that you can compare notes with, join a study group, go to the student union and ask for a tutor. I would hate to see you back here for the summer semester. You’re scheduled to walk the stage this spring and you’ve worked hard for this, so don’t fuck it up, okay?”

You’ve attended this university for four years, but the first day of term always gives you the jitters. It doesn’t matter that you know your way around, or that you know ten professors by name, and bump into several friends on the way to your next building, you’re always buried in your phone, checking and double checking the next class’ room number.

Despite all that caution, you’re lost.

In your defense, it’s your first time stepping foot in the Graduate & Research building and the whole concrete block is a fucking maze. There must be a basement because the numbers don’t match up with the floors and they seem to jumble further every time you round a corner. Like what the hell? How can this next room be GR 3.03.05 when this is clearly only the second floor and GR 2.03.11 was right down that other hallway?

Exasperated, you lean against the nearest wall and tug your phone out again. Shit. Class started ten minutes ago.

Part of you wants to call it a day, end the search here and try again on Wednesday. Maybe take a few extra minutes to scout out the building next time and have some idea of where you’re going before the start of class.

Ugh, why is this so stressful?

It’s the first day of classes. Surely Professor Shigaraki won’t mind if you’re a few minutes late; besides, if you’re lost, others must be too.

You tuck your phone back into your pocket and resume the hunt. Two hallway turns later, you find your mark.

Your hand pauses beside the heavy wood, and you take a steadying breath. Again, why are you so nervous? Just go in and take a seat, it’s easy, stop freaking out over nothing.

The door groans open, hinges protesting the sharp push, and you stumble into a darkened room. The low glow of the projector doesn’t help your blurry vision. Ah, shit, it’s one of those older rooms, so it’s built like a bad movie theater. Oh well, better get to a seat before he spots you.

Swiftly, you make your way toward the raised steps of the aisle and the second row of chairs, plopping into the first one you reach that’s empty. You’re too busy fiddling with the zipper of your backpack to notice that the speaker has stopped his rasping preamble, but as you pull your laptop out the ominous weight of that heavy silence hits you and you toss a hooded stare toward the front of the lecture hall.

Immediately, your eyes land on the professor’s and you feel a low shiver shake up your spine.

He’s watching you.

The gleam of the overhead projector makes his red eyes flash, and he openly scowls at your gaping expression, his lips curling into a dark sneer.

“Well, thank you for joining us, Miss…?”

He’s waiting for your response and you squeak out your last name, mindlessly rubbing your moistening palms against your thin skirt.

“Ah, Ms. (L/N). Now that you’ve graced the class with your belated presence, may I continue?”

“Uh,” you gasp out, your mouth dry, tongue sticking to your teeth, “I’m sorry. I got–”

“I didn’t ask for an explanation, or in your case, an excuse. Or are you now attempting to disrupt this class purposefully?”

“Wha– I-I’m–” your words stumble to a halt, voice failing under the intense glare that he’s giving you. “No,” you finish lamely, ducking your head, nails digging into your sweaty palms.

“Thank you. Do me a favor, stay after class.” His voice is gravel, threatening and low. You don’t like the edge in his tone. It makes your skin prickle and your knees knock. He sounds like the kind of guy that you don’t want to run into in a dark alleyway, or a classroom, for that matter. Even so, it’s not your fault, and despite your feelings of unease, you can’t tamp down your need to protest his unreasonableness.

“But, professor, I didn’t mean to–”

“If I need to repeat my insistence for silence, I’ll make things easier on both of us and fail you now.”

Stunned and fuming, you bite your tongue and lean back into your chair, crossing your arms and blinking back mounting tears of frustration. Great, just great. It’s the first fucking day of class and it looks like you’re already on his shit list. And for what? For being late on fucking syllabus day! What an ass.

You look over at him as you defiantly finish setting up your computer, hoping each pull of a zipper or screen reboot will grate under his stuck up skin. He’s not inordinately tall, or old. In fact, he looks like he might only be in early 30s. He has long white hair that’s pulled back into a low ponytail and, from what you can make out in the dim lighting, some kinda skin condition on his forehead. That, or he’s prematurely wrinkled, and let’s be honest, if he’s gone through life with that big of a stick up his ass, he deserves each and every pull on that mottled skin of his.

You linger in your seat when class is over, lips pulled into a thin line and legs crossed. Finally, when the last student has left the room, professor Shigaraki flips a switch beside his elevated podium, filling the lecture hall with a sharp, fluorescent light. He pauses by his raised computer system and clicks off the overhead projector, blanketing the massive room in an uncomfortable silence.

“Since you missed the part of class where I go over the syllabus, I’ll give you a brief rundown. Under no circumstances will I tolerate tardiness. If you do it once more I’ll mark you absent and three absences knock you down a full letter grade.”

Glumly, you cross your arms and peer up at him, finally able to get a good look at his face. Your first observation was correct. His skin is sharper around his forehead, but his wavy white hair does a pretty decent job of covering up the imperfections. He has two scars: one nicks across his right eye and the other splits down his rough lips, parting the skin and granting him an even more foreboding appearance than his already gruff demeanor does. He’s dressed in a dark pair of jeans and he’s wearing a low slung v neck shirt. It’s a brilliant red and it brings out that otherworldly glint of his red eyes. Shit, you think bitterly, while he’s not conventionally handsome, he’s not exactly hard on the eyes either.

You shake your head against these unproductive musings and curtly snap out a clipped, ok.

“What was that?” Shigaraki scoffs, tilting his head at your sullen figure. “Speak up.”

“I said,” you bristle, eyes narrowing and chin lifting, “Okay, I apologize for interrupting your lecture, it won’t happen again. But, in my defense, if I’m allowed to do that in this class, I’ve never been in this building before, and it’s not like–”

“You’re a senior, right?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Then you’ve had four years to figure out the layout of this university. The excuse of ‘being lost,’ isn’t an option for you. You know the buildings and you’re fully capable of turning up early to sort out the rooms.”

You let out a long sigh and look away, mumbling vague protests. This guy is ridiculous. You’re not a science major and it’s not your job to know the ins and outs of each building. How fucking stupid. Who does he think he–

“Speak up. I won’t ask you again.”

You bite your lip and look back at him but he’s moved in that distracted moment, silently stepping down from his raised platform and is now leaning over the first row of chairs, looming over you. You can’t help your sudden flinch as you sink further into your chair, away from him.

“If you’re gonna complain, Ms. (L/N), I’d much rather hear it. Don’t you think It’s rude for you to mutter under your breath about me? You don’t see me doing that to you.”

“Fine,” you blurt out, turning away from his insistent, and all too close, gaze. “I was saying that I’m not a science major. I get that I’m a senior, but you can’t seriously expect me to know every nook and cranny of this campus.”

“No, but I can ask for you to be a little more thoughtful. I put time and effort into my lessons and I won’t have you undermining them by bouncing in here with those legs and that flouncy little skirt.��

You’re about to counter his little haughty speech on politeness when you finally process that final comment he’d breathed out. Flabbergasted, you raise your head back to his, but he’s already moving away, snatching up his shoulder bag and waving you a curt goodbye as he presses open the squeaky door. “Next class is at 10 am sharp, so be on time Ms. (L/N).”

You’re still slumped in your seat when the door glides shut again, your eyes wide and jaw no doubt comically unhinged.

Wait. Did…did he really just say that?

Obviously, for the next class, you’re early. You’re so early that you’re the first one in the lecture hall. You select a seat toward the back and fiddle with your computer, checking your messages, adjusting your brightness, replying to old emails, anything to keep your head down and attention occupied.

The door opens and, despite your best efforts, your head flies up, expectant and tense, ready to meet those red eyes of his head on, to show him you’re here and he better… oh. It’s not him. It’s two chattering freshmen. One of them gives you a quick smile, but they both quickly take their seats, a few rows over, and continue their soft conversation, leaving you to fall back onto your earlier distraction tactics. You twiddle with your phone and shoot off a few texts, change your wallpaper, accidentally close an app you meant to leave open, and then the lecture hall door reopens.

He steps in slowly, completely ignoring you and the other scattered students, opting to sort out a few papers and set up his login on the school computer. The minutes tick by and you can’t seem to jerk your eyes away from him, suddenly fascinated by his languid movements. He looks more relaxed than he did on Monday, looser and fluid, completely in his element. True to his word, at ten am on the dot he begins class.

Professor Shigaraki has an interesting voice. It’s low, calculated, bordering on a rasp. It’s one of those tones that makes you want to lean forward and listen up, even though he’s only discussing cellular biology. Which isn’t exactly the sexiest topic for that shockingly dulcet timbre of his.

Wait. Sexy?

Your pen falters against your notebook, and your eyes drift up to his frame. He’s switched the lights off again and the shine of the overhead projector is the only illumination in the hall. His white hair gleams in the dim lighting and his long hands animatedly illustrate his points, elegant fingers opening and closing, gesticulating about the intricate nature of the human genome. You’re so focused on watching his movements that your elbow partner has to push the slip of paper onto your collapsible desktop. You blink at the sheet, your pen nearly clattering from your hand, and you twist to peer at the unfamiliar student beside you.

“It’s the attendance sheet and, um, I think you’re the last one,” they whisper, careful to lean away after they finish their explanation, not wanting to draw professor Shigaraki’s ire. You maneuver the paper under your pen and scribble down your name, biting your lip and silently berating yourself for your poor selection in seating. Great, now you’ll have to take the paper down to him after class. What if he talks with you again? Shit.

At 11:25, class ends. You collect your things and plod down the steps, the attendance sheet clutched between your fingers. He’s just snapping the projector light off when you reach his podium.

“I, uhh, have the attendance. You want me to just leave it here, or…”

“I’ll take it,” his hand is extended toward you and those red eyes are fixed on you now. It’s not the same disgruntled stare he’d given you on Monday. No, this look is a little more curious. Again, you’re taken aback by your reaction to him. He’s not even saying anything, just patiently waiting for you to deposit the sheet into his open palm, but there’s something about him that’s making your heart race.

Maybe it’s those eyes of his.

They are an unusual color and they have a strange intensity to them. Right as they narrow, the vermillion shining under the sharp lights; you press the paper to him and he pulls it from you, studying the names that are listed.

You want to say something. Maybe toss him a quick, friendly, goodbye. Or apologize for the other day? Ugh. What can you even say? ‘Gosh, so glad I was on time today! All that fascinating information about the genetic code! So glad to be here!’ No, that sounds stupid and a little patronizing. Besides, why do you want to talk with him at all? He’s an ass, remember?

“Did you need something?”

His question snaps you out of your stupor and you numbly shake your head at him, already lowering your gaze, but his exhaled chuckle makes you pause, your fingers curling around your backpack straps.

“I know I upset you the other day, but I appreciate you taking the effort to correct your mistake.”

“Oh,” you breathe, your eyes finding their way back to his. “Yeah, well, like you said, I’m a senior. Gotta take responsibility for myself someday.”

“Ah,” he smirks, that long scar on his lip quirking upward. “Seems like you’ve got some determination after all. You might be more interesting than I gave you credit for.”

“God,” you scoff, popping out a hip and crossing your arms at the bemused leer on his face. “Just come right out and say you think I’m a bad student, why don’t you?”

“Don’t worry,” he amends, tucking the attendance sheet into his shoulder bag and snapping the clasps closed. “There’s plenty of time for you to end up right back at square one with me.”

He’s already halfway out the door by the time you right yourself from the shock of his last comment and you follow him, a string of low curses falling from your lips.

The spring semester always flies by, and before you realize it, a full month has bled away. You’ve kept that same seat in Shigaraki’s class and at the end of each session you head down to his little platform, attendance sheet outstretched. Each day of class has a different ebb and flow. Sometimes he chats with you and it’s gotten easier to talk with him, both of your eyes holding and lingering, lips raised into calculating smiles. Sometimes it almost feels like he’s flirting with you. Other days he only spares you a curt nod, his white hair curtaining his expression from your curious gaze. You’re not bothered by these silences, not when you’ve got your secret weapon.

The days that you like best, the ones that you plan, sorting through your closet until you’ve found the perfect choice, are the days when you wear one of your skirts. You’d even gone on some skirt shopping sprees as of late. On those days he doesn’t just make some sort of fleeting eye contact with you, no, on those days he stares.

At first, you’d tested out your theory, staggering your outfits, careful to not screw up your suspicions with a hasty miscalculation, but as they say, the third time’s the charm. How did he expect you not to notice? He never bothers to hide those sharp ogles and recently you’ve made a point of dramatically gathering your things when you wear these cute little ensembles, bopping down the steps so his eyes have to work to follow the line of your hips and the long paths of your bare legs. One rainy afternoon you’d worn over the knee stockings, that came to an abrupt halt over the plush skin of your upper thigh, under your mini skirt and he’d practically leapt over the podium to grab the sheet from you, his eyes hooded and dark, almost wild.

“Test, on Friday,” he warns, eyes finally rising to meet your bemused expression. “Don’t stay out too late tonight.”

“What makes you say that?” you ask, brushing at a rogue fold in your skirt, luring him back to your legs.

He scoffs at you, that jagged scar arching into a smirk. “Humph. You’re dressed up. Most of the students just wear the sweats, or pjs, and call it a day.”

“I like to put a little effort in all that I do,” you retort, grinning up at his vermillion stare.

“Yes, so I’ve noticed. You certainly look the part…and you’re keeping up with the workload of this course.”

“Ahhh,” you crow, clapping your hands excitedly. “Are you saying I might get an ‘A’ in this class? Be the first time someone’s done that in a while, from what I’ve heard around campus.”

Shigaraki sneers and tuts out an inaudible reply, leaning a little closer to you, making you inadvertently fall back a step. “Don’t push your luck.”

“Awe,” you pout, crossing your arms over your chest. “I’m doing ok on all the quizzes and the classwork.”

“So far,” he taunts, his pearlescent hair falling over his broad shoulder.

“Tch. Don’t be like that. I’ve been studying.”

“Sometimes it takes more than that.”

“Oh?” you smile, raising your chin. “What else should I be doing, professor?”

“We’ll know that after Friday, won’t we?”

God.

You’d felt so confident when you’d turned in your test and that stupid, horrible, sexy little quirk of his lip scar that he sends you, when you’d handed him your papers, carries you on some strange, half aroused cloud all weekend. Maybe, just maybe, this class won’t be so bad after all.

The tests are handed back the following Friday, passed from row to row so everyone can fish out their papers and marked Scantrons. Yours, since you still occupy that final seat on the back row, is the last. Biting back a grin, you flip it over, so ready to see that A, that grade that you worked so fucking hard for, that… wait.

The gross flash of red across the top of your paper leaves you reeling, your breath catching against the back of your throat. It’s not a terrible grade, well, it wouldn’t be, but there are only three tests in this class, so it’s going to plummet you down to a B. One more fuck up will leave you with a C, or worse, an automatic failing grade.

No. No, no, no, no.

You can’t afford a bad grade, you honestly can’t even let yourself slip to a B. Your fucking cap and gown have just come in and with them that cord that you can wear around your neck at graduation. The one that marks you as honors cum laude. Fuck. You’re already pulling one B, in one of your other classes, because you’ve been focusing so much time and effort on this one. Another B will strip that cord from you, leaving you barren, with a less than ideal GPA.

God fucking damn it.

You glare up at Shigaraki, who’s busy taking the rest of the class through a review of genetic mutations, but you can’t hear him anymore, too incensed, too overwhelmed to even care about what he’s saying. The test crumples under your fingertips, the paper shaking in your hands, and you seethe, your teeth biting your lower lip to pieces.

It’s not fair. You’d paid attention. You’ve taken all the notes. Read all the chapters. Drilled and studied till your eyes had drooped, heavy with exhaustion. You’ve done it all right. Plus, he’d been so fucking flirty, so open with you. You’ve never chatted with a professor this way, never gone out of your way to wear clothes they like, that make them watch you, their eyes hungry pinpricks as you walk to them, mindful of the luscious sway of your hips.

No. Fuck him. Fuck this class.

Before your elbow classmate can leave, you ask for them to hand in the attendance sheet. You barely hear their response, too busy slamming your laptop into your backpack. As you storm past the podium, you can feel his eyes on you. The distant sensation of his gaze makes your flesh prickle, but you ignore your involuntary reaction and shove your way out the door.

“(Y/N), you can’t switch classes this late. It’s almost midterms. Besides, I don’t think anything has opened up and if you’re going to drop it, you’ve gotta get the signature of the professor,” your advisor tells you, blinking at your stony expression over his thick glasses. “I don’t get it. Why do you want to drop it? Your grades are alright and it’s just one test. You can always try–”

“Gimme the paperwork.”

Shigaraki’s office is on the top floor of the research building, tucked away down another winding and weaving hallway that once again requires your careful inspection to navigate. When you finally hit the right set of doors, you slowly make your way forward, counting the numbers up as you pass. His door is wide open, a yawning cavern that’s filled with the distant light of a lamp. You brush a hand down your skirt, smoothing away any wrinkles and steadying your nerves.

You’d tossed on the skirt this morning, before you’d gotten the grade, and you hadn’t thought to go home and change, too consumed by that simmering rage bubbling within you. And now, like this fucking class, this skirt felt like a mistake, something stupid and vapid that you wished you had time to change out of. He’d told you he liked your attire, liked that you put effort into your outfits. At the time, you’d been so thrilled and excited that he’d complimented you, but now you wish you were confronting him in baggy jeans or lazy sweats, anything that would turn that avid gaze of his away from you.

Lost in thought, you waver beside his open door, nibbling on your lips and tugging at your clothes. It’s now or never. No point in putting it off. What’s the worst that can happen? What can he do now? Or, a darker side of you whispers, what do you want him to do to you? What? That’s a stupid thought, you scold yourself, lifting a hand to the wall and rapping against the beige paint, announcing your presence.

When the sound fades away, swallowed up by the empty and darkened hallway, you poke your head around the corner, searching for him. His head is tilted quizzically, and he blinks twice when he spots you, that all too familiar smirk lifting his lips.

“Ah, Ms. (L/N), what can I do for you?”

His voice is softer than usual and your name sounds like honey, his tone resting on the syllables and consonants for a beat, almost as if he’s savoring their lift, their sound. You can’t help but swallow heavily at his appraisal. Suddenly this may be a terrible idea.

Ugh. Get a grip (Y/N).

“I-I need you to sign this withdrawal paperwork,” you finally reply, digging in your bag and tugging out the thin leaflet, holding it out to him. He’s silent after your demand, meditatively threading his fingers and peering up at you, his red eyes bright.

“Step inside and shut the door behind you,” he instructs, his gaze never falling from yours. Despite the simplicity of his request, you can’t help but bristle at his imperious tone. Why does he always have to sound like that? Like he’s seconds away from taking control of the situation, or of you? He’s always one stupid step ahead, and no doubt he’s going to try and talk you down. Or, he’ll sign it and say that he always knew you were a screw up, someone who only did things halfway, who could never match up to his lofty expectations. Humph, the sooner you’re outta here and out of his class, the better. So, you obey, closing the door and petulantly flopping into the unsteady chair that sits in front of his low desk.

He maintains that uneasy quiet, his red eyes whisking over your disgruntled face, waiting, watching. Unable to take this strange standoff, you push the university paperwork toward him, sliding it as close as you dare to his bent elbows. “I would like to withdraw from your class,” you repeat, lips setting into a thin line.

“Why?” he asks, cocking his head so his loose white hair falls a little further down his rough brow.

“Something came up.”

“Hmm, I can try to work with a new schedule, if it’s your job, or home life,” he counters, eyes narrowing as he sharpens his observations of your brittle expression.

“It’s not that,” you smart, crossing your arms. Great, he’s going to make this difficult.

“Then I suggest you tell me what’s on your mind,” Shigaraki replies, mirroring your movements and leaning back in his chair.

“I don’t think this class is working out for me.”

He exhales a soft laugh at your lie, and you watch that tiny mole at the edge of his chin lift in his quiet mirth. “This is a freshman level course and you’re a senior. You’re in my class because it’s likely the last pre-rec that you need to take before you graduate.”

“Um, yeah. But–”

“And now, you’re wanting to drop it because of one poor grade.”

You grind your teeth and fix him with a stark glower. “I–”

“There will be two other tests. If you read your syllabus, you’d know this.”

“I read the syllabus. Your tests are worth a stupid amount of points and it only takes one of them to tank my grade.”

“Frankly, you did better than most of the class. You only need to work on practical application. I said that the written portion would be a major component of the exam. I also provided you with a review and a rubric. So I’m not sure–”

“Your grade drops me to a ‘B’, and that ‘B’ pulls me from the honors list. And… well… I thought that…”

“Oh? What did you think?” he presses, his voice suddenly dropping to that lower octave it had drifted into when he said your last name.

“I thought I’d get a better grade,” you spit out, turning your head and biting at your lip again.

“Why?” he counters simply. His obtuseness is making your blood boil.

“What do you mean, why?” It takes all of your will to not slip a ‘jackass’ into that question.

“It’s not a hard thing to answer. I graded you fairly and according to my rubric. Why exactly do you feel you merit a different grade than the one you earned?”

You fall into a frustrated silence. You can hear your heart pounding against your ribs and you want to scream at him, to leap over his desk and shake him until his teeth fucking rattle. Your shoulders are rising and lowering disjointedly and his vermillion eyes are honed in on your face, shifting over your pinched expression with a distant interest. You can feel tears pricking at your eyes and you hastily rub a fist over them, brushing away any rogue drops of moisture.

“How can you ask me that? You think I didn’t notice you staring at my legs? Or that you always had something to say to me when I was wearing a skirt? What was I supposed to think, huh? I fucking thought shit like that was gonna help, ok? God, I’m so stupid. I can’t… fuck.”

Shigaraki arches forward when you finish, a deep sigh leaching through his parted lips. His teeth snap together when you look up at him, your eyes gaining back some of that earlier defiance, and he gives you a quick grin, clearly pleased by your shift in attitude and pushes your paper aside, fixing you with a dark look. “Here’s a thought, since you feel you’re so different, I’ll make you a deal. I’ll give you a chance to make up the score.”

“I don’t care about the score anymore. I wanna drop your class,” you snap, but it’s a halfhearted barb. Something has changed in his demeanor. He’s dropped the concerned professor act and is leaning so close you can hear his steady intakes of air. He’s only a few inches away; if you want, you could touch him.

“I doubt you want to attend a class in the summer. Besides, they won’t let you walk if you haven’t finished your freshman level courses. And you can’t tell me you don’t want to graduate, to earn that cord that lets you into the honor cum laude. So stop pouting and hear me out. I think you’ll like what I have in mind.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever like anything about you,” your voice is sharper than you mean it to be, but the challenge makes Shigaraki smile. As it crosses his cracked lips, it pulls that scar up and it makes those eyes of his glow. He looks like the cat that’s got the cream and you’re not sure how to respond, so you cross your legs and wait for him to make the next move.

“You sure about that? Well, I’ll have to change your tune then, won’t I? But that can wait, lemme tell you what my requirements are. I’ve got a copy of the textbook in here. I’ll have you review some of the major concepts, you’ll read the passages aloud so I’m sure you’re on the right track, you’ll hand the book back to me, and then I’ll verbally quiz you over the material. If you answer them correctly, I’ll bump you to an ‘A’ on your test.”

You have to actively work to keep your mouth closed. “So, you just want me to read from the book?”

“Yes.”

“And… answer questions?”

“That’s what I said,” Shigaraki smirks, already reaching toward his bookshelf, tugging the heavy Intro to Biology text out and shifting it into his large hands.

“Stop being so suspicious,” Shigaraki scolds, drawing your wandering attention back to him. “I don’t bite, that is, unless you want me to.”

Your eyes boggle and you have to clench your thighs tighter, your stomach churning, you feel light-headed and you can feel your core fluttering with your sudden arousal. “Wh-what did you just say?”

“Stop gaping at me like that, you’ll make me blush. Now come on.”

Your jaw snaps closed and you shake your head, trying to clear your mind from your whirling emotions. He takes this reaction as a surrender and stands, stepping toward a marred table that rests a little ways away from his desk. He licks his thumb pad and flips through a few pages before finally settling on an appealing section. Once he places it on the table, he twists back to you and crooks a finger your way. “Come here,” he orders, his voice deep and languid. Obediently, you rise on unsteady feet, hands tugging at the length of your skirt, careful to keep it pressed down as you walk toward him.

He makes space for you to stand in front of the book and shifts back, one hand resting on the table, propping him close to your bent figure. You look up at him, but he only nods his head toward the table, a wicked smile curling the corners of his lips. Blink a few times but finally, the words clear and you can see the block of text that’s in front of you. It’s passages on DNA encodes and RNA proteins, hefty stuff, things that you had to make flash cards for. This isn’t going to be easy. If anything, he’s picked some of the harder concepts, the ones that take steady knowledge in the foundations. Flustered, you look back to him, but he’s moved. He’s leaning against the wide window beside the table, a dark mark against the glass.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, a laugh bubbling in his tone.

“There’s no way…” you stammer, shaking your head at him.

“Want me to throw a curve in?”

“I should ask what kinda curve, but knowing you, it’s likely gonna be something terrible.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” he rumbles, stepping away from the window and leaning close to your stiff form. “It just takes an open mind and some enthusiasm on your part.”

“Enthusiasm?” you question, trying your best to withstand his closeness. You can feel the heat radiating off of his broad shoulder and if you tilt a little nearer, you could graze against him, or feel his breath on your skin.

“You’re right,” he amends, his forearm contacting your side. You startle at the touch, a gasp falling from your lips, but you don’t pull away and you can’t stop staring up at him, your eyes wide. “Obedience is a better word. From here on out, whatever I tell you to do, I expect you to obey it, although it’s not exactly, ah, school approved.”

“You want me to suck you off or something?” you sneer, hoping to stumble him off his guard, even if it’s only for an instant. Too bad he’s always one step ahead.

“Don’t be vulgar. Think outside of the box, (Y/N). Do you think I’m going to go for something so short sighted when I could have you bending to my will? Obeying every little demand that I make? I’d much rather see if that skin of yours tastes as good as it looks, then simply have you on your knees. No, I want you to fucking scream for me while I stuff you full of my cock. But first, you need to put in some work. You should know that by now.”

Oxygen is suddenly very hard to come by and you can feel your mind hazing over as you stammer up at him, your mind flitting from word to word disjointedly. Shigaraki grants you a wolfish grin, and he dips his lips beside your ear, whispering over those tiny hairs that rest against your tender skin. “I’ll make this part easy. Nod and I’ll give you the first set of instructions.”

What did he say? Nod? What happens when you nod? Fuck, why are you letting him do this? Is your grade really worth it? Are you that desperate that… that…

Shigaraki is whispering other promises over you as you war with yourself, speaking his words gently, slowly, his breath hot as it fans over your neck. It’s like you’ve fallen under some kinda spell and before you realize it, your traitorous head is bobbing up and down, letting him know you want him to keep going.

“Perfect,” he sighs, his lips grazing over the shell of your ear, jerking a shiver from you. “Now, lean forward and put your hands against the table.”

You do as he says, but he’s not satisfied with your positioning, his fingers wrapping around your wrists and yanking you forward, jutting your ass out and pressing your chest down, maneuvering you until your nose is right above the pages of the textbook. “There we go,” he rasps, pulling away so he can admire your splayed form. “Hmm, your legs are too close together. Spread them.” Knees trembling, you obey, gasping when he runs a palm against the curve of your thighs.

“You’ve got such nice legs (Y/N), so let’s put them on display, shall we?” His fingers search against the top of your skirt and they still when he reaches his prize: the zipper. When he pulls it down, you let out a sharp squeak of protestation but he silences you with a swift pinch to your side.

“Now, now, don’t be like that. You nodded, remember? Besides, you could have left when I told you I’d give you a curve but you couldn’t help yourself could you? You want me to keep going and to do that, I need you to take this skirt off. No, don’t move. I’ll get rid of it for you. Why don’t you focus on the task at hand, hmm? Aren’t you supposed to be reading for me?”

You arch away from his fingers and he chuckles at your impudence, one large hand hooking under your chin and pulling you toward his face. His red eyes blaze as they find yours, the dark pupils threatening to swallow up that deep vermillion. “Let’s start with the second paragraph. If you do well, I might grant you a reprieve.”

Jerking your face from his grip, you twist back to the text, trying, and failing, to ignore his inquisitive fingers, unable to resist sighing as he works one up your inner thigh. He pauses when no words fall from your lips and you grumble out a few low curses before acquiescing to his silent demand.

“The flow of genetic information in cells from DNA to mRNA to protein is described by the Central Dogma, which states that genes specify the sequence of mRNAs, which specify the sequence of proteins. The decoding of one molecule… the… the… molecule… by spec-specific…”

He’s slipped your skirt down over the swell of your ass, but he’s taking his time, flexing out the front of the material and dipping his fingers over the bump of your lower stomach, kneading into the delicate flesh that’s stretched out for him. You can’t help the twitch of your spine and you involuntarily wiggle, palms slipping forward, dragging you further along the tabletop. Shigaraki chuckles above you, running his rough lips over the back of your neck.

“You’re so sensitive. I’ve barely touched you.”

He circles his hands back to your skirt and edges it along, lowering it sharply on one side and then giving the same treatment to the other. You’re doing your best to keep up with your stammering readings, but it’s difficult when he keeps sighing and running his long nails across your newly bared skin. Finally, he works the skirt down and it thumps against your bare ankles; the fabric tickling your skin.

Meanwhile, his other fingers skitter against the elastic band of your rapidly dampening panties. Once he hooks the lace under his hand, he yanks them along your legs, trailing them sinfully slowly, ensuring that they glide down the billow of your thighs. His teeth nip at your ear when you stumble to a halt in your recitation and your hands tense over the grains of wood beneath them, your nails pinching into your palms. “If you stop, I stop,” he warns, his head bumping against yours, his sharp nose pressing against your pulse.

“You’re not exactly making this easy,” you grumble, doing your best to ignore his renewed pets and strokes.

“Stop complaining,” he smirks, leaning away from your head to peer at your newly exposed flesh. “You better pay attention to what you’re reading or you’re not going to pass the questions I’ll be asking you.”

“Yeah, yeah, ow!” you squawk, whipping your head around to glare up at him. He fucking pinched you again! This time, he’d slipped his hand between your spread legs and tweaked your inner thigh, painfully.

“Read,” he repeats, running those guilty fingers upward, lingering beside the heat of your cunt, careful to not get too close. When you start on the next sentence, one of his hands tugs up the fabric of your shirt, snaking upward until he’s thumbing against the wire of your bra. Once again, you falter to a halt and exhale a wavering breath.

Goddamn it. This review is no review. You’ll be lucky if you can even recall what a cell is if he keeps this up. You hear his ominous intake of air and quickly resume your recitation, mumbling something about RNA and mRNA differences.

Wait. Didn’t you just…

“Looks like you’re having trouble listening to me. I told you to read aloud, not to repeat the same passages over and over.”

“Hey, at least I’ll have a firm grasp on those. You should ask me something about that s-section… ah–”

The hand that was resting under the cup of your bra has made its way underneath the lightly padded material, and his thumb and index fingers have trapped your peaked nipple between them. As soon as your snarky comment left your mouth, he’d twisted the bud, squeezing it until it throbbed.

“Pay attention,” he commands, shoving your bra upward, freeing the globes of your breasts and cupping both of his broad hands under them. Your abused nipple stings and the mixture of sharp pain and jarring arousal goes right through you, stoking that coil that pulsed within your core, and sending a tacky flush of your essence down your spread thighs.

The next few words are a struggle. The text keeps blurring and your breaths are coming in fast and heavy. Shigaraki is still feeling you up, keeping his lips close to your ears, rasping sharp commands to you and dealing out lightning fast rounds of pinches and squeezes each time you falter.

“I–I can’t… I don’t even know what I’m reading anymore,” you bemoan, your hips pressing against the edge of the table, legs trembling as you attempt to keep them apart. He’s deliberately ignoring your throbbing clit and a desperate edge is creeping into your voice.

“Are you always this whiny? Fine. I’ll give you a moment to read without any distractions.”

Thank God.

True to his word, he slips away from your back and you’re left shivering against his sudden absence. Despite your quaking, you’re determined to make the most of this chance and you quickly read out the paragraphs that are on the second page. As you ramble down to the last bit of text, you realize you can’t hear him anymore and when you finish the last sentence; you start to really wonder where he’s drifted off to. A tense silence follows your completion of the material and you arch up on the tips of your toes, jutting your ass out and stretching the stiffened muscles of your lower back.

“Didn’t say you could stop reading, and judging from all of your complaints, I don’t think you got some of those earlier concepts, so I’d suggest doing a quick review,” he taunts, the sudden rasp of his voice startling a low gasp from your lips.

He’s close; somewhere behind you and to the left from the sound of it. You try to twist around, your chest lifting from the table, and when he notices, his hands return, creating a rough pressure against your neck as he forces your body back down. His weight plasters you to the surface, scraping your partially exposed stomach and tender breasts over the nicked wood. Shigaraki is merciless in his swift correction, his breath puffing out angrily behind you. “Didn’t say you could move, either.”

Stunned, you freeze. Your arms are arched awkwardly, but he keeps his weight against you, flattening your breasts and forcing your back to arch into an awkward bend. Fuck, you think, how are you supposed to stay like this? Your legs are already aching and if he shifts away again, he’s likely going to expect you to maintain this absurd pose.

“Yes,” he groans, his voice catching against the word, “Good girl. Now, stay just like that.”

Damn it.

“Go on, read the first part again,” he instructs.

“The entire genetic content of a cell is known as its genome and the study of genomes is gen-genomics. In eukaryotic cells, but… but not in p-prokaryotes, DNA forms a complex with histone proteins… with histone proteins… sub-substance… of…”

His teeth have latched onto your neck, and he’s sucking bruises into your tender skin. He’s still pinning you to the table, but his hands are widening their explorations. He’s started dragging a fingernail across the puffy folds of your cunt, teasing against the dripping and swollen flesh, chuckling when you buck against his hold.

“You always seem to lose it when you get to cellular modulations.”

“I–I–It’s not… I can’t help that you keep…” you whimper, your fingers curling under your palms, head shaking back and forth. You can’t think. He’s not being fucking fair, and you can’t even string your goddamn words together. Shit. “Y-you’re not being fair,” you accuse, falling on the only thing that keeps running through your mind, your splayed feet shifting uncomfortably under you.

“Not fair? Not once did I say fairness would come into this arrangement,” he lifts himself off of your back and leans beside you, one arm planted beside your crooked elbow. His fingers trace over the curve of your ass, cupping at the thickest part of you and squeezing.

“But don’t worry, I’ll make sure you get a little satisfaction out of this arrangement. I bet you look good when you cum. And you’ve been working so hard to get my attention these last few months. So careful to do what I tell you. Looking at me with those big eyes of yours, all wide eyed every time I catch you looking at me. And don’t even get me started on your lips. You’re lucky I didn’t fucking bend you over after class, especially when you started wearing all of those cute little skirts for me. Ahhh, don’t moan like that, I won’t be able to help myself if you do. Let’s see how you’re doing, shall we?”

Without warning, he slips his longest digit into your cunt, groaning loudly when he’s sucked into your welcoming heat. Your pussy, hungry for any kind of scrap, ripples around his intrusion, clamping and pulling, desperate for more.

“Fuck,” he groans, his weight falling against your shoulder. “You’re soaking.” His elegant digit pushes deeper and you roll your hips under him, urging him closer, sighing when he sinks to the last knuckle. As he pulls his finger back, he adds another, swiftly v-ing the two before curving them together as they slip back out, dragging a steady line of pleasure from your quivering cunt. Shigaraki whispers another round of awed praise against your ear, his voice dark and breathless.

A third digit is added on another trip out, and it creates a ragged sensation within you. It’s close to what you like, but he’s stretching you too far and it’s starting to hurt. He either needs to speed up, or give you a little more pressure. If you can hump your clit against the edge of the table, maybe it’ll give you the friction that you need. When you mindlessly buck your hips, your thighs threatening to lose that spread, he stops, holding his fingers inside you, laughing as you agitatedly try to shift him back into his earlier rhythm.

“So eager. I’d say you’re ready for my questions.”

“W-what?” you gasp, wholly focused on making him restart the push and pull of his fingers inside you.

“I’ll start you off with something easy. What’s the cell membrane?”

“W-what? The cell… ah–”

“Answer me. Now,” he grunts, leaning forward, re-steadying you as his fingers pull outward, dragging against your sensitive folds and schlicking through your arousal lewdly, loudly. You moan and your eyes roll back, completely ignoring his demand as you fall into the haze of pleasure that comes after his movements.

His free hand travels up your neck and he tangles his fingers into the tendrils of your hair, yanking and jerking at the strands, demanding your attention.

“I said, answer me.”

“Shigaraki–I–fuck. I can’t even… ugh… think right now!”

“Do you want the grade, or not?” he questions, his voice tense. “Answer correctly and I’ll give you what you want.”

“I–I don’t think I can,” you whine, pressing your hips back as he thrusts his fingers forward again, curving them upward, searching for the spongy pad of nerves that rest against the front of your pelvis.

“Oh? What happened to wanting that A? What about your graduation? You gonna let me fuck up your entire college career? I can do it, you know. I’ve done it to so many simpering freshmen. I fail kids left and right and you’re no different, (Y/N).

The university lets me ahh–there it is! God, you’re so fucking wet.

Where was I? The university can’t say no to me; they let me do what I want. I bring in too much money, too many tempting grants, and that’s all they really care about. So what’s it gonna be? Let me see that you can answer this basic crap and I’ll pass you. Or would you like for me to tie you down and force it outta you another way?”

He’s picked up the pace of his fingers as he rambles over you and a swift press against that newly discovered spot inside you has you falling to pieces in his hands, popping up onto your tiptoes and rutting yourself against the surface of the table. “O-ok, God, ok! Just–fucking repeat the goddamn question,” you pant, head slumping forward, forcing his fingers to tighten against your hair to hold you upright.

“What is the cell membrane?”

You wince your eyes closed, trying to rack your brain to focus on something other than the heavy pressure of the three fingers that are teasing their way across your dribbling pussy. He’s moving his presses with a lackadaisical, inconsistent rhythm now and it’s hard to fucking think. You can’t tell if his next thrust will be hard, or soft, or so rough that it’s bordering on that bittersweet line of pain.

You shake your head, doing your best to ignore the mounting pressure that he’s building inside you and the ache of your neck and legs. Finally, after another sharp tap against that secret bunch of nerves at the front of your cunt, you latch onto a vague remembrance.

“It… it’s a double layer of–of phospholipids that make a boundary between the cell and t-the surrounding… ugh… it controls the passage of materials.”

“Very good. Elaborate on the cellular wall.”

He’s unrelenting in his domineering treatment, twisting and frigging his fingers each time your breath hitches, and your arousal is leaking down your legs, making your skin stick and pull. It’s too much, you can’t! How can he even ask this? Words are falling from your lips incoherently, and all too soon you’re gasping out his name rather than reciting the answer.

“Cellular–oh, fuck, Shi–Shigaraki–Please, keep–don’t stop! S-Shigaraki, God that… feels… ah–keep going!”

He ignores your request and pulls his fingers away, robbing you of that sweet pressure that he’s so carefully mounted within you.

“I’ll count that one as incorrect. Your ‘A’ is swiftly becoming an ‘A’ minus, (Y/N)” he snarls, his teeth gritted, hands falling to the swell of your hips, wet fingers digging into your soft skin.

“What? No! You didn’t give me enough… e-enough time! How can–can you expect me to answer that qui-quickly!”

“Let’s try another.”

It hurts. That ache that he’s drawn out of you is starting to sting and throb and he’s being such a dick about it! You twist and grind under him, and he traps your disobedient hips against the rough siding of the table.

“I don’t–” you protest weakly, your legs trembling and chest heaving under his weight.

“Do you want this? Wouldn’t you like to pass this class? To graduate with honors?” he growls, leaning closer, his hands braced against you, his fingers no doubt leaving bruises on the supple crest of your hips.

“You’re such an ass! Yes! Fuck, please! I–I want it so fucking bad!” you cry out, your voice drifting into a sob as you croak out the last plea.

“Then answer another question. What’s diffusion?”

“D-diffu-diffusion is the process by which molecules move from an a-area of… of… fuck- of high concentration, to low concentration. Shigaraki!”

“I should count that as another miss, but you got the major concept correct.” He removes his fingers from your waist and yanks your ass toward him, keeping your overeager hips away from the fleeting relief of the sturdy table. “Pop your legs together,” he commands, one hand wrapping around your arched throat, squeezing until you obey. His other hand drops to that thatch of curls that rest between your quivering thighs and he gathers up your gossamer strands, rubbing against your clit for one hazy instant, sending a flash of spots across your vision.

“Mmm, now that’s a pretty sight. Good girl, don’t move,” he reminds you and you want to scream at him. Right before you can spit some frustrated vitriol out, he’s releasing your neck, his hands dropping from your skin and letting you fall back to the uneven surface below. Just before your chin contacts the wood, his hand is back in your hair, tugging you upward, holding you a few inches above the table. The sharp pain makes your scalp tingle and you unconsciously rut against the tempting heat that’s now plastered to your ass. He’s hard. You can feel the stiff bulge of his cock straining against the front of his dark jeans, pressing into the cleft of your posterior.

“T-that’ can’t be comfortable,” you pant, twisting your head so you can look up at him from the curve of your shoulder.

“Oh? You worried about my cock?” he asks, his red eyes flashing down at you challengingly. You don’t bother giving him a verbal response, opting instead to grind your ass up, catching against the jut of his length, earning yourself a low groan. His lips curl when you repeat the motion and you realize you love watching that smug face of his drift into a look of tense pleasure. It makes his scar on his lip flush and those red eyes of his fall to a lazy half mast. He spies your arched brow and pleased grin and pushes himself off of you, leaving you alone and open on the table.

“Keep pushing your luck. I’m more than happy to drop you back to a B.”

“What?” you scoff, teeth clinking together as you clench your jaw. “I didn’t move!”

“No, but you’re trying to take control of this and we can’t have that can we?” Shigaraki sneers. “Now, how shall I punish you?”

“P-punish me?” you stammer, a chill racing down your spine.

“Ah, I know. This’ll really piss you off,” he twists from your strained gaze and walks back toward his desk. What? What the fuck does he mean? You can’t see him from this angle, not with the way your legs are stretched and back is lowered, but it doesn’t stop you from trying, your chin lifting upwards as you do your best to keep him in focus.

Ugh. It’s no use. He’s slipped past your field of vision.

Hearing is likely your best bet, so you shift your forehead back to the table and listen, straining your ears to pick up any morsel. Something opens and closes and you catch the sound of the wheels of his chair as they shift, squeaking across the floor, and the groaning of the springs when his weight is applied to the cheap leather.

Okay, so he’s in his chair. Is he just gonna look at you? That’s not… wait…

There’s a faint clicking sound.

It’s both familiar and unfamiliar to your ears, but once the teeth slide over the last pull, you realize. It’s a zipper.

Oh fuck. Is he going to jerk himself off? With a gasp, your head whips back around. He’s still positioned himself away from you, and you can only just make out the sounds that are accompanying the undoubted rise and fall of his fist. All you can see is a tiny sliver of his body, but you catch sight of the coiling muscles on his neck and you notice that his head is dipped forward, pearl white hair settling across the cut of his collarbone. The one red eye that meets yours is blazing and hungry, it makes every hair on the back of your neck stand up.

God, he’s staring at you, watching you, getting himself off as you’re half naked and bent over a desk in his office, fully subjugating yourself to his whims and fancies for the sake of your grade.

Damn it, (Y/N). This should not be a fucking turn on. You should be disgusted, but the flush of slick that drips down your thigh says otherwise.

He lets out a choked moan, picking up the pace of his hand, letting you hear the click and slip of his palm as it strokes up and down his cock. A shiver echoes up your spine and your hips seem to have a mind of their own, grinding your clenched thighs over the dip of the table, easing the clenching pulsations that your cunt is shuddering through you.

“Look at you, so desperate for my touch that you’re humping the fucking table. Such a dirty girl, and so disobedient. You’ve only answered a few of my questions correctly and yet your slutty little mouth and body keep pushing at me. Making me put you in your place. Let me ask you something, why should I go out of my way to fix your grade when you can’t even prove to me you understand the simplest concepts?

Ah, here’s a thought. What if I told you I’ll wave the other requirements; no more readings, no more quizzes, but I won’t let you cum? What if I just get myself off? You’re putting on a such a good show for me! Why should I bother with seeing that you’re satisfied when that table seems to do the job for you? Sound good? Or would you like for me to come back over there and make you cum?”

“I–I don’t… I don’t want…” You can’t get the words out, your tongue feels leaden between your lips and you can’t think of anything but the steady itch that’s spreading from your clit.

“Speak up,” Shigaraki demands, slowing his jerking fingers. The chair he’s sitting in groans as he leans forward, and his eyes wide as they take in the delicious sight that’s propped before him. “You don’t want to cum? Is that it? You’d like for me to get myself off and leave you there?”

“No!” you cry out, your fingers digging into the scuffed wood of the table. “I-I want you to make me cum.”

There’s a sharp clatter and you jump at the abrupt noise. It must be the chair you think, your heart pounding against your chest, waiting for Shigaraki’s next move. He only lets a few seconds drift by before he presses himself back to you. He leans his broad chest over your back, the front of his legs pushing against the back of yours. His exposed length is wedged firmly against the cleft of your ass and its tempting hardness makes you squirm under him, but he’s propelling you forward, pinning you against the rough wood, and you can only flail uselessly under his control. His lips skim over your neck and he bites into your skin, sucking and licking bruises as he inches closer to your pulse.

You say his name pitifully, wantonly, and he lets out a shaky gasp. Something about your tone has shifted something within him and you can feel his cock swelling, dripping a rope of wet pre-cum down your shaking leg.

He leans away, removing his sticky hardness from your ass. “Seems your priorities have shifted. You’re a little preoccupied right now, aren’t you?” he asks, his voice gravel scraping against your overwhelmed senses. You let out a weak moan and he snaps into action, his fingers pushing under your flattened stomach and tugging against the fabric that he finds. He yanks you upward, pulling your shirt up as he goes. His palms dip under your half lifted bra, and he cups at your breasts, massaging the rounded bulbs and plucking at your peaked nipples. Your head lolls back, and he sucks at your earlobe again, his breath warm and rasping as it passes by.

“Hold still,” he commands.

It’s not an easy position, this stretched upward arch that he’s forced you into, but it’s worth it when you feel his cock pushing between your tensed legs. He doesn’t thrust into you, opting to run his weeping tip against your slippery folds, pressing until his bulbous head is twitching against your pulsing clit.

Goddamn it, you think as he stills, his lips smacking open-mouthed kisses over your shoulder, it’s not enough. You wiggle your hips back and forth and he abruptly exerts a firm pressure against your windpipe, leaving you sputtering and gasping. “What’s wrong? Not happy with this? Do you think you deserve something more? Do you think you’ve earned that?” He shoves you back against the surface of the table, his broad chest following the plane of your back, trapping you under his heavy form.

You’d replied, you know you must have, but you can’t hear yourself anymore, your attention attuned to the warm length that’s pressed against your shuddering folds. You’d likely thrown in a please for good measure because Shigaraki rewards you with a quick peck to your shivering neck and his thumb, swirling it around your clit, creating a cresting ache that leaves you mumbling incoherently, a thin line of drool slipping from your parted lips. As he keeps that faint osculation up, your fingernails scrape over the wood of the table, your feet lifting you onto your toes, curving your back, and shoving your leaking pussy into his open palm.

“Greedy little thing, aren’t you?” Shigaraki says, a breathy desperation lingering around the edges of his rasping voice. “But it’s just not enough, right?”

You nod, licking up some of the excess saliva that’s built under your heavy tongue and crane your head back at him. His eyes are the first thing you see. They’re wild, ravenous and glinting with a roughness that makes you whisper out a soft whine. Fuck. It’s not supposed to be like this. You’re not supposed to want him this badly. Goddamn it. Now that he’s caught your gaze, he won’t let you look away, and he presses himself closer, his cock twitching and warm, the tip rubbing back and forth, keeping time with his circling thumb.

“You gonna fuck me, or not?” you finally ask, unsticking your lips and smirking up at his hardened face.

“Tch. Don’t rush me,” he grumbles, removing his hand and teasing cock from your cunt, watching as your body convulses under him, your pussy quivering against the excess stimulation that he’s wrought over you. Your thighs burn, aching to break free from his control, to rub against that throb, that tingling that keeps shuddering outward.

“One more question,” he tells you, lifting his dripping thumb to his lips and sucking off the traces of your arousal. The sight of him licking his pink tongue over his gleaming knuckles almost makes you lose your balance, your arms shaking precariously under you.

“A-another? Come on,” you pout, your eyes following the curve of his wicked lips, watching as his scar quirks upward, amused by your useless defiance.

“Make you a deal, answer it correctly and I’ll give you my cock. Sound fair?”

“Ugh, whatever, just hurry up,” you snap, so impatient and turned on that you can hardly think.

The tip of his cock presses against your sopping entrance, pushing forward just enough to part your dripping folds but stopping before he clears that first, tight ring of flesh. The promise of his dribbling tip makes you lose any semblance of self-control. You thrash under him, but he traps your disobedient hips against the rough siding of the table.

“No! Don’t stop! Come on Sh-Shigaraki–Don’t be such a fucking–ah–”

“Do you want this? Do you want my cock?” he growls, leaning over you, his fingers squeezing down, no doubt leaving bruises in the supple crest of your hips.

“Yes! Fuck, please! I–I want it so fucking bad!” you cry out, your voice drifting into a sob as you croak out the last plea.

“Then you better answer. What are cytosines?”

“They… they’re n-nitrogenous base… fuck… base that pair… that pair with guanine during D-DNA replication… I–please, please, Shigaraki! Fuck me! I want your cock! Fuck me, fuck me!”

Thankfully, he either takes pity on you, or can’t control himself anymore, his hips surging forward, gliding his thick length into your cunt and snarling at the mind numbing heat that waits for him. He keeps driving upward until he bottoms out, sharp hipbones grinding against the plushness of your ass.

He’s not gentle with you, no he’s animalistic and raw, his thrusts papping into you with a terrifying strength. You would have liked something slower, something that lets you enjoy each imperfection and dip that raced along his cock, but this, oh, this is an exception because this is perfect. It’s not what you want, but it is what you need.

The heavy fullness that he’s stuffing you with leaves you breathless, but you somehow manage to gasp out a string of nonsensical praises each time he drives back into you, overwrought by his roughness.

This coupling isn’t kind, isn’t right, and is not healthy, for either of you. No, not with the way he’s using your shivering body, distracted with slacking that euphoric thrum that’s making his cock pulse and swell inside you.

But fuck it feels good and you can’t help but tremble with delight. These intoxicating thrusts of his ram him up against something that’s buried deep inside you, and each time he hits it another star of bright pleasure races through you. The familiar coiling of release is steadily mounting with each rapid fire rut he gives you and if he could just, ah, there’s something that’s… no, fuck, it’s, it’s not going to work. It feels good, but it’s missing one vital ingredient, one thing that he’s neglected to pay attention to, to notice.

Your clit needs to be tweaked and rolled, and right now it’s pulsing away against the table, beating a sad tattoo into the grainy wood. Oh well, you think, head fuzzy, lost in the euphoria of his powerful cants, grinding your ass into his hips as he digs into another teeth chattering thrust. He’ll likely finish soon, and you’ll probably need to get yourself off later. It’s not something new, and it’s not like he’s going to care enough to focus on that, on you. This whole thing has been about control, so there’s likely no room for your own pleasure.

“What’s wrong,” he gasps out, his fingers lifting from your hips to curl beside your turned head.

“What? N-nothing–I–” you pant, eyes rolling back as he hits that spongy patch of nerves again.

“Tch. Hold on,” he interrupts, his voice rasping and breathy. He pulls himself out of you with a grunt and yanks you upward, hauling you onto the tabletop and flipping you on your back, bending your stiffened legs and bracing your knees against his lean forearms.

He holds you apart, spreading you open with his powerful hands. You can see him properly now, and the sight makes your breath catch against the back of your throat. Fuck, he looks good.

His long white hair is draped across his bare shoulders and his eyes are blazing pits of hunger, devouring the sight of you with those red irises. His jaw is clenched, and he glares down at you from his imperious height, his nostrils flaring as he drags in a quick intake of air. To your shock, he gives you a little time to acclimate to this new position, opting to languidly step forward, letting his slippery cock head press and tease at the dip of your opening. But right when you think he’ll move again, he stops, his eyes roving over the lines of your face.

His sudden stillness makes you peer quizzically up at him and you scoot closer, your feet lifting from the table. The movement snaps him out of his stupor and he grabs your ankles, roughly pinning you back down.

“Keep still,” he snarls through clenched teeth, that scar of his lifting.

You nod mutely and he rewards your unquestioning obedience with another powerful thrust, sinking his swollen cock back into your waiting cunt. He lets out a sharp groan and grabs at your hips, jerking you forward, already drifting back into that all-consuming rhythm he’d started earlier. His ruts are a little slower from this angle but, in no time at all, that familiar ache pools in your core, stoking and building at an alarming rate. The driving force of his hips soon has you blinking back spots and distant stars, and this time he adds the all important pressure of his thumb, circling the finger pad over your clit and dragging a broken moan from your quivering lips.

“So that’s what you needed. You close?” he grits out, his lips set in a curled scowl. He’s lost some of that early control, his hips stuttering as they connect with yours, his power lessening, cooling, as he looks for your release.

“I–I think–oh fuck, do that again. Yes! Just–ah!”

He angles your hips upward and gives your clit another quick oscillation, pressing down until you’re gasping. “There you go. That felt good. You’re getting tighter,” he laughs, looming over you, shoving your heaving chest downward as he jerks your hips into him, forcing your body to do most of the motion, making your shoulder blades scrape across the uneven wood. “Cum for me. Fucking cum on my cock, (Y/N). Cum and I’ll give you your A, I’ll give you whatever the fuck you want.”

Your spine arches as you break around him, your cunt greedily pulling him deeper, slipping him past the barrier of your tender cervix and earning you a weak shout of praise from Shigaraki. Seconds later, he’s pulsing and twitching against your walls, the warm pooling of his cum filling you up and spilling down your spread thighs.

His head drops to your shoulder and the rough skin of his forehead sticks to your sweat dampened flesh. For a long moment you’re both still, each of you struggling to catch your breath, luxuriating in the tingling sensation of release.

“I fucking hate you, you know,” you gasp out, your arms circling his back, fingertips etching vague patterns over his neck and shoulders.

“Ha,” he snorts, “I’ll have to remember that. Don’t worry (Y/N), I’ll pay you back for that little remark next time.”

“Oh? Next time?” you chuckle, moaning as he twists out of your hold and pulls his softening length out of you.

“I’ll fail you on every assignment if you try to keep away,” he threatens, his eyes falling to the gaping mess that he’s left behind. You cross your legs, denying him the satisfaction of leering at your dripping pussy.

“Fine. But next time, fuck me on something softer than a damn table.”

tags: @spicy-skull, @xwildskullx, @yixxes, @ghstmthr, @rekoii, @diaouranask, @bat-eclecticwolfbouquet-love, @libiraki <--- i’m coming for you. you’re gonna have to read for this, lady. so, uh, i’m officially noneconing you here.

notes: you made it! this thing is a monster & i’m so sorry i can never stfu

#shigaraki tomura #tomura shigaraki #reader insert #shigaraki x y/n #shigaraki x you #shigaraki x reader #bnha smut #9 to 5 collab #bnha degeneracy server #collaboration #tw: unhealthy relationship #tw: teacher/student #tw: dubcon #tw: bribery

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ao3komorii · 3 years

Text

About Time (Timeskip Dimitri/Reader)

Decided to start transferring my works over, starting with my oldest oneshot from ao3 with Dimitri! It’s technically Dimileth since I like the Dimitri pairing from Byleth’s position, but it’s fully in 2nd person and I don’t use any names for Reader or anything.

This oneshot was entirely born from having a thought of “what if Dimitri accidentally saw Byleth’s boobs and then freaked out.” Also, this one is set after Dimitri comes out of his emo phase, but before the final battle in the BL route. Just a note, there is sex at the end. Enjoy :)

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You did not find yourself in over your head much anymore these days, but you also had a talent for finding new trouble.

You had been backed into a corner by multiple soldiers, and a horrible giant beast. The beast’s jaw opened slowly, revealing its gleaming teeth, dripping with a black substance as the soldiers by its side advanced, lances drawn and all pointed towards you. The Sword of the Creator at your side was growing weary, and you knew that it would not be enough to defeat the enemies in front of you.

You knew that your former students were on the battlefield somewhere, but you couldn’t see them beyond the great beast that caged you in by the wall. Either way, this was too dangerous a situation for them anyways. You could only hope they would stay away. Use the chance to escape while this creature feasted on your flesh and gnawed on your bones. You didn’t want to die, but you would not allow yourself to be the cause of any of your students’ deaths. It would break you. If anyone had to die, it should be you.

You held up your sword, ready to fight back, but the onslaught still overwhelmed you. You were able to quickly take out a few soldiers with the last remaining swipe of your mythic sword’s power before their lances got too close to you. You had no time to bask in your small victory as your sword refused to spring into action after your first swipe, only functioning as an average sword, and a dull one at that, as it lost all its power. And with its elongation use now locked away from you, you would only be able to defend yourself from close range.

This immediately proved deadly for you, as you swerved to avoid the creature’s teeth, but found yourself on the receiving end of an enemy’s lance as it sunk in and out of your shoulder. You screamed with pain and shock as you sunk down to your knees, dropping your sword to press a hand over your wound. It hurt so badly, and you looked up as a shadow loomed over you to see the monster and remaining soldiers all radiating with the satisfaction that they were about to snuff your life out. You couldn’t even gather the strength to pick your sword back up, the pain in your shoulder was too great. Even moving your hand sent unbearable jolts of pain up and down your arm. You could do nothing but watch, eyes drawn to the lance of the soldier that had stabbed you, what must be your blood dripping off the tip and onto the ground.

You felt all hope leave your mind as the abomination’s jaw opened wide, preparing to blast you with fire. Too weary to continue looking up, you turned your head down in defeat, hoping that your death would at least come fast. You heard a loud shout, but it was not enough to keep you from falling on your side, no strength left in your body to allow you to remain up. Your eyes slid closed, and death felt imminent.

You felt like you were fading, and the sounds around you faded along with your hazy consciousness. There were sounds of screams and horrible growls, but you didn’t know what they meant, and couldn’t really rationalize anything but the extreme pain you felt. There was so much screaming and so much pain. It was hard to even think at all.

“Professor!”

A voice broke through your haze at about the same time you felt the pain lessen by a small fraction. You heard your name called, with more insistency, and you felt annoyed. You just wanted the pain to end so you could sleep. The pain was so great that in that moment you didn’t mind dying if it would end the pain.

“If she falls unconscious, we won’t be able to save her!” You heard a soft-voiced woman assert.

“Professor!” the calls of your name and title got louder, and more insistent, and your forehead felt wet as one voice rang out louder than the rest. “Please, Professor, I can’t lose you too...”

The pain lessened a little more, becoming less all-encompassing, and you allowed your eyes to open. You found your vision blurry until a warmth took over the feeling of pain in your shoulder. A call of your name focused your attention directly above you.

Dimitri was crying. It was the first thing that struck you as you gazed up at him, tears freely flowing from his uncovered eye. His eye lit up when you looked at him, and you felt the world beneath you shift.

“Dimitri!” an airy voice angrily broke the quiet. “Don’t move!”

You were confused, and moved your head, unintentionally shifting your shoulder and sending a wave of pain through it as you went limp against Dimitri’s lap, where you found yourself realizing that your head was resting in. You closed your eyes tightly in response to the return of extreme pain, much worse than you had ever felt before.

“Professor, not you too! You must not move!” the woman insisted.

Your mind felt clearer once the pain faded again to a dull ache and the warm feeling took over. You realized at once who that voice was, and you opened your eyes to look at Mercedes, who was by your injured shoulder sending healing magic into the wound. That explained the familiar feeling that you couldn’t place. She met your gaze, unable to form her usual smile as she turned back to focusing on your wound. That confused you, and you turned your head ever so slightly to look at your injury without agitating it again.

You understood Mercedes’ current urgency. Your shoulder looked horrible. There was a large rip in the shoulder of your cloak, likely ripped further by Mercedes in an effort to get better access to the wound. There was so much blood, it matted the ripped fabric around your wound to your skin, making the area feel sticky.

Most worrying was the blood nearest to the wound, if it was even your blood, was bleeding an oily black. Mercedes wiped a hand over the wound, clearing it to reveal a patch of gray skin surrounding the stab wound.

“What is that?” Came Ashe’s panicked voice.

“The enemy’s lance was poisoned, clearly,” Felix stated with a short glance behind him.

You looked beyond where you were to realize that the area behind where you lay was covered in the bodies of the enemies that had just been closing in on you. The great beast was killed with no mercy, some of its limbs meters away from its actual body. You couldn’t stand to look at what was done to the Imperial soldiers; some with deep slashes, charred, or with arrows sticking out of their heads. It looked horrible, but not unusual for the battles you regularly faced.

“But poison couldn’t work this fast!” Annette protested.

“I’ve heard of weapons being enchanted with poison before,” Ashe explained.

“Enchanted with poison...” Dimitri echoed, expression tense. “What does it look like to you, Mercedes?”

Mercedes looked up from your wound to meet Dimitri’s eyes, but quickly looked back down. “Her wound isn’t responding to my magic. If we don’t do something, I fear she may die.”

Mercedes looked sad and scared, but Dimitri’s growl brought your attention back to him in an instant.

“There has to be something we can do to save her!” His desperate gaze morphed into one of hatred, one you thought you had seen the last of after Rodrigue’s death. “Tell me who I must kill and I will do it.”

“Spoken like a boar,” Felix interjected. “You think she has the time for you to go on a murderous rampage?”

“Felix...” Ingrid protested lowly and sadly.

“Then what would you have me do, Felix?” Dimitri replied, anger clear in his voice. “She is dying, you can’t expect us to do nothing!”

“I expect you not to-” Felix started.

“Stop it!” Annette cried. “You guys need to listen to Mercie!”

Mercedes nodded toward her best friend as Felix and Dimitri reluctantly went quiet. “There is one way to save her, but we will need everyone’s help.”

“Me and Mercie came up with a plan!” Annette smiled softly at Mercedes, expression belying a reluctant confidence. “Healing magic can’t touch it, but regular magic should be able to negate its effects enough for healing to work on it again!”

“And the only magic strong enough to fend off this dark poison is Annie’s fire,” Mercedes explained. “Annie will burn off the infection, and then I will heal the wound.”

“You want to burn her?” Sylvain implored, shocked. “I know she’s tough, but...”

“We don’t have the time to think of any other solution,” Ingrid said sadly, gesturing towards you. “Grey is spreading down her arm.”

Everyone’s eyes shot over to your arm, and you lazily swept your gaze over as well to see that the grey skin tone had travelled down your arm, halfway towards your elbow. The grey patches looked rough, and unlike any affliction you had ever seen before. You wondered if the Imperial army had been exploring darker methods to kill than simple weaponry and monsters. It didn’t surprise you, but you should have seen it coming.

“What do we do...?” Ashe asked quietly, as if he wasn’t ready to hear the answer.

“You all must hold her down while Annette burns the infection away,” Mercedes answered. “It will be very painful, but if she moves, she could get hurt, so you must keep her still.”

Dimitri looked torn as he brushed some stray hairs from your face. Even through the excruciating pain, the gesture embarrassed you. Dimitri looked to be mentally weighing options as a stray tear slipped from his chin to drop on your neck. The tear was a momentary relief, a distraction, but Mercedes couldn’t keep you from feeling all the pain in your shoulder, her healing magic seemingly less and less effective by the second as the pain began to grow stronger.

“Professor,” Dimitri said, trying but failing to keep emotion out of his voice. “What do you want us to do?”

You didn’t trust your ability to talk at the moment, and so you kept eye contact with him and nodded the best you could, which ended up being two slow rises and falls of your head. You could only hope that he understood what you were trying to say. He stared at you for a few seconds before he broke eye contact.

“Dedue, Felix, take her legs,” he instructed, and the two men moved quickly towards your lower half. “Ingrid, Sylvain, take an arm each.”

The four requested students each their place at one of your limbs, and Dimitri slowly let you out of his lap, your head now resting on the ground as he made his way over to Annette and Mercedes by your injured shoulder. “I will ensure she does not move her shoulders.”

“Um...” Ashe spoke up hesitantly. “It’s not much, but I brought along a book I’ve been reading, and she might need something to bite down on, so she doesn’t bite off her tongue.”

He offered the book to Dimitri, who accepted it gratefully, and with no choice, you bit down on it when Dimitri brought it to your mouth. You would have been embarrassed if you weren’t so anxious about the somehow worse pain to come. At Dimitri’s signal, your legs and arms were restrained, ensuring that you could not move them at all. When he checked that everyone had a secure hold on you, Dimitri put one hand on your uninjured shoulder, and one on your upper chest, just above your breasts. His head was just above yours, his long hair tickling your cheeks.

“Just keep looking at me,” he whispered, voice then rising in volume. “Annette, now.”

Annette didn’t reply, but she didn’t have to. Seconds after Dimitri’s words, you felt the worst pain you have ever felt in your entire life, putting the extreme pain from before to shame. You wanted to scream, but you knew you shouldn’t, even in your haze of pain. You just bit down on the book as hard as you could to compensate. Someone held one of your hands and you squeezed their hand as hard as you could, which must have been painful, but they didn’t pull away or let go of your hand.

A whisper of your name had you looking back up to Dimitri’s face. He looked fairly upset, but the intense levels of pain you were experiencing kept you from being able to reassure him. He smiled, a clearly forced smile, but didn’t look away from you at all, which gave you no insight into how it was going with your shoulder aside from the momentous pain, which was so hot that it now felt cold. The pain was so white hot that you had to close your eyes, teeth digging into the book’s cover.

“You’ll be alright, professor,” Dimitri said quietly. “We can’t lose you.”

You knew that your students would be destroyed if you died here. You knew that they would all fall apart. So you endured the pain quietly, you had no other choice. You couldn’t leave them alone after all you had all been through. You tried to stay still, but suddenly the brutal pain increased tenfold. You screamed around the book, trying to thrash your limbs, but your students remained steadfast, restricting your movement.

“Annette!” Dimitri barked, taking his gaze from you but not his hands, which kept you pressed down.

“I’m sorry, it’s... it’s fighting against my magic! Professor, I’m so sorry!” she replied tearfully.

“We have to keep going, Annie,” Mercedes’ voice broke through the panic. “She has no chance if we don’t keep trying!”

With that, the incredible pain returned, and you once again regained the unpleasant taste of the book cover in your mouth as your teeth sank into the dents you had made previously. Everyone was so quiet while Annette and Mercedes worked that you could hear everyone’s breathing, and Dimitri sounded close to hyperventilating with how heavy his breaths sounded. You looked up at him, but he was looking over at your injury, not at you. He looked like he was about to cry again, and it being due to your strategic negligence was weighing on you at the moment.

He wouldn’t look at you and looked openly panicked. You thought he would eventually feel your eyes on him, but he didn’t. He just continued to stare at the work being done on your shoulder, which you couldn’t see yourself because Mercedes and Annette blocked your sight of it entirely. You were getting used to the horrific pain at this point, so you managed to remain still. Maybe Sothis helped with your pain tolerance, since you knew that even with the pain levels you had experienced in your life, an average person could not possibly remain as still as you were able to during this kind of a procedure.

“Mercie!” Annette cried.

At once, the burning started to fade, as the familiar feeling of Mercedes’ magic took over, engulfing your shoulder in a light so bright that you turned your head away from it and closed your eyes. There were gasps and murmured words all around you and all at once you had a range of movement in your limbs again as everyone released their tight holds on you. Dimitri, however, kept his hands where they were, and you assumed he would wait until he knew that you would be okay.

Annette and Mercedes finally backed up from your sider, allowing you a glance at your shoulder. There was nothing, not even a scratch, or the third-degree burns you were expecting from the fire magic. The grey patches of skin had receded entirely with Annette’s eradication of the strange poison magic. You were in awe of Mercedes’ magic, but you were far from the only one who was.

“Remind me not to get too far away from you on the battlefield, Mercedes!” Sylvain joked.

Sylvain’s words brought Dimitri out of his stupor and he finally released his hold on you as you reached a hand up to remove the now soggy and dented book from your mouth. You weren’t sure what to do with it since Ashe would clearly not want it back now.

You sat up as everyone else began standing up, your muscles screaming in protest. From the pain that riddled your shoulder from all that had been done to it to the soreness in your limbs from being held down by people who put all of their strength into keeping you still, you were in pain, but not deathly pain. You waved off the chorus of worried voices asking if you were okay; you were just sore, not dying!

Ignoring their protests, you slowly stood up, only for an arm to slide around your waist. Ready to scold Sylvain for choosing now of all times to flirt, you looked over to see a stubborn Dimitri gazing back at you, frowning with concern. It wasn’t like he had no caring before you were able to bring him out of his ten-year thirst for revenge, but he almost went overboard with how much he showed that everyone mattered to him now. And with that knowledge, you knew you weren’t about to win whatever argument he was about to start about your safety.

“Be careful, Professor!” he chided, refusing to let go of your waist even as were found you were able to stand properly. Not without soreness, but properly enough. “You can ride back to the monastery with me.”

You could walk just fine... probably. Your hesitation to accept must have shown on your face, because it started another bickering war.

“She’s fine without you being a mother hen,” Felix stated dryly.

“Felix!” Dimitri admonished, not removing his hold on you. “She was barely alive moments ago, and you want her to walk all the way back to the monastery?”

“In case you haven’t noticed, her shoulder is fine. Do you think she wants you to baby her when she spent months trying to get you to behave like a person and not an animal?” Felix retorted.

You would rather try to walk, to help preserve your pride, but you didn’t have the chance to speak up before the two started fighting. You weren’t sure how to break up this fight before it got worse, but luckily it was resolved for you.

“And you two think arguing about this is going to make her feel better?” Ingrid said angrily, making her way over to you. “She will ride back with me.”

Felix scoffed and turned away, while Dimitri went silent, allowing Ingrid to put your arm around her neck as she led you over to her waiting pegasus. You would have time to thank everyone for their help later. The whole experience and then the arguing had tired you out, and you just wanted to rest. So you got on the pegasus ahead of Ingrid and allowed her to take you back to the monastery, where you could get some sleep and recover.

You were pushing yourself too hard and you knew it. You were still unhappy with how you had fared in the battle with Imperial troops a week before.

And here you were, a few days later, training in the rain in the forest just outside the monastery. You had been swarmed by the students worrying about you, and your sword hand was itching to get back into practice. Nobody would agree to train with you due to your being in recovery, and Dimitri had insisted that you rest immediately, somehow even more protective of you than he had been when you were actually injured. You understood their worry, but it was getting tiring being told to rest, so you went to practice outside of the monastery to avoid everyone’s worry.

Just your luck that it was raining, but there were battles still to be fought, so you couldn’t slack on your training. You were going stir crazy, and so you found a dead tree and began practice. The dead tree was considerably more dead looking several hours later, now bearing many stabs and slashes across it. You finally took a break and sat against the tree, surrounded by bark that littered the ground around you, dislodged from your training.

You swiped a hand under your bangs with disgust. You hadn’t realized how sweaty you had gotten, but it felt nice to do some solo training the way you used to before you became a teacher. You were tired but felt assured that you were maintaining your sword skills even after sustaining such an injury. The rain was pouring even harder now, though you hadn’t noticed until you took a break. It must have been evening now, but with the harsh weather, it was hard for you to tell at all. The rain didn’t bother you, so you continued to lean against the tree, clothes totally soaked, but feeling at peace in that moment.

You knew you couldn’t stay out there forever, and so you finally sheathed your sword and stood up. Casting one last glance at the dead and beaten tree, you set back off towards the monastery. Nobody else was outside due to the awful rain, and even the merchants had temporarily closed shop. The gatekeeper, determined to do his job regardless of weather, was just under the archway and greeted you with surprise, noting your soaking wet form. You gave him a smile and reassured him that you were alright, and then continued on your way back to your room to rest for the night.

Your route back to your room took you through the entryway where you were greeted by various students and members of the church alike, who all noticed your current condition. You walked by them with a smile, brushing off their questions, until you passed by Dedue, who was just outside the dining hall. Or you tried to, as he casually stepped in your way, causing you to stop short to avoid bumping into him. You looked up at him, confused.

“Professor,” he greeted. “Are you alright?”

You nodded, not sure where this was going as you went to go into the dining hall, and he moved to block your way again. “His Highness has been looking for you.”

“...why?” you asked. You had seen Dimitri earlier, so what had happened in the past few hours that he needed you for?

“No one has been able to find you for the past eight hours,” Dedue answered. “His Highness is worried.”

Past eight hours? It had only been a few hours... at least, that was what you had thought. You had been told before that you got really focused when you trained, but you didn’t think you had taken four hours, let alone double that time!

You thanked Dedue for the information, and he only moved out of your way when you agreed that you would go meet Dimitri immediately outside your room, where Dedue told you the king had decided to wait for your return. Heaving a mental sigh, you crossed through the crowd of people getting a late dinner and made your way to your room. Just getting to the block of rooms, you noticed the broad figure with unruly blonde hair right where Dedue said he would be. Looking at his figure, you remembered your initial shock at his transformation, but it had been overpowered at the time with relief that he was still alive after five years of war. As if he could hear your footsteps over the sound of the rain, he turned his head to face you as you made your way over to him.

“Professor... where were you?” he asked, and you couldn’t think of what to reply, so he pressed onward. “You think me reckless, but you go out to train in the pouring rain when you are not yet fully recovered?”

You were surprised; how did he know? You must have looked startled because his serious expression melted away with a genuine laugh as he reached a hand out to brush along your hair, or so you thought. He brought his hand away from your hair to show you and you stared at the twig that he held in his hand, the bark of the twig rotten and dead, much like the tree it had come from.

“I can’t think of any other activities you would do in the rain with your sword at your side and end up with this twig in your hair,” he remarked. “You know, it usually is the professor that lectures their students about working too hard.”

“You haven’t been my student in a long time,” you mused.

“You may not be officially our professor, but we all rely on you for so much,” he replied thoughtfully. “You cannot expect us to not worry when our professor works herself to the point where she is liable to pass out from exhaustion in the woods without telling anyone where she has gone.”

You immediately felt sheepish. He really had you there. You wouldn’t be able to face them if you had been abducted or killed when you had told nobody where you were going or what you were doing.

“Please don’t look like that,” he implored you. “I am not mad. We just don’t want anything to happen to our favorite professor.”

It seemed like they would all keep calling you professor, even though you were all equals now. You had some really stubborn former students, you mused with a smile. Dimitri then reluctantly allowed you off the hook so you could get some rest. You both said your goodnights as you went into your room and Dimitri left for his. As you stripped yourself of your heavy, wet cloak and armor and climbed into your bed, you resolved to be a little less reckless with your training. You also wondered how long you could keep such a promise in times such as this.

It was hot. So hot. It was all that consumed your mind and body. Suddenly you realized that you had woken up. And you were only wearing a top and shorts, but you were burning up. With a groan, you assessed the situation. You felt sluggish, and so, so warm. Your throat felt sore and sitting up in your bed made you feel nauseous, so you quickly laid back down. You had to face facts; you were clearly sick.

You knew it had to be the rain. You were outside in the rain for eight hours and overexerted yourself. The combination was a bad idea, but unfortunately you did not see it like that at the time, so here you were. Sick and feeling miserable, unable to get out of bed for fear of throwing up. You didn’t even know what time it was, but you knew that being awake was doing you no favors. You didn’t feel like being awake in this state anyways, so you had only one choice. Gardening and tea parties would have to wait until you didn’t feel like you had just drank poison.

The feverish heat you felt kept you from sleeping however, which made you even more miserable. Feverish and now irritated that you couldn’t get to sleep, you decided to just remove your top and chest wrappings, your shorts taken off as well for good measure. You had never slept in just your underwear at the monastery before for fear of someone barging in your room without knocking, but at this point you didn’t care. Seteth’s lectures about propriety be damned. You just wanted to be less overwhelmingly warm, and so you laid back down in just your underwear, not bothering to put the blanket back on and curling up in the hopes that sleep would finally come.

“I’ve had that one before! Remember when we had that visiting professor at the sorcery school? I think she made these for us!” Annette exclaimed excitedly.

Mercedes nodded as she flipped the page of the new sweets book they had purchased at the market, and they both stared curiously at the next page.

“Ooh, I always wanted to make some of those!” Annette said, pointing at the colorful pastries that were illustrated on the page.

“Me too, Annie! We really should make some to share with everyone,” Mercedes replied.

Their excited chatter was interrupted as Dimitri strode by their table in the dining room for what Annette estimated was likely the fifteenth time that day. He had hardly eaten what would be considered a basic nutritional amount of dinner before he resumed his cycles around the monastery.

“Dimitri!” Annette called out to him as he was about to pass them to leave the dining hall, and he stopped in front of them. “ Mercie and I were thinking of making some sweets and having a little party with everyone!”

Dimitri seemed distracted as he responded. “Oh, Annette... that would be...”

“Are you alright, Dimitri?” Mercedes interjected. “You look like you have something on your mind.”

“Oh...” Dimitri replied stiffly, coming out of his thoughts for a moment. “Has the professor been by here?”

“No,” Mercedes shook her head. “I haven’t seen her all day.”

“Is she okay? Do you want us to help look for her?” Annette pressed, sweets book all but forgotten in worry.

“She should be fine...” Dimitri trailed off. “Sorry for bothering you both, your idea sounds wonderful.”

And before either woman could protest, Dimitri exited the dining hall in a hurry, not even glancing behind him, cape fluttering with his movement. Mercedes and Annette could only watch in a haze of confusion and concern, their questions unanswered.

If you were out training in secret again after overworking yourself in the rain the previous day... no, Dimitri dismissed the thought. He had already looked in the forest and located the tree that you had cut to ribbons the day before. You could have gone farther into the forest, but he thought that unlikely as well. You had seemed regretful when the two of you had spoken at your door the night before, and he thought it unlikely that you would immediately break a promise to him, especially after he had told you how much you and your health mattered to all of them.

It occurred to him just then that he had neglected to check your room. It should have been the first place he checked, but it had slipped his mind. He would have to go check now. You may have decided to relax in your room for the day, and then he would have been worrying for nothing. Although he knew that you had a healthy appetite, but nobody had seen you in the dining hall at all, which was very strange.

There was nobody at the dorms, or if they were, they must have been inside their rooms. Dimitri was able to arrive at your door with no hassle, but he couldn’t hear any sounds from inside. He knocked politely, but to no response at all.

“Professor?” he called out as he knocked again, louder this time.

There was still no reply, which vexed him. If you didn’t want to see anyone, you would have replied to inform him of that. Which left only one thought running wild in his mind; you must have gone out to train and been injured. Or been injured yesterday and were now in too bad or a state to even talk. Once the thought entered his mind, he was consumed with worry. Reaching out and finding the door locked, he did not spare any thought before he slammed his shoulder into the door, bursting open the lock. Without a moment to spare, he thrust open the door and rushed into your room.

“Professor-” Dimitri exclaimed, but his eye widened in shock as he took in the scene in front of him.

The room looked fairly normal , a similar state of cleanliness to what it had been the last time he had visited you here for tea. Your blanket was half draped on the end of the bed and half on the floor, but none of your sparse belongings were out of place.

Dimitri found you immediately, and his cheeks immediately felt hot. You did not appear to be injured, and he was easily able to discern this because of your lack of clothes. You were curled up on your bed... in only your smallclothes. Dimitri’s mind went blank as his focus was drawn to your bare breasts. He didn’t know what to do, and he felt like he couldn’t breathe. He knew what breasts looked like, but he couldn’t remember seeing any bare but yours at this exact moment. He was transfixed, even though every instinct of his was telling him he had to look away, to protect your modesty.

And then you moaned and brought him out of his stupor. Now that he thought about it, you did not look very well. Still unsure if he was making the right decision, he closed the door behind him before making his way over to you. He removed a glove and placed his hand on your forehead, having his suspicions confirmed. You were burning up, clearly sick from training in the rain for so long the day before. He presumed that you had not left your room the entire day, which did not seem good, considering you must have spent the entire day unconscious and fevered.

He wanted to cover you up, for the sake of his waning composure, but you didn’t have the time for that and he didn’t want to overheat you further. He would have to try to disregard his embarrassment for the moment, because you needed his help, and he didn’t know how to explain to one of the women around the monastery that he had busted down your door and found you nearly naked. And you would never forgive him if he had others see you compromised like this. It was already bad enough that he had seen you like this.

He quietly left your room, glancing around to confirm that nobody was around to see him coming and going from your room so late. It was a cold night, but it did nothing to calm him down at all. Your body was beautiful, and he couldn’t get it out of his mind as he fetched a small bucket of water and a cloth before returning to your room. He mentally braced himself before opening the door to find you in pretty much the same position you had been in, laying on your back.

Prioritizing his worry for you over his shyness, he closed the door gently behind him and walked over to your bedside. He carefully wet the cloth, wringing some of the excess water out before moving your bangs to the side and placing the cloth on your forehead. You exhaled loudly but evenly in your sleep, which he took to be a positive sign.

He ended up not getting a lot of sleep that night. He stayed in your room for quite a while into the early hours of the morning, dunking the cloth in the cold water again whenever it began to be overcome by your body temperature. He never felt his lack of sleep at all, practice, he assumed, from all of his sleepless nights spent longing for revenge. He had never slept as well as he had since he had allowed himself to be free of the burdens of his dead loved ones. Not free from his obligations to them, but now he would channel his resolve into freeing Fódlan from Edelgard’s tyranny as opposed to the mindless bloodshed that he had surrounded himself with for the majority of the past five years.

You were such a comfort to him, one he thought he had lost a long time ago. You had supported him and been by his side, and he was too consumed to appreciate it until after he lost Rodrigue. He wouldn’t make the same mistake again. Not with you and all of his former classmates and friends surrounding him. They did not want him to be consumed and lost to revenge, and now he understood that the dead did not want that either. But he was not free from the choices he knew he would have to make soon, it was something that weighed on his mind. He did not want to kill his stepsister, but as he went to wet the cloth again, he was glad you would be with him when he made that decision. He needed your support, and he resolved to support you as well as he could, especially given your recent hobby of being reckless with your own health and safety.

Feeling your forehead, he was relieved to discover that your fever had finally broken. You may not have been fully healthy again, but if you were at least a normal temperature now, then he knew that he had done his job. You were still nearly naked though, and he would likely be an unwelcome sight when you woke up, and so he took the cloth and bucket and stood up. Better that you did not know he had been here; it would spare at least you of the embarrassment. But as he quickly fixed the lock back into place before opening the door and closing it behind him, he knew it would be a difficult feat to erase the sight of your uncovered body from his mind any time soon. You were so pretty, and it was all he could think about the entire way back to his room.

You woke up slowly, eyes still closed but aware that you were now awake. Your middle of the night wakeup felt almost like a dream compared to how you felt now. You felt somewhat bad still, your throat not fully better and limbs still feeling a bit heavy, but the incredible fever you had felt earlier had all but faded. You must have really been doing poorly, because a glance outside the window told you that it was morning.

You supposed that you might as well get up; there was no way to assuage worry except going to interact with everyone. You would feel better eventually. You knew that the students would worry about you. Getting up and checking with your calendar, you discovered that you had spent an entire day and night in bed.

You slowly put your clothing back on, happy to discover that it had dried all the way, pretty much a given as it had lain in a heap for over a full day on your floor. You probably looked awful after your high fever, so you headed out of your room and towards the bathhouse to freshen yourself up. Just as you went to enter, Ingrid was leaving, her hair obviously wet, and you exchanged smiles as you passed by each other.

The bathhouse was almost completely empty, save a few women, but none of your students. It made sense that there weren’t a lot of people up this early in the morning. There had just been a big battle, and there were still more to come. Everyone worked so hard, so you felt that they more than deserved to sleep in if they wanted to. But you were more than happy to finally be free from your bed, and so you stripped down and got into the water in just your towel.

You took your time to wash your hair and body, happy to not feel gross for the first time in a while. Only after scrubbing yourself to your utmost satisfaction did you relent and get redressed, leaving the bathhouse behind and feeling fully refreshed. Stifling a yawn, you decided to head over to the dining hall as your stomach yearned for food after so long without.

“Good morning, Professor,” Mercedes greeted you as you both entered the dining hall together. “Did you also hear that they would be including sugar scones in today’s breakfast menu?”

You hadn’t heard anything about menus at all, but any food sounded good to you at this point. You couldn’t remember if you had eaten sugar scones before, but they sounded like something you would like. You and Mercedes walked up to the front of the hall together, both accepting a plate of assorted muffins and colorful scones that were sparkling with sugar.

“Oh, I just love these!” Mercedes spoke cheerily as the two of you found a free section of table and sat down across from each other. “Have you had sugar scones before, Professor?”

You shook your head no and she giggled. “Well, I would recommend spreading some Albenian berry jam on them,” she informed you happily, gesturing to the small dish of red jelly that was situated in the middle of your plate. “These are one of Annie’s favorites, so I thought she would be here by now…”

As if on cue, Annette burst through the doorway to the dining hall, almost tripping as she skidded to a stop just in time to turn and rush towards the dining hall staff for her tray of breakfast sweets. She waved happily at you and Mercedes as she passed you to get to the front. The two of you watched, amused, as Annette was scolded by the head chef for running in the dining hall. She sheepishly apologized and received her tray of sweets, which brought a smile back onto her face as she turned and made her way over to you, taking a seat next to Mercedes.

“Sorry I’m late! I thought scone day was tomorrow!” Annette explained as she took in the sight of her breakfast tray.

“You’re so forgetful, Annie,” Mercedes teased with a smile.

“Well at least I got here in time!” Annette huffed, wasting no time in smearing jam all over one of her scones and taking a big bite out of it.

“That is true,” Mercedes agreed, before turning her head to look at you. “Do you like them, Professor?”

You had tried a bite while they were talking, spreading the jam like Mercedes had suggested, and found that you did like them. You must have missed it when these had been served in the dining hall before. You had eaten an entire scone by the time Mercedes had asked the question, and you were interrupted before you could answer her.

“Mind if I join you ladies?” Sylvain asked from behind you.

“Of course, Sylvain,” Mercedes replied, and he slid in right next to you with his own plate of food that he placed down in front of himself.

“I feel like I missed seeing your pretty face around here the past few days,” Sylvain said, popping an entire scone in his mouth as he looked over at you.

“You never change, do you?” Ingrid said wearingly as she sat down on your other side. “You think that she hasn’t had enough of your behavior already?”

“Ingrid…” Sylvain groaned. “She got a hole cut out of her not that long ago, I just want to make sure she’s okay.”

“And you thought your flirting would heal her wounds?” Felix raised an eyebrow as he sat down next to Mercedes. “You delusions never end.”

“Hey, why is everyone turning on me?” Sylvain complained, and you laughed. “Not you too, Professor! You wound me!”

Now Annette and Mercedes laughed, while Felix rolled his eyes and Ingrid smiled and shook her head. You all ate your breakfast while chatting, slowly adding Ashe and Dedue to your midst. Even when Dedue didn’t appear to be coming to sit with your group, Annette called his name and beckoned him over to join your table, while Ashe was convinced as soon as he saw your group all together. It was very lively, and almost made you forget that there was a war looming over you all. But just because you would soon have to kill or be killed yet again did not mean that you couldn’t enjoy the company of your lively house members.

“Hey, shouldn’t Dimitri be up by now?” Annette wondered out loud.

“That’s true,” Ingrid agreed. “He’s never been one to sleep in.”

“I can go and check his room,” Dedue volunteered. “If he is not there, then he may-”

“No need!” Annette replied. “I see him now! Dimitri, over here!”

The tall blonde king had just walked into the dining hall, and looked your way at Annette’s call, noticing your entire group all sitting together and walking over to approach you all. Before anyone could stop him or insist that he didn’t have to, Dedue was up from his seat to grab Dimitri a plate of breakfast from the cooks at the front. Some other people stopped Dimitri to talk quickly or greet him, and so he arrived at your table just as Dedue had brought back a plate for him, which he accepted gratefully, knowing better than to try to dissuade his friend from performing errands without being asked by this point. He sat down next to Dedue, and Annette got up to bring over some tea to share with everyone. It was the most cheerful that you all had been during this time of war, and you could not recall a time when you had been happier.

You talked with Ingrid about how her pegasus was doing, and she happily invited you to come flying with her if you would like, to which Mercedes and Annette chimed in that they would love to fly with her as well. Meanwhile, Sylvain on your other side informed you that his horse was available for riding lessons as well, to which Ashe mentioned that he wanted to improve his riding skills, and Sylvain looked marginally defeated. You were having so much fun talking with everyone that you didn’t notice anything amiss with Dimitri at all.

“Are you ill, Your Highness?” Dedue said, with no intentions of being discreet with his volume management. “You have not touched your food.”

Everyone paused their conversations to stare at the king, who had been staring at his plate until Dedue had spoken up to him. He looked up at the sudden silence, surprised to see everyone’s eyes on him. He gave Dedue a small smile, assuring him that he was alright, which Dedue reluctantly accepted, but it was not good enough for Ingrid.

“You don’t look very well, Dimitri,” she insisted, leaning forward a bit to get a better look at him. “Have you been sleeping alright?”

He looked over, meeting your eyes for a very brief moment before immediately looking at Ingrid, ignoring your confused stare. “I am fine,” he said reassuringly, shaking his head with a laugh when Ingrid gave him a hard look. “Really, Ingrid. I am alright.”

“If you don’t sleep, you’re just making it easier for the enemy to cut you down,” Felix said sharply.

“I bought some tea at the market that is supposed to help with sleeping problems if you would like to try some,” Mercedes offered.

“I promise you all that I am alright,” Dimitri insisted with a smile.

Sensing that a change of mood was in order, you offered the last remaining thing on your plate, a Dagda fruit muffin, to Sylvain. You found that you did not like Dadga fruit tea, and so you figured that it would be better to give it to someone who would appreciate it more. And it didn’t hurt as a conversation swap either.

“You don’t want it, Professor?” he asked, blinking at you, surprised.

You shook your head, holding the plate a little closer to him, and he shrugged, grinning at you. “Who am I to refuse you? Thanks for the muffin.”

Sylvain ate the muffin in a few bites as Dimitri finally began to pick at his own tray. You tried again to catch his eye, but he was determined to stare down at his plate. Conversation began to pick up again as Annette started to tell a story from back when they were all students. The conversation took a nostalgic turn as everyone then began sharing stories from their school lives five years prior.

“Not to be rude, but I thought you hated us at first!” Annette told you, blushing slightly with embarrassment.

“I must confess that I felt the same at the start,” Ashe agreed, quickly adding, “but we couldn’t be where we are now without you.”

“I do remember calling you beautiful and you just stared at me... I thought you didn’t hear me for a second,” Sylvain recalled.

“How is that any different from now?” Felix sneered.

“That is true,” Mercedes agreed. “Just the other day I saw a village girl just turn around and leave without saying anything.”

“Mercedes!” Sylvain’s jaw went slack. “You saw that?”

“I see your success rate hasn’t changed,” Felix scoffed.

Sylvain really had no comeback for that, and you were far from the only one at the table to laugh at his plight. Giggling, you locked eyes with Annette, who you noticed had also finished her plate. Nodding at each other, you both got up from the table to take your empty plates back.

“I feel like I’ve got my muffin fix for a while!” she joked as you handed your empty plates to the dining hall staff.

“What are your plans for the day?” you asked her, and she smiled.

“Don’t tell Mercie, but she was talking about how she missed these sweet ginger cakes we had when we were younger, and I was going to make some to surprise her with!” she whispered excitedly.

You were glad that Annette was such an endless supply of joy and kindness. You knew how much everyone appreciated any distractions from the mounting scale of war you were faced with, and so you also would have to do your best to keep a happy demeanor about yourself. Annette’s eyes drifted from yours as you both got back to the table as she stared ahead.

“Hey, where did Dimitri go?” she asked.

You looked over to where Annette had her eyes set and noticed that your table was missing its blonde king. You both must have looked incredibly confused, because Dedue decided to put you out of your misery.

“His Highness… had something to attend to.” Even Dedue sounded puzzled.

“Yeah, he just said that he had forgotten to do something and left…” Ingrid added, her eyebrows drawn together.

“Maybe he just had a bad reaction to the muffins?” Sylvain suggested, but one look at Dimitri’s plate told you that he hadn’t eaten a single thing from his plate.

He was acting weird, but he didn’t seem to be sliding back into his darkness again. Even so, you would have to check on him later, just to make sure. You had abandoned him for five years, even if it wasn’t by choice, and you would never leave his side again until the day came when he no longer needed you. You wouldn’t lose him again, not when everyone, when Faerghus, needed him.

Dimitri walked briskly to the cathedral, taking up his usual spot in front of the rubble that had once been a proud altar. He knew that he was clearly acting off, and his friends would eventually come and make sure he was okay. And he knew that he was not doing well, but it was not the type of problem that he imagined that they thought that he was dealing with. He had never dealt with anything like this before, and he didn’t know what to do. And so, he stared at the rubble, but too lost in thoughts to take in the scenery.

He couldn’t sleep at all the night before, and he didn’t know how he would get any sleep tonight. Seeing your mostly nude body had awoken within him feelings that he had kept himself from feeling for so long. He had been so focused on revenge for the entirety of his developing years that he had never allowed himself to think of romance as more than a faraway concept. He had sheltered himself for so long, and now the reality of his situation was hitting him with the full force that it would have had he allowed himself when he was a teenager. Instead, he was an adult man who was only now realizing the depths that his feelings could reach. He loved you, and it scared him.

He knew that he couldn’t avoid you forever. You had a war to win, and he couldn’t avoid his closest ally, even if he happened to just discover his feelings for you. He wanted desperately to be near you, but even with your widening range of emotions, he had seen no indication that you had any romantic feelings towards him. And besides, you would never talk to him again if you found out that he had stayed in your room while you were not fully dressed, even if it was to help you recover from your fever. He would live with his shame and hide his feelings, and would channel his energy into the war. Although that still didn’t resolve how he was going to sleep tonight, since he knew that every time he closed his eyes that night he would see your perfect breasts or your kind smile.

He had spent the last few hours of the night after he had returned to his room staring out of his window into the night sky. He had wrestled with his longing to go back there and tell you how he felt, kiss you… but you were sick. You needed rest. And you certainly did not need to have to deal with this new revelation of his. He relied on you for so much that he would crumble without your support, and so he just had to accept that your support would never be that of a wife’s to him.

He felt like a preteen boy. He couldn’t even stand to meet eyes with you in the dining hall earlier. He was so focused on staring at his plate that he could barely hear what anyone else had said. He had met your eyes for only half a second and even that was too much for him in his current state. You had looked worried for him, worries that he didn’t feel that he could assuage. He would have to keep his distance from you until he could resolve this within himself.

He must have been lost in thought for a while because eventually, he realized that Dedue was by his side. He gave Dedue a nod and then turned back to face the rubble, but a call of his title had him looking back to his stoic friend.

“Is everything alright, Your Highness?” Dedue asked simply.

“I…” Dimitri was not sure what to say.

“When I pledged myself to you, I intended to ensure that no harm came to you,” Dedue explained. “If anyone has been upsetting you, or you are suffering a cursed ailment, you need only to tell me and I will scourge whoever dared to curse you.”

Dimitri could never have a normal conversation with him during this war, could he? There were so many threats to his life, he was willing to admit, but Dedue never ceased to worry, even when everything was stable for the moment. He knew that Dedue cared about him, but he always thought the worst of things when it concerned his king.

“I have no injuries or curses, my friend,” he told Dedue who looked entirely unconvinced.

“If it is something that you feel that you cannot tell the others…” Dedue’s offer was implied. He was concerned, that much Dimitri could tell easily.

“For now, it is something that I must handle on my own,” Dimitri said, not meeting his friend’s eyes.

It took some convincing, but Dedue finally relented in his insistence that he walk the king back to his room, despite the fact that they were on entirely different floors. He also rebuffed Dedue’s offer to stand guard outside his room the entire night to defend him from attackers. Dedue had finally, reluctantly relented and allowed Dimitri to finally return to his room alone. He was careful to check that he hadn’t been followed; Dedue had done it before, after all. But he saw no signs of anyone following him and arrived on the second floor of the dormitories, not meeting anyone on the way down the hall and to his room.

It was early in the night, he discovered as he returned to his room. It was earlier than he usually went to sleep, but being awake for closing in on thirty or so hours was wearing on him. With getting some rest potentially in sight, he sat on his bed and began the painstaking process of removing his armor. He let out a tired sigh as his leg armor came off, and he carefully placed it aside before repeating the process on his upper armor, removing his cape and furs as well when he had taken his armor off. He was left in just his long black undershirt and black pants, which was all he wore when he slept these days. Although he did recall that he had previously pushed himself to the point of collapse when in his full armor before, and waking up from that had never felt pleasant on his body. But given his state of mind at the time, he simply got up and continued to do the work he felt needed to be done; being sore never kept him from the slaughter. But as he was now, he appreciated that he could take his armor off at the end of the day and rest. He never knew how nice it would feel to let down his last layer of defense and truly be himself around his friends with nothing to hide. Well, he thought, nothing to hide but his attraction to you that refused to wane.

He would try to sleep; at least now he was in his room, where he was not likely to run into you. His onset affection for you was so strong that he didn’t think it would go away, and he did not know if that was a good thing or not. He took off his shoes, setting them down before laying down on his bed and closing his eyes in the hope that sleep would find him.

You had spent your day talking to the other occupants of the monastery, doing your best to confirm that everyone was doing alright. You knew that this war weighed on everyone’s souls, and if you could do anything to help, you would. And so, you did some light training with Felix, went to the marketplace with Ashe, and ended up helping Annette do some baking for Mercedes, which did not result in any kitchen disasters for once, which was a relief. You had seen Dimitri in the cathedral earlier, in that same place he had always gone before he had broken free of his darkness. You decided to give him some space, but when you passed by the cathedral again later in the evening, he was no longer in his usual spot in front of the rubble.

Whatever was wrong with him, you wanted to give him time. You really did. But if he was sinking back into his inner darkness, then you couldn’t stand by and let it happen again. You walked around the monastery grounds but were unable to find him. As a last ditch effort, you decided to head to the second floor of the dormitories to check and see if he was in his room. You passed various people as they headed to their own rooms to retire for the night, smiling as Flayn excitedly wished you a good night as you passed by her. Finally, you arrived at what you recalled to be Dimitri’s bedroom door.

You raised a hand and lightly knocked on the door. No answer. Maybe he had gone for a late night walk and you had just missed him on your walk around the monastery. You knocked one more time, slightly louder, but still got no response. You couldn’t hear any sounds from at all from the other side of the door. Having no choice, you reluctantly decided to leave and head back to your own room. You could talk with Dimitri the next time you saw him, you reassured yourself. And so, you began to retreat the way that you had come, off to get some sleep and hopefully wake up fully free from your sickness.

“Professor…”

It was so quiet that you almost didn’t detect it, but you supposed your sensitivity on the battlefield allowed you to pick up the muted whisper of your old title. You turned your head back, not sure what to expect, but found Dimitri in only pants and a long-sleeved shirt, both in black, staring at you from just outside his room. He met your gaze with a look of surprise on his face, almost as if he had not expected you to hear him or turn back to look. You made your way back over to him, and he opened his door wider and gestured for you to accompany him inside.

He walked all the way to his window before turning only his head back to face you. His expression was unreadable, but yours certainly wasn’t, and he immediately saw the worry on your face.

“Are you okay?” you asked quietly. You knew that you couldn’t make him talk if he didn’t want to but you needed him to know that you were here for him.

“You never let up, do you?” he asked, and you vaguely recalled him saying something like that to you in the past. Before you could reply, he continued. “I could not be who I am today without your help.”

Why was he saying that now, and then why did he look so troubled? You didn’t understand where he was going with this, and were about to tell him so.

“I could not stand to lose you,” he spoke slowly, finally turning around fully and stepping slightly closer to you. “But I fear that I may if I tell you what is on my mind.”

“That is not possible,” you countered, staring him down sternly.

Dimitri only grew a small sad smile at your words. He looked to be waging a mental war on himself, but you bridged the gap that was still between you and forced him to look at you in the eyes. You looked at him with all the seriousness you could manage in an attempt to convey to him that you would listen to anything that he had to say. He broke eye contact with you almost immediately, staring at the floor as he spoke quietly.

“You had a fever,” he explained. “Nobody had seen you the day after you were out in the rain. I went to check on you, and you were not answering your door and I…”

Your eyes went wide in surprise. That night, you were��

“I am so sorry, Professor!” he spoke, sounding upset as he hung his head in shame. “I saw you in a state that only your husband should see you in and I-”

His rambling cut off and you looked at him, trying desperately to have him meet your eyes, but he continued to look at the floor, so you took a second to reevaluate these new revelations. Dimitri had not fully explained, but from what you had pieced together, he had been worried about you and came into your room, which must have been after you had stripped down to only your underwear, based on Dimitri’s odd husband comment. You felt a rush of embarrassment that he had seen you like that, but you found that you were more bothered that he had seen you looking so weak rather than the fact that he had seen you nearly naked. But you also found that you didn’t really mind that it was him that had seen you that way.

“I… I did not leave you be. I could not. I stayed with you and kept a cold cloth on your forehead until your fever broke. I should have left, but I could not just leave you like that,” Dimitri spoke up again.

He was so earnest that it was cute. Apologizing for seeing you nearly nude was one thing, but you stifled a laugh as he was for some reason apologizing for staying with you and taking care of you while you were sick. He was fiercely intelligent, brave in the face of the hardships of war, but looking at him now, he looked like an awkward teenager trapped in the body of a grown man. You could no longer help yourself, and you let out a quiet giggle.

“Professor?” Dimitri uttered as he looked at you in shock and you laughed at his expression.

“You’re so cute,” you told him, and watched as your words sent a pink flush to his cheeks as he stared at you in disbelief.

You knew that you should do something to put him out of his misery, but you weren’t sure what. You reached a hand up to cup one of his cheeks, and he looked at you unsteadily, closing his eye as he leaned into your touch. You weren’t sure why you had decided to reach out for him physically, but staring at his handsome face, so close to your own, you felt the most comfortable and safe you had ever felt. You closed your eyes too to bask in the moment, but then he said your name, not your title, but your actual name. You opened your eyes again and the two of you stared at each other and he raised his own hand to cover yours that was still on his cheek. He had an urgency in his eyes that you could not place.

“I need to kiss you,” he said, not breaking eye contact, unwavering under your surprised look.

You really shouldn’t have been as surprised as you were, given how physically close the two of you were now, and how emotionally close you had been to each other for so long, but you hadn’t had the time to think that this was even a possibility. Overpowering all of your mind was the sense that this was all that you wanted in this moment. He was different than he had been when you had reunited with him, but he had broken free of his darkness, and had become the kind, strong leader that his people needed. That you all needed. He was your dearest friend, but right now you wanted him to kiss you more than anything, and so you nodded.

He didn’t waste any more than a few seconds before bending down and connecting your lips as your eyes slid closed as the same time. You adjusted your chin so you would be better locked together as your other hand weakly grasped at the material of his shirt, just above his chest. The kiss felt so effortless, as you both adjusted to the other’s rhythm and Dimitri’s other hand came up to rest on the back of your head, keeping you close together.

The kiss stayed simple, but it was making you feel lightheaded with the intensity that you were both putting into it. You pulled away, not confident in your ability to breathe at the moment and he followed, gently steering you back until the back of your knees hit his bed and you allowed him to push you back down onto it.

You found yourself laying on your back as Dimitri hovered over you, his legs on either side of you. He was upright with his knees pressed against your upper thighs, looking at you with want but unsure of how to proceed. While he sat there in a daze, you shrugged your coat off and gently removed your gauntlets, letting it all fall down in a heap by the bedside, and as you did, you noticed a pile of Dimitri’s own clothing and armor only a few feet away.

When you looked back up, you noticed that Dimitri had been following you with his gaze, but he still looked unsure. You had no idea what was going on in his head or what had happened to his confidence, but you decided that you would have to make it abundantly clear that you would like this to continue. And so, you lifted your torso up from the bed and wriggled out of your shirt, throwing everything that covered your upper body onto the floor and watching Dimitri’s eye widen and cheeks turned red as he once again took in the sight of your bare breasts. You were just happy that you were conscious this time so you could enjoy his very honest reaction.

He was still staring, this time he had switched back to look you in the eyes and you couldn’t help but tease him. “Dimitri, your shirt…”

He finally relaxed a bit and smiled so sweetly down at you. “I suppose I should make it even.”

You had never seen him shirtless before, but the scars on his body told you what he could never bring himself to about what had happened to him over the past ten years. He gave you no explanation, and did not give you the time to fully examine all of his scars as he lowered his head down and kissed you again, feeding in your boldness as he supported himself with one hand, bringing his other hand up to feel one breast. The shock of his sudden movements had you moaning in surprise, and the kiss transitioned further as you both allowed your tongues to meet as well.

You cradled his head in your hands, bringing one hand through his hair, so much longer than it had been five years earlier. Finding yourself wanting to be even closer to him, you brought one leg out from under him and wrapped it around his hip. The position allowed you to grind up against him, and he met your hips excitedly as you kissed and you felt a shiver go down your spine as you realized how much he wanted this, your hips so close together that you could not miss how hard he had become in such little time. The friction was exactly where you wanted it, but it began to not feel like anywhere close to enough.

He pulled back from you by a few centimeters, nose still touching yours, and his hand that was not supporting his weight drifted from your breast to brush a hand through your hair. “I love you,” he said sincerely, chuckling as you looked up at him in shock. “You did not think I loved you?”

He seemed amused by your lack of response, and in truth you did not know, you had been so happy to be like this with him that you hadn’t even considered the feelings that were obviously involved. But you could not deny how happy those words made you, and he leaned down to kiss you again as a smile lit up your face. He gave you a few short kisses before he disengaged himself from you, sitting at the side of the bed, and you hastened to join him. He looked over as you hesitantly placed your head on his shoulder, and he readily accepted the contact.

“I did not think that I would ever feel like this… that I deserved to feel this way with you. I escaped the darkness that I had been trapped in, but I know there are those who will never forgive me for the sins I have committed. But you stuck by my side when I treated you so poorly. I don’t deserve you… any of you,” he said, staring at the wall but wrapping an arm around your naked back.

“You are indispensable to me,” he said as he leaned over to kiss your hair. “I knew that I would not be here without you, but I did not realize my feelings until that night.”

You knew which night he meant, but you had taken even longer than him to discover your own feelings, but you knew now. You loved him, and there was no going back now, even if you wanted to. Which, sitting side by side in this moment, you knew that you only wanted to experience even more with this man who was so dear to you.

“I wanted to wait until after the war, until we had peace. But after that night, I could not look back at you without seeing your bare form. It is shameful, but I cannot hold back any longer, especially now that I know it is mutual,” he explained, adjusting the both of you so that you were facing each other. “I want to be with you.”

He was looking at you expectantly, but kindly. You realized that he needed you to also affirm that this was real, that you loved him as well. He believed in you, but you knew that you should put the poor boy out of his misery. You leaned in to kiss him and he reciprocated happily, pulling back after a few seconds, eyes fluttering open to look at Dimitri, who looked so content in that moment.

“I love you,” you told him, truly meaning it. “I want to be with you.”

Dimitri looked so happy, but with a glance downwards, you saw that he was no less hard. It looked rather painful, and couldn’t be comfortable for him. You were not as subtle as you thought you had been, and he caught your glance downwards on his form.

“I… it is okay, I would never pressure you. You do not have to worry about me,” he said quickly, face flushing pink.

He was about to get up and put some distance between you, but you would not let that happen. You stood up with him and spoke his name softly as you slipped your hands into the sides of your shorts, pulling them down along with your tights and slipping out of them and your boots. It was not a particularly graceful or sexy stripping of your last articles of clothing, but it got the job done. You crossed the room to where he was standing and he allowed you to begin the process of removing the clothes covering his lower half.

“If this is what you really want,” his growled words sent your cheeks aflame. “I will not hold back, my love.”

He helped you by kicking his pants and underwear off, and as soon as you were both fully naked, he picked you up, his hands grasping your thighs to support you. You hastily wrapped your legs and arms around him so you wouldn’t fall, and he grinned at you as he placed you down on the bed, following you down so he could kiss you again. Dimitri kissed you for only a moment longer as you desperately tried to keep up with his pace. You were so ready for what was to come, and you pulled back from the kiss and gazed up at him with longing.

Dimitri swallowed as he looked down at you, and you spread your legs as he reached down to his achingly hard cock. You were embarrassed to discover that you were easily wet enough from just kisses and simple groping that Dimitri was able to rub himself against you before he began to slide himself inside with ease. You let out a breathy moan as you tried not to squirm at the foreign feeling. Dimitri’s eyes closed as he dropped down to rest his head on your shoulder, his deep groan right by your ear as he pushed further inside you. Finally, your hips fully met as he was seated fully within you, and you knew that you had never felt anything like this before. You knew what sex was, your father had been too awkward to give you the talk himself and had a female village chief explain to it to you after you had saved their village, so you knew the basics. But no explanation could match up with how good it felt to be so intimate with the man you loved.

You felt his breath tickle your ear as he pulled himself back up, his eyes half lidded. “You feel so good… forgive me, but it is hard for me to focus on anything else.”

You felt the same way, but you didn’t have the patience for him to wait and adjust to this feeling, so you decided to force the issue by squeezing your inner muscles and watching as he shuddered, eye fluttering closed for a moment with a groan. He opened his eye to glare halfheartedly at you, obviously too pleased at the moment for you to believe that he was actually angry with you.

“You are so impatient,” he teased, but complied with your wishes as he pulled ever so slightly out of you before canting his hips back into yours.

He didn’t waste a second in continuing the movement, and his gentle rocking was driving you crazy. You were completely naked, and it had been a cold month, but you were so, so warm. There was a pleasant burn that was slowly ebbing away to just feel good in a way that you had never felt before. Evidently this was new to Dimitri as well, because he was in no better of a state than you were, panting against your skin as he leaned down to kiss at your neck. You were content to lay like that, your arms around his neck and feeling his hair tickle your face, but a well-timed thrust had you unexpectedly crying out with the sudden spike of pleasure.

Dimitri couldn’t suppress his own groan as he was able to reach deeper within you. And when you rolled your hips up to meet him, he almost stopped his momentum to bask in how good it felt. He once again palmed your breasts and stifled your moan as he kissed you again. He closed his eye as he kissed you because he feared that if he was to keep it open and take in the way you looked right now, this would end far sooner than he wanted. You were so beautiful like this, and his heart stuttered with every sound that left your mouth.

He wanted this to last, but he could no longer be satisfied with the current pace. He began to pull out more swiftly and push back in with a new speed and intensity. He felt pride surge up in him as you squirmed and broke the kiss to let out another cute cry. Your next cry was of his name, which set his pace on fire as you both rapidly tried to meet your ends as you both connected in a desperate clashing of tongues, both groping at any inch of the other’s skin that you could reach.

“I fear this will not last much longer, beloved,” Dimitri panted. “But we have so much more time ahead of us.”

You weren’t fully sure what he meant by that, but at this point you were so close to reaching your peak that you could do no more than moan and grasp weakly onto his neck and back, tangling one hand in his hair. You closed your eyes tightly as Dimitri held you as close to him as he could, his chest brushing against yours in tandem with his thrusting. It only took a bit more of his harsh, fast pace before you lost yourself in pleasure. Dimitri continued to move, prolonging your orgasm as you moaned and squeezed around him. He could only hold out for so long and he was finally pushed over the edge with a strained groan of your name. The two of you stayed joined for a moment before Dimitri gently moved off of you, giving you a shy smile. You went to get up with him, but he stopped you with a hand on your arm and you obeyed, laying back down, but looked at him quizzically.

“You may not want to get up. We have made quite a mess,” Dimitri said reluctantly.

He wasn’t making eye contact anymore, and you followed his gaze downwards on your body. Oh. Without the feeling to distract you, you realized just how gross you were feeling… down there. You closed your legs tightly in embarrassment, and in the hopes that you wouldn’t ruin Dimitri’s sheets. Feeling an onset of bashfulness, you also brought an arm up to cover as much of your chest as you could; despite what you had just done with him, the reality of the situation was catching up to you.

Dimitri laughed at your sudden shyness. “I will go fetch something to clean you up with,” he explained, beginning to dress himself to his first layer of clothing, foregoing his armor.

He bent down to kiss one of your flushed cheeks, and then he was gone out the door. Once the door had been closed and you were alone, you felt all of your remaining composure slip away. You and Dimitri had… you had no idea how he was so much more composed than you were, easily leaving the room to bring back something to clean you up. You felt too embarrassed to leave this room for a month, let alone right after you had been so intimate for the first time. You did not even know what to say to Dimitri when he got back, but you would dare to hope he had meant what he said, implying that he wanted to do this again. That he loved you. But for now, all you could do was wait for him to return.

Dimitri kept a relatively quick pace to fetch a cloth, although for a much different reason than the previous time. He still had a hard time believing that had just happened, that you and he were… he loved you, and he would not deny it even if being open about it was so new for him. Smiling to himself, he wistfully hoped that you would agree to spend the night in his room. He would not force you, but he could not deny that the idea of waking up and seeing your beautiful face first thing in the morning set his heart aflutter.

Dimitri had gotten to the middle of the hallway before he noticed someone waving at him just past his room, standing at the end of the hallway. Sylvain grinned at him as Dimitri walked past his own room to meet his friend just outside the redhead’s room.

“Late night walk, Your Highness?” Sylvain quipped, eyes briefly darting down to the towel in Dimitri’s grasp.

Dimitri was silent for a moment too long, wondering what to respond, and Sylvain laughed awkwardly, running a hand through his hair. “Just one thing though, you might want to noise-proof your room.”

“Sylvain!” Dimitri admonished, shocked.

“Hey!” Sylvain waved his hands in a defensive manner. “It wasn’t me! But, uh, Felix was just here complaining that you and the Professor were interrupting his sleep…”

Dimitri was not sure what to say to that, and immediately felt bad because he was sure that you would be embarrassed if you knew that you two had been heard. Dimitri turned a hard gaze to Sylvain; his childhood friend had not been known to be the most trustworthy with gossip, but Sylvain immediately knew what Dimitri was thinking, and what he was likely about to say.

“I wasn’t going to tell anyone, relax!” Sylvain stated quickly. “Just be careful, ladies don’t really like having an audience.”

Dimitri scoffed, but smiled at his friend. “I will keep that in mind, Sylvain.”

Relieved that Dimitri was not mad at him, he clasped one of his friend’s shoulders. “I won’t keep you from her, but I just wanted to say that I’m happy for you. You deserve to be happy, Dimitri. Just don’t let her get away!” he joked.

Both men having said their piece, turned to go to their respective rooms. Dimitri could only hope that you hadn’t heard any of their conversation. The last thing he wanted to do was scare you away or make you uncomfortable. But as he opened the door, he found you still on his bed, shutting the door behind him without looking back because he could not stand to look away from the smile you gave him upon seeing him return.

It hadn’t been long, but you felt happiness surge up in you at the sight of him. He briskly made his way over to you and handed you the towel he had brought, to your great relief. It would be too embarrassing to have him clean you, and so you accepted the towel gratefully, cleaning yourself as he turned his back to give you some privacy. You made quick work of cleaning yourself, feeling less of a mess immediately, other than your hair still being slightly matted to your forehead with sweat. You wanted to savor this moment, but you also wanted to know if he had really meant what he had said earlier.

Dimitri, not noticing the shift in your mood, leaned down onto the bed just as you sat up so he could give you a light kiss. He looked so happy when he pulled away from you, his smile unwavering. It was only then that he noticed how strained your small smile was. “My love…?”

“…you said we would have more time,” you said quietly, and his brows drew together in confusion, before nodding affirmatively.

“You have not figured it out yet?” Dimitri teased, reaching down to hold your hand. “I would hope that this was not the only time we would be together like this.”

You were still confused, and he noticed immediately. “I do not mean only in a carnal sense. This is a rather unusual setting, but I have no regrets. I want to marry you.”

Oh... You stared at him in shock. You weren’t sure what you were expecting him to say, only just nervous that he would tell you to leave, that this was a one-time thing. But he had gone in the farthest direction possible from what you had feared. You found that you really wanted this, you wanted to marry him, wanted to stay by his side forever. None of your thoughts made it to your face, your expression blank as you stared at him. Dimitri didn’t seem to understand what you were thinking, and got a little anxious himself.

“If you do not want to, of course…” he muttered. “I do not have a ring, yet I decided to ask this of you. I understand if you do not want this with me.”

He had seemingly already decided his fate, and you smiled softly at him. “I accept.”

“You… you do?” he sounded surprised, and you weren’t quite sure why. He was a wonderful man, and you loved him so much. He was a fool to think anything otherwise. Especially after what you had just done together, and all you both had been through.

He had finally seemed to get the message, and practically lunged towards you, connecting your lips together in a rough kiss. This war would end, you knew, and then the two of you could build a peaceful world together. You looked forward to that, but you knew that you would have Dimitri at your side for anything that came your way, and that gave you all the confidence you could ever need.

#reader insert #xreader #fire emblem #fire emblem 3h #fire emblem three houses #dimileth #dimitri x reader #fe3h x reader #fire emblem three houses x reader #dimitri alexandre blaiddyd #smut at the end #smut

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whiskery-louis · 3 years

Text

Body Image

Calum Hood x Reader

Warnings: Body image, body shaming, self esteem issues, angst

A/N: This is my first Cal writing. I've been reading a lot about him and I just love him so please enjoy BestFriend!Cal

Word Count: 2.2k

I sighed turning around to look at myself in the mirror once more, my mouth twisted to the side as I studied the third outfit I had tried on. I wanted to believe I looked as good in it as Katie had convinced me when we were at the mall. I wiped at the tear that threatened to fall down my face. I don’t know why I agreed to go out tonight anyways, I thought it would help me feel better after the break up but as I looked at myself in the mirror all the things he said to me were running through my head.

My body didn’t fall under society's standard notion of beauty. I was always a little bit heavier than most, my stomach being a bit rounder, my thighs a bit larger and my arms a bit jiggly. It was always something that I struggled with, but being told by someone that you love that they are breaking up with you because of your weight will really mess with you. I used to enjoy buying new clothes and getting dressed up, but now all I see are my flaws. I did what I could to keep my mind off my body image, but it's not easy with social media being a constant reminder. I spent most of my days in t-shirts and sweatpants praying the baggy clothes wouldn’t call unwanted attention to my stomach.

I sighed again as I pulled the shirt over my head and replaced it with a t-shirt. I didn’t feel up to going out anymore, being unable to like anything on my body really put a toll on my mental health.

I sent Katie a quick text to let her know I wanted to stay in. I knew she was worried about me, but she was the only one who knows why Dalton really broke up with me and didn’t have the heart to drag me out to a bar when she knew how much I was struggling. Katie tried to convince me to tell Calum but I couldn’t bear the thought of someone else pitying me. Everyone else though that Dalton and I broke up over commitment issues and I let them think that. It was less embarrassing than the truth. Katie tried to tell me that Dalton was the one who should be embarrassed for how he treated me at the end, but whenever she tried to bring it up I changed the subject. I wasn’t ready to admit that I believed everything he said about me.

I trudged down to the kitchen to find something to eat, I was really craving some comfort food but after being upset with how I looked in every outfit I opted to make a salad. I plopped down on the couch mindlessly scrolling through Netflix before settling on New Girl. My pity party was interrupted by two quick knocks on the door. I hoped they had the wrong apartment, but two more knocks quickly followed. I groaned as I stood up and trudged my way to the door. I looked through the peephole and saw Calum in the hallway holding a pizza.

“Go away, I’m not in the mood,” I called through the door.

“Come on Y/N open up! Katie told me you canceled again tonight. I”m not letting you spend another Friday night alone.”

I mentally cursed Katie, vowing to send her a strongly worded text later.

“I’m fine Cal really, just had a long week.”

“I’m not leaving Y/N, and if you don’t let me in I’ll just sit out here singing all night.”

I hit my head against the door knowing Cal wasn’t going anywhere. I unlocked the door and walked back to the couch knowing he would hear it and come in automatically. I picked up my salad, taking another bite but I lost my appetite at the smell of the pizza wafting from the kitchen.

“Where are all your plates? Nevermind I’m bringing the whole box in, I’m starving anyway.”

He set the pizza down on the coffee table and threw his body on the couch next to me, nearly crushing me under his weight.

“Cal...can’t...breathe,” I muttered. “Why are you crushing me?”

“Missed you, we’ve barely hung out since I got back from tour. You’ve been avoiding me.”

“Have not.” I pushed at his chest and managed to create enough space between the two of us that I was able to scoot back to the other side of the couch. Calum sat up and pouted at me, while I just rolled my eyes at him.

“Have so, ever since you broke up with Dalton you’ve shut me out. I’ve tried to give you space but I can’t standby anymore knowing that you're hurting and do nothing to help.”

“Cal I really am okay, I just needed time to process.” I glanced over to him to see that he was staring at me with a look of disbelief on his face.

“You know I can tell when you’re lying. If you’re as fine as you say you are then why haven’t you touched the pizza I brought. I got it plain with extra cheese and a large side of ranch. You’re favorite.”

I shrugged, “I’m not hungry,” I mumbled, not even believing my own lie. “I had a salad.”

“You mean the one sitting there that looks barely eaten,” he looked at me, his eyebrow raised, clearly seeing through my bullshit. “Katie told me that there is more to your breakup with Dalton than you’re leading on. Plus talk to me Y/N, I’m worried about you.”

I sighed and pulled the nearest blanket over my body, I felt nearly naked under Calum’s stare. He always had a way of knocking down my defences and convincing me to let him help. I didn’t want his help this time though, I was too scared to admit that Dalton was right about me, I had barely admitted it to myself, let alone tell Cal. We sat there in silence, him waiting for me to speak and me playing with the edge of the blanket praying he would drop it.

“Hey,” Cal reached out and placed his hand on my knee, “you can tell me anything you know that right?”

I don’t know if it was the look of concern in his eyes or the comfort from the circles he was rubbing on my knee but my walls were slowly breaking down like they always did around Calum.

“I lied to you about the breakup like Katie said, we didn’t break up because Dalton couldn’t commit. He’s the one who broke up with me.” Cal shot me a confused look, not knowing why I would lie to him about something like this, but he didn’t interrupt me. “He told me that I gained a few too many pounds the last few months and didn’t listen when he told me to eat better or get out more. He said he couldn’t be with someone who let herself go and that he wasn’t attracted to me anymore.”

“What a fucking ass, I’m so sorry that he said that to you Y/N. I’m going to fucking kill him,” Cal spoke through his teeth, trying to quell the anger rising in him with every word I spoke. I could tell that it was taking everything in him to not run out of the house in search of Dalton to beat him for hurting me like this. And it was the last thing I wanted.

“Cal it’s fine,” I shrugged, pulling the blanket closer to me. “It’s not like he’s wrong anyways.” I whispered under my breath instantly regretting it when I realized Calum heard me. His head snapped to me, jaw slightly open in shock at what he just heard.

“Y/N you know that everything that prick said about you was wrong right? You have to know how beautiful you are.”

A scoff escaped my lips before I could stop it. “You have to say that Cal, you’re my best friend but please don’t lie to me. I don’t deserve your pity, it’s why I didn’t want to tell you. He just confirmed what I’ve always known deep down. I’m not worth it, I’m not beautiful and I just have to accept it and move on with my life.”

It was silent after I spoke. I could see the gears turning in Cal’s head as he processed what I just said. This was exactly why I had been avoiding him since the breakup, I knew once we talked about it I would admit that I believed everything Dalton said about me. It was the worst part of the breakup, knowing that my deepest insecurities came to light and were thrown in my face like that.

Cal moved slightly on the couch, moving his hand from my knee to take the blanket out of my hands. He pulled the blanket off me and tossed it on the floor. He wrapped his one hand around mine, moving the other to my chin so I was looking into his eyes as he spoke.

“Y/N please believe me when I say you are beautiful. Inside and out. I love everything about you and I’m not just saying this as your best friend. Dalton is a dick for saying those things about your body and they are so far from the truth. I know you’ve always struggled with your body image but believe me when I say that I love your body. I love the wrinkles around your eyes when you laugh, I love that you aren’t as skinny as those instagram models, it shows that you’re real and that you take care of your body by eating. I love that you can put a whole pizza away faster than me and the guys, it’s one of my favorite memories. I love your stretch marks, they are a unique map of only your body. I love how your body feels like it was made for me. I never want you to hate your body because it is an amazing thing. Fuck Y/N can’t you see that you are perfect to me, every last inch of you. Your eyes, your hand give the best massages, fuck even your boobs are fucking perfect-”

Calum’s eyes widened as he realized he got a little carried away with his speech praising my body. I’m sure my face mirrored his. I never knew Calum felt this way, never imagine this would be his reaction when I told him the truth about the breakup. I couldn’t help the small smile that was forming on my lips. There was a new tension in the air that wasn’t there before. It was a new feeling between Cal and I, but there was something so natural about it. Deciding to cross the line, I reached out for his free hand. His eyes narrowed at my touch, trying to decipher what I was going to do next. I looked him in the eyes as I slowly pulled his hand closer to me, placing it on my side just below my breast.

“What were you saying about my boobs being perfect?”

He eyed me tentatively, trying to gauge my response to what he just said. “Y/N what are you-”

I cut him off. “Calum thank you for saying all that. You don’t know how much that means to me. I realized Dalton was a dick but it was still hard to hear. But you-you always know just want to say to make me feel better. It’s something I still have to work on and I think having you by my side will help. I think we both knew this was going to happen one day Cal. It’s always been you and me, so why can’t one day be today? So again, what were you saying about my boobs?”

My breath hitched as Cal moved his hand slowly up from my side to cup my breast.

“I said your boobs are fucking perfect, I can’t tell you how many times I’ve pictured them bouncing as you ride me.”

Now it was my turn to pick my jaw off the floor. I wasn’t expecting that comment to come from him. He chuckled as his lustful eyes met my shocked ones.

“I’m going to show you just how much I love your body.”

I woke up the next morning, rolled over and collided with a solid body. I opened my eyes and saw Calum looking down at me with a small smile on his face.

“Good morning beautiful,” he moved his head to give me a peck on the lips. “How did you sleep?”

I smiled back at him, “Good, glad last night wasn’t a dream.”

“How’re you feeling this morning?”

I snuggled closer to his chest, “I feel much better than I did yesterday. I feel like I could learn to love myself with your help.” I pressed a kiss to his neck.

“I like the sound of that. Maybe I can show you how beautiful you are again after breakfast.”

#Cal Hood #Calum Hood #Calum imagine #Calum Hood Imagine #Cal fanfic #calum fanfic #calum x reader #calum x y/n #luke imagine #michael imagine #ashton imagine #5sos #5sos imagine #5 seconds of summer #5 seconds of summer imagine #imagine #best friend calum

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sapphic-loser16 · 3 years

Text

I just realized I never explained what Chiaroscuro is. (Or even posted the first chapter lol) For those of you who get wildly confused when I drop random chapters of a story I never talk about otherwise

This is my baby, Chiaroscuro. This story has been rattling around in my head for the past six months, and it is a coagulation of my maladaptive daydreams and headcanons that I spew onto the page. It follows the next hero in the reincarnation cycle, as well as a host of other original characters. Since I’m getting into the habit of being more active for my followers I thought I should drop this here. Please go give it a read, I’ve worked really hard on it!

(Chapter one below the cut )

The rain feels like fire on his back. He runs, faster, faster, faster. They can’t catch him, Hyrule will fall if doesn’t get away. His mind is blurry, the world is blurry. The only thing that registers is the pain that courses through his body like lightning and the golden light thats pours from his left hand. He tries his best to push through the pain and mental fog. One thing is clear though; whispered words spoken to him only hours ago, as a guard unlocked his bloody chains

Run.

Run as fast you can.

Hope is not lost.

The resistance has a base in the Lost Woods.

They will help you.

Now run, and save us all.

The rain pours down even harder. Lightning flashes as he skids to a stop. The magical woods loom in front of him. Mist swirls around the branches, beckoning him into their safe embrace. He hesitates. The legends say that any who dare step into the sacred forest shall be lost to time. A sharp stab of pain interrupts his musings. The scars on his back have split open. Blood cascades down his back. If he doesn’t make his choice soon he will die steps away from freedom. The woods whisper to him, call him into the trees. The golden light on his hand pulls him foreword ever so slightly. His choice is made, then. He breathes a quick prayer, and limps into the fog.

___

A cheerful voice rings in his ear.

“Get up ya lazy bones!”

Not now, Wind, Sky thought, rolling over. It’s too early for this.

He jammed his sailcloth into the side of his head to try to block out the youngest Link’s chipper voice. A kick on the the back of his knees sent a jolt through his body.

“Up an ‘attem bird boy.” The sailcloth was ripped away by Legend’s blurry hands blinding Sky in the morning sun.

“Pinky’s right,” called Warriors from his side. “You slept through an entire switch.”

Wait, what?

Sky bolted up into a sitting position just in time to see Warriors receive a sound slap to the back of the head courtesy of Legend. He slept through a whole switch? He rubbed his eyes to clear some of the morning fog. He could see the others packing up their things and Twilight dousing a campfire.

“How you do that is beyond me, and I slept for a hundred years,” smirked Wild, throwing him a bun, apparently the leftovers of breakfast.

“Who’s Hyrule are we in?” Sky asked.

Wild responded with a shrug.

“Don’t know. It’s not any of ours.”

“And that means new people, new Zelda, and new hero,” Hyrule said.

He stopped packing his bag and turned to face Sky.

“Are you ok? He asked softly. “You seem a bit dazed.”

Sky rubbed his face again. That dream was like something he had felt only once before. If history was any indication, the group needed to know.

“I think I had a dream.”

“So?” Legend scoffed. “We all dream, bird brain, nothing new here.”

“Hush,” Twilight said, pushing him away. “It must have been bad if its bothering you this much. What was it about?”

Sky pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to force the details back.

I-I don’t know, its all a bit hazy. I don’t even know if I could call it a dream, more like vague impressions. It was raining hard. I couldn’t even see any They were running…away from someone, I think. They were injured badly.” He looked up. “I could hear their thoughts, something about a Resistance.”

Twilight’s eyes went stormy.

“A Resistance?” He asked in a hard voice.

“Yeah, they were told the Resistance would help them,” Sky said, intrigued by Twilight’s sudden intensity. One last detail swam through his mental fog.

“They had the Triforce,” he said quietly. “Hyrule would fall if they didn’t get away, I think.”

The quiet rustle of the camp stopped. The Links shared looks with each other. That clearly wasn’t a good sign. The Triforce could only mean one thing.

“A new hero,” Time mused.

“Did you see where they were going?” Four asked from the far aside of the camp.

Sky thought hard. As he was the first in the timeline, his Hyrule lacked most if not all of the landmarks that made some of the others stand out. Heck, he hadn’t even known there was land below the clouds until a year and a half ago.

“Some sort of forest,” he started, trying to call back the details of the fast fading dream. “There was magical mist, if that helps.”

Wild thought for a second, then snapped his fingers.

“Lost Woods is what they were running to, no doubt. Magical mist keeps people with ill intent out. In my time, the Master Sword rests there. They could have been going to pull the sword.”

“That could be why the Resistance has a base there,” Warriors spoke up. “The Lost Woods offer protection, and they are able to protect Hyrule’s most powerful weapon.”

“But that still doesn’t explain the need for a resistance,” Twilight said, a bit on edge.

“Either way we’ll find out eventually,” Four said. Our best move would be to go to the nearest village and get a map.”

Time nodded, and motioned for the rest to pack up the remnants of the camp. Legend adjusted the last of his things and started to walk out of the woods they had landed in.

“Lets go before Hylia smites Sky with anymore visions.”

—

Wild had to admit, the land was beautiful. They had dropped into a forest at the top of a huge valley. As they walked down, he could see villages clumped together. A river ran through the valley, and the afternoon sun bathed the whole valley in a golden light. In the far distance beyond the valley, a castle loomed. His fingers jumped and twitched at the thought of exploring a whole new land. He bounced up to Hyrule, who was practically vibrating. They made excited eye contact. Twilight caught sight of the exchange and sighed loudly.

“No, you cannot go wandering off,” he admonished to the two wanderers. “I am not taking the chance of loosing y’all in a land as big as this.”

Wild stuck his tongue out in Twilights direction.

“You’re no fun,” Hyrule huffed playfully.

In truth, Twilight was a bit on edge. The last time he had encountered a resistance things had not gone well. He leaned over to Time, who had been quiet amongst the chatter.

“Do you think it’s…” Twilight didn’t dare finish his sentence, as if the very name could summon him.

Time closed his eye, and nodded,

“We have to be prepared for every possibility,” he said quietly.

It shouldn’t be possible, Twilight thought. He had killed him. He remembered every detail of that awful day. How could he forget? Twilight hated admitting it, but every now and again he would wake up screaming, reliving every single agonizing second of the last battle.

“Pup?” A soft voice pulled him out of his thoughts. They had arrived at a bustling town. Time’s eye softened.

“Are you ok?”

Twilight considered it for a second.

“I think I’m ok. Just a bit overwhelmed.”

Time nodded sagely.

“Cub,” he called to Wild

Wild looked up from the intense conversation he was having with Hyrule.

“How’s our supplies?”

Wild’s head dipped down for a second to take inventory on his Sheikah Slate.

“Food wise we’re all set, but we need more potions,” he called back.

Time touched his protégé’s back.

“Go with him, and clear your head. It will do you some good. The rest of us can get for directions.”

Twilight huffed.

“You just want me to make sure he doesn’t burn down the town.”

A sly look passed across Time’s sharp features for a moment as he herded the rest of his boys to a bar to find someone to tell them where the Woods were.

Twilight sighed and let Wild drag him to the nearest potion booth halfway across the square. It was a good think they were stocking up now, Twilight thought. The last monster battle had completely blown through all of their medical supplies, with Hyrule having to resort to his magic.

“Excuse me, could we buy some of your potions?” Wild asked the shopkeeper, who’s back was turned.

“Just a moment sir,” the shop keeper said, tidying up in the corner of the booth. She dusted her hands on her apron.

“What can I get for y-“ she stopped abruptly, eyes wide.

Twilight shared a confused look with Wild. Wild, just as confused, stared back. He turned to look at the shopkeeper. The woman was opening and closing her mouth, like she wanted to say something but couldn’t get the words out.

“Ma’am?” He asked softly, reaching out to touch her. “Are you okay?”

She flinched at Twilight’s attempted contact. Her hands shook as she pointed to Wild’s weapon.

“Y-you’re Yiga.” She gasped.

Wild flinched. Him, a Yiga? There were Yiga here? Admittedly that probably should have been his first thought. They should have been in the future, right? This couldn’t have been the era of the hero before him, there were no Divine Beasts. He killed Kohga, the Clan should have died out. This couldn’t be the future, right? Wild’s hand absentmindedly went to the handle of his Windcleaver.

The woman’s frantic voice yanked him out of his thoughts.

“Please, please sir,” she whimpered, eyes downcast. “ I-I didn’t know, I never would have put you off like that. It wont happen again, I swear it.”

Wild’s eyes went wide. He quickly dropped his hand back to his side. What in the name of Hylia was she talking about?

“Ma’am,” he tried, reaching for her again.

The shopkeeper gave a small scream and stepped back so quickly Wild thought she would fall. Tears were running down her cheeks. Wild could feel small ones prick at the sides of his vision.

A small touch on his shoulder. “We need to go,” Twilight murmured in his ear

Wild stood rooted to the spot. He couldn’t just leave, the poor woman was terrified of them. Plus, they were still in desperate need of medical supplies. Something was definitely wrong here, and Wild was going to try to fix it.

A puff of smoke appeared behind him. He could feel Twilight stiffen. From behind him walked a Blademaster.

Twilight’s eyes went wide. The woman whimpered even louder. The Blademaster strode between them and leaned over the counter ever so slightly, hands planted on its rough-hewn surface.

“This filth bothering you?”

It took a minute for Wild to realize the cult member was talking to him. How did they get here so fast? What in the world was happening? He could feel his hands shaking and his breath getting quicker. He didn’t dare look over the Blademaster to Twilight. The Yiga apparently took his silence as a positive answer. He tutted and shook his head back and forth.

“Oh, Maira,” he said, faux sadness dripping from his voice. “What a poor decision you have made today.”

The shopkeeper, Maira, was shaking now, tears pouring from her eyes. Her hands were clutched close to her chest.

“I-I’m so sorry,” she sobbed. “I didn’t know.”

The Blademaster shook his head again. It had occurred to Wild that the village had gone completely silent. He could feel the eyes of the villagers bore into the back of his head. Where were Time and the others?

The Blademaster leaned even closer to Maira, their foreheads almost touching.

“You know the punishment for detaining a soldier of the crown,” he growled. Quick as lightning, he grabbed her wrist and slammed it down on the counter. She screamed and tried to pull away, but the Blademaster was to strong for her. Using his other hand, he drew a wickedly sharp Windcleaver and set it at her wrist. He lifted it high, the blade glinting in the sun.

The blade never made it down.

The soldier was thrown back with a clash of metal on metal. Twilight lowered his weapon down to his waist . He took slow, deliberate steps and planted himself in front of the stand and Wild, never breaking eye contact with the soldier. From the corner of his eyes, he could see the rest of his friends exit a bar. He caught Time’s horrified eye as his gaze went from Twilight to the Blademaster. Twilight claimed a fighting stance, daring the soldier to make a move.

The Blademaster considered Twilight for a second, then disappeared in a puff of smoke. Twilights tense shoulders sagged.

“Lets go,” he whispered with gritted teeth. Wild didn’t need to be asked twice. Twilight started towards the rest of the group.

A cloud of smoke bloomed in the corner of his vision.

Someone screamed Twilight’s name. (Was it him, or Time?)

Twilight wasn’t fast enough. The Yiga drew his sword, and thrust it through Twilight’s torso. A wet gasping noise escaped his lips as he fell to the ground. A scream ripped through the silence. Time, sword drawn, charged at the Yiga. Their swords clashed, and all silence was shattered. Screams filled the air as more Yiga materialized in puffs of smoke. The rest of the group drew their weapons and plunged into battle. Wild snapped out of his own stupor. He made a beeline to where Twilight laid crumpled on the ground, blood pooling below him.

“Twilight,“ he gasped, voice barely audible above the din of battle.

Blood trickled out of the side of his mouth as he tried to speak. Wild put a hand to his mouth.

“You need to save your energy.”

Twilight could only nod weakly. Wild screamed for Time, who was currently fighting off tow foot soldiers at once. He was loosing blood too fast, they would never be able to save him at this rate.

“Wild!”

Wild turned to see Warriors behind him, parrying a soldier with his shield.

“You need to get Twilight out of here,” he commanded. “Go back to the place where we started. Four and I can cover you. We’ll meet you there.”

Four, who was fighting at Warrior’s back, gave a firm nod, violet eyes locking with Wild’s blue.

Wild could only nod numbly. He wormed one arm under Twilight’s and pulled him up. A small scream escaped his bloody lips as his wound was stretched. His head lolled against Wild’s neck. He half dragged, half carried Twilight to the entrance of the town. To Four and Warrior’s credit, not a single Yiga engaged them on their way out. We’re almost there. Wild thought. Just a few more feet Twi. You have to stay with me. The going was slow considering Twilight was a good six inches and seventy pounds heavier than he was. Finally, finally, Wild was able to drag Twilight into the woods. He threw a quick look behind them to make sure they weren’t followed. He laid Twilight down on the dirt, trying to make him as comfortable as possible.

‘Cub,” Twilight coughed wetly, forcing his eyes open. “I-if I don’t make it, could y-.“

If Twilight wasn’t so close to death Wild would have slapped him across the face.

“Shut up,” he said through gritted teeth. “You are going to be fine.”

He gave a weak laugh, then fell silent.

Wild set to scouring his slate for something, anything, to help him. To his horror, he only had one fairy and a few bandages in his entire slate.

Stupid stupid stupid. This is all your fault. Thats all you’re good at, killing your friends. If you hadn’t equipped that Windcleaver like an idiot Twi wouldn’t be on death’s door in a foreign forest.

Tears gathered in Wild’s eyes. He would not be responsible for any more deaths. He had already caused enough to last a lifetime. With grim determination he set to work tending his brother’s wounds. The fairy from his slate tinkled with healing magic. Wild surveyed the damage after the fairy worked her magic. The wound was no longer immediately life threatening, but without proper medical equipment he would succumb to his wounds. All he could do now was wrap his wounds and pray for the best.

“Wild.”

He whipped around, hastily wiping tears from the corner of his eyes. Time, Sky, and Legend stumbled into the clearing.

“How bad is it?” Shy whispered, holding his shoulder.

Time ran a critical eye over his protégé’s still body.

“He’s alive. Barely.” Time murmured.

The bushes rustled again, this time producing Wind, who was lugging a very unconscious Hyrule.

‘He used too much of his magic,” gasped Wind, blood trickling from a cut near his hairline.

Sky moved to take Hyrule from the sailor, who promptly collapsed.

“Where’s the captain and smithy?” Time asked while looking Wind over.

“They were right behind me,” Legend said, trying to hide the obvious concern in his voice. “They should have made it out, right?”

A tense silence filled the clearing. No one wanted to acknowledge the possibility that two of their comrades hadn’t made it out alive.

“I’m sure they’re fine. Warriors and Four are both capable swords men who can hold their own.” Sky reassured. “For now, we need to focus on Twi. Does anyone have any more healing items?”

To the group’s collective horror, the only thing they could produce was half of a red potion, courtesy of Legend. Wild took it and held it to Twilight’s lips. He drank all of it in one gulp and a sigh, and closed his eyes. A hand touched his shoulder.

“Let him rest, cub.” Time said, voice soft. “He’s going to be fine.”

Wild tried to ignore the blatant lie and let his shoulders slump. There was nothing more anyone could do now. The others were trying to busy themselves with menial tasks, like resetting the camp and gathering wood, anything to distract them from Twi’s shallow breathing. Legend had taken to pacing around the camp, mumbling to himself. No one had the heart to stop him. Almost an hour had passed before the bushed rustled again. A very dusty Warriors limped into camp with a bloody Four in tow.

“It’s just a surface wound, don’t worry,” Four said, trying to reassure the group. “It looks a lot worse than it is, trust me.”

Warriors let out a sigh as he plopped down in front of the fire Wild had started. Legend stopped dead in his tracks and whipped around so violently it gave Wild whiplash just watching it.

“You aren’t going to say anything, Pretty Boy?” He screeched. “You were gone for an hour, and thats all you have? Damn it I thought you had died, you cant do that!” He stomped. “Where were you and Four?”

He looked up, eyes blazing. “What do you want me to say?” He bit back. “Four and I were fighting those bastards so you could get away. We let Twi get run through by an insane cult member. He’s on the verge of death, and you’re suddenly concerned about me?”

Legend’s eyes went wide. “Well fuck me for being concerned about you,” he sputtered. He turned to Wild. “I though the Yiga were supposed to be gone,” he yelled. “You killed their leader. Why are they here?”

“I don’t know!” Wild exploded back jumping up from his sitting position. “I don’t know. I just stood there and watched like an idiot. All I could do was watch, Legend!” He screamed. Legend flinched. “All I could do was watch and now he might die. Because of me. All I can do is kill people.” Wild took a shuddering breath and hid his face in his hands, tears flowing.

Silence once again settled on the group like a thick fog. The only things they could hear were Wild’s muffled sobs and Twilight’s shallow breaths.

“Excuse me?”

Wild’s head snapped up, hands flying to his sword. The rest of the group followed suit, forming a circle around Twilight and Hyrule, who was still unconscious.

‘’Who’s there?” Four called out. If Wild didn’t know any better, he could have sworn the trees themselves were speaking. Given that he only knew one talking tree, that seemed highly improbable. The voice seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere all at once.

“Oh gods, I’m sorry,” the voice said. “I didn’t mean to startle you. I just thought that given your situation you could use some help.”

Well that was unexpected. Wild and Four shared a confused look.

“Why would you want to help us?” Legend called.

“Isn’t it obvious?” The trees answered back. “Your friend isn’t looking so hot. By my estimate he’s got a good thirty minutes before he and Hylia have a face to face. And besides, I think you could help me.”

“Why would you want us to help you?” Time scoured the trees for some kind of indication of a speaker.

“Well given all the shit that just went down at the village I think you guys are pretty capable fighters.” The voice laughed. “And your friend Wild claimed to have killed the Yiga leader. Which, by the way, is completely incorrect. But still, that claim has to have some merit, and I’ve never seen a normal person have the courage to impersonate a Yiga, much less stand up to one. That takes guts. Stupid guts, but guts nonetheless.”

How did the tree voice know his name?

“You were there?”

The voice laughed again.

“Of course I was there, how would I know about it if I wasn’t?”

“Are you a healer?”

This prompted a laugh so loud the trees shook.

“Oh sweet Hylia if I was a healer, I would kill someone. How ironic would that be? A healer killing someone? I’m not a healer, but I know a really good one. 150 percent care garunteed. If I’m going to help you though, I’m going to have to ask you to put away the swords” the voice almost sounded apologetic.

Wild weighed the options in his head. On one hand, they could let the crazy tree voice who somehow knew his name help them. On the other hand, they could watch Twilight die. Putting it like that, the answer was more than obvious. He looked over to Time. He gave a slight nod, motioning to the others to put their weapons away.

“Excellent.”

With a rustle of leaves, a green-clad hooded figure dropped out of the trees in front of them. A mask covered the lower half of his face, accenting blue eyes that sparkled in the twilight. He took quick steps to where Twilight laid. Gloved hands rummaged in a bag at his hips, producing a vial of a pale looking liquid, bandages, and red potion.

“See, the first mistake you made was not carrying antidote with you.” He said. “A Blademaster always coats their sword with poison before a fight. Thats why your fairy didn’t really work.”

The implications of those three sentences worried Wild. Firstly, it meant Twilight had been poisoned. Second, it meant that the tree voice had been around when he used that fairy almost three hours ago.

The figure uncorked the bottle and tipped Twilight’s chin up slightly, pouring the contents of the vial into his mouth. Twilight gulped the unknown substance, apparently unaware a complete stranger had fed him it. The tree boy then went soaking the bandages in red potion, rewrapping Twilight’s wounds. Satisfied, he stood back and admired his handiwork.

“And there you go,” he said cheerily. “Now he wont die of poison.”

“You mean he might die of something else?” Legend practically screamed.

“Well, I mean yeah. Do you know how many things out here could kill you?” He started listing things off his fingers. “He lost a lot of blood, he might die of exhaustion, and spontaneous combustion is always on the table. Do you know how terrifying that would be? One minute you’re here, the next your body gets relocated to the Sacred Realm via a fiery demise. Honestly, how are more people not worried about it?”

That was an unexpected tangent, but Wild had to admit, he could see Twilight breathing quite a lot easier. He turned to the tree boy.

“Do you have a name?”

He laughed merrily, blue eyes dancing.

“I sure hope so. I’m Link.”

Shit.

Shit shit shit.

Legend honestly didn’t know what he had expected. Hylia just loved throwing them curveballs, and a crazy tree person who happened to have a whole infirmary’s worth of medical supplies at the exact time they needed it could have only been a Link.

They were all sitting around the campfire now, crazy tree Link included. He was wiry, but small, barely grazing Time’s shoulder. Wild golden curls tumbled down his back, secured with a band. Some ringlets escaped to frame a face containing the most freckles Legend had ever seen on a living person. Link had explained to Wild that he had followed him out of the village because he wanted to help. He stayed in the trees because he couldn’t figure out if they were hostile or not. Thats how he was able to figure out his name. Satisfied with that answer, Wild hade made them all soup, and he was happily slurping it down. Hyrule had woken up a while ago, and was wildly confused at the sight of another person who definitely hadn’t been there when he passed out. Time had explained the whole strange situation. Twilight had also woken up thanks to the pale potion and bandages, and was sipping soup slowly with the help of Sky.

Warriors cleared his throat.

“So, Link,” he said, putting emphasis on the name. “ Can you explain to us what the hell happened back at the town?”

“Well there’s not much to say there. You guys pissed off the Yiga and they retaliated. Honestly, you guys need to be more careful.”

Warriors sighed.

“Thats not what I meant. I mean why were they there.”

“Thats also pretty self explanatory. You waltzed into a Yiga occupied village. Are you guys ok? How do you not know any of this?”

“He means why are they here. In Hyrule. Now. How long have they been here? And why hasn’t anyone done anything about it? Shouldn’t the princess know about this?” Wild leveled an intense stare at Link.

He set his spoon down, staring down into his bowl.

“Wow, you guys are really far behind,” he said quietly. “The Yiga have been here for almost twenty five years.”

“Twenty five years?” Wild gasped.

Link nodded. “They took over when my parents were kids. From what I can piece together, a powerful warlock invaded Hyrule and all the major settlements with the help of the Yiga Clan. A lot of people were killed, including most of the people who were in the castle,” he finished quietly. “They’ve been here ever since.”

Ganon. Legend thought. That bastard pig was at it again. It was becoming clearer by the minute why they had been called here.

Wild started hyperventilating.

“No, that cant be right. They were supposed to be gone.”

“What about the hero?” Sky asked. “Surely they should have done something.”

Link’s eyes went stormy. “You think the ‘hero’ could possibly help?” He said with an edge to his voice.

“The hero, if they exist, was probably killed twenty five years ago. And if they are alive, they’re a coward. I’ve been in this fight since I was practically born, and they haven’t even made their supposed existence known. The hero is only a bedtime story for people who have lost hope.” Link finished with a growl.

That did not bode well. Where was the hero? Could he be dead? That wasn’t possible. They’re had to be a hero, right? Maybe the kid in front of them was just a Link by coincidence. Hell, he didn’t even believe in the hero. Legend started to wonder how many of the people in this Hyrule shared the same sentiment.

Now Sky was hyperventilating along with Wild.

“But someone should have taken up the mantle. What about the Master Sword? Surely someone should have pulled it by now.” Sky’s voice trembled.

Link finally looked up, eyes dark.

“Wow.” He whispered to himself. “You guys must live in a hole.”

“What do you mean?” Time said, voice grave.

Link locked eyes with Time, eyes just as serious.

“The Master Sword doesn’t exist. It was shattered twenty years ago.”

#linked universe #chiaroscuro fic #sapphie writes

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anxiouslyfred · 3 years

Text

Calm Down Stories

Summary: Remus wishes his telepathic link with his soulmate helped him calm Virgil down in ways beyond telling stories, but it works. Today he tries helping a stranger in a music shop at the same time by talking about a CD cover to them, and sending his words over the telepathic link.

/\/\

'Can't do this. Too loud, too busy. Can't, can't can't' Remus wished that he knew how to help, really help Virgil, especially when these repetitions began to echo through their connection. He'd tried looking up what helps anxiety, methods soulmates had used before meeting in the past.

Virgil had only panicked more when he'd tried using them, terrified that he was harming or annoying Remus with his fears, worries, everything.

Later they had spoken about it, covered that Remus had only wanted to help, support him since he couldn't take the anxiety away but also that he hadn't sounded like himself to Virgil while following those methods. Besides as soon as he knew it wasn't helping Virgil, he'd returned to his usual method of trying to help with his soulmates panic, imagining stories, and adventures he'd gone on, or thought sounded fun.

Remus knew that was all just distractions though, nothing that actually helped long term. Their telepathy thankfully hid his wishes to do more, even just talk through the struggles Virgil had when overwhelmed so he projected stories about his day, and compliments, so many compliments about the things Virgil let slip through in his thoughts.

'You somewhere safe to calm down in? Or still stuck among the madding crowd?' Remus asked, already heading into the nearest shop. It was always easier to come up with a story if he didn't have to worry about walking into strangers constantly. Their yelling could filter through to Virgil and make things worse if he did walk into them.

'Music Shop. Can't move, can't hide, can't can't can't cope, all too much, going to have people staring at me.' On one hand Remus could start trying to come up with some distraction story, on the other, if Virgil was already worrying about getting stares that usually meant he needed someone actually with him to calm down alongside the thoughts Remus could send to him. They'd already mentioned this morning that they were both out picking up some new accessories and clothes alone today.

He glanced around the shop hoping for something he could twist into a bizarre story, more confusing than a surrealism painting and realised that he was in a music shop too, with plenty of CD cases to take inspiration from and a guy in a hoodie clinging to one of the shelves as though the world was ending...

A guy looking like the world was ending could probably use a distraction just as much as Virgil needed on too so Remus had a focus and a way to start chattering away. The display the man had stopped at had some weird album art on it.

“Hey Fella, can I get to those CD's in front of ya?” He asked, trying to pantomime reaching around him without breaching any personal space the man might need.

He got a panicked look and a stumble out of the way for that, but picked up on of the cases anyway, raising an eyebrow. “Are you breathing there, Honey? I would help more but have been told I suck at leading breathing patterns. Or rather that I'm too impatient to count slowly in whatever way they need.” Remus just let any thoughts that crossed his mind and would be okay for Virgil to hear while panicking be said. He knew that quite often if he spoke things they'd get sent over their bond as thoughts too, and really didn't want to make either his soulmate or this stranger worse.

The man did attempt to take a deep breath at his words though, so Remus classed that as a win and waved the CD case up. “You know, Fella, I always wonder what the story could be behind album art like this. Seriously half of music nowadays is all love, sex, money, or escaping to nature. I bet none of the songs even mention a bat, let alone an octopus so why put them on a cover.” Really he could have found a worse cover to talk about, but this would do.

Virgil was quiet, no repetitions of 'Can't' to be heard for the moment and the panicking man was just nodding, clearly still upset, but definitely trying to breathe to some pattern Remus couldn't fathom.

“Then again, why would a bat even be flying over the ocean? It doesn't seem like something they'd do. I mean sure, birds migrate, and there's gotta be some bats that live in seaside town. Literally enough books and films set in England mention bats that it has to be like a given some are near the sea. That island is tiny.” Remus now had to get the CD if only so he'd remember to look up ocean bats later on. If they existed he wanted to know everything, including the weirdest things they eat. Can bats prey on fish?

“Some in Mexico migrate and hunt at sea.” The man breathed out, sounding shaky and half terrified of actually joining in with Remus's conversation.

He nodded in thanks, now frowning at the other animal on the screen. “Still, pretty unrealistic for an octopus to be that vibrantly yellow in the middle of the night. Practically all cephalopods have some ability to change their colour and that bright near the surface. It's basically putting up a sign saying ' I'm here, hunt me' to any predators near the surface. Although maybe it's more trying to get the gift delivered to it and would go to darker shade as soon as that box is actually in its grasp.”

“Why would a bat be taking presents to an octopus anyway?” Remus blinked at the question. It was one he'd expected to have thought at him, if Virgil was starting to calm down at least, but instead the stranger had asked it.

Mentally he thought threw bringing the bat bombs he'd read about once up, but shook the thought away, shrugging and carrying on wriggling. “Could be any reason. Perhaps bats are the animal worlds equivalent to Santa, only instead of one man in a sleigh you have hundreds or millions of these fluffy little friends flying around trying to give presents on like midsummer or something. Can't have a winter celebration for the animals when tons of them are hibernating.”

“Would be more animals on the picture if that was the case. Could just be the octopus and bat are friends.” Remus looked at the man again, staring for a moment as he spoke. There was still a shake to his breaths but they were slow again, and his hands weren't tensing for something to grip onto.

“Well now I just want to know how a bat and an octopus would become friends. It can't be easy given one lives literally under the sea and the other in caves or treetops and flies everywhere.” He exclaimed, getting a snort, before focusing on his thoughts. 'Hey Virge, You've gone quiet there. Are you calming down or has something happened?'

The man he'd been helping to calm down at the same time smirked, “Who are humans to limit what friendships animals can make? I'm more curious over what gift they would share.”

“Well that's easy, things the octopus couldn't get normally but might like to eat. Some other types of insects or whatever.” Remus suggested, now frowning as he still got no response.

“Is something wrong? I thought your story from this CD cover was going really well. Have I upset you trying to join in with it?” The man asked, worried again as he watched Remus.

He shook his head, “No, your ideas are brilliant, awesome actually. I just, well my soulmate was upset too so part of the story was for you, partly for him, but now I'm not getting any response.” Remus tried to wave away the concern, already thinking again 'Virgil, please just a random I've been knocked out and thoughts aren't awake response would be wonderful right now.'

The man frowned too, “That could just mean you've... Give me a moment to try contacting my soulmate cause you're right. He'd normally have been telling me some weird story but instead you were here talking and I don't think I've heard from him for a bit.” Remus didn't need to ask what the broken off sentence meant. He'd have lost the telepathy if he had met his soulmate, and the only person that would qualify for that was this man.

He waited for a moment, watching as the man closed his eyes, before staring at him again. “So is your soulmate called Virgil?”

“Is your soulmate called Remus?” He countered, beginning to bounce in place again.

“Yes, oh bloody hell, you accidentally managed to find me, mid panic attack and still decided to help me calm down? You're insane, what if I was dangerous or something?” Virgil exclaimed, shoving at Remus's chest lightly.

Remus just started laughing, grabbing the arm that shoved him to pull Virgil into a hug. “Somehow I don't think anyone dangerous would be frozen clinging to a display in a music shop. Come on, You need food and hot chocolate after that freak out, and I need as much sugar as I can fit into a drink. There's a cafe a few shops down.”

He didn't release the hug while making that decision, and only snickered when Virgil half heartedly attempted to pull away. “If we're going there you need to let me go, and pay for that CD.”

“Hmm, maybe in a bit. I've wanted to wrap you up in hugs when you're upset for all our lives so you can enjoy the longest hug ever before we move.” Remus declared, tightening one arm while the other came up to pet Virgil's hair.

Perhaps he wouldn't normally have helped a stranger calm down but he couldn't be more please that he had today.

#dukexiety #soulmate au #remus sanders #virgil sanders #panic attack #bats #octopuses

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ofstoriesandstardust · 3 years

Text

The 5 Times Luther Thinks He’s in Love With You (and the one time he actually does something about it)

A/N: I’ve never written for Luther before but I am full on simping for this man. I know he’s kinda hated in the fandom so we’ll see if this fares better then my Diego piece. No, I still haven’t finished season 2 yet. If I were to spend as much time watching TUA as I did reading and writing fan fiction about it, I would’ve finished weeks ago. This might be super out of character for Luther so hopefully this doesn’t suck. It also ended up being way longer then I had intended and is officially the longest thing I’ve ever written. I think it starts out mediocre and ends strong so there’s that.

masterlist | prompt list

warnings: takes place post-season 2 but my own version again, Ben came back to life again because I said so, my trauma, canon childhood abuse, trauma, and reference to drugs, swearing,

word count: 6,438

i. the time you treat his siblings like your own

The first time Luther thinks he might be in love with you is the day Klaus gets out of rehab...again. Over the last year, the Hargreeves clan has worked hard to get Klaus clean and sober, and Ben coming back to life was a big push for Klaus to get help. Unfortunately, it’s been more downs than it had been ups. As a survivor of childhood abuse yourself, you had told Luther it would take time for the mental scars their father left behind to heal and Klaus was no exception. Still, Luther had thought the process would go a little bit smoother than it had, and it killed him to watch his brother relapse again and again, and the toll it took on Diego and Ben every time he did. However, they thought this time might be different. Klaus had made a lot of progress during this last stint in rehab, progress he hadn’t made before. You coming into the Hargreeves family and becoming a rock to the siblings had brought a lot unexpected comfort to Klaus, that someone outside the family cared for him and his well-being. It had been a push he needed, and you really believed he’d stay clean this time.

Diego and Ben had volunteered to pick the seance up from rehab, with the other siblings arriving at your apartment to create some sort of semblance of a ‘welcome home’ party. You had volunteered to watch Klaus the next few weeks, knowing the Academy was no place for him to be. How could he stay sober living on the streets or at the home of all his abuse? And seeing as you didn’t drink, there was no alcohol for Klaus to even access if he wanted to. Luther had been adamant you didn’t need to go out of your way to make a space for Klaus but you had over ruled him with the support of Ben and Diego and the decision was made whether Luther liked it or not.

Over the course of the last year or so, you had sort of tumbled into his life, crashing straight into Luther one morning as he was leaving Griddy’s. It had snowed the night before, and the street was icy, and the next thing he knew, someone had walked straight into his large frame and was tumbling towards the ground. Luther reached out, large hands wrapping around your much smaller frame, and hoisting you back up before you could hit the ground. He awkwardly cleared his throat and put you back down on the ground. “Sorry about that.” He mumbled, overwhelmed by the fact that he had stupidly almost sent the pretty girl crash-landing to the ground.

“It was my fault, really. Shoulda been looking were I was going.” You said. Fate, however had other plans, when Ben came along the road. You turned to greet him, and his eyes drifted from you to Luther. He stopped next to you and a shit-eating smirk grew on his face. “Well, (Y/N), it looks like you’ve met my brother Luther. Luther, this is my co-worker (Y/N).” Luther had a moment of realization, understanding he had knocked into Ben’s favorite co-worker at the bookstore/cafe he talked so much about. Ben invited Luther back inside to Griddy’s as the two of you got breakfast before your shift and Luther agreed, not having a much better plan. Allison was in Manhattan with Vanya, Klaus was doing a stint in rehab, Diego was working at the gym, and Five was off god-knows-where doing god-knows-what. The breakfast was quite enjoyable, Luther observing your comfortable energy and your kind nature. You had offered your number to Luther before parting with Ben, in case “he ever needed a friend”. It wasn’t long after that, that the family had had a tumble towards rock-bottom as Klaus got out of rehab, immediately seeking the nearest drug he could get his hands on. Ben had asked you to come over and the support you offered the family through your experiences with an alcoholic mother and comfort had irrevocably changed your position and meaning to the family and to Luther. While Luther had always felt you were closest to him, the closest thing he had to a best friend, he couldn’t unsee the way you joked with Klaus, the support you offered Diego, the witty banter you’d exchange with Five, the conversations you’d have with Allison, the encouragement you offered Vanya, and the normalcy you brought Ben. He always thought that you liked them a little bit better, but every time, you were able to read that he was too far into his self-doubt, and assured him that he was and would always be your best friend.

This time was no different. As Klaus returned to the apartment and was practically glued to your side, he felt that small piece of him rile up again, making him want to shrink to the background. As the night wore on, he felt himself retreat further and further behind the walls in which he had put up. He had hoped to get a moment alone with you, which didn’t seem promising. But luck was on his side, and an opportunity arose, which came in the form of a Mario-Kart tournament. You excused yourself and Luther from the first few rounds, asking for his help with the dishes. He felt confused, as you always stated doing the dishes helped you focus and relax. You turned the water on, beginning to wash dishes and handing them to him to dry. He did so, in silence for a few minutes, but not a bad one. “You know that Klaus staying doesn’t change how I feel about you, right?” you said quietly, as to not let the Hargreeves overhear your discussion of one of his biggest insecurities. He nodded.

“Yeah, I know.” he said in a gruff voice, looking out over the city from your window, avoiding looking at you.

“Luther.” You said sternly and he chanced a glance at you. “You know I love your family like my own siblings and you know I would do anything for them.” He felt his stomach beginning to sink as he waited for the other shoe to drop that would never come. “But, you, you’re my best friend in the entire world. Nobody’ll ever come close.” You said, nudging his shoulder and turning back to the dishes. He looked down at you, and looked at the way your face was lit up by the light of the moon, and he looked back up the moon to where he spent so many years in isolation, hoping one day he’d get to meet someone like you. He was starting to think that he didn’t want to be just best friends anymore... and that thought scared him almost more than anything.

ii. the time he can’t imagine his life without you

The thought that does scare him more than anything is the thought of losing you. It’s never been a thought he’s allowed to stay in his mind long; shuddering away from the thought of losing you to the cold clutches of death, the way he lost Ben, the way he had thought he lost Five. Unfortunately, he is forced to confront the thought one night. Diego shows up the Academy, clutching you in his arms, cuts and bruises littering your frame. Luther is the only home at the time, everyone else either gone, living their lives or in the case of Five, at Griddy’s. Diego sets you down in a chair and with the exception of the minor physical harm and the fact that you can’t seem to stop shaking, you seem to be alright. “I’ll explain in a minute. Where’s Mom?” Diego asks quietly. This seems to snap Luther out of his state of shock, that if Diego thought your injuries might be bad enough to have Mom look over them, he needs to present and here.

“Diego, I told you-” you winced, a movement neither Hargreeves boy missed, “I’m fine.”

“Even still, Mom should check you out anyways. I think she’s upstairs. Do you want me to go get her?” Luther said softly. Diego shook his head.

“Nah, I’ll go grab her. You stay with (Y/N).” Luther nodded and took a tentative seat next to you, wanting nothing more than to reach out and pull you into his arms and quell all your fear and make you forget all this pain and-

“Oh, (Y/N), darling.” Mom’s soft voice reaches his ears. She checked you over, determining that all the injuries you sustained were minor and would heal within the next few days.

“See, Diego. I told you I was fine.” You snapped, as Mom put a kettle on the stove to make tea for the three of you.

“What even happened, (Y/N/N)?” Luther asked softly, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear, almost missing the way you leaned into his touch. Diego sighed and pinched the bridge of his noise.

“I was wondering the same thing myself.” He grumbled.

“It was just some creepy guy. I was fine.” The tension in the room is so thick one Diego’s knives could cut through it as the implications of what your sentence meant settled. A endless train of possibilities of what ifs fly through Luther’s brain that he almost misses what happens next.

“Fine?!” Diego asks incredulous. “Fine?! (Y/N), he had a knife-”

“I had it handled!” You said indignantly.

“You could have been killed!” Diego shouts, and the silence that follows is undeniably terrifying for all three of you. You looked to Luther, who must’ve looked like a fish out of water, gaping at you, struggling to come to terms with what Diego had just said.

“I might not be a superhero, but I can take care of myself.” You said, voice soft now, not making eye contact with either boy. Luther looks at Diego, who is clearly ready to make another argument and Luther finds the fear growing inside of him at an alarming rate. Luther stands up abruptly, his chair toppling over behind him.

“(Y/N), you could have died.” Luther says, now growing concerned regarding your apparent lack of concern for your well-being. The fear and panic spreading through his body seems ice-cold and the thought that Diego could have brought your lifeless corpse back to the Academy instead is rooting him to his now standing position. You look up at him.

“Okay, well I didn’t. I’m fine and here to live another day. Nothing worse then any thing you guys have done, and besides-”

“(Y/N), I could have lost you!” Luther yells, surprising all three of you. You look up at him. “After losing Ben, after losing Five, after everything that’s happened-” Luther goes quiet, choking on words he isn’t sure he means. I’m in love with you. I can’t do this without you. “I can’t lose you too.” His voice is soft and you look away from him, biting your lip.

“I’m sorry, okay? My co-worker called out, I didn’t think anything would happen. I've walked home a million times after closing, it’s never been an issue. I thought I had the situation under control.” You refuse to make eye contact with either boy, glaring a hole into the table. The silence remains for a while longer and Diego eventually excuses himself, saying you’ll finish the discussion in the morning. Mom put your tea down on the table, and you startle, seemingly forgetting the AI was still there. She leaves you and Luther alone in the kitchen with a gentle smile. Your hands are still trembling as your hands wrap around the cup, and Luther almost takes one of them in his own, but decides against it.

“I’m just glad you’re okay.” He says, softly. You look over at him, if for only a moment. He needs to start sorting of these thoughts of love he has towards you, but for right now, he’s just glad you’re still with him.

iii. the time Diego teases him

A month or so passes between that night and the next time Luther is forced to confront his foreign feelings for you. It’s early one morning and the eldest Hargreeves boys are sitting in a comfortable silence as Grace walks around the kitchen making breakfast. Diego is the first to break the silence. “So, Luther,” he begins, a shit-eating smirk upon his face, not unlike the one Ben wore the day you and Luther met. Luther stiffens, concerned about whatever is about to come out of his brother’s mouth. As good as their relationship has been since Texas, Luther can’t help but feel like there will always be a sort of unspoken tension between the two of them that will never truly go away, residual feelings of competition leftover from their childhood. “When are you going to tell her?” Luther stares at Diego, utterly confused about what the boy might be asking.

“Tell who what?” Luther asks, which in response, prompts Diego to roll his eyes.

“Don’t play dumb. I see how you look at her. When are you going to tell her?” Diego says, smirking. “C’mon, you can tell me. This is a safe space.”

“Tell who- Allison?” Luther blurts the name out, the only girl he can think of that Diego might be referring too. Diego startles at the name-drop of their sister.

“What- no, not Allison!” Diego splutters. “Jeez, you really have no idea who I’m talking about, do you?” Luther shakes his head. “I’m talking about (Y/N).” Luther relaxes at the sound of your name and sinks back into his chair, but he’s still concerned about what Diego thinks he needs to tell you.

“What am I supposed to be telling her?” Luther asks to which Diego shoots him a look. Luther finally understands, at least, he thinks he does. “I’m not telling her about my... condition.” Luther says, the word feeling weird on his tongue. It’s an open secret the family never speaks about, sensing Luther’s insecurities.

“That’s not- she doesn’t know?!” Diego asks, incredulously.

“Not unless one of you told her.” Luther says, anger growing in him at the thought of one of his siblings going behind his back and telling you, his closest friend, his deepest secret and biggest insecurity. He doesn’t need you to look at him the way his siblings do, with pity.

“Luther- Luther you have to tell her.” Diego says, his voice firm. “She has a right to know.” Luther casts a dark look at his younger brother.

“Right to know what? Right to know how Dad mutilated my body?! Right to know that no one will ever love me because of it?!” Luther asks, the anger (and fear) seeping into his tone. Diego sits back in his chair, not breaking eye contact with the blond boy. The quiet in the kitchen settles as Grace put the plates down in front of them but unlike before, this one isn’t comfortable. It’s awkward and there’s strong emotion radiating off of the two boys.

“Thanks, Mom.” Diego says quietly, but Luther doesn’t say anything, not trusting his voice. “I was actually going to ask when you were going to tell the poor girl you’re in love with her.” Diego says, beginning to cut up the pancake on his plate. Luther startles and his eyes widen, looking back up from his food to face Diego.

“I don’t-” Now it’s Luthers turn to splutter through his words, struggling to form a cohesive sentence.

“You do, Luther, you sooo do.” Diego responds, the shit-eating grin returning to his face. Luther just stares at Diego. “I see the way you look at her. The way you drop everything to be near her, the stupid little smile you get whenever someone talks about her or she comes over, I see it.” Luther shrugs, feeling like he’s wading through concrete, trying to form a sentence in response to Diego’s too accurate statement.

“She’s our best friend.” Luther says, shrugging with a fake nonchalant attitude. The word friend feels foreign ion his tongue and wishes he could use something else that would more accurately describe his feelings for you.

“Sure, but I’d be concerned if Ben started looking at her the way you do.” Luther stares at Diego, the confusion returning. “Your face lights up whenever you see her.” Luther remains dumbfounded and quiet, sensing Diego had a point he wanted to get to. “I’m not the only one who thinks it either. We all see it. Sure, she’s our best friend and like a sister to us, but you, you’re in love with the girl.” Diego must take Luther’s silence as a reason to continue, because Diego puts his fork down and looks at Luther seriously. “I only bring all of this up because- well, if you don’t tell her soon, she won’t- won't stick around forever.”

At Diego’s words, it feels as if someone has dropped a rock in Luther’s stomach and he thinks he might be sick. The thought of you leaving- “She’s a patient person, but she’s not going to wait forever for you to figure out your feelings. So if you are in love with her, and I know that you are, you need to tell her- tell her everything.” Diego stresses the last word and Luther gathers that he means his condition as well. Luther wants to shove his plate away, walk away from Diego, and lay in his bed for the rest of the day, pretending that he hadn’t been forced to confront these feelings he isn’t ready to have for you.

Instead he mumbles out a “She’ll hate me.” Diego sighs.

“She won't hate you. I’m pretty sure she feels the same way but you’d have to ask Vanya or Ben for that answer, Lord knows she confides in them more than me.” Luther looks back up at Diego. “Besides, even if she doesn’t feel the same way, she won’t hate you.”

“But it will change things.”

“Sometimes change can be a good thing.”

“Not in this family.” Luther mutters as Five makes an appearance, the blue light startling Diego. The conversation gets left there but Luther can’t help but mull over Diego’s words, wondering if he’s right.

iiii. the time you have a fight

You and Luther’s friendship has been struggling, he knows it just as well as you do. Ever since his conversation with Diego, Luther has been pulling into himself, retreating further and further away from you. He’s not being a good friend, he knows that, and you deserve better, and he knows that too. Still, he can’t help but feel like the only way he’ll get over his feelings is by not being around, positive he won’t ever tell you that he thinks he might be in love with you. He knows there’s no way you're in love with him too. He’s ended up at your apartment tonight, returning a book Five had borrowed. Why he couldn’t return it himself, he wasn’t sure but Five had told he owed him one after “saving his sorry ass through two apocalypses”. Now that he was here though, he thinks it was just a ploy to get him here. Even still, when you invite him in, he can’t bring himself to say no to you. The pair of you stand in the kitchen in total quiet, the distance between the too of you feeling much more like a gaping chasm than the four feet. “What did I do?” You ask, arms folded across your chest, almost like your protecting yourself from him. Luther looks up at you. “Did I do something wrong?” A pause. “Why do you hate me?”

“I don’t hate you.” He says quickly, clearly too fast for your liking. You sigh and let your arms drop, turning away from him to put the hot water from the kettle into the two mugs in front of you.

“You do Luther. I can see it. You don’t come over anymore, you hardly speak to me when I’m around, I did something and now you’re mad at me.” Luther remains silent, something that seems to be occurring more and more lately. “If you hate me, if you want to end our friendship, that’s fine. I’ll let you go, but at least have the decency to tell me why.” Your voice trembles on the last word and Luther is kicking himself as he struggled to find words to assure that it’s not you, it’s him. However, his tongue feels heavy and his mouth feels like it’s full of cotton and his mind is blank. He couldn’t very well tell you the truth, he’d lose you for sure, but it looks like he’s losing you anyway. You must take his silence as reason to keep pushing. “If this is about- your condition-” your voice drops on those two words and Luther stands up abruptly.

“How do you know about that?!” He seethes. You glance up at him from where you’re staring intently at the tea steeping below you on the counter, but only briefly.

“Allison told me. Months ago.” You responded, voice quiet. He’s in the process of figuring out all the different colorful things he’s going to say to Allison upon his return at the Academy, when you speak again. “Why didn’t you tell me Luther? I’m your best friend.” There’s that word again. Friend. The word has caused so much stress, frustration, and confusion in his life and now he’s going to lose you over it too.

“You’d hate me.” You look up at him.

“I could never ha-” He interrupts you, the panic and fear and anger sliding down his spine.

“Or worse, you’d look at me like everybody else does, with pity in their eyes.” He spits the words out with so much venom, he surprises himself. It clearly surprises you as well.

“Is that what you really think?” You finally dare to make eye contact with him for the first time the whole night and your voice is cold. He shrugs, not knowing what to say. “After all this time, after everything, that’s all you think of me?” Luther is, once again, at a loss of words and he feels the panic crawling up his throat that if he doesn’t say something soon, it’s not going to be pretty. You take his silence as apparent confirmation because the words you utter next is ones he never wanted to hear.

“Get out.”

He throws the front door of the Academy open and spots Vanya coming down the stairs. They make eye contact and she shrinks back, feeling the anger radiating off of him. A pang goes through his chest, remembering the last time he felt this angry. “Where’s Allison?” He asks and Vanya nods her head towards the kitchen. He heads there and he can feel Vanya following behind him. His siblings are sitting around, clearly laughing at some sort joke Klaus has just finished telling. The room falls silent as they look over to a glowering Luther and Vanya who is shrinking behind him in the doorway. Luther’s eyes settle on Allison, who is conveniently, the furthest away from him. “What gives you the right to tell her about what Dad did?” His voice is low and and it’s Diego who understands first.

“Oh, shit.” Diego mutters. He glances over at Ben, who looks at Klaus, who looks to Vanya.

“Maybe we should...” Klaus says, as Diego and Ben move to stand up.

“Sit down.” Luther says, and the three resume their position as Vanya moves behind them. Allison is looking at the table, avoiding looking at him. Five’s head swings between Luther and the rest of the siblings.

“Did I miss something?” He asks, finally settling on Vanya and Diego. Diego shrugs.

“Unless, you’ve been missing the heart eyes Luther makes every time (Y/N) comes around, you’re as up to speed as the rest of us.” Five snorts. Luther lets Diego’s comment slide because the only thing he can feel is the sheer betrayal he feels at Allison’s actions. Before Five can formulate a response, Luther finds himself talking.

“What the hell, Allison!?” The girl finally makes eye contact with him. “After everything you and I have been through, what gives you the right to tell her that?! You knew, better than anyone, how I felt about that.” Allison sighs and looks away from him.

“I’m sorry, okay? I thought she already knew, I promise. I wouldn’t intentionally tell her that if I hadn’t thought she already knew.” Luther softens, but only a little.

“So I didn’t get a choice in the matter?! To tell the girl that I love-” His voice stops on the word, realizing what he’s just said out loud. Five’s eyes narrow and Klaus raises his eyebrows. No one else seems to be phased though, leading him to believe there’s been one too many conversations about him behind his back. Figures they’d leave Klaus and his big mouth and Five’s smart mouth out of it.

“Like I said, I thought she knew. Why didn’t you tell her?”

“I didn’t get a chance! You got to her months before I could!” Luther exclaims, getting defensive once again. He’d rather not think about the consequences of his words just yet.

“Wait, hold on. She’s known this for months?” Ben intervenes. Allison nods.

“Four.” She confirmed.

“Four months and she didn’t say anything?” Ben asks, chuckling to himself a little bit.

“This isn’t funny.” Luther deadpans, now staring down Ben.

“It is, just a little.” Ben said, his laughter growing. It seems to click for Vanya, who joins in on Ben’s laughter. “Why’d you never tell her Luther?” He asks, still struggling to hold in his chuckles.

“I- I didn't want her to hate me, or- or think of me differently.” Luther said quietly.

“Well that answers that then.” Vanya says. The siblings all look over to her and she shrinks back from the sudden attention. “Well, I’m just saying, if she’s known for four months, and she hasn’t said anything, and nothing’s changed, I’d say the answer’s pretty obvious.” It’s Klaus who understands next and his smirk grows.

“In fact, one might say, to know for four months and to not say anything means there’s something more.” He says, using the voice he must’ve used when he was preaching or whatever the hell he did with his cult in the 60′s.

“Where you going with this Klaus?” Diego asks. Its Allison who joins in next, a grin growing on her face.

“Well aside from our brother’s new confession of undying love for the poor girl, she must feel the same to know for four months and never say anything.”

“To let nothing change in hopes that one day you’d feel the same way for her.” Five finishes, realization dawning on his face.

“Well, it doesn’t matter because she’s never gonna speak to me again.” Luther says, and turns from his siblings, heading back up to his room. So, he’s pretty sure he’s in love with you. So what, if it just means losing you? He’d go through a million apocalypses, swallow his feelings for you a hundred times, if it meant you’d still be in his life.

v. the time you drop everything to be there for him

It’s been a week since you’ve spoken to Luther. Klaus and Ben keep telling him he should talk to you, to fix things, but if you can go this long without talking to him, he knows that you’re better off. You don’t need him in your life messing things up and making it harder for you. Unfortunately, late one night, fate makes the decision for him. It’s storming out and Luther hates the sounds of thunder. His heart is racing as he lays in his too small bed, arms clutching his comforter. He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to drown out the images in his brain as he searches for sleep again. His nightmare keeps replaying over in his mind, the image of you and his siblings lifeless on the ground. There was so much blood. He knows it’s just a nightmare, it has to be, but fear is crawling up his throat and he thinks he might be sick. What if that was real? What if it was some suppressed memory, and everyone he’s ever cared about is just- gone? His eyes fly open as he fumbles for his phone. He still isn't really sure how to use it but he knows well enough to call you. Pleasepickuppleasepickuppleasepicku-

“H-hello?” The voice on the other line sounds groggy and somehow through his sheer panic, he feels a pang of guilt for waking you up. His mind is racing and he still can't breathe but he can't deny the relief he feels hearing your sleepy voice. “Luther? You there?”

“Y-yeah, I’m here.” He stutters.

“Is everything okay? It’s 3 in the morning.”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He can’t help the way his voice shakes, clearly giving away the reality. “I just... just needed to hear your voice, s’all.” His heart is slowing down the longer you’re on the phone with him.

“Do you want me to come over?” As much as he wants to say yes, he shakes his head, forgetting you can’t see him. He clears his throat.

“No- no, I’ll be okay. Just a nightmare.”

“I’m coming over. Do you want me to stay on the phone with you?” He can hear rustling in the background, visualizing you pulling your shoes on and grabbing your keys.

“You- you don’t have to do that.” He says, even though he wants nothing more than to pull you close to him and maybe fall asleep with you in his arms.

“Just stay on the phone with me okay Luther? I’ll be there in ten.”

It’s actually 7 minutes before you’re opening the door to the Academy and rushing in. Luther’s sitting on the stairs waiting for you. He had to get out of his room but he didn’t want to go too far, not wanting to miss your arrival. The light in the foyer is on and you slowly walk towards where he’s seated. You crouch down, so that you can make eye contact with the man. He looks up at you and he realizes how much he misses you, how much he yearns to be around you. “You okay?” You ask softly. He shakes his head, finally allowing himself to be vulnerable with you. “What can I do for you?” He shrugs, still not wanting to voice how much he just wants to hold you in his arms. “C’mon, let’s go to the kitchen. I’ll make tea.” He follows you wordlessly. He sits in silence as he watches you fill the kettle and put it on the burner. You come around behind him and reach down, sliding your arms around his neck. It takes him a minute to realize you’re hugging him around his larger frame. He takes your hand and squeezes it. All too soon, the kettle starts whistling and he reluctantly lets you go. You put the hot water into two mugs and put the teabags in, letting it steep as you set the mugs down in front of the two of you.

“Thank you.” He says, quietly. You nod.

“Of course.” You say as you take the seat next to him. “I’m always gonna be here for you, even when I’m mad at you.” He looks over at you, thoughts being brought back to your fight, if you could even call it that. “I’m not mad at you, by the way. I was upset that you felt like you couldn’t trust me, but I know that’s something that-” You draw in a breath. “Something that takes a while to build.”

“I do. I do trust you.” He says firmly. “I trust you more than I trust anyone else.” He says honestly. “I was just- just scared.” You scoot your chair closer to his until your knees are touching and you can lean your head on his shoulder.

“I’m not going anywhere, Luther. I promise.” He looks down at you as the truth finally settles comfortably in his heart for the first time. He’s in love with his best friend and he’s okay with it. He thinks that just maybe- you feel the same way.

+ the one time he actually does something about it.

Luther wakes up alone the next morning. Disappointment settles in his chest, hoping you’d still be there. He gets up however, and goes about his day. He starts to worry though, as the day goes by, and he still hasn’t heard a word from you. He thinks that maybe last night had been out of pity, or some sort of obligation to his siblings. After dinner though, he gets a text from you, asking if he wants to come over. It doesn’t say what or why, but he misses you and he thinks he’s finally ready to tell you the truth, no matter what you might say in return. In fact, for the first time in a while, he’s starting to let himself hope, a feeling that’s a bit too foreign to him. He hopes you feel the same way about him. That you’re in love with him too. He agrees, texting you that he’d be over soon. He clear his throat, standing up from the table, and put his plate in the sink, ignoring the questioning look Five shoots him. He walks to your apartment, a dopey smile on his face. He makes it to your building and he lets himself in, watching how you turn to face him from the hallway. You give him a soft smile.

“Sorry about leaving this morning without saying anything. My co-worker called out so I had to cover their opening shift and I didn’t want to wake you because you looked really peaceful so...” You trail off, a light blush forming on your cheeks. He shook his head.

“It’s okay.” He says. The two of you stand there, just looking at each other. You startle finally.

“OH! I was wondering if you wanted to make these cookies with me? My Dad was finally able to get his hands on some of my Grandma’s recipes and I wanted to try one out?” He nods, smiling at the excitement lighting up your face. Your grandma had passed when you were little and it had been a struggle to get the family recipes, your family getting left out of a lot of the division of property. You had once told him that you were really only connected with her through baking. He always told you she’d be proud of you and your baking. You’d always blush and look away. He nodded, remembering he was going to need to use his words if he was going to hope to have the nerves to tell you that he was in love with you.

“Sure.” He says, moving to your kitchen. You follow him and pull the recipe up on your container as you both pull the ingredients out of their designated areas. The two of you spend so much time together that he knows his way around the kitchen like it’s the one at the Academy and the two of have baking together down to a science. You turn to music on, having made a playlist specifically for the dance parties that would happen while you’d wait for your pastry or dessert to cook. As the cookies bake in the oven, he watches with a smile as you dance around the kitchen, using the wooden spoon as a microphone. He isn’t planning it but-

“I’m in love with you.” Your eyes widen as you slowly come to a stop. The music still playing in the background feels unnatural given what was just said and you must agree because you slowly reach over to the computer, pausing it. You reach back and look at him, eyes still wide in what he thinks is shock. He’s starting to panic now, as you just stand there, mouth open. “It- it’s okay if you don’t feel the same way.” God dammit, this is why he didn’t hope for things anymore. Damn his siblings for letting him think you might feel the same way. “It doesn’t have to change anything. I understand. I just wanted you to know.” He says, quietly. “I’m sorry, I’ll go.” He turns to leave, feeling defeated. Fate is a cruel temptress, he’s officially decided.

“Luther- Luther wait.” You say, arm shooting out to grab his. You pull him back around to face you and he turns to see you unusually close to him. “Sorry, sorry, I panicked and froze.” You’re tumbling through your words, trying to spit them out, hardly breathing between them. He grows concerned at your state and he thinks you’re still worried about him feeling bad.

“Seriously, (Y/N), it’s fine-” You cut him off.

“No, no it’s not.” His heart sinks, but only for a minute because suddenly you’re talking again. “I’m in love with you too Luther. I have been for a while. I just never thought you’d feel the same way and I-” Your words stop as you look up to see you two are quite close together and all he wants to do is lean down and-

“Can I kiss you?” The words slip out before he can stop them but he’s not going to take them back. Not this time. You nod, and close the gap between the two of you. It’s short and sweet, just like you. The oven beeps, unfortunately, interrupting the moment.

“Oh, shit.” You mumble. “I love you Luther, but if I burn these cookies, I’m gonna be pissed.” He chuckles, loving how casually that word slips out of your mouth. He lets go of your waist, where his hands had been resting. You pull the cookies out of the oven and standing back from them, looking down at them proudly. He walks over to you and pulls you close to his chest and you sigh contentedly. “I could hold you like this forever.” He says, fingers running through your hair. You hum, wrapping your arms around him under his coat.

“I wouldn't mind it if you did.” You respond softly. Luther looks down at you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. He finally got the girl.

#luther hargreeves #luther hargreeeves imagines #luther hargreeves imagine #luther hargreeves fic

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inglourious-imagines · 4 years

Text

The Only One (Lewis Nixon)

Requested by: @dontfearthereaper-09

Summary: You're Colonel Sink's granddaughter and you're helping out with paperwork - you eventually fall in love with Lewis Nixon and start dating. However, every relationship has its ups and downs.

Prompt: a requested one - I wish I'd never met you.

Author's Note: I struggled so hard with this and I'm not proud of it at all, but hope it is what you wanted. A big thank you goes to for @alienoresimagines and her great help as always!

Taglist: @alienoresimagines @teenmagazines @meteora-fc @eugenesmorphine @band-of-brothers-cz @real-fans @not-john-watsons-blog @tealaquinn @ok-roemanov @mrseasycompany @punkgeekchic @wexhappyxfew @hellitwasyoufirstsergeant @rayofshanshine @mavysnavy @easynix @stressedinadress @georgeluzwarmhugs @easy-company-tradition @immrsronaldspeirs @snafus-peckuh @curraheewestandalone @warrior-healer @justamadgirlinabox @happyveday

"He felt now that he was not simply close to her, but that he did not know where he ended and she began." - Anna Karenina, L. Tolstoj

Y/N had never in her life shooted from a rifle or even held it in her innocent hands. She had never known combat, real combat, where men kill and die. She had never endured real physical pain.

And still, Y/N was standing in the middle of Camp Toccoa during the hot summer days of 1942 with a huge grin on her face. She finally persuaded her grandfather to let her join the paratroopers. Well, she was there to help out with paperwork mainly, to be there at hand for the intelligence officers, but she also managed to pull a few strings so she will be undergoing the combat training like every other soldier even though she's not allowed to go and fight in France.

The first weeks were exhausting - physically and mentally - with the combat training Y/N volunteered for. She constantly felt like she's at the verge of giving up and going home.

But Y/N didn't and neither will she. Even though it was the hardest thing she'd ever done in her life, it seemed right. This is where Y/N Sink belonged.

But thank God it wasn't just exercise, work and signing documents. One evening, when everything was finished for the day, her grandfather Sink took her with him to a certain celebration, more like an occasion to get drunk and forget that a war is going on just across an ocean.

It was certainly the most eventful night during her stay in Camp Toccoa, Georgia. Y/N lost her grandfather nearly 10 minutes after they walked in the pub. She immediately befriended two guys - George Luz and Joe Liebgott. It seemed like they'd known each other for years. The soldiers heard all about the mysterious woman that had been helping out in their training camp weeks ago now but never really got the chance to talk to her.

George introduced her to the rest of his friends within Easy Company and they spend the night together laughing, downing shots one after another, dancing and joking around. Y/N felt relaxed and genuiely unworried that night so when they were told to break it up and get some sleep for tomorrow, it suddenly saddened her. The Easy Company boys were the most welcoming, kind and funny men Y/N'd met during her stay and she was sure that she's not gonna have a chance to talk to them like that night for a long time.

There was a soldier waiting for her outside of the pub to escort her into her room but Y/N kindly told him to fuck off and he made sure to be quickly on his way.

So there she was again, standing under the starry night in Georgia, a warm summer breeze dancing through her hair while she struggled a bit to remain on her feet due to all the alcohol flowing in her veins.

"Have a trouble finding your way, Miss Sink?" a deep voice filled her ears and Y/N jumped a bit on her spot as she didn't see him coming from behind.

"I'm perfectly fine, soldier." she tried to answer with a firm steady voice but a quiet giggle escaped her lips.

"I can see that. Let me help you there, Miss." he offered his help kindly, smirking. The Moon was illuminating his face making his hair appear darker than the night itself and his eyes shined like two stars up at the sky.

"I assure you, Mr Nixon, that I have no trouble at all. I can manage myself." Y/N stood behind her words but a part of her desired his gentle hand on her lower back steadying her.

"I'm surprised you know my name." Nix laughed raising his eyebrows as he took a few steps closer to her.

"And I'm surprised it was just a can of peaches." Y/N replied boldly looking directly into his dark eyes.

They were covered in silence for a few moments but they burst out laughing in the next second earning some "shut the fuck ups" from the nearest barracks.

The duo spent the rest of the night walking around the camp as they eventually ended up in her room talking about nothing and everything. By the next morning, Y/N knew every little thing about Lewis and he knew every little thing about her.

It was no surprise, to Easy Company boys or even his grandfather, that the two of them started dating just a couple of days after the party. Richard Winters soon payed Y/N a visit informing her how he's never seen Lew so damn happy and cheerful all the time.

•••

At the end of May, 1944 when all the preparations for D-Day were finishing, another party was thrown in honor of the paratroopers that had earned their jump wings. Y/N persaued Sink to take her to Britain with him so she was able to celebrate with all of them.

She was a bit tipsy already because George Luz made her drink three beers and the forth was already on its way.

Lewis Nixon glared at the duo with a bottle of whiskey in his right hand and a cigarette in the left. He watched how Y/N's lips curled into the most beautiful smile he'd ever seen at something George whispered in her ear. She burst out in a hearty laugh as she touched Luz's shoulder gently and this simple action reminded Lewis the night they met for the first time. An uneasy feeling burned through his chest - it suddenly became hard to breathe. Nixon clenched the glass in his hands and he'd have break it eventually if Richard didn't shake with Lew's shoulder.

"Not now, Dick," the intellingent officer snapped immediately, "we'll talk tomorrow. I'm heading back to my room."

And with that, he stood up and walked out of the pub without any other glance toward his girlfriend. The bottle of Vat '69 was left on the table half full.

•••

"Baby? Why did you disappear so quickly?" Y/N barged in his room while he was sitting behind his desk looking out of the window absently.

"You seemed quite happy with George." Nixon murmured quietly, he didn't even bother to turn and face her.

"What is this all about? Is there a problem?" she asked kindly moving closer to her broken soldier. The sweet tone of her voice was making it even harder than it already was.

Lewis Nixon looked at her for the first time. "I think we shouldn't be seeing each other anymore." He sounded decided, strongly convinced in his statement.

Y/N suspiciously eyed his face whereas Lewis tried to avoid her concerned look. "Is this about George?"

"No, it's not about fucking George!" Lewis raised his voice and stood up from the little chair, "you are better without me, okay? I drag you down, Y/N."

She stared at him in disbelief. "What the hell are you talking about? I love you and only you, damn it!"

"You just think you do!"

Y/N's eyes began to water and when the first hot tear rolled down her cheek Nixon's heart broke into million pieces. He hated himself for hurting the most precious human being on the Earth but he had to do it. There was no other way.

"I wish you trusted me more, Lew." she breathed out reaching out to caress his cheek but changed her mind in the last second and her hand fell to her body.

Lewis pressed his eyelids tightly together forcing the coming tears stay inside of his soul. "I wish I'd never met you."

•••

The next days hit Y/N harder than her first days at Toccoa. No combat training, no amount of paperwork had ever made her feel so broken, tired and demotivated. As weird as it sounds, even after the relatively short relationship with the Easy Company intelligence officer, Lewis was a big important part of her life. He made her feel so many new emotions, he fulfilled her soul and heart like nobody else did.

And now, it was all gone.

Everyone noticed the sudden cold behaviour between Y/N and Lewis but they didn't really know what happened. Y/N brushed it off every single time when someone asked her and no one really dared to approach Nixon.

It wasn't like the duo stopped communicating absolutely. Lewis after the argument stormed off and got drunk, he was genuiely wasted, but he also realised what a mistake he did. It was the first time Y/N told him she loved him and he was still able to make the person who cared for him the most go away.

When Y/N tried her best to avoid Nixon, he tried his best to talk to her as much as possible, every day he left her a note at her desk along with a flower and every time she accidentally glanced at him he sent her an apologetic smile.

Y/N knew her anger and hurt was slowly fading away. Lewis felt truly sorry - alcohol and jealousy wasn't really a great combination.

•••

My dearest Y/N,

I know you don't want to have anything to do with me, and I don't blame you, but there's still something I need to tell you. I'm just gonna hope that this sort of letter is not lying in the bin already.

I want you to know that I regret every single word I said that night. Clearly my jealousy and my alcoholic problem (as much as you hate me right now, please don't tell anyone I just admitted that) came in the way and I thought you're better off without me.

I'm not the perfect boyfriend, Y/N, and I never will be. I'm not funny as George, and I guarantee you there's gonna be more arguments between us. But I can assure you that no matter what happens, I will love you for the rest of my life.

Hope you can forgive me,

I'm sorry.

With love, your Lewis

A tear soaked into the piece of paper as she pressed it to her heart. Little did Y/N know that she will love the idiot forever.

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canvas-the-florist · 4 years

Text

A Side Worth Fighting For

Ship: Romantic Roloceit

Warnings: Cursing, Verbal fighting

Summary: Logan and Deceit are fighting over Roman until the two come up with a much better arrangement. Thanks @royal-must-slay I really appreciate you letting me use this! Sorry it took me so freaking long.

Word Count: 2.2K

It all started as things often do in the Mind Palace, Patton made a pun. Something at the beginning of the video to kickstart the Sanders Sides episode. But the issue with it was Roman laughed. He kept apologizing through his laughter to Thomas but couldn’t stop. He was leaning on Patton and couldn’t stop laughing. An unadulterated, snort-filled, pure laugh. Logan blinked as he himself seemed lighter. Deceit looked like he was filled with contemplation. They were both looking at Roman with awe. Like they were always in love with Roman and this was the awakening of it. Something about Roman being free from his self-consciousness and being truly happy… Caught both of the two’s eyes. Before however, they caught each other's.

That’s when the competition began to gain the love of their fellow side, Roman.

A few days after the video was published, Roman found a letter addressed to him outside his room door. The handwriting was cursive but strangely neat and readable. The only thing going through his mind was about how strangely romantic it felt to receive a handwritten letter. He closed his door behind him softly before collapsing on his bed, screaming into the nearest pillow, sitting up, and taking a calm breath.

“Okay, I don’t know if it’s romantic or not. I need to stay calm and read this thing.” Said Roman, clearly not calm in any capacity. He drew another slow breath and opened the letter quickly because the anticipation was already killing him.

Dear, Darling, Salutations Roman,

It had come to my attention that you, metaphorically, could kill a room with your smile. You could of course, literally kill a room with your smile but you do so metaphorically. This letter is an attempt to rebound my feelings upon you. I hope you understand that if you do not reciprocate these emotions I am experiencing I shall cease immediately.

Roman, you have caused me to experience shortness in breath and a lightness in my head in a positive manner. I have gained the knowledge that these are symptoms of a hypothetical crush. The idea of me containing this ‘crush’ on you for over two months is high in probability. I have not the words to describe emotions, I never do, but I am aware that I wish to court you. If this is acceptable I would appreciate a response. You are a lovely and valuable person Roman, and I would find it most agreeable to express positive and romantic views with you.

Love, Warm Regards,

Logan

It was a short letter but careful detail was in it. Obviously, the letter had been written in pen so some words have been crossed out. If it was Virgil who wrote it, there would be no way that Roman could tell what the words were. But, Logan kept the lines almost perfect. Annoyingly so. He felt his heart rate quicken as he read the words written just for him. He felt touched and flattered. Of course, it was okay for Logan to ‘court him’ as it was stated. Roman decided that maybe responding again through another letter would be best but didn’t want to sit down. His mind and heart were racing as he paced around in his room, pondering what to do. He hadn’t really been hit on by anyone, and he certainly didn’t expect Logan to be the first person to do so.

But before Roman could do anything there was a knock on the door. His brow furrowed before he opened the door. Another object on the ground that Roman could easily pick up. Nothing that hid in an envelope, but a box. A gift, possibly?

He shrugged and placed the box on his desk, just to take the top off the box. It revealed a red cape. The cape was stunning and happened to be fitted to his height while leaving room for any running he may do. Roman, of course, put it on immediately to see how he looked. Though, it wouldn’t matter how he looked because his glowing face said everything you would need to know about how he perceived it. Creativity checked the box for any indication for who sent it. Maybe Logan? But he didn’t seem like the type…

Ah! A small piece of paper! How intriguing.

Roman flourished his hand before reading it. Which was really just a buffer to mentally prepare himself as he couldn’t remember a time he felt as pampered as he did that moment. He closed his eyes before looking down. “I can do this, I can do this.” Roman encouraged himself, definitely not feeling like he could do it. Dear Hamilton, how could it be so hard to do this? He was the Creativity and Ego of Thomas! Roman could look at one slip of paper, easily. So he did, difficultly.

Roman,

Meet me at 11 PM

In the Mind Palace Courtyard

Don’t be late

Hmm, that wasn’t ominous at all. But, curiosity was getting the best of him and Roman was really intrigued. So if it meant following a shady note, he would be fine with that.

Logan was composing letters to Roman. Along with that, he was planning on spending time with Roman, just listening to everything the beautiful man had to say. Logan was going to be honest, he didn’t realize how in love with Roman he already was until the start of the video. Which is over now. He had been researching love languages, to decipher his own as well as Roman’s. But it quickly got out of hand as he found himself trying to figure out Deceit’s as well. Who he had personally thought of as his enemy in the metaphorical love triangle. Well, what he assumed was a metaphorical love triangle. Logan wasn’t really sure.

As he continued his research he heard a side rise up in his room. He turned around, keeping his outward composure to hide the fact he was shocked out of his mind. It was, “Deceit, a surprise to see you here. What do you want?” Of course, his ‘rival’.

“Oh, not here to mock you or anything.” Deceit gave his obviously practiced ‘evil villain’ laugh. His face suddenly lost all that emotion as he made eye contact with Logan. “I don’t plan to date Roman, and you certainly have a chance against me. I’m obviously not the better match for him either way. But, might as well say hello to my competition.”

The logical side took a few seconds to take in the lies and translate in his head. “Falsehood,” He responded, stepping in front of Deceit, making the side step back as if he was intimidated. “Roman is his own side and either one of us could be rejected. I have done researc-”

Deceit scoffed, “Of course, because every potential partner wants to be psycho-analyzed.”

Logan adjusted his tie while he rolled his eyes. “You don’t scare me, Deceit. And even if you did, you would still fail against me. So,” He stepped forward. “You should know that I have every intention to woo Roman and your means to do the same would stop that.”

An eyebrow raised. “Scared? No, that isn’t my plan. You don’t need to be scared of me. You just need to get out of my way to let me attempt to have my love reciprocated.” Deceit clapped his hands together with a simple laugh before he made eye contact once more. Logan blinked as he was walking backwards into the wall. Deceit gave no indication of realizing this. Neither of them realized the new figure at the door. “Roman is independent and wonderful, so if either of us two could get with him it would be a feat. But, if any side is lucky enough for that, it sure as hell won’t be you.”

Just as Logan opened his mouth to rebuttal Deceit, he was cut off with a side clearing his throat. Deceit and Logan turned their heads to see Virgil leaning against the door frame with an unimpressed look. “I’m not even going to mention how homoerotic you two seem right now, but…” Virgil closed his eyes like he was in pain for what he was about to say. “You guys know that Roman has two hands, right? Does it need to be a competition if you could work together?”

They made eye contact, both considering within their own heads. Logan and Deceit shrugged as Virgil walked away.

“You were going to invite him to dance tonight, right?” Logan asked.

Deceit nodded. “Have a plan?”

“Have a plan,” Logan affirmed, secretly hating the words as soon as he said them.

There was no guarantee to who would show up in the courtyard of the Mind Palace. Probably not Logan, and if Roman was being honest with himself, he hoped it would be Deceit. Neither of the two dolts ever noticed his pining. But, he wore the new cloak just in case the sender would recognize it. Roman hoped so, at least. He fiddled with the edges of it as he walked through the palace gates, and to the courtyard. Taking a breath, Roman opened both of the doors. He looked up at the stars in the sky and when he lowered his head he saw two figures. Almost romantic but also startling him in the jumpscare sort of way.

He decided to waste no more time, so he lifted up the bottom of his cape and ran towards the other two sides, ready to find out the faces. Roman reached the two and loosened the grip on his hands. Logan and Deceit… Just the imaginary men he wanted to see. He let his smile show as Logan placed a record on a record player. Roman’s mind didn’t dwell on it as Deceit offered his hand.

“How about a dance? With the two of us?”

Roman took the hand. “What? You have a way to slow dance with three people?”

Logan took Roman’s other hand. “We’ve done research, Roman, I’m sure we can teach you as well.”

So they danced together. The dancing was awkward and slow at first, but after failing and laughing through it.. It didn’t matter if any of them were good at dancing, or knew what they were doing (although Logan protested it wasn’t him that broke the routine), it was just fun to dance with other people. Roman laughed his intoxicating laugh the moment he tripped over Deceit’s feet, only to be dipped by Logan and his quick thinking. Deceit helped the two up and all of them continued to do a poor excuse of what is technically considered dancing.

After they flipped the record over it and it played its final song, they all took seats on one of the benches at their disposal. Roman made a stupid joke and laughed about in into Logan’s arm. Once his laughter stopped he sat back up to get a better look at both of them.

“Thank you for this… Both of you, though I’m pretty sure that this was Bill Lie the Snakey Guy’s idea. I think both of you are pretty epic and great.” Roman said softly, switching his eye contact between Deceit and Logan. He looked down at his hands. “But I’m still not quite sure what this all means. Is this romantic? Or am I getting the wrong vibes???”

“No, we slow danced with you until one AM because we want to be your best buds!” Deceit feigned enthusiasm as he rolled his eyes. Roman groaned and punched him lightly in fair spirits.

Logan blinked, confused at what was happening before him but decided to move on. He coughed to bring awareness to him. “What Deceit was intending to say,” He gave a sideways glance to Deceit, who returned it with an all-knowing smirk, “is that we like you romantically, Roman. And if it would be okay-”

“Would you like to date us?” Deceit finished.

There was a moment of silence. Logan drew in a breath he forgot to let out. Roman seemed slightly taken back but he was trying to get his words together as quickly as he could without taking too long and scaring his fellow sides. But the moment he tried to say something it came out as sort of a verbal version of a keyboard smash. He started laughing to hide his embarrassment but, noticing that it made Logan and Deceit more concerned, he quickly stifled it. Roman cursed under his breath. “I’m sorry, words aren’t exactly mine at the moment. So, my dears, I would love to date you.”

The night ended with a hug between three imaginary embodiments of deception, logic, and creativity. A good, long hug that turned into Roman holding the hands of Logan and Deceit as they made their ways to one of their rooms. It doesn’t matter which one yet. All Roman remembered after he woke up was the warmth of two extra people in an embrace that made him feel the safest he’s ever felt.

Taglist: @royal-must-slay @shitpost-sides @id-rather-go-live-in-a-trash-can @potereregina @itriedandimtired @brokendaughter666 @deebare10 @witchcraftwestan

#roloceit #roceit #logince #loceit #writing #emile writes #a side worth fighting for #roman sanders #logan sanders #deceit sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #sander sides fanfiction #ts sander sides #loginceit #romantic roloceit #romantic loginceit

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tanakavox · 3 years

Text

"Rose luck, help me out for once...”

Zwei quietly muttered the words to himself as he played around with the raffle ticket he currently held in his hand. The number read 925, same as his birthday he couldn’t help but note before he let out an exasperated sigh. He had arrived a couple hours before the raffle actually began, hoping that by getting there early he’d increase his chances of winning by being one of the first people to grab a ticket. Unfortunately, that also meant he had to wait till the raffle draw actually began, and thus left the Corgi Faunus waiting on a nearby bench and utterly bored out of his mind.

‘I should have brought Rosie with me,’ he thought with a sigh. Having her around would not only make for better company than empty air, but also because she had far better luck at these kinds of things than he ever seemed to. From rigged carnie games, to crane games, to even contests and giveaways, Rosemary seemed to have been blessed by Lady Luck herself and was always winning something or other all the time. It was one of the very few things of his best friend and now lover that he had always been envious of, though that had mostly stemmed from his own lack of luck and how he always seemed to get the short end of the stick in regards to chance. Zwei’s inner musings were cut off as the raffle hostess, a dark skinned rabbit Faunus, came out to address the crowd, her voice being amplified by the microphone.

"Ladies, gentlemen, and those in between, we will now begin the raffle call! Three of you will be lucky enough to win a brand new Playstation five, so if your name is called please head to the office to collect your prize,” the hostess announced with a smile on her face, before she walked over to a box and pulled out a slip of paper.

"First number is… 189!"

Zwei mentally swore, doing his best to ignore the excited whoop that came from the crowd. He kept his calm, knowing that he still had a chance to win. The rabbit faunus smiled at the enthusiasm of the winer, before she pulled out another slip.

"Second number is...616!"

Another whoop emerged from the crowd, and the silver eyed Huntsman's heart began to beat loudly in his chest. His fists were clenched so tight that his knuckles had turned white, and a cold sweat had broken out over his neck.

“Please,” Zwei said to himself in a near whisper, his eyes closing as he sent a prayer to literally anyone who would listen, “Just let my luck hold out for once…”

The hostess let out another pleased smile, before she pulled out the final slip of paper, and thus the final winner.

"And the third and final number is…925!”

Zwei’s eyes snapped open in disbelief, his jaw dropping at his incredible turn of luck. His shock quickly turned to glee, before he fistpumped and let out a loud, “HELL YEAH!” He quickly made a beeline to the office, eagerly awaiting to get his prize. After a short wait, the hostess came into the office to present the prizes to Zwei and the other two winners(Whom Zwei would later learn where both Huntsmen, but that was a story for another time).

Zwei had the biggest grin on his face as he walked out with a brand new Playstation Five, the elusive console that he had been on the hunt for nearly three days straight. It even came bundled with a copy of the new Spider Man and the Demon Souls Remake, which was an absolute steal!

"Rosie is never gonna believe I won this through a raffle,” Zwei chuckled to himself, imagining the look of disbelief on his lady's face, before he found his musing interrupted when someone tapped him on the shoulder. He looked down in confusion to see who it was, only to look on in annoyance at the women before him. She appeared to be a middle aged woman with an inverted bob cut, expensive winter clothing, and body language that basically screamed “ego.” Zwei knew without doubt that the woman in front of him was a, “Karen,” and that he had a strong inkling as to what she had approached him for.

"Excuse me,” the “Karen,” began, her shrill tone laced with condensation as she addressed the Huntsmen, “Do you think you would be willing to-”

“Nope.”

Zwei’s sudden interruption caught the Karen off guard. She looked shocked at having been so suddenly denied, while Zwei looked down upon her with a bored, almost uninterested look on his face.

“You don’t understand,” She tried again, this time with a more pleading tone, “But my baby-”

"Let me take a wild guess,” Zwei interrupted her in a bored tone, “your baby has some kind of incurable disease? Or maybe they lost a limb in a “tragic,” accident? Or some kind of other inane sob story that you’re trying to use to guilt trip me into giving up my recently acquired Playstation Five in my hands?”

Zwei had appeared to be right on the mark as the Karen’s jaw had practically merged with the floor from her ploy being easily discovered(and just as easily sunk), within a matter of seconds. Zwei couldn't help but scoff at her blatant attempt to try and swindle him out of the console in his hands.

“Yeah, I used to work retail lady, so I’ve heard every single sob story under the sun. So sorry to disappoint your “Baby,” but this thing is going straight under the tree and directly into the hands of my nephew come christmas morning. But uh, nice try though.”

Zwei then brushed past the women, not even bothering to acknowledge her any longer than he needed too as he made his way to the nearest exit. The Karen did not take the dismissive that well, her face flushed and angry red and her mouth contorted into an ugly grimace. She turned around and screamed at the top of her lungs, “IT'S BECAUSE OF PEOPLE LIKE YOU THAT MY SON WON'T BE ABLE TO EXPERIENCE THE JOY OF OPENING A PS5 ON CHRISTMAS DAY!"

"Why don’t you bitch to your whipped husband about it,” Zwei shouted over his shoulder, not even bothering to stop to address screaming women, “he's probably the only one who’s gonna give a shit lady."

His response had served to antagonize the Karen even more, who began screaming and raving louder till the whole mall was practically echoing with her shrill voice. Zwei simply kept on walking, a smug smile on his face and a feeling of content at having managed to luck out on getting the gift he wanted for his Nephew. He had just exited the mall when he suddenly felt a force impact his head, causing him to stumble forward a little before he managed to keep his balance. He quickly did an about face to see what had caused the impact, before his eyes narrowed upon a relatively large man with an even larger sword on his back who had his hand balled into his fist.

It was obvious that the man sucker punched him, though it did very little to hurt Zwei and was really more of an annoyance. Despite this, Zwei’s training kicked in and he instantly began assessing the threat level of the huntsmen before him. Standing next to the man was the Karen who was screaming at him, who now had a smug smile on her face as if she had pulled out a trump card.

“Still think my baby isn’t worth handing over the console kid?”

“Couldn’t swindle it from me, and now you’re trying to take it by force,” Zwei asked, before giving her a look of mock shame, “tsk, tsk, someone is going on Santa’s naughty list.”

“Hand over the console kid, and I promise not to break too many bones in your body,” his attacker threatened in a booming voice, only causing Zwei to roll his eyes at the overused threat.

“I have a better idea: how about instead of getting into a fight you don’t want to start, you use the remaining two brain cells you have left in your tiny little head of yours to grab your snotty wife and get the hell out of my sight, before I end up shoving a lump of coal straight down your “stocking?”

The man did not take kindly to Zwei’s counter proposal, choosing instead to pull out the sword of his back and readying to attack Zwei. Zwei quickly, but gently, tossed the Playstation Five in his hands to the side, before bringing up one half of Red Daylight to block the oncoming blow. Zwei could feel the aura behind the man’s sword as it impacted upon the flat of his hookblade, but he easily deflected the attack to his side in an almost comical manner.

Zwei blinked, before he looked over the man again as he lunged at Zwei, who merely side stepped his easily telegraphed attack. Upon further investigation, Zwei noticed that the man’s stance was sloppy and his defense was full of so many holes that even the most novice fighter could have taken him down. His sword strikes lacked fluidity to them, coming off more like the man was swinging a baseball bat around than a heavy sword. And while he clearly had his aura unlocked, he wasn’t properly distributing it throughout his body to make efficient use of it. Zwei deduced this in a manner of seconds, before he came to a sudden conclusion.

“...You’re not a huntsmen,” Zwei stated aloud, “you’re just some scrub that had his Aura unlocked and thought you could use it to bully people into submission!”

The “Scrub,” did not take kindly to Zwei’s revelation, his face contorted into an angry sneer before he made to swipe at Zwei again.

“You shut your damn mouth you filthy animal,” the Srub screamed in rage, “and give me that stupid console!”

Zwei once again merely stepped to the side, watching as his attacker overstepped his swing and ended up falling to the ground.

"Are you serious right now man,” Zwei asked in an incredulous tone, “do you even know how many laws you’re breaking right now from having your Aura unlocked? Let alone that you attacked me and started a fight in a public area full of civilians? Hell, what if I was a civilian?!”

The Scrub had managed to pick himself back up, before he sneered at Zwei’s questions.

"Then you would have died to make my son happy, animal,” the Scrub spat out hatefully, before readied himself for another attack. The Scrub barely had time to blink before he saw Zwei disappear and reappear instantly in front of him, not even having the time to react before the Corgi Faunus violently sunk his fist into the man's stomach. The results were instant: the Scrub dropped his sword as he violently began to retch and wheeze, falling to his knees as he desperately tried to keep himself from vomiting on the spot.

“You know,” Zwei began, “I was wrong about you and your wife. You two don’t don’t belong on Santa’s naughty list…”

Zwei then proceeded to grab the Scrub by his hair, before activating his semblance as he delivered a devastating knee strike to the man's face. His nose broke with a sickening crunch, and his face was practically covered with blood that leaked from his nostrils.

“...YOU TWO BELONG ON HIS SHIT LIST!!!”

Zwei hooked Red Daylight into the Scrubs collar, before he activated his semblance and began spinning around as fast as he could, before unceremoniously pulling hard enough to tear through the Scrubs collar and sending him flying out into unknown parts of Vale, his landing destination unknown.

-At a familiar dumpster-

“Oh man,” groaned a miserable voice, “how… how long was I out for?”

The voice belonged to the would-be thief that Zwei had taken care of the day before, now finally waking up from his coma induced nap on top of his bed of trash. He groggily managed to push himself up, whimpering the whole time from how much pain his body was in from the beating he received before managing to push the dumpster lid open. He hung the top of his body over the side of the dumpster, doing his best to ignore not only the smell of the garbage around him but from the fact that he had garbage in places that were best not mentioned.

“Worked up the courage to steal that stupid thing, and what do I get for my troubles,” the theif whimpered to himself, “my shit kicked in by a Huntsmen, being bathed in garbage, and I didn’t even steal the right thing!”

The thief let out another groan, before he looked up at the sky as if to mentally ask the Brother’s what he had done wrong.

“Can this get any worse?”

The man’s question was immediately answered by the sound of screaming getting closer and closer to him, before he felt the impact of an incredibly large man with an even larger sword knocking him back into the dumpster. The thief groaned in agony and tried to move, only to realize that he was now pinned under the large man, who was completely out cold and unmoving. The thief couldn’t do anything now, except blankly stare at the overcast sky.

“...Well, at least I have fresh air.”

The dumpster lid crashed down with a loud “THUMP,” once again trapping the Thief inside his rotten prison, muffling his sobs as he cried about what a rotten Christmas this was turning out to be.

-Back with Zwei-

“Brother’s what an asshole,” Zwei muttered to himself as he sheathed his weapon back with its sister blade. Zwei would have to make sure he made mention of the man to the local authorities, who would no doubt be sending a huntsman to apprehend the Scrub due to his illegally unlocked Aura. The thought of illegally unlocked Aura made Zwei briefly think of his brother in law for a moment, before he let it slip out of his mind.

“I wonder what Jaune got me for christmas this year,” he mused aloud, “Oh damn, maybe he got me Cyberpunk!”

Zwei smiled at the thought, Jaune typically gifted him games for christmas so there was a good chance that he may very well be shooting gangbangers in Night City soon enough. His smile quickly turned into a smirk, before raising his voice and saying:

“And just where do you think you’re going, Karen?”

The Karen in question was currently in the middle of trying to sneak away with his Playstation Five, before she stopped dead in her tracks from being called out. She visibly flinched when Zwei had suddenly materialized in front of her, his smirk plastered on his face as his confident eyes met her terrified ones.

“How kind of you to hang onto my nephew's gift while I beat the hell out of your husband,” he thanked her in a mock cheerful tone, “and here I was thinking that you were just a rotten woman with no sense of manners whatsoever! Guess you have some christmas spirit in you, huh?”

The Karens face got redder and redder as Zwei kept speaking, before she opened her mouth to scream at him…

“Ahem.”

… before her mouth clicked shut, and she looked around to see that she and Zwei were surrounded by a large crowd of people, including the Raffle Hostess who had presented Zwei his prize. The fight must have caused them to all come to investigate, and judging by their angry looks, they must have seen everything that had occurred. The Karen’s face drained of all color, and she began sweating bullets as the Hostess began to address her

“Ma’am,” she calmly began, “I do believe that device in your hand belongs to this young man, whom I should add, rightfully won the device in the raffle and has the legal paperwork to back up the ownership of it as well.”

The Karen went to say something, only to be interrupted by the Hostess, who now had an ominous look on her face.

“I would highly advise handing said device over to its rightful owner, Ma’am,” the Hostess said curtly, “As I’d hate for the police to have to add stolen goods on top of all the other charges you’re more than likely going to face tonight.”

It was at this point That Karen had finally noticed that there were several police officers waiting nearby, more than likely called in due to the fight, all of them giving The Karen an unimpressed look. Knowing that there was no way out of this, The Karen’s shoulder slumped in defeat, before she turned back Zwei, who was watching The Karen getting a dose of Karma with uncontained glee. Gritting her teeth, she slowly, albeit reluctantly, handed the Playstation Five back to Zwei, who happily took his console, before bowing to her in a mock fashion.

“Thank you so much Karen,” Zwei cheerfully stated, “I’m glad to see that we were able to clear up this little misunderstanding. But now, I think it’s time we both go our separate ways, don’t you think?”

Zwei didn’t even bother to let The Karen speak, before he started walking away, stopping only momentarily to give the Hostess a quick appreciative nod, before he kept on walking. Just as he got near the _edge of the crowd, he paused, before he briefly turned around to see The Karenin the middle of being cuffed by the police.

“Oh, and Karen?”

The Karen looked over to Zwei, face flushed red in embarrassment and her eyes burning with rage as she locked eyes with the smug looking Corgi Faunus.

“Hope you and your baby have a Merry Christmas,” he said smugly, “because it looks like it’s going to be a long one for the both of you!”

That was all it took to send The Karen over the edge, before she once again started screaming and raving and wishing all kinds of unpleasant things upon Zwei, who merely hollered with laughter as he activated his semblance and began making his way back to the Bullhead Docks. Despite running into some bumps along the way, he had achieved his goal of getting his nephew the perfect gift, and now all that was left was to go home.

“Just you wait Xing, you’re about to get one HELL of a gift…”

@thatorigamiguy did the edita for this again. Thanks dude!

#rwby #zwei xiao long #zwei rose #zwei #rwby zwei #fanaus #fanaus zwei #fanaus zwei au #rwby xing xiao long #xing #karen #entitled people

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ethereallchan · 5 years

Text

A game we play - Han Jisung

Genre: Angst, fluff, College!au;enemy (or rivals) to lovers. not really a slow burn, but not that fast either.

Pairing: Han Jisung x fem!reader feat best friend!Minho and Cousin/roommate!Changbin

Word count: 16.4k

Warning: Vivid depiction of one’s fear towards rain, language.

Han Jisung hates you and the feeling is mutual. So when Minho offers both of his best friends to play a game, neither of them knows what exactly lies beneath his actual intention because love and hate is simply both sides of a coin that he easily flips.

The train abruptly stopped in its track, prompting out a curse from your mouth. Your footing almost lost its balance but a quick reflect of your hand to the seat protected you from planting your face to the train’s floor and saved your dignity. The action earned you a couple of stares from the old couple that was seated on where your hand has held the grab. There wasn’t even any ounce of yourself that cared as your focus was entirely on the watch encircling your wrist, showing that you might’ve been late for your daily run to the coffee shop.

You were indeed, late. Your frowned lips turn into a scowl as you opened up the latest text that Jisung has sent you. A picture of his hand holding a coffee cup with the background of your uni, the text read out, ‘guess who’s gonna give Minho his morning drink, alone?’

When you furiously texted him as how he was being so unfair because he lived in a walking distance to the uni while you had to take the train to even get to the nearest station of it, a speaker inside the train beeped. Your finger was just finished at pressing send when the notification came out.

“Good morning passengers, we regret to inform that there will be a slight delay to our arrival as–”

You didn’t even bother listening. Another text is typed out from your phone, informing your other friend that you would be late to your first class. There was a slight pause before you suspected that your other friend was probably already seated on the your class near Jisung and your suspicion was proven true as another text was sent to you from the man himself.

Fingers hovering on the notification, you heaved a breath before mentally preparing yourself to open it.

‘boohoo who’s late and not getting a stamp today????’ was the text with a picture of a stamped paper.

’Shut up you prick’

'A prick who’s one stamp richer than you so who’s the real winner here ;)’ the image of him smirking while typing the text was projected in your mind and there was nothing that you wanted in this world than to wipe that look in his face as soon as you could meet him.

But for now, your plotted revenge needs to be refrained as you stuck inside the stagnant train.

[]

When your professor has told you to make any kind of dance project in pairs, your mind has already decided on one person and one person only. Lee Minho was the prodigy when it comes to dancing, the said person was notoriously famous over getting inside the campus with nothing but his awards from dancing alone. Snatching a chance of having a duet with him meant that snatching an absolute 'A’ along with a guarantee of passing the class. Only fools could turned down the opportunity and you weren’t dumb. Minho was also one of your close friends so it would be an advantage for you to ask him to be your partner. Based on your latest meetings with him, you were positive that he was going to ask you the same thing.

Or so you thought.

By the time the bell rang, the conference hall has erupted into balls of words. Conversations were exchanged and cheers were easily thrown into the air. However, you stayed still on your chair and tidied up your belongings, not moving until most of the class has already exited the hall.

Slowly you made your way to Minho’s chair, his was five chairs on your right and you found that a small crowd has already gathered. There was no choice that he would be a top candidate to be picked, but you could hear his polite refusal to some people and it lit up a small fire of pride within yourself.

The crowd dissipated once one of them caught on seeing you, your presence alone emitting all the unsaid reasons of why Minho is refusing to be someone else’s duet partner. The man cracked a smile upon your arrival, a small nod of acknowledgement was also given.

“So, do you have anyone in mind as your duet partner?” You smirked, knowing damn well about what was his answer going to be.

“Well,–”

“Yeah, it’s me.”

Both Minho’s head and yours snapped out to the source of the voice, the owner tilting his head ever so slightly to stare at Minho. Even his voice itself irritated you to the bone and you couldn’t help but scoffed lightly while rolling your eyes. He ignored your act altogether, before adding “We talked about this last night, right?”

Han Jisung was one of Minho’s closest friend as both of them shared schools from elementary to university. There was no point in arguing that he definitely has more memories of Minho in his life compared to you, but your memories with Minho was, albeit fewer, were equally as indelible, like that time where he suggested that both of you should try auditioning for a stripper job since your monetary problem weren’t getting better (and how you both actually got the job, but that’s a story for another time). The problem with your relationship with Jisung was it somehow become a competition between both of you as you two fight each other for Minho’s favouritism.

Since Jisung was a music major instead of dance, he despised the time where you both would share stories about dance and all your adventures together in college. While you found it extremely revolting when the men would start reminiscing the old days and mentioned the names you had no idea who they were.

In short, both of the parties refused to share someone as their best friend. Also, neither parties refused to give up because they were extremely mulish as a character.

“You’re not even part of the dance major, Han.” Also the fact that the kid didn’t allow you to refer to him with nothing but his family name had kept you on edge from the very first time. It was like he didn’t even try to fake being a nice guy in your relationship. It seemed like he clearly stated, implicitly that he wouldn’t even try and get to know you even better. “In case you have no idea, we need to use both our legs and hands in dancing, gracefully and powerfully. I fail to see anything about grace and power from yourself. Except probably your power to ruin someone’s eardrums everytime you sing.”

Minho snickered a bit at that and earned a hard glare from the other man. Of course Minho wasn’t stupid, he knew about the rivalry bond between his two best friends and he somehow found it quite amusing. The constant bickering was something he always looked forward to when the two of you met.

“Excuse me? You call flailing your arms everywhere without details dancing? What’s next? Moving one beat too fast on your first showcase a talent, now?” Jisung gibed you about that one accident that almost cause you your scholarship, knowing damn well that it was your weakness. “Holy shit, at least the Dean won’t have to call my name with a speaker for the whole uni to know.”

Your eyes narrowed at him, fingernails digging at your own flesh out of rage. “That’s fucking dirty, Han.”

The other boy gave you a shrug and a smirk, “I’ve never said anything about playing it fair and square, babe.”

Before you could respond, Minho stood up. His arms outstretched between both of you, trying to calm his friends down. “Okay, let’s end it right here.” Whatever the things that going to come from either of your mouth won’t be all playful and enjoyable. “Let’s all go and grab some coffee, how about that?” He didn’t need to wait for the answer as he knew just how much the three of you liked the drink. After all, it was something he learn to love as a kid with Jisung and something that caused the bond between both of you were possible in the first place.

Minho walked ahead, leaving both of you to follow him but not before giving each other stinky faces consisted of crossed eyes and tongue stuck out.

[]

There was no conversation exchanged between the two of you as Minho forced you to sit on the table facing each other while he went to the counter and ordered for the three of you. Jisung lazily scrolled at his phone, nothing caught his attention as he simply wanted to avoid talking to you. It was proven to be in vain as you started to speak as he could feel his body heaved a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“Han, for god sake what the fuck were you doing?” You leaned forward to hiss at the boy, eyes darting to Minho to make sure that he couldn’t listen. “It’s a dance project!”

Jisung rolled his eyes at you, his body leaning backward to rest at the back of the chair. “I’m not stupid, I know. The thing is I also have a project that I need to work on from Professor Jung. We were told to make a song based on a collab from the other art faculty students. And it’s just fair that I asked Minho to be my partner.”

Your finger moved to pinch at the bridge of your nose, eyes closing. “So you’re going to make a song that the both of you are going to dance with?”

He shrugged at that, “See, you’re not that stupid at all.”

Eyes snapped open to glare at him, you paused for a while before asking him about whether he already asked Minho to be his partner. What you got as a response was simply a scoff and a raise of one of his eyebrows, like he was taunting you. “What do you think?” he said, and in that moment you knew that there was a huge chance of Minho not being your partner.

The man himself returned with your ordered drinks to the table and both of your attention diverted into helping him so that he won’t drop the drinks. Minho mumbled a quick thanks before sitting beside you, earning another scoff from Jisung. “So, I’m sure you guys are confused.” He started, carefully looking at the both of you.

“She maybe is, but I’m not. I know exactly who my partner is.” The boy in front of you sipped at his drink, and it took everything of you to not throw the drink on your hand to his face.

It’s not worth it, you thought to yourself, making mental notes of happy thoughts like the way they told you to do in those yoga dvds your mom always blasted on the speaker. get it together.

Beside you, Minho gave a slight chuckle. It might be a mistake on your hearing, but you noticed a hint of nervousness in it. “Yeah, about that, I might have made some mistake?” even he was unsure of his own sentence.

“What?” It was Jisung’s, the shock evident on his voice somehow made you feel happy inside. He was caught off guard, just like you but the difference was the way it caught both of you. There was a hope in you becoming Minho’s partner.

“Well, you see. I knew that I said yes to Jisung’s offer and we-” he gestured to you, “-had some kind of unsaid agreement when it comes to project. Since it’s unfair to both of you because you two are my best friends, I feel like we should start over again.”

You voiced out your confusion, and by the look of Jisung’s face, you voiced out his mind as well. “Start over? What do you mean?”

Minho took a sip of his drink before leaning back to his chair, “I don’t know, I feel like I need to make the decision of who’s going to be my partner a little more objective. Unbiased and all, you know? To make it fair. I just don’t want both of you to actually hate each other.”

Jisung snickered at that, but he didn’t say anything.

“My point is, a little friendly competition between the two of you wouldn’t hurt, right?“ He paused a bit to look at the reactions, and when he realized the only thing he got from both of his best friend’s was confusion, he continued, “The person who could be someone that is extremely helpful to me will win.”

“So,” you trailed off, nose scrunching as you processed what Minho just said, “You want us to be your servant?”

The boy laughed, “Not to that extent, you’re making me look bad. You know, a person that would be willing to be woken up in the middle of the night to watch a video of my cat, sort of stuff.”

Everyone was met by the complete silence after that before Jisung asked, “For how long? I mean the project is due in 2 month. At least mine is, I don’t know about yours.”

“Yeah, us is also the same and as much as I hate saying this,” you heaved a breath, head cocking towards the boy in front of you, “He’s right, we’re kinda tight on schedule.”

It was Minho’s turn to scoff at your words, “Jisung could make a dope song and you could make a choreography in less than a week. Don’t expect too low from yourself, I know you two could do well.”

Was it supposed to give you some kind of encouragement? You weren’t the most confident one when it comes to dancing thanks to the fear of messing up, the trauma of the first showcase still haunting you. There was always a sliver of doubt within your heart, a voice whispering that you would never be good enough, and for now the voice happily sang the tune of mockery, that it would be better for Minho to partnered up with Jisung as both were known as prodigies in their own talent. You were ready to voice out your intention of pulling out from this 'competition’ when you felt Jisung’s look bore into yours. His brown gaze held yours for a beat longer and sharper than it usually were, making you slightly nervous and immediately drank your drink to free yourself from the captive that was his eyes.

“Well we’re certainly in, right?” Jisung looked at you and at that time you wondered if he knew that you were avoiding his gaze, too occupied with your own thoughts that you stayed quiet. “Right, babe?” He pressed on, a smirk on his face.

You snapped at the nickname, a frown formed on your lips as you despised hearing the nickname rolled from his mouth. “Of fucking course.” You said, your insecurities flied off the window for a short while. Right now you only wanted him to lose. “When will we start?”

“Great! We could start tomorrow then.” The mastermind of the plan snickered before finishing up his drink, “Also I’ve been wanting to do this, so I hope you guys have your notebook or paper prepared because I want to give stamps to the person that I deem helpful for every task.”

You wanted to say something along the line of “what do you think we are? Kindergarten children?” But then decided on how both Jisung and your banter usually consisted of something very childish and small, maybe that was the reason why Minho was doing this.

[]

The only class that the three of you shared together despite Jisung’s different major was English, in which all students need to take. In the beginning of the school year, everyone could pick the schedule they wanted, however it was far too late to ask for a slightly late class as every class was already taken so the three of you took the first class in Tuesday. A morning class in which Minho would have to sit between the two of his best friends that would argue about everything.

For now, it’s a Tuesday’s morning class in which both of you raced to be the first person that would give Minho his daily dose of caffeine. The fact that your apartment’s location was a hindrance to the task never seemed to faze you as you would try your best to set an alarm earlier so that you would still stood the chance of buying the coffee. It was mostly you that was able to do so except for the fated day that the train betrayed your prevision of time.

You came late to the point where you only had five minutes of class remaining, with all eyes turned at you when the door to the lecture hall was opened. Trying hard to show that it didn’t bother you in any way (It did, extremely), you made your way to the professor with your eyes trained at her, your breath heaving from the result of running. The professor shot her look at you menacingly but it softened when you handed her the paper from the train to notify that you were late because of things that were outside of your control. She sighed before motioning you to sit, the only place left was the seat in the very front that would need you to strain your neck in order to look up to the presentation.

Silently thanking about the remaining time of the class, you complied. You didn’t even got the chance to properly laid out your stationery (which consisted only of a notebook and a pen) when the bell rang, signaling the end of the class. The situation was so comical that you couldn’t help but laugh, your hands covering your face to suppress the sound. Your mind wandered at how you ran so hard from the station only to arrive when the class ended not to mention how you failed at getting your stamp from Minho.

You could hear him approaching your seat along with Jisung, the former immediately sat on the vacant seat next to you. “All that running for nothing, huh?” He snickered, patting you on the head.

“Not to mention the failure of acquiring any stamps.” Jisung’s hand replaced Minho’s and there was a slight moment where you thought that maybe he was being nice before your the pats on your head turned into small jabs. Groaning, you caught his hand before glaring up, finding the smirk on the boy’s face. There was a small silence in which you tried to shot a witty comment before he beat you to it, “If you really want to hold my hand then you could’ve just said so.”

“In your fucking dreams, Han.” You let go on his hand in an instant, your eyes rolling before turning to face your best friend. “And why are you looking at us with those dreamy look? Cut it off, it’s creepy.”

Minho chuckled, shaking his head while running his hand through his hair. “Do you ever think of dating each–”

“No.” was a stern answer delivered by the both of you simultaneously and in that moment, you felt grateful that Jisung shared the same opinion. Minho’s hands shot up, feigning defeat as he shrugged.

“Okay, so I’ll take it you don’t want any chance on doubling your amount of stamps?”

Your ears perked up at the word ‘stamps’. For the last three weeks that was all you strive to acquire, whether it was from the video call from Minho late at night when his cats decided to play with him and he forced you to ‘appreciate’ them (you actually did, they were actually very cute) to bringing junk food to his apartment in the time when he least expected it. Those acts wasn’t new to you since you’ve done that long before the who stamps is involved, but now it felt satisfying to do it knowing that you would be rewarded in the end.

No matter how childish it was for the reward to be just stamps, you were content with it.

“Say what again?” You said, immediately interested.

There was a slight smirk on Minho’s face, “So I have an eye for this girl that I met on the studio, right? I asked her out on a date yesterday and she said yes!”

“Wasn’t she the one that slapped you on the first encounter?” Jisung snickered and you bite your lip to stop yourself from laughing alongside him. He was telling the truth, there was some sort of misunderstanding that happened between the both of them and you couldn’t help but wonder what kind of charm that he used to be able to melt her heart.

Staring at how Minho glared at Jisung before mumbling a quick, “It’s an accident, I’ve told you guys that already.”, you came to a realization that well, Minho sure had the charm and the genes that supported him to put people on their knees. You were glad that you were on his side and not those who he planned to 'charm’ who knows what he might do to these poor people?

“Anyway,” he continued, his ears slightly turning red at Jisung’s words. “I asked her out and I’d figured that it’ll be fun for you two to join us.”

Your jaw dropped upon hearing his idea, a chuckle leaving your lips before you could stop it. “You’re joking.” You said, hoping to find any trace of humour in Minho’s expression only to find none. “Wait, you’re serious? Like a double date kind of stuff?”

“Dead serious. You guys don’t need to have real feeling or anything, just pretend.”

You couldn’t believe at how he could suggest it without any difficulty at all. Did he not realize how your relationship with Jisung was plummeting down after the whole competition that he made? Your tongue was getting sharper around him and he could effortlessly annoy you in any way possible. There was no way that you were going to go outside, pretending that you could tolerate him moreover pretending to have an interest on making him your boyfriend when the first thing that you wanted to do every time you saw his face was to pour any drink you held to his shirt.

However the thought of getting the stamps when you succeeded, along with the idea of making fun of him if he refused to do this fake-date. To top that, maybe you would be able to find his weak spot, using it to your favor.

The determination was clear on your voice when you said, “Sure. Why not?” Resulting in a widened-eyes Minho, a small smirk was formed moments later. Jisung could do nothing but stare at you wordlessly, his eyes seemed like it would pop out in any moment. “What is it, Han? You’re scared of a small date?” Taunting him felt so satisfying, getting him to a speechless figure was a rare occasion and you weren’t going to let this small moment of victory slip away ever so easily.

His Adam apple bobbed as he stammered over his words, “Wh-what are you saying? You’re crazy.”

“Oh I get it!” You blink as if an idea just popped off from your mind, smirking as you grab the collar of his hoodie and yanked it down towards you with both of your faces inches apart. From this angle you could clearly felt how his breath ragged and his eyes focused on anywhere but yours upon the close proximity. Biting your lip, you taunted him even more “Are you scared of falling in love with me for real, Han?”

Silence followed your words before the corner of Jisung’s lip lifted up, his entire body shook as he attempted to hide his laughter. You were a little confused but there was no way you were backing down from this tough persona of yours so you continue to stare at him, waiting for his response. As if hearing your thought, he stopped to suppress his laugh as his brown eyes immediately stared at yours. His lips were formed to a smile, before his hand moved towards your nape and slowly decreasing the distance of you two.

It was your turn to have your breath hitched on your throat as your grip on his hoodie tightened. You fought the urge to close your eyes, wanting to hold on to a small trace of control you had left even though the situation belonged to Jisung’s control now. He angled your head so that he could place his mouth right beside your ear, his huff of breath sent shiver down your spine along with his next words.

“Be careful for what you wish for, babe. It could turn against you someday..”

You failed to realize his smirk as you weren’t even able to hide your sharp intake of breath when his following words were spoken, “Because once you do, there’s no turning back.”

[]

You blamed your punctuality on your habit to arrive the fastest to the university or at least, faster than Jisung.

When you arrived at the theme park at 10 am in the Saturday morning, you soon realized that the amount of people that came would prevent you to experience the whole attraction without the pain of queuing. Mentally you thanked yourself for not wearing any high heels today, courtesy of your roommate slash cousin’s advice as Changbin was experienced on taking girls to dates in the theme park and he knew exactly what their first mistake was when he saw their appearance.

“At least you would be able to feel both of your legs when the day’s over.” He said, and that was all you need to wear your favourite sneaker today.

It was a lie if you said that you randomly picked your clothes on today’s occasion. You’ve spent a good amount of time contemplating the entire content of your wardrobe before settling on a pair of jeans shorts and a crop top, completely different from your usual attire of jeans and shirt that you usually wear for college. Partially because you thought that the outfit was cute, partially because you wanted to see how Jisung reacts towards it.

You’d like to think that it was because you wished to see Jisung’s facade crumbled down upon seeing you in it, resulting you to easily lead him into his eventual demise of not getting the rest of the stamps thus lending Minho to you (and your passing of the class). But God forbid you from admitting that the small part of you wanted him to think that you looked cute.

After that words that he whispered on your ear, it felt like a challenge to either one of you to see which one that would succumb first. It seemed that both of you realized that successfully making the other to fall in love would be an express ticket into being partners with Minho. After all, it’s not a secret that love or crush is indeed a person’s greatest weakness.

The logic was pretty simple, on your mind. Make the other party to fall in love, dump them and have Minho as your partner and best friend for yourself. See, it was pretty easy if you stick onto the plan.

Your plan started to quiver, however with your sight catching Jisung on his attire. An all black attire of skinny jeans, t-shirt and shirt that he didn’t even bother to button had you gulping and your resolve crumbling. Despite having his sunglasses on with a black mask, you were still able to recognize him, a realization that caught you off guard.

It must’ve been illegal for Jisung to thread his hair because he once he did it, your heartbeat increased as you fished for your phone, front camera opened to check how red your cheek was. You knew that you wouldn’t be able to admit it verbally but you realized now that he was indeed, a very good looking guy if you stripped away the whole attitude he had towards you.

You stole a glance at him once again, texting the boy as you informed that you already arrived with an attached picture of him to expose your location. The message was seen almost immediately, him throwing a glance at your position afterwards. Both of your gaze met as he took off his glasses and walked towards you.

Pretending to ignore the effect he had on you, you busied yourself with your phone, scrolling whatever Instagram profile that you had previously seen all in favour of calming your erratic heart. Jisung arrived in front of you, coughing to catch your attention and frowned after you decided to ignore him. Swiftly he took away your phone from your grasp, eliciting a whine that the both of you didn’t expect to make.

His laugh afterwards made your cheek reddened as your embarrassment grew.

“Oh my god, why did you whine like a child? Are you going to throw a tantrum as well, now?” Jisung dangled your phone in front of your face as you glared at him.

“Cut it off, Han!” You swatted him on his chest, “Give it back!”

He giggled as if he just delivered the best joke in the world as he handed your phone back with a wink. “Come on, don’t be mad at me. We have a date today, remember?”

Your eyes rolled at his statement, snatching your phone as you put it back to your bag. “Thank you for reminding me the nauseate situation we are going to experience! Oh how I can’t wait to be disappointed at you becoming my date just like how my previous ones have failed me.”

“Damn, you really underestimate me in this whole date stuff, huh?” He scoffed in disbelief. “Look, you might have bad experience on dating before but don’t go ahead and generalize everyone, especially me. Why do you think I was so reluctant on doing this before?”

You frowned at his question, how would you know that? “I don’t know, smartass. Because you’re a coward?”

“No, baby.” Jisung smirked, his hand moving to your chin softly before tilting it upwards to stare at your eyes. “I don’t want you to be too comfortable and ends up falling for me.”

“Really?” You cocked your eyebrow. It felt like Dejavu, this whole situation both of you were in. You learned that you should never let him has the last word so you smiled at him, your words rolling smoothly from your lips but not before shortening the distance between the two of you. “Then make me.”

You relished on the sight of his eyes widening, clearly caught off guard by the boldness of your words. A giggle escaped from your lips as you turned away from him, catching a sight of Minho and his date in an ocean of people (how you could recognize him immediately was also one of your concern, you played it as because you guys see each other everyday) before waving them over to you. The both of them approached you after waving back and that was when you felt Jisung’s cold hand on the exposed skin of your waist, pulling you flush to his side.

“Babe?” Jisung’s voice was low as he whispered on your ear. You controlled your body’s tendency to shiver under his touch as you didn’t want him to see the effect he had on you after his action. In the moment you couldn’t even care less about the nickname that you usually despise from him. Something told you that he was going to use it a lot in today’s occasion.

Two could play in this game, you thought. “Yes, Han?”

“You will experience the best date of your life, that once you have another chance to go in a real date with someone else, you would think that nothing could top this fake date with me.”

You held back a smile. At least you would feel what you’ve never had on your previous ones? “Really, now?” Your voice trailed off before turning to face him as you encircled your hands on his neck. “You sure we could go a day without insulting each other? A day in which we won’t try to wipe each other’s existence?”

He smirked, both of his hands found their place on your hip as he rubbed small circles on the flesh. “The date is going to be so great that you’re going to forget that we’re supposed to hate each other in the end of the day.”

You smiled at that, “I’m looking forward to it, then.”

–

Minho was lying when he said that the day was going to be a double date as he was gone from both of your range of view after the four of you went to the accessory shop, getting the four of you head accessories to wear later onto the day because Jisung deemed that it was necessary for every single theme park date. You didn’t miss the way he would pat your head everytime you gushed over the cute characters, or how he took out his polaroid camera once you’ve settled on the accessory and wore it in front of the mirror.

Jisung snapped a picture of your side profile and despite your protests of him taking a picture when you weren’t ready, he opted to keep the Polaroid to himself.

“Han please I look ugly in that.” You frowned, hands on your hips like you were scolding a child. “If you promised that you’re going to be a good date then you’re not going to let anyone see this ugly side of me.”

He scoffed, “Please, a good date is when they find you cute despite you think that you’re ugly.”

“That’s not a good date that’s just being blind.”

Your date looked at you dead in the eye before signing dramatically, his hands in his right chest while clutching his shirt. “Love is blind sometimes.”

Your face contorted into a mix of disgust and shock but you couldn’t lie that it got your heart beating slightly faster, “Ugh what’s wrong with you and your cheesy remarks today.” Faking a shudder, you went on, “Where’s my usual Han went?”

Except that he didn’t focus on your question at all, his lips formed a smirk as he repeated a particular line, “Your Han?”

“Shut up!” Your hand moved up to swat his shoulder, cheeks flaring up before realizing that it was only both of you in this part of the shop. You looked around for a bit before concluding the fact that Minho and his date was no longer there in the shop. “You idiot, we lost Minho!”

Jisung’s dumb look was the last thing you saw before you took his hand in instinct and dragged him out from the shop after putting the accessory back.

–

You were queuing for Viking’s ride with Jisung behind you when Minho’s text popped from your notification. He explained that he lost both of you as well and it would be best to just meet up after the day’s over. Your furious typing of scolding him for leaving you with Jisung all alone was refrained when you felt a head resting on your shoulder.

“Han, get off my shoulder.” You shook your shoulder in attempt to get him off it but he didn’t budge. “You’re heavy, please.”

“Just let them be.” He mumbled and you needed to ask him to say it again because you didn’t quite know what he was saying and implying.

“I said let them be, you know? It’s their date after all. The first one, even. I’m sure they want to be alone in their date.” Jisung continued, his head didn’t move from its place at all. He mumbled again but you catch his words, even though you didn’t really understand the means behind it. “I know I do.”

The angry text stayed on your screen as you contemplated about the situation. He did have a point and you didn’t want to risk the chance of not obtaining the stamps in the end. After all, it was his idea, there was also a probability that he planned this beforehand. Your finger hovered over the delete button before touching it, quickly typing out another response and putting it back to your bag.

You missed the way Jisung smiled a little upon the text that you had typed out, staying still at his position on your shoulder despite your attempt, only getting off when the both of you needed to move forward. When you two stopped walking however, he was back on his previous position and soon you gave up after your efforts were proven to be vain, opting to rest your head on his as you waited in the line.

'yeah okay have fun I guess.’

'hes not that bad anw’

–

Jisung had a habit that you were starting to realize, and that habit was him absentmindedly just taking your hand into his, enveloping it every time you two were walking. The way his touch lingered there even after he, despite momentarily released his hold got you missing on his warmth. To think that it was summer, missing someone else’s warmth was a bold thought but that was exactly what you were feeling.

He let go of your hand to read the pocket map that he carried, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he flicked his gaze from one attraction to another, hoping to find an interesting one. You used this opportunity to feast on his visual from the side without the fear of his snarky comments ruining the mood, although you should’ve known better than that.

“A picture will last longer, you know?” His look didn’t waver from the map, opting to just bite his lips in attempt to hide a chuckle threatening to spill.

You rolled your eyes, lips curving into a smile. “Well what could I say? My date is indeed quite handsome for today.” It was your turn to stifle a laugh as his ears reddened, getting embarrassed from your sudden compliment. “Only for today though.”

He shook his head in disbelief before folding down the map on his hand and taking yours. “Well my date has always been beautiful, and today’s no exception. So you can’t blame me for previously taking picture of her, right?” His smile mirrored yours before not giving you any time to answer, his hand already tugging for you to follow him.

You were glad for that, though. It was your turn to have your face flushed just like his ear a few moments ago.

–

If your plan for that day was to find something about Jisung that you could use to your own advantage, you were definitely failing as the only thing that you discover from him was how he was being such an amazing date.

In the night when both of you ordered a junk food from the restaurant as you sat on a bench beside each other, shoulders brushing, you couldn’t help but think about everything that had happened for today.

His hand was never absent from his agenda of holding yours, even as you complained at how sweaty both of your palms had become. Not to mention that one time when he left you alone because he was going to the bathroom and a group of boys immediately came to your spot as you calmly waited for him. You knew that you could stand your ground, but the number of boys overwhelmed you as you stuttered to answer their rapid questions. Before you could even collect yourself together and told them to back off, you could feel an arm snaking to your waist.

The exposed skin shivered under Jisung’s touch and as you turned your head to look at him, it shivered again for a completely different reason. You’ve never seen Jisung that angry before with his jaw clenched and eyes glared to them. It was a delightful feeling, knowing that you weren’t the end of the gaze that he was holding. He pulled you flush beside him, “Babe, you okay?” It was menacingly sweet, his tone. “These boys aren’t giving you a hard time, right?”

The boys shrugged before backing off, saying stuffs that you couldn’t even bother listening because now the only sound that you could hear was your heart thrumming inside of its cage and the only sensation that you could feel was his hand that was still in your waist.

You could feel his touch lingered there as he used both of his hands to check on you, making sure that you were fine. His hands stopped at your jaw, tilting your face to look at him as his eyes were glistening with worry and all trace of the previous anger nonexistent. “Are you really okay?” Jisung whispered, more to himself because he immediately pulled you into a hug. “God I can’t let anything happens to you. I’ve swore it on Minho.”

There was a way at how his scent intoxicated you as you buried yourself on the crook of his neck. His cologne weren’t supposed to stay with him this long after the walk under the sun but it did. Jisung smelled like vanilla with cinnamon, and in that moment you realized that it might be your favourite scent.

It was quiet, you were waiting for Minho and his date to finish. The artificial lake that you were facing and the soft neon light from the restaurant’s wall coaxed you into a pleasant atmosphere. “Apparently without your insults you’re a pretty decent guy, huh?” You said to him as you stared at the lake, your food long gone. “Your real date would’ve been lucky”

“I know.” He smirked proudly, his head turning to face you. “A handsome face with a lot of boyfriend characteristics fulfilled, my real date is going to be spoiled.”

Somehow at that moment you couldn’t even bring yourself to respond on his self inflating ego comment because deep within your heart you knew what he said was true. The fact that his real date was probably never going to be you somehow put you on a solemn mood, you were actually enjoying today’s date, as fake as it was supposed to be. Your rivalry was temporarily forgotten as you found yourself staring up at him. “Han?” You called, voice above a whisper.

Jisung blinked, his smirk melting off his face. “(Y/N)? What’s wrong?” His tone was laced with worry, and you were hoping that at the very least this part of his feeling was real. “Did I do something wrong?”

Your lips etched into a smile at the absence of the nickname he has been calling you all day, and before you could process how your body moved on its own, you gave him a quick kiss on his cheek. “I had a good time today, thank you.” There was no way that your cheek could be even redder than now, but it was already nighttime so you were glad that Jisung wouldn’t be able to see it. You rested your head on his shoulder afterwards, eyelids closing to enjoy the small time that you had left before Minho came and your so called date to be over.

You didn’t expect any response from Jisung except the snarky ones that you thought he’s going to give, a sentence full of ego as he would say something along the line of “I told you before, didn’t I?” since you were only doing that because you were grateful of the promise that he kept, so when you felt his hands taking yours, you definitely didn’t see that coming.

Even more when he brought your hand to his lips, kissing each of your knuckles softly before intertwining it together.

“I enjoyed it too. Very much.” You could feel him smiling from his gentle tone of his voice. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but this is probably the best date I’ve ever been, despite its fakeness.”

You frowned at that, your voice coming out before you realising it. “Don’t mention the fake thing, you’re ruining it.”

“So you wished that this was real then?” He was definitely smirking now.

“In your dreams, Han.”

But then maybe his claim on his reluctance of doing this fake date was true. Because looking down to your linked hands, you weren’t surprised to find that you wouldn’t mind this day to happen again. At that time, you decided that your plan has crumbled into pieces, that Jisung might have snatched your chance on doing the project with Minho.

The beat of your heart quickly accelerated as your mind took you to a scary possibility of why it was happening in the first place. That maybe, Han Jisung has placed himself within your heart, realization seeping into your veins distracted you to a level that had you barely listening to Jisung’s response to your statement.

“If that so, then I’m not waking up.”

[]

Something changed after that date, you quickly realized. Both of you were still in a rivalry state that the both of you were in before, but the insults decreased or if it was really said, it wasn’t to the point where either of you would be offended. Both the quantity and quality of it weakened, at least on your part it was almost non existent anymore.

You couldn’t brought yourself upon replying on his insults verbally, mostly you would opt to roll your eyes or scoff as you realized that you couldn’t reply to any of it. You had hoped that Jisung and Minho would both see it as your new strategy of winning the competition, the whole 'talk less do more’ mindset but then again the latter was your best friend, he could see right through that.

So when Minho came to your dorm uninvited with a box of pizza and bottles of cola, you knew that he was going to talk about something serious. Him and Changbin did a small talk as your roommate was preparing to go out and work on his music project. By the time the boys were done you had already slumped on your sofa, a slice of pizza on your hand as your feet dangled from the sofa’s arm. Minho watched as you turned on the TV and started to search for any good channel for quite some time before he gently grabbed the remote from your hand.

“I’m not here to watch tv.” He said, muting the current channel. “I came here to talk.”

Rolling your eyes, you bit back a laugh. “No shit, Sherlock. We all know that you have something in your mind everytime you visit me.”

Minho smiled at that, “Well you’re laughing now so I guess I shouldn’t be too worried.”

“Spit it out, Minho.” You refused to make eye contact with him, eyes trained upon an episode of MasterChef. Your first slice of pizza were finished and you learned forward to grab another one, “Address the elephant of the room, whatever.”

It was more of a joke, on your part, really. You clearly didn’t expect him to say it ever so bluntly when you bite onto the junk food, “You have a crush on Jisung.”

You choked.

The cough that you let out was plenty as you had troubles in breathing. Minho was quick to hand you the nearest bottle of soda before bolting to the kitchen and took a water bottle in case you needed it. Immediately you gulped down the soda, the carbon burned on the back of your throat but it gave a way for the piece of pizza stuck there to be gone into your stomach.

Your breath heaved for a few moment as Minho rubbed your back, constantly asking if you’re okay and you gave him a thumbs up. All was quiet safe for your breathing before you said in a small voice, “I lost, am I?”

Your best friend’s gaze softened at your words, still rubbing your back this time for your emotional reassurance. “No, well not yet at least. You still got three more days.”

A groan escaped your lips as you buried your face on your hand. “I’m an idiot, am I? I told myself to make him fall for me and then it was actually the other way around.” You huffed, heads shaking as you finally confessed it to someone else rather than your mirror. “I used to hate him with all my heart and then one damned date changed everything.”

“You do realize that you said to me that he–” Minho air quoted it “was pretty cute without his mouth running around ruining his visual when I first introduced both of you? I’d say that you actually had a small crush already, the whole date just further strengthens it.”

“I do.” You mumbled, face still buried. “I just can’t believe that I’m falling for someone that couldn’t even stand me. The whole date was close to something like a skit. He was just playing his part as a charming enemy and I fell for that.”

Minho scoffed, “How do you know that it’s not his real character?”

“Because I know Han, and his attitude towards me in daily life is a hundred and eighty degrees of difference!”

“You don’t know him.” There was softness in Minho’s tone that got you peeked a bit to see his expression. “Both of you just started off in a wrong direction.”

You opted to stay quiet as you felt like there was no answer needed for that statement. Maybe Minho was right, if only he wasn’t being such an asshole in your first encounter you would’ve find yourself being friends with him already or perhaps more. There was a seed of hope in your heart that you let it died down upon experiencing his behaviour towards you, one that hoped that you would at least be in a good relationship with him.

The whole date just watered down the seed and now it was growing rapidly, its root finding their way to your heart and planted themselves there. You knew that it was stupid of you, to fall in love with someone that could use your feelings to their advantage. The one that could laugh on your face and humiliate you after you confessed at him, saying how he has managed to fool you into thinking that he will reciprocate whatever it is that you’re feeling.

Maybe it was one of his acts, a genius plan on his side that he carefully thought of. Incorporating your emotions into his final piece of the puzzle because let’s face it, Han Jisung would play dirty if he deemed it necessary. He said it himself.

But the hope that rooted itself in your heart has given you faith on him. If believing on Han Jisung that he wouldn’t make fun of you and your feelings were too crazy for your logic, at least you were putting your beliefs at Minho. He wouldn’t let his best friend getting hurt moreover letting his other best friend be a reason behind your pain. Minho wouldn’t befriended him if he was such a douche, too.

You sighed, taking another piece of pizza as you felt Minho’s gaze on your actions. “You know what?” you began, voice a little shaken and muffled after you ate it. “I may be saying the stupidest thing I’ve ever said now–”

Minho snickered at that, cutting you off. “That’s a hard title to beat, remember the summer when we went to our first party? You were crying as you brought the fish from the aquarium to the pool because you were scared that they wouldn’t breathe in the fresh water.”

He could feel your glare all over him but it didn’t stop his words, “Come on, it won’t be that bad, will it?”

“I was drunk, dumbass.” You bit a laugh when you watch him squirmed after you repeatedly poke his ribs. “Now are you going to let me say it or what?”

“Yeah only if you stop doing it!” He sounded so annoyed that you couldn’t hold the urge to tease him more so you poke him again. Soon it ended up with poke fights and continued down to tickle fights as you both fought on the couch. Both of you were breathless after a few minutes, limbs tangled with one another as you struggled to catch your breath and laugh in the same time. You were on top of Minho, your ear rested comfortably on his chest. It was probably very hard on Minho since you were basically crushing his lungs but he made no move on removing you, and for a while that was the only position you were both in.

You found your voice, albeit gravelly. “I’m forfeiting myself from this game. Go ahead, be his partner then.”

“And why are you giving up so easily? You have three more days before it’s over.”

Your laugh came out breathier than you expected, your head shaking. “In your game, yeah. In mine, it was already over the moment I saw him in that theme park.”

Minho chuckled at that. “I don’t want to say anything, but you two have more similarities than you know.” A smile followed suit, his hand came down to ruffle your hair. “FIne, but you still need to come for the last meeting when I declare the winner.”

It was a lie on your part if you said that you weren’t an inch curious about the meaning in the first part of Minho’s sentence was about. But you gulped it down, only hoping that it wasn’t anything bad. “Yeah, sure. You’re paying?”

“Yup. Now are we gonna finish this pizza or what?”

[]

It was raining hard and Changbin weren’t home.

Ever since you were little, storm and big rains were something that you despised. You couldn’t bear hearing the loud rattle of thunder and the sounds of water violently hitting the ground. Lighting gave you anxieties as you were scared that after that flash of light was gone, you would find something else staring at you. Everything was suffocating, in your opinion. The sounds of rain seemed like it slowly cornered you and you felt as if it was trying to drown you. In short, you hated them.

Changbin, figured your fear of rain ever since you were still a pre-pubescent teenager when you spent a night on his house. He was working on some school’s project so he didn’t really need sleep in that time of the night, hence the reason why he let you into his room when he found you crying while clutching onto your pillow. He let you slept on his bed that night and he opted to sleep on the desk instead. Your fear was also part of the reason why your parents wanted him as your roommate so that you could always have someone that knew about your fear and were willing to accompany you during the time it got bad.

It became a habit every time a huge storm happened. It was either you sleeping on his room or vice versa, with an air mattress getting dragged into either rooms so thet the other could sleep on it. You were forever grateful that he was willing to sacrifice a small part of his precious sleep time (or his producing time) to your comfort.

This time, however was different as Changbin were absent from your shared apartment.

He had told you that he was going to his aunt’s house from his mother’s family for dinner but he would be back before 9 because his aunt would told him to clean around the house as well. The first rumble caught you off guard when you were reading as its sound was deafening, causing you to reflectively closed your eardrums and froze as you stare at the floor. You swore that you could feel the floor of your apartment shook lightly under the massive power before you hurriedly messaged him, informing that a storm might’ve come on his way and for him to be careful to not get caught in the rain.

Changbin didn’t reply after roughly half an hour, when the rain started to pour.

‘Sorry I didn’t see your message lol too busy with the dishes’

‘It’s raining quite hard here but I think it’ll be over soon’

‘My friend is going to come to the apartment and we’re supposed to have a brainstorming session together so I hope you don’t mind’

It wasn’t a surprise that your roommate would have others come to your shared apartment for lots of stuffs. Sometimes it was a productive session, sometimes it would be just them playing games in his room. He always invited them when you were not around, so it was the first time for you to actually meet Changbin’s friend. After all, the both of you didn’t really interact outside of the apartment ever since you both went to college except for family occasions courtesy to the different major that you both took since Changbin was a music major.

Which reminded you to a fellow music major student that couldn’t escape from your mind lately. You sighed, your earbuds shoved in your ear to drown out the noise of the rain. It was getting better for you to deal with the sounds of rain especially the small ones like now, but certainly not the lighting and its friends. Still a long way to go for you, but it was an improvement.

‘Ok, I hope your friend ate already though bc I finished the whole chicken we had’

You stared at the ceiling after you texted him that, a melody of a song that you were planning to use in your project flowed freely inside of your ear, shadows of choreography formed in the darkness when you closed your eyes. It wasn’t long before the song ends and you were awakened from your trance upon the rapid sound of your doorbells. Groaning, you rolled on your stomach on the couch before rolling your eyes and starts dashing towards the door.

The sounds of the bell didn’t stop even when you screamed out, “Coming!” Fumbling with the keys, you grit your teeth as you struggled to open the door with the noise. “Hi, you must be Changbin’s—” words died down on your throat as your eyes fell upon your guest’s. “H-han?”

Jisung’s eyes were blown wide and his jaw dropped. It took a few moments for him to shook his head and stammered a “No shit, (Y/N)? What are you doing on Changbin’s apartment?” as he eyed you up and down before realization dawned on him, “W-wait, you guys are dating, or something?”

“Ew, No!” You were quick to object, disgust was written all over your face. “We’re literally cousins! Our parents wanted us to become roommates for.. reasons.” It was when you noticed his wet appearance and droplets of water that fell down from his hair. “Jeez why are you so wet? Come in.”

You opened the door wider for him to walk inside, your heart hammering behind your ribs. “I-I’ll get you some towel, or something. Just sit wherever.” Jisung nodded silently, opting on sitting on your kitchen’s stool as he watched you disappear to the bathroom before coming back with a fresh towel. “Here, use this.” handing him the towel, you prayed that your hand didn’t shake from the adrenaline.

It did, but either Jisung didn’t notice it or he pretended not to because he didn’t address it. He mumbled a thank you before wiping his wet hair with you awkwardly sitting on the couch, busying yourself with the book you left almost half an hour ago. “So,” Jisung began, slightly coughing. “You live with Changbin, huh? Can’t believe that you exist to snatch my friends away all the time.”

And the annoying Jisung was back again. So much for the guy that you fell for. “Is this about you and your jealousy again? Because I’ve had enough of it with Minho.” You rolled your eyes, leaning back to the couch. “Anyway, isn’t it the other way around since the fact that I knew him ever since he was so little? I knew him first, Han. The difference is, I’m not going to be a baby and wail about how you’re ‘stealing’ my cousin from me.”

He didn’t really pay attention to the second part of your statement once he heard you mentioning Minho, his feet tapping the floor repeatedly as if he was considering something. “Did he…” Jisung was nervous, you could tell from his voice that lacked the confidence and playful tone but from what, you didn’t know. “I mean did he say anything about the game?”

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “What do you mean? Like the one who win and all? I thought that he’s going to announce it in the day after tomorrow? ” You left out the part that you forfeited from the game as you didn’t want him to clown you right now. He might as well did that when he was crowned as the winner, anyway.

At the sight of your puzzled face, he sighed. “I see. Well, nevermind.” Jisung plugged his earphones in and you figured out that that was your cue to stop conversing with him.

You two ended up not saying anything for the rest of the night, him busying himself with his phone and you with your book. Well, at least he was being very serious about it while you were totally losing your focus on reading because you were too busy stealing glances to the boy. From your place, you could see the way his eyebrows furrowed in concentration, his lips pursued as he stared at his phone. Not to mention his half-wet hair that has gotten messier from his hands that ran through it. Your heartbeat increased as he did it again.

He was indeed handsome, you’ve admitted to that fact long ago but there was something about being together alone with the boy that got you to think that he has gotten more handsome and cooler, for some reason. Whatever that was, you hoped that he didn’t notice your staring or else you knew that there won’t be any end to his teasing.

The intensity of the rain increased as the night went on, and you were planning to check on Changbin when Jisung read out the text he got, “Uh, Changbin said that he couldn’t make it back. The storm was very big so he decided to stay on his aunt’s house.”

Realization dawned upon you in the mention of Changbin not being able to be your companion on this stormy night. You could feel your eyes watered and your lips trembled in fear of getting through the night all by yourself. Your vision blurred, and it wasn’t until you could see a dot of tear that fell on your book that you realized that you were crying. Biting your lips to stop it from trembling, you wiped the tears on your eyes. You looked at Jisung only to found him already staring, his expression laced with confusion and worry but before he could ask you what’s wrong, you immediately shut him out.

“I’m going to sleep,” you blurted out, voice small and barely cracking. “It’s raining now so I guess you could sleep in Changbin’s room, whatever. You’ll get sick if you go home in this weather.” Hurriedly you close your books, standing up before bolting out to your room.

“(Y/N)?” He stood up from his seat, slowly approaching you before stopping after seeing your glossy eyes. There was hesitance in his actions, like he didn’t know what he has to do but he knew that he has to calm you, somehow.

“I’m–” you trailed off, stopping before the door to your room. Fidgeting with your toes, you tried to control your breathing before calling out in a small voice, “I’m fine–it’s not your fault.”

You entered the room, leaving Jisung and hopefully your fear on the living room.

–

You were wide awake in the middle of the night under the sound of the intense pouring of the rain. Agonized over the worry that when you close your eyes, you’d wake up with your room filled with water from the rain as it slowly increased in height, eventually drowning you. From the lighting and the loud rattle from thunder, you avoided them all as you buried yourself under the safety of your blanket. Suffocation was worth it when you finally gathered enough courage to close your eyes. At least that was what you were thinking until you found yourself gasping for air once a nightmare consisted of you drowning attacked your subconscious mind.

Sitting up on your bed, your eyes darted to the clock right above your desk. It was barely 2 am which meant that you were able to sleep for no less than an hour, a number too little compared to the time you spent actually trying to sleep in the first place. The rain’s intensity didn’t waver for one bit and you actually believed that it was getting even crazier. A flash of light couldn’t prepare you from the loudest rattle that you’ve heard for as long as you could remember, its sound made it seemed like the sky was tearing itself apart continuously with a loud rumble that sounded like a chuckle from Zeus himself.

You could make out a faint siren of a car’s alarm beneath a loud ringing from your ears as you tasted blood on your lips. Before your mind even processed on what you were trying to do, you swung your legs outside your bed, slightly running to open the door without even closing it to your roommate’s room. You knew that it wasn’t Changbin that slept there but you were so desperate for a company or something to distract yourself from your paranoia that you found yourself knocking the door repeatedly, hot tears streaming down your face as you called, downright pleading for his name.

The said boy opened the door with an intention to be angry as every other human being was when their sleep was disturbed, but all anger dissipated as his eyes were blown wide upon seeing your vulnerable form in front of him. He almost didn’t have the time to properly analyze your face as your hands immediately clutched to his sides, anchoring themselves there while you buried your face on his chest, your wails muffled by the fabric of his sweatshirt. Jisung could feel fear radiating off from your body and the thought of you having to deal with this on your own a few hours ago shattered his heart. He tried to soothe your trembling form by wrapping his arms on your body, gently rubbing it on your sides as he left small kisses on the crown of your head.

“Hey, I’m here now. It’s okay.” He would mumble every so often. “You’re safe with me.” And the boy meant it with every inch of his being.

The both of you stayed in that position until your wails decreased into sobs and the tremor of your body wavered. The sound of cloudburst outside were still very much audible but you forced yourself to focus on Jisung’s mumble of sweet nothings on your ear. It was comforting and you realized that you wouldn’t mind it to happen again. After calming down, you dared yourself to look up from his chest only to find his face inches away from you.

Your breath hitched on your throat as you were suddenly insecure about how much of a mess your state was. Your nose were running, you bet that both of your eyes were red because of your crying and how your lips must’ve swell from all the previous lip biting to suppress your fear. Insecurity came a moment too late but before you could bury your face again on his chest his hands already found its way to your cheek, gently wiping away some of your tears. There was a soft smile on his lips, but you were able to see the worry reflected on his eyes. “Hi there.” Jisung whispered.

You had no idea why your brain couldn’t form any sentence at all, but fortunately Jisung didn’t wait for any reply. “Feeling better, now?” He asked.

“A bit.” It was a soft whisper, but the proximity allowed him to hear what you were saying.

“Do you need anything? Drink, perhaps?” You shook your head at that, “Well, what do you want, then?”

Before you could stop yourself you blurted out, “Sleep with me, please.”

It was a second later that you realized that your words could meant something else entirely. Your cheeks warmed out at that, ready to explain yourself but you didn’t need to worry about his teasing because he nodded. “Okay. Your room or Changbin’s?”

“Mine?”

“Alright.”

You missed his warmth as soon as you released your hold at him, but the hand that linked the both of you could suffice for that. For a second, your mind went back to that theme park date. He closed your door once the both of you were already inside your room and you tugged on his hand, motioning him to follow you as you sat on the edge of the bed.

“I’m…sorry for your sweatshirt.” There was a wet patch formed out of your tears (and snot, probably) on his clothes, you noticed. “I’ll clean it up later.”

Jisung chuckled at your thought, he didn’t even realize it as he was too busy on making sure that you were okay. “No need to do it, it’s fine.”

“I insist.” You pouted, looking up at him and then he realized that there was no way that he could win against that. Instead he sighed, signaling you to move aside to give him a space on your bed before taking off his sweatshirt.

You didn’t press onto the matter, but you swore that you were going to clean it later. Your legs slipped beneath the blanket as you made yourself comfortable, waiting for Jisung to do the same when the deafening thunder came again. The immediate reaction from your body caused you to flinch before covering both of your ear as you closed your eyes, teeth gnawed onto your bottom lip fiercely. Not too long however, you found Jisung’s arms wrapped on you just like it did a few moments ago. You welcomed the warmth he offered gratefully.

“Let’s just sleep, okay? I’ll always be here.” He said afterwards, slowly laying the both of you down on the bed from your previous positions of sitting down. You let your hands down from your ear as you bring it in front of you to clutch on his shirt and his still wrapped on your body. Daring your eyes to look up, you found him already staring at you as heat spread across your face. However you couldn’t let your gaze stray away from his before he leaned in to give your forehead a kiss. “Always.”

The rain was loud but your heartbeat was louder.

[]

The first thing that you noticed was how the sun was shining very brightly that morning.

The second thing you noticed was how the rain has stopped on pouring now.

Third and final thing you noticed? How someone’s breath was tickling the back of your neck and this supposed person had their arm draped on your waist. It felt nice, you thought. The comfort of everything caused you to close your eyes again, ready to steal some sleep back.

Wait, you thought again, eyes snapped open. Changbin never cuddled with you.

You fought the urge to scream, thinking how you got yourself a stranger that had the audacity to cuddle with you on your sleep. After mentally preparing yourself to face the said stranger, you turned around with an annoyed look on your face. What you saw, however, got your expression softened right in an instant. A familiar scent of vanilla and cinnamon intoxicated your nose.

Right, he’s here.

Jisung has both of his eyes closed as he was breathing steadily, his lips ajar. The sun gave an impression that he was glowing beneath it, like he was some sort of angel that came from the heaven above. But then again considering the action he did last night, maybe he was. You couldn’t help but brush away the hair from his eyes, fingers twirling on the soft brown locks. He looked so peaceful this way, so beautiful in a way that you were beginning to question what did you do in your past life to deserve such sight presented right on your face.

“I could get used to this.” He smirked despite having his eyes closed still. This punk was pretending to be asleep this whole time? That’s very Han Jisung of him.

You scoffed, pulling your hand back from his hair. “Don’t. it’s a one time thing.” Obviously you lied, but you wanted him to know that. You hoped that your tone was playful enough that he knew you were lying.

“Sure you don’t.” Jisung opened his eyes to see if you were serious and immediately relieved when he was faced with your smiling face. He reciprocated it. “Since the next time we’re staying in the same bed, cuddling wouldn’t be the only thing we’re doing.”

Heat rapidly crept on your cheek before you swat his chest lightly on repeat. “you pervert! It’s not even 8 am!”

Jisung let you hit him freely as he was still too sleepy. “Why?? I was planning for a movie night!” you stopped hitting him at that, your eyes widened and your cheeks got even more red, if possible. The boy caught your speechless expression and a smirk sneaked its way back to his lips. “Unless our (y/n) has something else on her mind?”

“Shut up.” You mumbled, turning away from him so he couldn’t see your embarrassed face. He laughed at that, the hand on your waist pulled you a bit closer to him and then you could feel his breath on your nape again. “We’re supposed to hate each other.” you were glad your voice didn’t waver from the proximity.

Jisung lightly hummed at your words, like he was contemplating about something. “You really hated me that much?”

“Excuse me? I was actually looking forward to know my best friend’s childhood friend and then when you first met me you didn’t even let me shook your hand! You barely paid any attention to me and only focused on Minho while repeatedly interrupting my conversation with him!” You turned around again so you could face him, “After that, it was an endless banter between the both of us because hey, I actually don’t want you to feel like you’re the only one with the power!”

The boy in front of you went quiet after your outburst. “You were the one that hated on me first.” you added quietly, “I still don’t know the reason why you’d do that.”

The atmosphere was suddenly tense, all trace of previous playfulness dissipated to thin air. You waited for his response with bated breath, because despite having a crush on him (or falling for him, whatever you prefer to call your emotion) you still needed to know the reason behind his treatment on you.

Jisung laid on his back, sighing. His gaze was fixed to your ceiling as he tried to place the sentences he’s about to say together without sounding like he was stupid. “If I tell you, it still won’t justify my actions.” he finally said, “What I did to you was horrible and stupid, it’s just downright childish.”

“I don’t need your actions to be justified.” You said, “But I need to know why.”

“You’re going to hate me even more.”

“Try me.”

Jisung sighed again, the top of his ears turned slightly red. “You know how middle school students act in front of their crushes, right?” He didn’t dare to look at your expression but the lack of a response probably meant that it was one of a confusion. “Well, they kinda didn’t know how to act. And eventually embarrassed themselves, or making their crushes misunderstand their intention.”

“Okay? And the connection is?” You trailed off as you were genuinely confused.

The top of his ears turned even redder but he forced himself to stare at your eyes. “I’ve always liked you. And I was such an idiot because you thought the opposite.”

You were quiet, your mind was working its gears to understand his words. After a while, you found that you couldn’t say anything but a “You’re being ridiculous!” while shaking your head. “H-how? I mean What? Why? Huh?”

He needed to stop himself from laughing over how your expression was a morph of confusion and shock. So he took it upon himself to explain, “I think I’ve been liking you from the first showcase performance that you did–”

“The one where I almost lost my scholarship? You made fun of me because of it!”

“Yes, and I regret that everyday!” He bit his lip when the memory of your expression after he did it came to his mind. “I just came to cheer on Minho and then I saw you. Not going to lie, I couldn’t even pay any attention to Minho after that, which got him kinda annoyed before I said that I was looking at you the whole time. He then casually said that you were his first friend in campus and I was very jealous because of it.”

A chuckle slipped from your lips before you could even stop it, “Why were you even jealous?”

Jisung frowned, “I figured probably I wouldn’t have any chance since well, Minho is Minho. You know how charming that guy could be. I’m not even close to his level per se.” He shook his head, “And yeah I continued to stay quiet about this feeling since well, I decided that I wouldn’t stand a chance and we probably won’t have our path crossed at all.”

“Let me guess, Minho knew about it?”

The boy sighed again for the nth time in the morning, “He did. That punk teased me about it all the time about how I was being a coward and won’t ‘man up’ to get to know you so I, in my embarrassed and unwise state of being, said that he should introduce me to you. Minho said yes and that was the backstory of our first meeting.”

You hummed at his words, cheeks reddening out of his confession that he actually liked you even when you didn’t even know he existed yet. He was right about how it couldn’t justify his action towards you but you were glad that it wasn’t anything major nonetheless. You thought that he wouldn’t say anything else until he mumbled about something you didn’t quite catch.

“What?”

“I said,” He turned so he could face you, the gap between your faces were small. There was a hint of worry on the glint of his eyes, “Say something. You’re killing me here.”

You giggled at the idea of the Han Jisung worrying about the words that you’re going to say. “Still don’t understand the reason why you don’t want to shake your crush’s hand in the first meeting though.”

He covered his face with his hands, groaning. “I was an idiot, I told you.”

“Well, elaborate.”

“Let’s just say that you were so cute that day and I couldn’t believe I was seeing you so close so I lost a couple of my brain cells.”

“A couple? You kept on interrupting me, too! What about the whole thing of making fun of me and being rude? ”

“Okay, maybe most of them. Also my mind–mind you, it was dumb–thought that I should make a good first impression, but then I didn’t even shake your hand so I figured that I should at least have something you’d remember me as. So yeah, I pissed you off but at least you remember my name, right?“

You furrowed your eyebrows, "So instead of apologizing you just went on with the character of you hating me? Han Jisung you really are stupid.”

“That bit is true.” He peeked through the crack of his fingers, “Want to know what’s even stupider?”

You simply nodded.

“I was actually the one that suggested Minho to left both of us alone at the theme park. So it would feel like a real date for the both of us, you know? I mean at least if I lose the bet, i would still have a memory of you. Or us.” He paused to let out a breath, “No matter how fake it was.”

There was a smile on your lips without you even knowing it upon hearing that. “I actually have something to say too.” You heaved a breath, trying to hide how amused you were from watching how his eyes has gotten wider to your statement.

“Two days ago I told Minho that I quit this game.” You bit your lip, debating on whether you’re going to tell him the reason or not and decided to keep it for later. “You want to know what he said?”

Jisung was more curious on your first statement rather than your question but he held it back, opting to nod instead. “Well,” You began, “He said that we have more similarities than what we actually thought. I didn’t know what he meant by that back then but maybe I know it now.” a chuckle slipped from your lips to mask your preparation of saying the next words.

You could feel your heartbeat increased and how the blood rushed to the apple of your cheeks when you wanted to say it. But then again all words died on your tongue as you felt yourself getting suffocated from Jisung’s intense gaze at your eyes. Your mind went back to the day when Minho offered the game to the both of you. When he stared at you with the same intensity that got you feeling so fragile, out in the open for everyone to read.

Back then you could easily ran from it with a sip of coffee, staring away into the distance that was anything except his eyes but today, you couldn’t do anything about it and you were forced to return the stare albeit with a weaker intensity before you tried to cower from his, only to met his lips before it flicked up to his eyes again.

He did the same.

“Stop me if you don’t want it.” Jisung whispered, slowly leaning in. His hand shot up to hold your cheek but he didn’t do anything just yet as he simply stared at you. That was when you realized that the tension was way too thick for you, the boy was way too ethereal and you wanted nothing but his lips on yours as soon as possible. So you close your eyes and closed the gap.

Kissing Jisung was something that you never thought would be able to do. It was just a flash of thought in daylights (or sometimes, at night) that you immediately shoved back to the back of your mind with an erratic heart and red cheeks because it was crazy. He didn’t like you. Jisung was nice to you at the theme park because he wanted to see you break beneath him. He would use your feelings against you and you swore to never let him see the faintest part of that.

But then again it was his lips that was kissing you right now. It was his hand on your cheek that tried to pull you closer to him even when it was physically impossible and it was your hand that clutched into his shirt because of the serotonin on your neurotic system because holy fuck you were kissing the Han Jisung, your sworn rival slash crush and holy fuck was he good at it.

He got confident for a second after he realized that it was you that kissed him first, his lips moving against yours in a way that got your toes curled out of excitement. There was a smile on Jisung’s lips once he pulled back and saw your lips chasing his. “Sorry, you were saying?” there was cockiness at his tone, but it was delivered ever so playfully that got you swatting lightly to his shirt.

And then it hit you. The stare that Jisung gave you was the one that he did when he tried to read you, attempting to dive into that complex mind of yours but also a stare he gave when he wanted to try something that he hoped won’t cross the boundary to help. Once when he noticed your insecurity over your own talent that you started to doubt whether you deserve to be Minho’s partner or not, and now when he knew that it was hard for you to express your feelings so he decided to help you out through the act of kissing.

Oddly enough, it worked. You didn’t mind at all.

“I think I like you, Han Jisung.” You whispered, watching how his face lit up and reddened even more after the kiss. “You win. You could be Minho’s partner now.”

“No.” He said, moving from his position so that now he hovered above you with a smile on his face, both of his hands supporting his weight on either side of your head. “You’re crazy if you think that I’ve won because I forfeited first from the game, hence the reason he said the both of us were actually more similar than we thought we were.”

Your eyes widened but before you could voiced out your shock, he gave you a lingering kiss on your forehead. “You won, (y/n). You’ve won the game, but more importantly, you’ve won my heart and probably my soul but hey, you already did it on that first showcase.”

“But now that I think about it,” Jisung trailed off, his gaze flickered on your lips again before staring back at yours with such ardor you felt your heart could burst. “I have my crush confessed that my feeling is reciprocated and I just kissed her so I think I win, too.”

You giggled, biting your lip as you cup his cheeks. “I think your crush wanted you to kiss her again.”

“Well with this lips of mine, that’s not a surprise.” He smirked and you rolled your eyes, groaning.

“On second thought,” You pushed him back lightly and he fell back to the mattress with furrowed brows, “I think I’ll brush my teeth instead because let’s face it. We’re both happy and all but that doesn’t stop our breath from being stinks.”

Jisung laughed at that, and you were looking forward to hear it more often. “Okay, princess. Let’s go.”

You liked that nickname better than his previous ones, but you didn’t want him to know it just yet so you hurriedly make your way to your bathroom with him following you close behind. After brushing both of your teeth you found yourself sitting on the bathroom counter and a confused Jisung staring at you.

“Kiss your girlfriend, you dumb.” You said, cheeks flaring.

He smirked, positioning himself between your legs with his hands on your hips. “Ooh, eager aren’t we? Are we really a thing now?”

“You should really kiss me before I change my mind.”

And kiss you he did. His lips captured yours sweetly, almost innocently and you enjoyed the way his hands rubbed soothing circles on your hips before you accidentally pulled on his hair a little harder that brought out a groan from him. Jisung pulled back before staring at your eyes, catching his breath. “Princess, if you do that again, I’m not going to be able to control myself.”

“Then don’t.” Was all you whispered before pulling him back to you. He smiled onto the kiss before pulling your body closer to him that prompted out a gasp from your lips, allowing him to slip his tongue in. You couldn’t help but tug on his roots and curled your toes from his kiss that lit up a fire on the pit inside your belly, making you feel light-headed and dizzy in all the best way.

You wanted to kiss him forever but the both of you were just mortals that needed air to breathe so you pulled back reluctantly, both of your breaths mingled into thin air as your foreheads touched. “I like you, Han.” You confessed again, enjoying the way he bit his lip shyly before giving you another peck. And another.

There was nothing but pure adoration and affection on his eyes. You believed that yours mirrored his, too. “You do realize you can call me Jisung, right?”

You hummed, pretending to contemplate his offer before shaking your head sheepishly. “No. I get used to it already and besides, isn’t it kinda special that I’m the only one that calls you that?”

“Well, you and dozens of other people that doesn’t really know me, I guess. But yeah–”

He didn’t get the chance of finishing his words when you learnt forward and kissed him.

Jisung liked the idea of him getting silenced with that. He’d make sure to speak a lot more often now.

[]

Safe to say that Minho wasn’t a bit surprised when he called both of you to the cafe and saw how you arrived together, hands entwined. He had a smug grin on his face, his eyebrow raised as if he’s asking you a question he knew the answer already.

“I called it.” Was all he said, leaning back to his chair while sipping the coffee he had ordered before. “You guys really need to thank me.”

“Yeah, yeah whatever.” You mumbled, rolling your eyes but silently agreeing to that. He deserve to be treated with food and everything be wanted for being the patient wingman for the both of you. “Anyway, who’s the winner?”

“Isn’t it clear?” Minho laughed, “it’s clearly the both of you. Go on and make your own group!”

You were confused with his answer, but Jisung beat you to ask him about it. “Wait, what do you mean?”

Minho’s smug grin made its way back to his face, “I mean clearly you two have the chemistry needed to do the group project, right? It’ll be fun to see what will the new couple come up with.”

You tried to not let the word 'new couple’ affected you despite the fluttery feeling it gave to your chest. It still hasn’t fully registered to you yet, the idea of Jisung as your boyfriend but here he was sitting beside you with a hand that you could always hold onto anytime you wanted. The days when the both of you would have your quarrels and petty conversation seemed so far away like a static white noise in the background.

But of course, you tried to focus on Minho’s words instead. “Wait, what about you? Who’s your partner’s going to be?”

“I mean, I kinda already know who’s going to be my partner from the start?” He giggled sheepishly, a little nervousness was evident there. “It’s never about my partner from the start, it’s mainly for the both of you.”

“Let me guess,” Jisung snorted, “It’s that girl that you got your eyes on?”

“Yeah, the one that slapped you in the face?” You butted in, a little annoyed but most importantly amused with his reddening cheeks. He was easy to read. “And have you finished the project already?”

“Kinda?”

Your eyes narrowed. “So you almost finish your project while the both of us hasn’t even started it yet?? And we only have like, how many month?”

“Short to 3 weeks.” Jisung added.

“3 weeks!!” You flailed your hands everywhere to signal your frustration. “What is this, a sabotage?”

Minho cringed, he clearly didn’t think that your reaction would be this big. "I mean, I told you two that you guys could do it in a span of a week, right?“ His hands shot up, feigning defeat.

You nearly spat out swear words at him before Jisung held your hand to stop you. You stared at him confusedly but he went on, "Look, wanna bet at that? I mean, the one that would get the highest score in their project will win.”

In the mention of a bet, Minho had his eyebrow quirked up. “Are you sure about that? You guys aren’t even started yet.”

“Yeah? Are we even ready for that?” It was your turn that doubted Jisung’s words but the way he rubbed circles to your palm assured you.

“Yup. I’m sure that we’re more than ready for it.” Your–now–boyfriend smiled at you, a twinkle evident on his eyes. “After all, I’d say that the winner could get a free theme park ticket for two.”

The best friend of the both of you chuckled, catching onto what Jisung was offering. “The losers will pay for it, right?” He stared at you, waiting for your response.

“Okay then. In one condition.” You finally said, and it got both boys furrowing their eyebrows.

You grinned, “The date is real. Not a fake one.”

Jisung mirrored that, his hold on your hand tightened. “No need to worry about it, princess.”

Minho made a disgusted noise with a fake gag when he heard the nickname flew from Jisung’s lips but you didn’t found an ounce of care for his reaction. The only thing that got into your mind was how you were going to work hard for a theme park date with your boyfriend. You couldn’t stop yourself from grinning upon imagining the things you’re going to do without worrying about some stupid stamps and a game.

Well, it was when the game ended for the both of you and this time, you hoped that it would be a start of something.

What exactly that something was, you didn’t know. But as long as Jisung was there beside you, you’d think that you’ll be fine, after all, he promised you that he was going to be there with you. Always.

And you believed it wholeheartedly.

***

waaah it’s finally here!! after 3 months filled with mental breakdowns and procrastination I finally finished this monster fic. The longest one shot i’ve ever written omg.

I wanted to post it in celebration for his birthday but i’m few days late so here’s a late birthday gift, i guess? Happy birthday, Jisung and Felix!!

Look forward to my future works and don’t hesitate to send me messages/asks !!

-mine (mee-nay)

#stayshub #skzinc #forskz #stray kids scenarios #han jisung scenarios #han jisung imagines #han jisung fluff #stray kids fluff #stray kids angst #mine'swriting

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whetstonefires · 4 years

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Okay, it’s been about a year but here is the second-to-last of the fics I signed up to write for the go-fund-cee drive! For @jes-cher, who has been lovely and understanding about my choice paralysis bullshit.

I’ll be posting a shorter, darker Jason-focused one later, as apology for slow. Ten months of beating my head against my first idea for this prompt before it occurred to me I could just. Write something else. It doesn’t matter if it’s a great idea if it’s clearly not getting written! 😌 Rip.

(Anon who’s the only one left, please feel free to contact me with a new prompt if you’re no longer interested in your original request after this amount of time, or have justifiably lost faith in my ability to execute it, as I chronicled my battle with Lobdell’s writing style, and would prefer I give you 10,000 words of something else. I’ll still post what I have written for that prompt already!)

-&-

Gotham wasn’t actually that bad a city. Steph had actually lived in a few different ones now, and visited lots, and for all the crap her hometown got, it stood up pretty well. The architecture was nice; good balance of eras, a unified aesthetic with a lot of variety to keep it interesting.

The street system wasn’t ideal, especially in the old parts of town, but they didn’t have any of the traffic nightmares of New York or, really, most of the rest of the metro belt. Only Metropolis did a better job at avoiding gridlock.

Public transit was robust and reached most of the city, and while the buses weren’t wonderful they weren’t bad. Sometimes they were even on time. The libraries and schools were all pretty well funded, because the Wayne Foundation made up the tax shortfall in districts with below average income. The street lights usually worked, and the cops were a lot more chill than most places unless they thought you were a supervillain, in which case they still probably wouldn’t shoot you, even if maybe they probably should.

The supervillain problem was worse than average, she could admit that, but crime as a whole actually wasn’t. Air pollution had been really bad forty years ago, and the river still wasn’t anywhere you’d like to swim, but that was true of a lot of places, and their reputations didn’t linger like this. She’d been to Paris! Gotham sanitation workers were about 400% more successful, and they kept working through frankly ludicrous conditions! Possibly they were paid really well, she didn’t know.

The weather, though. She’d give the world that one. Gotham’s weather was consistently terrible, awful, no-good, and deserved everything anyone had ever said about it.

Which made it actually really weird that their supervillain problem featured someone with a plant theme.

“Move somewhere tropical, Eisley!” she groused, as she swung to the next roof, careful of her footing. “Cultivate jungles! Save the planet! Stop making us come out in the freezing rain to deal with your unseasonable bullshit.”

She paused for a second on her last rooftop perch, both to gather herself and in case Ivy took the cue. She often did. Supervillains in general seemed to have a hard time resisting a straight line—which Steph could relate to, honestly. And she’d caught Batman holding back his entrance for the most ironic dramatic moment before, so it wasn’t just a villain thing.

No villain attack, which was good, because Steph was on her own out here. This was hopefully just a scouting mission. Probably Poison Ivy wasn’t even here.

This afternoon, just after lunch, as Steph was getting off work, every park in the city had suddenly erupted with enormous…growths. They were tree-shaped, thirty feet high with little crinkled green leaf things at the top, but from what inspection had been done so far seemed more like fungus than anything. The spreading limbs had a weird rubbery texture.

Steph was calling them Doom Broccolis.

Whatever they were, they were suspicious as heck, and in response to their appearance Batman had immediately rallied the troops. Which had quickly led to the discovery that Red Robin was missing, and had been for at least eleven hours. He’d never checked in last night.

The troops had promptly been rallied even more urgently, and dispersed across the city to its various infested green spaces.

So Steph’s mission, like everyone’s, was twofold—see if she could learn anything about Ivy’s scheme in time to foil it, and search for any sign of Tim. If they were lucky, he’d just dropped out of contact voluntarily for unrelated reasons and could be yelled at later. If not… Well. If not, he needed them.

She’d been telling herself all the way here that she appreciated that Duke and Damian were the ones who’d been sent out with each other as backup, that she was respected and trusted to operate solo and that was a good thing. The practical side of her would really prefer backup please, and the insecure one kept murmuring that maybe what it really proved was Batman cared less if she died.

Batgirl gave herself a little shake. Shut up, little voice, she told it, and mentally squashed the slug of it under her heel. She adjusted her gas mask to make sure the seal was tight. Time to get her reconnoiter on.

And hopefully not have to fight the most powerful metahuman in Gotham by herself on unfavorable terrain, in the freezing rain. That would be really great.

There was almost no sound as she crept through the nasty rubbery grove that had erupted in the long narrow triangle that was Hyde Park.

The broccolis themselves were silent, not even creaking or rustling in the occasional gusts that drove the freezing rain at an angle, and city traffic and all the sounds of people were hushed on a day like today, between the weather and the large-scale supervillain incident. Everyone who could be was either out of town or at home, stuffing newspaper into any cracks in case of spores.

After an unenlightening loop around about half the perimeter, Steph was forced to drop to ground level and forge her way into enemy territory. The doom broccolis had avoided uprooting any existing trees or large shrubs, which meant the spacing was slightly uneven and in some places there was no easy way through on foot, but for the most part they were far enough apart to leave plenty of corridors of sky for Steph to stay out under—cover from line of sight wasn’t worth putting herself directly below the things, if she could help it.

Fairly quickly, she noticed something that had not been in the photos from the main infestation in Robinson Park, forty minutes ago.

She clicked her comm on. “Hey,” she murmured just above the subvocal range, for the throat mic. She’d mostly gotten the knack of subvocalizing rather than whispering, which didn’t engage the vocal cords and which the microphone pasted to her neck therefore didn’t pick up well. “Is anybody else seeing…fruit? On the broccolis?”

There was a second of dead air, and then Red Hood said, with a grimace you could hear, “yeah. Like…huge brown cherries, on a couple of ‘em.”

“The ones here are more or less mushroom colored,” reported Signal from Finger Park. “But kind of like cherries, yeah.”

“Don’t touch them,” warned Batman, with the condescending Dad-instinct need to tell everyone things they already knew. Steph was in the middle of rolling her eyes when she rounded another broccoli and froze dead.

“Holy crap.” The broccoli mushroom tree at the middle of Hyde Park was bearing fruit that wasn’t shaped like cherries at all. Batgirl’s first thought had been holy shit it’s people, but then she’d taken her second look, and now it was worse. “Team,” she said, trying to keep her voice professional, “I… think I found Red Robin.”

Because dangling from the central broccoli, by dark hair that turned into green stems just before joining the bough, were seven still vaguely formless figures, torsos partially sheathed in giant green leaves like Ivy wore sometimes for modesty, and with arms and legs looking just barely stuck together. Like a partly melted wax figure, or dragon fruit that wasn’t quite ripe. The fingers and toes were mostly fused, and greenish at the tips. The faces were kind of melty too, hopefully enough so that they wouldn’t be a sure match against a photo to a stranger, but not so much that Steph couldn’t instantly recognize the lines of one of the faces she knew best in the world.

There were seven under-ripe Tim Drakes growing from a broccoli tree.

A clamor of demands for clarification was starting in her comm, and she crept forward as she waited for Batman and Oracle to quiet them all down. There was a bulge halfway up the meaty-looking trunk. “I said ‘think,’” she murmured, studying the nearest Tim-fruit for signs it was actually the real one, “because this broccoli—”

Something slammed into her from the side before she could say any more, heavy and cold and leaving her head ringing and her stupid gas mask flying away, and the combination of experience and instinct only barely let her leap and handspring with the blow, just fast enough to avoid the grasp of the thing that had struck her.

Her boots and glove almost skidded in the freezing-rain-on-grass and left her wiping out, but the jagged rubber treads she’d selected specifically for moments like this saved the day.

Steph made a three-point landing and stared up at Poison Ivy, standing looking thunderous on the top of a huge coil of some sort of vine, several more of them lashing around her like octopus arms. Steph couldn’t even tell which one had hit her.

Oh shit oh shit oh shit, Steph thought, and grinned.

“Gotta try harder than that, Pam!”

No one was talking in her ear. The ear she’d been smacked in. She reached up to check. Yeah, the comm had had it.

She couldn’t be sure about the throat mic—the stick-on patch it was under was still in place but she was pretty sure it got most if not all of its broadcast strength from the earbud unit, so it probably wasn’t transmitting to the others anymore but it might be. She’d keep that in mind to a) pass info just in case and b) try not to embarrass herself, in case there was a silent audience.

Ivy didn’t go straight for the kill, so Steph took the time to readjust her stance into a slightly more upright, flexible posture that kept both her hands free, though she didn’t bother to straighten her cape, which had gotten flipped forward over her right shoulder while she was flipping around.

“You’re planting dude-trees now, Pam?” She and Ivy absolutely weren’t on close enough terms to use first names, even if the meta lady had currently been on the upswing and working with the Birds of Prey again, instead of on a sharp down and terrorizing the city. “What, real guys not listening to you anymore?”

“Human beings are disgusting resource sinks,” Ivy said, in a tone of abstracted disgust that didn’t omen well for her losing her head and making a mistake. “Especially men. I’ve always been working on alternatives. Sadly,” she gave a shallow sigh, inspecting her nails, “the ones I’ve developed have always been…limited.”

Steph nodded sagely. “The veggieburger problem,” she agreed. “Hard to get a plant to do the job of meat.”

Ivy glared. Hah. That one got her. “My new varietal,” she snapped, “will overcome that problem. Each specimen engulfs and consumes one large mammal, and produces fruits that mimic the full intelligence and abilities of the prey sample, in a vegetable form completely loyal to me.”

Steph gaped, because one, that was the most terrifying thing Ivy had done in years, and two, consumes was a very very alarming word in this context. “The Doom Broccolis are carnivorous?” she did not actually squeak. She really hoped her throat mic was still working. Even if it wasn’t, though, backup should be incoming.

Ivy rolled her eyes. “They are not even distantly related to broccoli. And yes, although the digestion process doesn’t really set in until the fruits ripen; the early experiments failed to reproduce cognitive function accurately, due to the breakdown of key tissues.”

Whew. So Tim had…at least a little time left, probably. Steph looked uneasily around the grove of horrible flesh fungus. “I don’t see any loyal broccoli people,” she said. Maybe they were off guarding the other parks?

Ivy scowled. “Of course not. The early cultivars weren’t large enough for human trials, obviously.”

…so there were loyal vegetable guinea pigs or something. Sometimes it was easy to forget Ivy had once been an actual lab scientist.

“So wait, you haven’t actually done a person before and you start with—him?” Steph caught herself at the last second; she didn’t know which identity Tim had been caught in.

“Why not? Red Robin is an excellent specimen. Good balance of strength, strategy, and unlike Batman actually takes direction.” Ivy made a sour face, like her inability to control any version of Batman for long was a thorn in her side.

“Is that what you think,” said Steph, who had had the experience of trying to control Tim Drake. He did try to be accommodating, about most things, usually, and he did take direction better than Batman, for what that was worth, but in the end he’d always go off and do whatever he thought best, no matter what, and possibly let you yell at him about it later.

If anyone could take stock of his preconceived values and identity issues and think his way into a twisty workaround for inbuilt loyalty programming in order to fuck over his creator, she’d bet it would be a perfect copy of Tim.

“Also I caught him skulking around my newest greenhouses,” Ivy shrugged. “Waste not, want not. Recycling is good for the Earth.”

Haha, Ivy had just called Tim garbage. Harsh. But as interesting as it would be to see if the veggie-Tims actually did go rogue, them waking up would mean Tim was now actively dying if not already dead. So no. Not that funny.

Steph caught the enemy’s eyes shuttling subtly toward the central broccoli with its heavy burden of fruit. Aha. Just as she had suspected. (As of like…six seconds ago.)

Poison Ivy had been keeping Batgirl talking, buying time for her Tims to ripen.

Steph appreciated the compliment of putting off the fight rather than counting on being able to end it quickly, but she’d been buying time, too. And unlike Ivy, she was done shopping.

Her Batgirl cape wasn’t nearly as wide cut as her Spoiler cloak had been, not as good for hiding things in, but she’d contrived to use its cover to take out and arm nine individual exploding batarangs while they talked. That was more than she carried normally, or even would be allowed to carry normally, but when you were fighting evil trees more ordinance tended to be called-for, and Batman had issued a supply.

Without wasting time, she started throwing. Her aim had never been especially exact, something Damian liked to give her a hard time about, but here all she had to hit was ‘an entire tree.’ No fiddly precision targets today. She had to aim for the ones not showing fruit or trunk bulges, which she was going to have to trust didn’t have people inside, rather than having just recently acquired very tiny people—this seemed like a safe bet since Ivy tended to be soft on kids.

Not enough to stop periodically trying to destroy humanity for their sake, but enough that it was hard to imagine her hurting one face to face.

“No!” Ivy shouted. She got points for not leaping toward the blinking explosives to try to stop them, sending vines striking like snakes instead, but she was too busy doing that to get away from the bomb that had landed only about five feet away from her.

The blast blew her off her feet, and clear off her pedestal of green. She’d managed to remotely yank two of the batarangs out before they went off, saving those doom fungi, but Steph wasn’t worried about that; she’d successfully set the supervillain up for the kind of fatal misjudgment in defense of plants Batman always said was the surest way to beat her, and now she charged in to make the most of it.

She got there in plenty of time to really put her weight behind a punch hammering down into Ivy’s face, then kicked her in the chest, heel driving in just below the collarbone. Ivy gave a very human uph and pained expression, though she didn’t fall, and Steph went for another kick, this one more carefully aimed.

This was a mistake. One green-tinted hand came up and closed around her ankle like a Venus flytrap made of carbon steel, and in one sharp uncoiling move Eisley rose to her feet and with a twist of her whole torso flung Steph head over heels across the grove.

She realized somewhere between getting thrown and suppressing the urge to vomit as she gyroed upside-down that she’d been thrown straight for one of the remaining undamaged, unfruiting tree-things. Could see the surface getting sort of…gelatinous in preparation for her impact, which was so many flavors of no.

Her hands didn’t fumble at her belt, courtesy of many hours of drills and live practice, even as instinct screamed for rush and now now now.

Her grapple caught in one of the spreading ‘boughs’ at the top of another broccoli, and she tugged the line to send herself swinging out on a long arc just short of making contact with the fungus that wanted to eat her.

She peppered the air in front of her with ordinary, nonexplosive Batarangs as she came back around on the end of the wire—Ivy smacked these casually aside, but it made enough of a distraction that Pam didn’t notice in time the moment when Steph got her backup grapple into a different tree, and accelerated.

Going for a kick would have been the smart, safe option, but Steph was rarely smart and almost never safe, so instead of slamming her full body weight heel-first into the supervillain and hoping it stuck this time, she grabbed with the full strength of endless thigh workouts and dragged Ivy clear off her feet.

Ivy’s plants were protective, but they tended to rely heavily on her for targeting anything that wasn’t right in front of them, so keeping her disoriented was a good idea if you could manage it. It said so in her file. So this part, the grabbing, had been an actual plan, even if one it had taken about two seconds to make, and even if ‘hit the supervillain essentially with your crotch’ was probably a combat recommendation no one would make ever.

The next part was sheer impulse, based on how much easier Ivy was to move than expected—maybe her punch resistance wasn’t so much physical density as some sort of supernatural rootedness, and if you could get her off the ground it stopped working?

Steph released the retraction mechanism on her secondary grapple and let it start paying out again, an instant before she hit the max-strength retract button on her original grapple, the one that was still in her other hand, and gripping a bough halfway across the grove.

Her right shoulder screamed, but Ivy let out a startled choking sound as their trajectory wrenched around out of the arc Steph had been carrying her into headfirst, and shot the other way. Which meant she was still discombobulated, which meant Steph still had the upper hand, shoulder or no.

Steph picked the right moment as they went rocketing back, and let go. Momentum kept Ivy flying, and none of her plants reacted to catch her in midair before she landed. Right on target.

Ivy sank headfirst into her own carnivorous fungus tree, in the gelatinous patch where she’d tried to throw Steph. Her legs kicked once, and then fell still. “See how you like it!” Steph shouted, which was perhaps not the wittiest repartee ever, but she didn’t care.

She landed, staggering a little because her shoulder might be dislocated a little bit and was definitely killing her. And normally she wouldn’t turn her back on a villain just because she’d gotten one good hit and they hadn’t immediately gotten up again, but what she’d been fighting for this whole time was time, because the window of opportunity to stop Tim Drake-Wayne from being reduced to protein goo and the pattern for a bunch of veggie-copies was closing fast. This wasn’t a defeat-top-rank-supervillain-solo mission, this was a rescue mission.

She pelted back toward the relevant tree, holding up the elbow of her bad arm with the opposite hand against the jolt. How to get him out? With two good arms she could have climbed or grappled up to the level of the bulge that represented the broccoli’s prey and started cutting, but it would be hard to get good leverage. Was there a better option?

One of the Tim-fruits twitched on its stem. Fuck it.

Steph recalled the grapple-end of her holdout gun from where it had been since she use it to get the drop on Ivy, fired it into the gummy-looking limbs of the Tim tree, and hauled herself up. She needed to start carrying a better cutting implement than a Batarang, how did Midnight Boy Scout not mandate that already, but for now she gripped one swoopy sharp black wing awkwardly in her gauntleted left hand, braced toes and knees against the nasty cool-flesh stem, and put all the strength her bad arm had into cutting through the tough husk.

It wouldn’t cut.

More of the Tims were starting to move. Their copy nervous systems booting up or whatever.

The whole tree seemed like it was twitching, and then she realized it was, or rather just the lump under her feet was, and she pulled back her Batarang just in time for something thin and yellow to burst out through the surface of the Doom Broccoli, and disappear, leaving an almost invisibly thin slash that dribbled a transparent greenish fluid that reminded Steph of aloe vera gel but smelled more like old mango and artichoke.

The rubbery husk was being sliced up from the soft, inner side with the hawks-head emblem that belonged in the middle of Red Robin’s chest, which wouldn’t you know was a holdout throwing star thing after all, just like his R used to be. She should’ve known.

Talk about impractical shapes for a knife.

“Keep going, you’ve almost got this.”

Whether he heard her or not, he went on thrashing and slashing, and Steph with her Batarang tore as best she could with her bad arm at the shreds between cuts, trying to get them to snap and let all the thin slashes add up to one hole large enough to escape through.

The Tim-fruits were still twitching. Would they fall to the ground and then peel their limbs free like they were breaking out of husks, and get up and start walking around? Or would they need to get all the way to looking like functioning humans before detaching from the stems?

A whole arm burst out in a rush of goo. They were going to make it.

The fingers of the nearest fruit came unstuck, one by one, curling around air the way Tim curled his around a staff.

And then he was out, headfirst and gooey.

“Man, Ex-Boyfriend Wonder,” Steph sighed, as she let him grab onto her and lowered them on a slowly paying-out jumpline, helping him reach the ground with slightly more dignity than clawing his way down the slime-encrusted ruptured stem of his prison would have allowed, assuming he hadn’t just landed face-first and died. “Why’d you have to go breaking yourself loose at the last second like that? I was supposed to be the hero!”

“Believe me, you—pbbbft—were,” Tim answered, pausing partway to spit out a mouthful of sap-gel that he must somehow have been breathing in there. “I’d never have even managed to wake up if you hadn’t turned up to distract Ivy and make such a racket. I could feel her speeding it up, toughening up the…things, pushing.” The shiver was understated enough Steph might not have noticed it if he hadn’t been clinging to her waist. She eyed the Tim fruits. They’d stopped moving. Good?

Feet on the ground, Tim brushed fruitlessly at the slime all over his costume, then obviously gave it up as a bad job. “Where is she?” he asked, looking around.

“Over there.” Steph landed too, and pointed to where Ivy was still embedded head-first in a broccoli.

She’d disappeared up to the waist, and didn’t seem to be making any effort to get out. In fact, as they watched she seemed to sink in another centimeter.

“Okay, that’s a bit better than a distraction,” Tim acknowledged. “But also I don’t think we should let her finish. I don’t want to fight a dozen vegetable Poison Ivys.”

“Don’t like to eat your vegetables?” Steph teased, even as she sized up the situation—should they pull Ivy out, probably the faster option but then they’d probably have to fight her some more right away, or try cutting down the Doom Broccoli with her still in it, more thorough?

“Yeah actually I’m not going to be able to look any cabbage varietals in the face for the next six months,” said Tim, apparently agreeing they were broccoli regardless of their creator’s opinion and the mango smell, “but come on. It’s never good when villains start to spawn. Chiraxes was bad enough.”

“Blegh,” Steph admitted. The duplicate Drury Walkers had at least had a super short lifespan and been self-disposing. “Okay, I’m all out of bombs. You?” Probably a dumb question, given all his storage space had been confiscated.

“Ivy took my belt and everything in my bandoliers,” Red Robin admitted, touching the cape closure thing at the top of them, where he’d shoved his little sigil-thing back into place in spite of all the goo. His stupid little gimmicks would be easier to make fun of if they worked out less often, lucky stiff.

“But she left that.” Because Tim had all the luck when it came to details like that. “And your mask?” Not that Ivy had ever cared much about things like the Bats’ secret identities.

He shrugged. “I guess she didn’t expect it to be relevant long.” Anything she wanted to know from or about him, the copies could have told her, soon enough. And he wouldn’t have mattered, once he was dead.

This had been another close one; Steph got those feelings out with a little shiver of her own. “Come on,” she said. “Let’s do something about Ivy. Everybody else should be here soon.”

“Backup,” Tim sighed, pushing his hair back from his face and having it stick that way, messily moussed with doom fungus glop. “I love having backup.”

“Sure didn’t act like it back in the day.”

“I am an older and wiser man now. Who values being alive and made of the original meat products.”

Steph stole a glance over her shoulder at the Tim tree. “…I’m really glad those things aren’t waking up.”

“Me too. Think of the ethical implications.”

Steph side-eyed him, not sure whether that was intentional humor or not, then decided it didn’t matter and elbowed him in the ribs anyway. She immediately broke into a run to avoid any counter-attacks, bad arm carefully supported once again. “Race you to the supervillain!”

#stephanie brown #tim drake #pamela eisley #batfam #supervillain fight #rescue mission #prompt #gofundcee #jes-cher #doom broccolis #my fic #batman fic #fanfic #winter weather #capes #shoulder injury

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xxgoblin-dumplingxx · 4 years

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Off Day: Twelve

Bucky pressed the ice pack Steve handed him against his eye and sighed. He wasn’t exactly sure of the series of events that lead him here. Sitting in the clubhouse with all his friends worrying and no one is sure where you’d gone.

Nat cuddled Salem and tried to comfort the desolate little creature and glared at Bucky, “You’re really fucking dumb, Barnes,” she snarled.

“Nat,” he groaned, “I didn’t kiss her. She kissed me.”

The redhead practically hissed at him and walked away leaving Bucky to play it all back again in his head. It hurt. You being gone felt like missing a limb. Like part of his soul had been torn out.

Somehow, he knew that where ever you’d gone it was worse for you.

In his mind’s eye, he could see three days ago.

You’d staggered into his arms and burst into helpless sobs. The kind that didn’t even make noise. Deadweight against his chest. He didn’t need to ask. You didn’t need to explain. He tucked you into his bed and held you while your heart had shattered.

Your best friend was gone and nothing would ever feel right again.

“I couldn’t watch them carry her out,” you murmur, wiping your nose on your sleeve.

“I know,” he soothed, rubbing the back of your neck. He didn’t try and feed you. He knew you wouldn’t eat. Or be able to sleep. He put something soothing on in the background. Disney, something you don’t need to pay attention to. And when you hide your face in his chest, he holds you closer. Tears keep falling and Bucky can’t help but take mental stock of where the sharp things are in his house.

The next few days, as you struggle with your aunt to plan a funeral and help them keep body and soul together, watching you shove your pain aside to be a rock. An anchor. That hurts him worse than seeing you cry. You’ve detached yourself from the pain so far that you’re numb. Dissociated. There’s nothing there but painted on smiles and unobtrusive helpfulness.

“Aunt Judy,” he hears you say, “don’t worry about me. You and Uncle Jack need to go. Get out of here for a while and rest. Take your trip. Kaity would want you to go. She always wanted to see San Francisco.”

“What are you going to do?” she asked chucking you under the chin.

“Hold down the fort,” you answer smiling, “Do what I promised Kaity I’d do.”

She’d kissed your cheeks and hugged you hard. You’d walked into the living room and flopped face-first on the couch, studiously avoiding looking at the room Kaity had occupied at the end. Avoided looking at Bucky who knew there were cracks in your careful veneer.

The funeral had been a trial.

It was well attended. Half the town turned out. Friends of Kaity’s. People who had no idea who you were when you stood up to give the Eulogy.

“My whole life, I had two constants,” you start, taking a deep breath, “My life was a mess and Kaity. God love her. Was going to try and fix it.” You smile, taking a second to wipe tears away. “Kaity was, without a doubt, one of the kindest, most selfless people you could ever find. But. If I tell you about all of that, Kaity is gonna haunt me forever. She made me promise not to tell you about all of that, and, for those of you who don’t know, if I can do one thing reliably, it’s keep a promise to Kaity.” Jack snorts behind you and Judy smiles just a little. “I made a lot of promises to Kaity over the years. About a lot of things. But, before she passed, I got permission to break this one in exchange for giving a Eulogy that wouldn’t bore you all to death. Kaity informed me that as much as she loves you all, she doesn’t really want to play casket Tetris.” That brings surprised laughter from a few people and a few damp chuckles. “Kaity gave me permission to finally tell the story of the mysterious brown stain on the ceiling in Aunt Judy’s kitchen.” More laughter, less shocked this time. Bucky knows this hurts. He can see you struggling to keep the promise you made.

“So,” you finish, smiling a little. “I told you that story to tell you this. Because this is the one thing Kaity wanted you all to walk away knowing. Love, much like Dr. Pepper, is meant to be shared. So let's take the love we have for her and spread it around. Love recklessly. Spread kindness like glitter. And for the love of God, just eat the garlic bread.”

Bucky wants to hug you. You’re trying so hard to hold it together. To keep your voice from cracking. To hold it together for the assembled mass of people that have now started to cry.

That had been a day. The worst day. And Bucky still. Still couldn’t figure out how it had happened exactly.

He was aware that he had gone to the clubhouse. He’d been trying to set up a nice little dinner. He’d borrowed a backroom and set a table all pretty with candles and had his ma make something you might be able to eat.

He was just doing some last little things, making it pretty and making sure the room was a good temperature. Not because he expected to get you naked but because you’d now lost enough weight just from the stress that you were always shivering. Sometimes, even with him wrapped around you. It was how you always were as a kid. He realized now that not eating when you were stressed had probably started as a way to exert control over your life and now it was just ingrained behavior. That bothered him.

When he heard the footsteps behind him, he’d thought for a moment it was you, that Nat had just sent you back.

He turned, ready to kiss you, hello and Char lounged in the doorway, arms folded, surveying the scene like she was hunting and had just spotted her prey. “Well. Isn’t this cute,” she hummed.

“And none of it’s for you,” Bucky said calmly.

“Aww, Buckaroo,” she sighed, “I really hoped we could put this aside for the baby.”

“Char, you’re not even pregnant. Or at least I hope you’re not after I watched you pound shot’s with one of Rumlow’s guys at the Time Out.”

She pouted, “Well, we could make a baby,” she purred, stepping closer.

“No thanks,” Bucky snorted, “I’ve got a girl, remember?”

Char rolled her eyes and stalked a little closer, making Bucky realize with a start that this was a back room and his back was to the wall. He tried to resituate himself but there was a table in the way and Char was faster than he gave her credit for. She pinned him uncomfortably between herself and the table, kissing him, hard, forcing her tongue artlessly into his mouth and leaving him struggling to get her off of him without hurting her but her grip was too strong for him to do anything without taking an action that would lead to it being her word against his.

“Bucky, I-”

The voice from the door way makes Char jump back, leaving Bucky with lipstick smeared on his face and looking confused and startled. You stand frozen on the threshold, a look on your face that makes his heart almost stop.

You don’t say a word, you just bolt through the nearest door. Desperate to get away from both of them before either of them see you cry.

“Oops,” Char had said, adjusting her lipstick in a compact mirror.

Bucky can’t even speak. He follows after you, watching from the doorway as your jeep pulls out of the drive.

“What the fuck did you just do?” Nat said angrily, appearing next to him, holding the basket that Salem liked to travel in.

“I- I just-” He doesn’t get a chance to finish.

Char walks up out of the back and it takes Natasha all of a millisecond to piece together that somebody got caught kissing someone who wasn’t their girl.

To be honest, Bucky isn’t even mad Nat punched him.

It was nice to know she apparently felt the need to look after you. That she considered you a friend enough to hit him for being an asshole.

_________

It had been 24 hours and no one but your Aunt and Uncle had heard from you. They were tight-lipped as to your whereabouts. Careful to only say you were safe. That it was okay and you were thinking clearly.

Sam took a seat on Bucky’s other side with a sigh, “Well, I heard from a cop friend of mine,” he said.

“And?” Nat asked anxiously, stroking the little cat.

“The good news is, Y/N is very much alive. The bad news is she’s on a 72 hour psychiatric hold.”

Bucky turned quickly and his head throbbed, “What?” he barked.

Sam sighed, “A precautionary measure,” he said, “I guess she got home, tore her studio apart and was just generally enough of a mess that they had them come take her to the hospital BEFORE she tried to go play in traffic or something.”

“This is all my fault,” he groaned.

Steve squeezed the back of his neck, “It’ll be okay, Buck. Once her head clears and they let her loose just go explain. You didn’t do anything.”

“I know but-”

“If I ever get a hold of that blonde tramp, I’m gonna kill her,” Nat growled.

“There are no kitties in jail, Nat,” Sam hummed, gesturing to the black cat she was holding like a baby in the crook of one arm.

_______________

“Baby?” Bucky said softly, stopping at the door of the shop. You were on a ladder behind the desk, shelving a book. You half turn and jump down carefully.

You look pale and tired. You look like you need a week on the beach and several good meals. You look sick. Bucky supposes you are and crosses the floor quietly.

“I know you’re probably still pissed at me but-”

You shake your head, “Who hit you in the face?” You wrap your arms around yourself, shivering and he closes the shop door to block the draft, “Nat,” he answers.

“Why’d you do it, Bucky?” you ask softly.

“I didn’t-” he started, reaching for you, stopping when you back up. “I- I would never do that,” he murmured, “But when I was in the back, trying to set up dinner, Char came back and. Well, darlin’ she set me up.”

You look up at him, still shivering and bite your lip.

“She wanted you to find us like that,” he murmured, “She wanted to hurt you, knowing that would hurt me.”

You nod and take a tentative step forward.

“I was so afraid when you wouldn’t answer your phone, doll,” he murmured, careful to keep his voice quiet. Careful to remember that you hadn’t been in your right mind when you saw them. That your reaction was all emotion. You’d just buried your best friend. Everything was raw and too real.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper.

“It’s okay,” he soothes, “You were safe. You went someplace safe when you needed it. And you gave Nat a reason to stay out of jail leaving Salem with her. Otherwise, Char’d be dead right now.”

He held out his arms again and wrapped you up slowly when you walk into them, hiding your face against his chest.

“I’m sorry I ran away. I should have known better,” you murmur, “She assaulted you and then I just ran off. And Nat punched you in the face.”

Bucky rests his cheek against your hair and hugs you tighter, “Shh, don’t you worry your pretty little head,” he scolds gently. “You weren’t thinking clearly, sweetheart. No one was. I’m just glad you’re home. And safe. It makes it a lot easier for me to take care of you.”

You look up at him and he kisses your nose, “Baby girl, when’s the last time you ate?”

“Yesterday some time,” you murmur.

He tuts softly, “It’s no good, Y/N,” he says, “Baby girl, let’s get you food okay? You need to put something in your belly. How about you close up early and I take you home? I’ll cook dinner and you can get a kitty cuddle.”

“I’d like that. I missed my kitty.”

He smiles a little, “Then let's get you home, huh? if you talk real nice I’ll even run you a bath.”

“With bubbles?” you ask, nuzzling his chest, cuddling closer, seeking comfort.

“With bubbles, princess,” he chuckles, basking in the feeling. It soothed the fear that had gnawed at him. That his one chance had ended. That you wouldn’t believe him. He couldn’t help it, he thought a quiet thank you to Kaity, wherever she was. Thanking her for keeping you safe, even now. If her parents hadn’t come by the house when they did, Char’s little stunt might have been the last straw. And that, Bucky reflected, was an unbearable thought.

Tags: @lancsnerd @thorfanficwriter @blameitonthecauseway @etherealwaifgoddess @stevieang @wellfucksorrymum

#Bucky Barnes #soft bucky #sam wilson #natasha romanoff #Steve Rogers #Bucky x reader #fluff #angst #death #hurt/comfort #assault #jumping to conclusions

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sethrine-writes · 4 years

Text

I Will Fight This War For You (Hold On), Ch. 4

Pairing: Connor x Female Reader

Words: 4093

Chapter Warning: Crime Scene, Minor Character Death, Minor Character Injury, Mild Angst

Story Summary: “Our choices define us. Don’t let them tear you in two.”

Your investigation into the string of deaths of both humans and androids takes a drastic turn when a victim is purposely left alive. The killer’s intent is the same, to prove a point you have yet to figure out. The change, however, is the power of choice.

Stress and exhaustion lead you astray as you and Connor are both thrust into a war between the mind and the heart. You can only hope everyone involved makes it out alive.

IMPORTANT A/N: This is a repost of a DBH fic I started over a year ago in response to a challenge a friend of mine posted up, at the time. I’ve also gone through and edited/cleaned up each chapter for a better reading experience! I’ll be posting a chapter or two every day until I’ve posted all current chapters, and then I’ll be updating with a brand new chapter for the first time in nearly a year!

Inspired by the song Torn In Two by Breaking Benjamin.

------

Chapter 4 - Deface the Life Inside of Me

A little over a year ago, if anyone had asked Hank how he viewed his current position in life in that moment, he would have scoffed and said he was fine with what he had going for him. Well, alright, that was a blatant lie, and even he had the decency to call himself out on it.

He had been in a dark place, then, had cultivated his own waking hell through excessive liquor, recklessness, and, at his lowest, nights of drunken loathing and grief with a revolver held to his head, one bullet in the cylinder and nothing left to lose while playing a deadly game with lady luck.

For years, he had suffered at the hands of his own mental state, refusing those who had offered help out of spite for their sympathy. What had they known, anyways? He was coping, perhaps not the way some fancy shithead with a psychology degree wanted him to, but it was still coping. In all honesty, though, his way of coping was only barely keeping him afloat, and even then, he was still going under, still drowning without really getting anywhere close to the surface.

Who would have known that a prototype detective android sent by Cyberlife would, over the course of the Deviancy Investigation, become deviant, himself, aide in a revolution that changed the course of history for both humans and androids, and completely change Hank's way of thinking? Certainly not him.

Hank realized then that he may have been alive, but he wasn’t truly living anymore. It had been enough, or so he thought, but after Connor weaseled his way into the Lieutenant's life, he knew that there was more than the grief and anger that had consumed him all these years. He may have been drowning, but it wasn’t too late to learn how to swim.

And just like that, things changed for the better. He started drinking less and appreciating the little things he never paid much attention to. He laughed more, smiled more, and though he still enjoyed a greasy burger from time to time, he'd attempted to eat just a bit healthier, albeit with a scowl most times that wasn’t at all genuine. His friendship with you had flourished, something he had truly missed without knowing he had lost it, and he had gained another close friendship with the very android who had literally saved his life, in more ways than one.

Given all that he had been through within the past year or so, however, Hank liked to believe he was much too old for the shitstorm he was suddenly a part of, thank you very much.

He grumbled to himself while he waited at his assigned desk at the DPD, having already downloaded some necessary files to his data pad from his terminal. He was waiting for Anthony, the android from his previous case, to show up, as he had agreed on coming in to possibly identify the android who had kidnapped him and killed his friend.

Considering the current time, as well as the fiasco that just happened at their most recent crime scene, Hank wasn’t particularly keen on doing the follow-up. You had asked him to do it, however, and he'd be damned if the look in your exhausted eyes didn’t pull at him in some way.

Ah, and the fact that you were headed to the emergency room for your hand also played a big factor.

Connor had been clearly upset when Hank had arrived on-scene earlier that night. He recalled the android pacing beside an ambulance as another began to speed off toward the nearest hospital. His L.E.D. was blinking yellow wildly each time it was turned in his direction, and for a moment, Hank remembered the pang in his heart at thinking something bad must have happened. It was as he approached that he saw you sitting in the back, a paramedic looking you over, and though it was still a bad situation, it wasn’t nearly as awful as his mind had jumped to.

When he asked Connor what happened, he explained the whole ordeal as succinctly as possibly, eyes constantly cutting over to you as if ensuring nothing had changed. It had ruffled up his partner something fierce, and Hank couldn’t blame him. It wasn’t something to be expected, to have someone take a bullet for you, especially if that someone was your significant other.

You were cleared and urged to seek a full evaluation at the nearest hospital, just to be sure all was in working order. Connor was adamant on going with you, determined to shut down any dissuasion. You had been quick to assure him with a weary smile that he was coming along. After all, you needed him to drive for you, and Hank still needed to evaluate the crime scene.

The only good thing he’d gotten out of the night was seeing Gavin's busted up face. You apparently had a doozy of a right hook, if the smear of blood from split skin and the bruising forming along the bottom of Gavin's eye were anything to go by. Hank had wished he'd seen it in person. Reed must have said something absolutely stupid, if you had lost control like that.

“Lieutenant Anderson?”

Hank looked up to find the WB200 android, Anthony, staring down at him. He was quick to stand and reach out his hand in greeting, of which Anthony shook easily enough. It seemed any hesitation from their previous encounter had been put aside, a good sign that things might go well for the Lieutenant.

“Thanks for coming by at such a late- er, early hour,” he said, glancing at the time in the corner of his terminal. Was it really almost four in the morning?

“Yeah, it was no trouble. Not like I’ve got much going right now.”

Hank motioned to the chair he'd previously pulled around to the side of his desk for Anthony to sit, once more taking his seat with a short sigh.

“We usually like to schedule these things ahead of time, but I was told this was something that couldn’t wait.”

Hank reached for his data pad, pulling up the files he had downloaded half an hour ago, tapping at a few settings to set up the display as he wanted. Meanwhile, Anthony looked around him, dark eyes taking in the desks that lined the room and focusing on a nameplate from the desk behind the Lieutenant. He frowned, then turned his attention back on Hank.

“I hope I'm not being intrusive, but how is Detective (L/n)? Is she alright?”

Hank looked up at Anthony, eyes narrowing a fraction. Had he heard about what happened through the grapevine? He knew news traveled fast, even quicker between androids, but he hadn’t thought word would have gotten out, at least not yet.

“She’s had a long night,” Hank answered gruffly, though his words were gentle, if a bit hesitant. “Overall, I'd say she's doing well enough, as can be expected.”

“But she's…okay, right?”

Hank became suspicious in a heartbeat, not particularly fond of where the conversation was headed. If he didn’t know any better, Hank would say the android knew something that he didn't. Considering the night his partners had experienced, he wasn’t too keen on that thought.

“You seem awfully worried about the well-being of my partner.”

“When she interrogated me, she was very kind, but something felt off,” Anthony spoke easily, still showing concern. “I wasn’t sure if she was normally like that. I didn’t mean to pry.”

Hank would have believed the simple answer, knowing first-hand how you were fairing under copious amounts of stress and sleepless nights, not to mention the whole ordeal you had just gone through. The curious nature of Anthony's concern, however, felt too coincidental to be a mere formality of checking in

“Like I said,” Hank started, feigning indifference as he momentarily fiddled with the settings of his data pad to seem busy, “it's been a long night. She's tired, but it comes with the job.”

Anthony nodded, though didn't look fully convinced. Hank wasn’t fully convinced he was telling the truth, either, but he didn’t have much to go on. He vaguely recalled how Anthony's interrogation progressed, remembering the way the WB200 android before him had grabbed you when he was leaving to relay something only you could hear. He recalled how easily Anthony cooperated with you after Hank’s failed attempts at getting a peep out of him, how all you had done was give your name before-

Well, shit. That suddenly made sense. Fuck, if he wasn’t dumb as a box of rocks, sometimes. He had to ask, though, had to be sure he wasn’t just imagining things, but he could do that shortly.

There were more pressing matters, at the moment.

“I've got a small list of android models we compiled based off some of the information you gave us about your attacker. Look through these photos, and tell me if any of them look similar to the guy you saw.”

Anthony nodded and reached for the data pad as Hank passed it over, bright blue eyes watching the other closely for any reactions. There were at least fifty different models that had similar traits to what he had described, and though Hank was hoping the android before him would be able to pick out their suspect among the given pictures, he was also hoping Anthony didn’t pick out the one photo he had added last-minute, as per your request.

The first few pictures were swiped past quickly, Anthony's eyes taking in information quicker than Hank ever could. There didn’t seem to be any luck on the next set of pictures, though he did seem to slow on two in particular, hesitating only a moment before swiping away.

Hank was a little anxious, if he were being honest with himself. Anthony had nearly gone through the whole collection of photos, and besides those two instances, it didn’t seem like their perpetrator would be any of the likenesses shown. It was then that Anthony gave pause, eyes going wide as he looked up at Hank and back down at the data pad.

“Him…it's him! This is who attacked us,” Anthony said in a rush, shoving the data pad back into Hank's hands. The Lieutenant braced himself as he looked down at the screen, gritting his teeth and cursing inwardly at the android pictured.

An RK800 model.

“Congratulations, kid,” Hank groused with an exasperated sigh, “you just made this investigation a whole lot easier, and a hell of a lot harder to deal with.”

Anthony looked confused at Hank's statement, but the Lieutenant was quick to flip his hand out in dismissal of what he had just said. He leaned a bit more heavily into his chair, eyes straying to the image of an RK800 -Connor, Jesus Christ, it was Connor- looking back at him. Anthony seemed vaguely uncomfortable as the silence carried for several long seconds.

“Was there…anything else you needed from me, Lieutenant?”

“Actually, yeah, I’ve got something I want to ask about before you head out. It's something that’s been bothering me since your interrogation. Figured you could clear it up for me.”

Anthony seemed confused, though Hank had noticed the way his hands had clenched up in his lap, a subtle sign of unease. Hank leaned forward a bit, making sure his intense stare was locked with Anthony's gaze.

“How well do you know Detective (L/n), Anthony?”

“I don't,” he answered, brow furrowing and shoulders tensing, “My interrogation was the first day we met. I don’t know a thing about her.”

Hank felt the corner of his mouth lift in a barely-there smirk.

“And yet, you knew her name. That's why you looked up, isn’t it? Her name was a trigger, and you responded as soon as you heard it.”

“I-I don’t know what-"

“Son,” Hank stated forcefully, a hint of a growl in that one word that had Anthony shutting up real quick, “you know exactly what I’m talking about. If you truly care about her safety, then I suggest you start talking. I won't ask again.”

Anthony grew silent, deathly still in his seat. His hands were still tightly clasped in his lap; had he been human, his knuckles would surely have been white.

“I-I'm not supposed to say,” he stuttered, voice barely a whisper, as if he were afraid the very walls around them would hear his treachery.

“Look, if you need protection, we can provide that for you, but if something happens to her, and you had a way to change that, you'll feel like shit, kid, trust me. That kind of guilt never goes away.”

Anthony shifted in his seat, eyes now downcast and lips pressed firmly together. He was afraid, and Hank understood why, but he needed to push a little further to get him to talk.

“If that friend of yours…Lauren, right? If she had been put in this situation, what do you think she would have done?”

That produced some sort of result. Anthony looked up abruptly with nearly teary eyes and a grimace. His jaw was clenched tight, and his shoulders trembled with the effort of holding back, from speaking of from crying, it was hard to say. Hank thought he had lost him.

“He s-said her name,” Anthony murmured, voice cracking. “He told me to remember h-her name, that she was a detective with the DPD. He was…confident that I would meet her, told me not to say a word to anyone else until she spoke with me.”

“Why?”

“He had a message he wanted me to give her, discreetly. No one is -was- supposed to know.”

Hank's mind immediately went to the final confrontation between you and Anthony before he was escorted out, quiet words only meant for your ears. You had told him Anthony had only asked for you to find Lauren's killer and bring him to justice, but Hank had been doubtful, even after your placating answer. He hated that he had been right to feel that way.

Hank braced himself for whatever answer his next question would garner, knowing damn well it wasn’t going to be good.

“What did you say to her before you left that interrogation room?”

---

Connor had been unbelievably quiet towards you since leaving the crime scene. Granted, you had fallen asleep in the car yet again, so it had been expected that no conversation would take place during that time.

When you woke up next, it was as Connor was walking through the emergency room entrance with you cradled in his arms, quiet as a mouse. How he had gotten you out of the car without you knowing was beyond you, and what had woken you up at that moment, you couldn’t say.

He had left you in one of the waiting room chairs and checked you in himself, even as you fussed about being able to walk the rest of the way. Luckily, the emergency clinic hadn’t been particularly busy, and in less than half an hour, you were called back.

The rest of your time was spent with several nurses and two doctors, all of which had a part in taking your vitals, a blood sample, checking your reflexes, and taking an x-ray of your hand.

As if lady luck was continuing to bless you, there was nothing broken or fractured, and the split skin on two of your knuckles was superficial, at worst, and would heal just fine on its own. There would be some swelling for a couple more days, and definitely some bruising and stiffness, but other than that, you would be just fine. A week of pain, another week before regaining complete function without stiff joints, but fine, all the same.

During the entire check-up, Connor hadn’t said a word. He had been like a shadow, standing just behind you as you were looked over, prodded, and evaluated by medical professionals. You'd tried conversing with him during the downtime between procedures, but he had only given you a withering look that had ultimately shut you up.

He was upset with you.

You sighed as he led the way back to your car, eyes scanning over the little square piece of paper with a prescription scribbled across it for some sort of sleeping pill, of all things. Connor must have said something to one of the nurses in passing, either that, or you looked like complete and utter shit from lack of sleep, and the doctor had decided to take pity on you. Either option would have been viable and believable.

“Maybe I'll actually get some sleep, with these bad boys,” you mumbled aloud, smiling somewhat in a joking manner as you stuffed the prescription into your coat pocket.

Connor didn’t even turn around to acknowledge your words.

You frowned.

“I guess it's a good thing I didn’t break my hand,” you continued, a little louder with your approach. “I would have hated being stuck on desk duty for well over a month.”

Connor approached the driver’s side of the car and unlocked the door as you stood directly behind him.

Again, he ignored you.

Your brows furrowed in aggravation.

“Guess it's also a good thing I didn’t get shot,” you emphasized with a bite to your words, “otherwise, I would’ve probably bled out-"

That had gotten an immediate reaction from Connor, who turned abruptly with fire in his eyes.

Before you could register what was happening, he had switched your positions, hands clutching your upper arms tightly as he pushed you up against the car and crowded your space. Your hands fisted into the front of his coat, the knuckles of your injured hand protesting the vice grip. Your jaw clenched, and your gaze peered back into Connor's own, refusing to back down.

“I was designed to anticipate and adapt to human unpredictability. You, however, are testing my capabilities, as well as my patience.”

“Are you…are you seriously talking to me like that?” you questioned, voice raised as you glared at your boyfriend in disbelief.

“I'm unsure I understand what you mean, Detective,” Connor said, tone lilting and holding an edge to it. “Perhaps you could elaborate?”

You were on the verge of shouting as you answered, “Like a machine, Connor! You’re talking to me like a fucking machine!”

“In case you hadn’t realized,” he began, “I am a machine, created in the likeness of humans, only deemed replaceable, expendable. As such, any damage sustained to my person can be much more easily repaired than any damage to you.”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes, beginning to understand exactly what this was all about.

“Don’t even go there, Connor. If you’re pissed at me because of what happened downtown, then you can suck it up, because I don’t regret it.”

“You were reckless,” Connor ground out harshly with a narrowed gaze. “Your stress and lack of rest has clouded your judgement in dangerous situations, rendering you unable to make concise decisions-"

“I was trying to save you, Connor,” you argued, more in disbelief than actual anger. “Like it or not, that was my decision.”

“He could have killed you-”

“He didn't-"

“You could have died!”

You startled at Connor's shout, his voice ringing in your ears as he huffed out hot breaths that steamed the winter air and warmed your cold cheeks with how close he was. He had worked himself up to the extent of needing to cool his inner systems through breathing, something you had only seen happen twice before. The L.E.D. at his temple had flickered dangerously to red before petering off into a hesitant yellow.

You hadn’t realized he was still so wound up, all because he had worried over you.

This was all because of you.

“Connor, I…”

“You could have died, right there, right in front of me,” he said, voice shaking as he leaned in to press his forehead to yours. “The gun was meant to be aimed at my head, but the trajectory would have been off. I would have lived with relatively minimal damage. When you jumped in front of it, when you grabbed his hand, the trajectory changed. He would have shot straight through your heart.”

His grip on your arms weakened considerably until his hands were moving up, cold palms pressing against equally cold cheeks. He looked absolutely devastated, with his bottom lip trembling and tears beading the corners of his eyes before falling smoothly down his face. He was still breathing deeply, though it was more a means to keep himself grounded than to cool his already regulating systems.

You had made him this way. You had caused Connor so much concern over your well-being, had scared him to death in the line of duty, and he was suffering because of it.

It broke your heart to see him like that.

“I can’t lose you. I can't…I won't, I-”

Silencing him was easy; he followed the slight tug against his coat, leaning in as you pressed your lips firmly to his. The kiss was none too gentle, lips meeting in a desperate, urgent slide, a need to tell each other everything through action, all the fear and anger laid bare through the harsh press.

When Connor pulled back to give you room to breathe, you let out a sob, wet trails leaving icy burns against your cheeks as you tried pulling him back to you with whispered apologies for worrying him falling off your tongue.

You hadn’t realized that you had started crying, moved by his own tears and shamed at having caused them. You had meant what you said; you didn’t regret your choice to protect him, but you sure as hell didn’t mean to hurt him in the process.

Connor was quick to shush you gently, kissing at your cheeks and nose, your temples, even as you tried to pull him back to your lips. He relented a moment later, pressing back against your mouth with a soft sigh. The second kiss stayed far more gentle than the first, Connor controlling the careful pace as he wiped away your tears with soft strokes of his thumbs against your skin.

You had been forgiven.

He pulled back yet again, dark eyes holding so much emotion as he looked you over, his L.E.D. once again cycling a cool blue color. You gave a shaky smile, reaching up to clear his cheeks of his own tears with gentle swipes of your trembling fingers. He reached up to press your hand more firmly to his face, his suddenly bright smile catching you off-guard.

“I love you.”

Your heart very nearly stopped beating at the murmured declaration followed by the serene sound of your name, air rushing past your teeth sharply. It was the first time he had said those words, the first time either one of you had dared to utter them, and you were caught in the sudden whirlwind of being suddenly overwhelmed and unexplainably frightened.

Did you need to say it back?

Could you even make yourself say it?

“I…Connor, I-"

You were interrupted by the sudden flickering of yellow at Connor’s temple, his eyes fluttering for barely a second before he shot up and away from you by a couple feet. You jumped at the severity of his own surprise, watching his gaze shift about him before settling on you. His L.E.D. remained a cautious yellow.

“What's wrong?” you asked, watching as he blinked once, twice, eyes shifting about him one last time as if looking for something.

“Hank sent a message,” he answered, ushering you to the other side of the car. You had no choice but to follow.

“What did he say?” you asked, looking up expectantly at Connor after sliding into the passenger seat.

“The WB200 model, Anthony, was able to identify his attacker."

“And?”

Connor hesitated, the action making your stomach churn unpleasantly.

“It’s an RK800 model.”

The news slowly sank in as Connor shut your door and made his way to the driver's side. He was quick to start up the car and pull out of the emergency clinic parking lot, destination set in the A.I. cruise control for the DPD, where Hank would be waiting for the both of you.

You could feel your nerves practically vibrate, you were so unsettled.

Out of the frying pan, and straight into a burning inferno.

#detroit become human #dbh #dbh connor #dbh connor x reader #dbh hank #reader #reader-insert #torn in two

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